Crowds flowed through the interiors of the Ahmal station like raging rivers. Despite taking different paths, people converged and paused in the same place near the station's doors.
"Let's go!" With great enthusiasm, people of all ages urged their companions to hurry up and join the growing audience. The news of the event about to begin had spread like wildfire, attracting several eager onlookers. Luckily, they joined just in time the circle that had been formed around the protagonists.
"What's happening?"
"There's going to be a duel. A knight has challenged some Holy Warriors from Grianz to a bare-handed fight."204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRezlwmzcvV
"The scoundrel prevented them from confiscating stolen jewels from some Ayarian thieves."
"Yes! And he even spat in one of the warriors’ faces! A woman's face!"
The crowd of travelers murmured, informing newcomers of the situation.
"What? He spat at a Holy Warrior?!"
"What knight defends Ayarian criminals?!"
"Where are those bastards?"
They asked in dismay.
Immediately, several hands pointed them out. They were on the perimeter of the circle.
Damn...
This could get us into serious trouble.
The Ayarian merchants Jabir and Ayman realized with distress, glimpsing the looks of disdain that people cast upon them like rotten tomatoes. They were used to not being received with much sympathy, even in provinces where their presence was tolerated, but on that unfortunate day, the rejection was overwhelming.
Sheida, on the other hand, paid no heed to the crowd, focusing solely on someone in particular.
If you were able to cleave that Ashaim in two, these Grianzan assholes should be a joke for you. Please, give them what they deserve, Mavros. The young man pleaded in his thoughts, watching as the wandering knight stood near one of the edges of the circle, several meters away from his soon-to-be opponents: the twin Holy Warriors. The two identical brothers had been waiting for minutes for the armor they had ordered their subordinates to bring.
"The armory isn't that far... Why are they taking so long?" Complained one of the twins in their native tongue, with his head bowed and arms crossed in impatience.
Meanwhile, his brother was engrossed in observing the knight.
Path of the Twin Suns, ancestral 'taka': Initiation into the Twelve Forms. Mavros thought to himself, beginning something specific.
"Look, Cyprain!" the twin exclaimed to his brother, pointing at the knight with mocking laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
A good portion of the audience joined in his response.
For no apparent reason, the knight had flexed his legs and performed a sequence of smooth, relaxed movements, like those of a brush, with his arms and open hands. It was a strange choreography with which he seemed to paint a subtle hand-to-hand combat against invisible opponents.
"Is he playing by himself?"
"Did that idiot get drunk?!"
Some wondered aloud as they continued to mock this unfamiliar ritual.
Mavros, what on Mater is this? Not far from the Ayarian merchants, Luciara watched him in astonishment. She turned her head from side to side, noticing with discomfort that the laughter didn't stop. How can you make a fool of yourself in these circumstances? She thought, disgusted. She didn't like how he was giving the public more reasons to make him their clown with this eccentricity, which she also couldn't comprehend.
It seems even the citizens are not on my side. This is not just fear like in Cirencre, it's genuine hatred. Mavros perceived, not pausing or losing his composure. He closed his eyes, further abstracting himself from the constant noise of mockery and insults. In his experience, the unpleasant feeling of being in a place where he received nothing but contempt could be as harmful an enemy as a physical one. Very well. Just as I imagined, this is a good opportunity to train my body and spirit. I have to win this duel relying solely on the most basic techniques of the Path of the Twin Suns. I will only use Nefesh as a last resort. He decided, mustering the courage to put himself to the test. Even after years of effort in honing his character, he still felt that controlling his emotions in such unwelcoming environments was his greatest challenge. With a restless mind, even a contest where he had all the advantages presented the risk of turning against him.
As Mavros continued his picturesque movements, Cyprain’s brother kept laughing at the knight.
However, Cyprain failed to share the same enthusiasm of his twin, managing only a weak smile. Rather than amusing him, the knight's strange behavior made him uneasy.
Someone within the circle approached the two of them.
"Why don't you just go in and mess him up? You don't need to put on full armor," she said in their language, drawing their attention. It was their friend and fellow warrior, Sublieutenant Docemin Batrand. "You two could crush that jerk with your eyes closed," she reiterated, smiling maliciously as she observed Mavros, who continued his phantom combat. "Just look at that... The knight's costume is way too big for him."204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC0e7Or0pwP
"I told Cyprain the same thing, Docemin," the twin responded with the same arrogance, "but he insisted on waiting for the armor he ordered. You know how he is —always so high-and-mighty."
Cyprain gave both of them a stern look, silencing them. As the minutes passed, his sense of humor evaporated.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps made him turn his head, and he found the soldiers he had been waiting for.
"Lieutenants…"
"We have your armors here," they informed him, panting with exhaustion, carrying heavy sacks behind their backs.
Cyprain took a step forward.
"It's about time!" he vented his frustration at them. "Why did it take you so long? Get these on us right away!"
"Yes, Ser!" Both of them nodded fearfully, lowering the sacks and extracting the armor pieces to fit them onto the twins' bodies.
"Cyprain, what's going on with you?" his twin asked with a mix of irritation and concern.
Docemin positioned herself to Cyprain's right.
"Renel is right," she said, supporting his brother. "You've been acting very strange for a while now."
They were both equally puzzled by the unusual anxiety he had shown since he ordered their armor to be fetched. Cyprain frowned, fixing the same stern eyes on them as he had moments ago.
"There's something that's bothering me," he confessed. "I thought that guy was just an idiot in the heat of the moment," he said, looking directly at Docemin, "but I can't stop recalling what he did when we went to defend you after he spat on you."
"What he did?"
"What do you mean?"
Docemin and Renel asked, their expressions somewhat bewildered upon hearing this statement.
Meanwhile, the soldiers who were dressing them only had their breastplates and helmets left to adjust.
"Have you already forgotten?" Cyprain reproached them with seriousness. "He easily intercepted our axe blows with that staff he was carrying. No matter how much force the two of us exerted, he was able to overcome it and fend us off."
To his disappointment, instead of understanding and sharing his concern, his friends only made irreverent faces after hearing this account.
"And?" his twin replied. "That was just dumb luck, and we didn't even attack him with everything we had."
"You're overthinking it, Cyprain," Docemin added. "Besides, that moron is so full of himself that he even challenged you without the staff. He's wasted any tiny chance he had to measure up to you."
The soldiers proceeded to carefully place helmets on the twins, similar to Mavros's but with striking metal crests instead of straight horns, and a single wide eye slit instead of two. Then, they handed them their shields and hand axes before stepping back. The twins were now ready to begin the combat.
Confident, Docemin bid farewell to both of them with a wink and took a spot within the audience.
Renel stepped forward, walking toward the wandering knight, who continued his peculiar practice without interruption. The Grianzan Holy Warrior stopped a few meters away from him.
"Are you going to come and fight us, buffoon?" he asked loudly and arrogantly in the Common Tongue with his distinctive accent. "Or do you prefer to entertain zee audience all day wiz zese lame antics"
The knight didn't pause his choreography in the slightest. His opponent's taunts had failed to disturb him.
"Just tell me when thou art ready," he replied calmly, without looking at him, focused on a series of strikes he was practicing.
"Are you blind?! We're ready, you fool!" he informed him, clashing his shield with his axe a couple of times in noisy clangs. "Come to zee center and let's get zis started!"
Several onlookers broke into cheers and applause at the twin's challenge, excited to finally witness what they had been waiting for. Mavros paused his practice and straightened up to move with calm steps toward the center of the circle.
As he did so, groups of teenagers and young adults crossed the circumference to get as close as possible to the action.
"I can't wait to see the Cotores twins destroy this freak!"
"Finalists of the Eh-Nam Tournament against an unarmed dumbass, dude. I feel a bit sorry for him, but he asked for it; the beating he'll get will be beyond this world."
They commented with laughter. They were citizens of Netzach, so they were well acquainted with the Holy Warriors.
When he noticed them, Cyprain hurriedly moved toward them.
"What the hell are you doing so close to zee arena?! Move away!" he shouted, making them jump back in surprise. "If you get hurt because you're in the middle, we won't be responsible!"
After that final warning, he rejoined his brother Renel to wait for Mavros, who was just a few steps away from reaching his position in the center of the improvised "arena."
"Go, twins!"
"Wipe the floor with that idiot!"
Most of the spectators continued to cheer them on. Only a few expectant and silent faces in the crowd sided with the knight.
With her pupils fixed on him, Luciara interlaced her fingers. "You better know what you're doing," she whispered with forced composure. Although she was a witness of his skill when she saw him fight against her father, his strange behavior and the constraints he was subjecting himself to in this duel raised her reasonable doubts.
"Do you know him? I think I've seen him accompanying you,” someone questioned her to her left.
When Luciara turned to find out who it was, she found Sublieutenant Docemin. The young woman frowned, bothered by the intentions she sensed behind her question.
"Yes," Luciara replied with firm honesty, not allowing herself to be intimidated by the officer. "He's my... escort. Why?"
"Your escort..." the Sublieutenant said, returning her gaze to the arena and letting out some short, mocking laughs before continuing. "I don't know, and I don't really care who you are and what business you have with zat jerk... but he's bitten off more zan he can chew," she asserted in a condescending tone, her eyes shining with the image of the twins. "He's leagues below my comrades. Zey were among the top of zeir class. Zey came very close to winning zee Eh-Nam Tournament last year…"
Alright, I get it, you're crazy about them. You don't have to give me a speech about their 'achievements' to rub it in my face, imbecile, Luciara thought, rolling her eyes in boredom as she listened.
"Very few in zis city can boast of rivaling them," Docemin concluded, referring to her friends. "If I were you, I'd start looking for a new escort from now on because, pretty soon, he won't be able to protect you ever again."
A few seconds passed.
"We'll see," Luciara finally responded with indifference.
Meanwhile, Mavros finally took his position in the arena, raising his arms and adopting the same eccentric combat stance he had used in his choreography.
Maintaining the seriousness that his friends had failed to soothe, Cyprain directed the eye slit of his visor towards his twin.
"You and Docemin can joke all you want, but we shouldn't get too complacent. I'm sure this wretch is more than he appears," he reaffirmed in a low voice, almost whispering so that their opponent couldn't hear them well. "All these antics could be a trick to make us underestimate him and let our guard down. Let's allow him to take the initiative; we should take our time to study him and coordinate our movements."
"Tricks? Letting him take the initiative to 'study him'? Please, Cyprain, you talk as if he were Mugnatir himself. You're taking your paranoia too far," Renel mocked him. "If people are going to see 'tricks' now, it'll be the ones we use to beat him in no time."
Damn it. Frustrated by his refusal to listen, Cyprain averted his gaze with bitterness, clashing his shield with his axe as a way to vent.
"Come on!"
"Fight!"
The crowd demanded with gestures and exclamations.
Just as impatient as the crowd, Renel lunged forward to attack the knight with his axe held high. The duel had begun, and there was no turning back now. Cyprain reluctantly realized that it was already too late to reason with his brother.
Mavros kept his guard intact, tracking his opponent's advance. When Renel had him in range and swung his axe violently to strike, the wandering knight spun himself at just the right moment to evade it. Somewhat astonished by this maneuver that caused his attack to miss, Renel quickly turned around to avoid leaving his back exposed and launched agile strikes with his axe and shield, all of which the wandering knight effortlessly dodged. The noise of the crowd faded like flames being extinguished by strong gusts of wind. This battle wouldn't last mere seconds as many had predicted.
He doesn't even try to block them; he can anticipate and perfectly evade every one of my brother's attacks, Cyprain observed, regretting how his worst fears were crystallizing. True to his strategy, he chose to take advantage of the situation to observe and analyze his opponent before deciding the best moment to assist his twin.
"Ne vou retené pá, Renel! Dechire lé!" Docemin shouted to Renel.
‘Don't hold back, Renel! Tear him apart!’ Luciara understood those words spoken in Grianzan, and their tone indicated irritation and confusion due to the unexpected complications the twins were facing in dominating the encounter.
Renel became desperate as he saw that, no matter how hard he tried, none of his blows even came close to touching his opponent.
Why can't I land a hit?
In his frustration, he neglected his guard even more while attacking, allowing Mavros to find an opening to deliver a strong slap to the right side of his face.
"Renel!"
Cyprain and Docemin stifled a gasp as they saw their comrade stagger to the side after that blow, which his helmet barely withstood. However, he quickly regained his composure and returned to the fight.
"Renel, utilisé le croché!" Cyprain exclaimed in Grianzan repeatedly.
Mavros could hear him well. Le croché... “The hook”, he translated in his thoughts, keeping a close eye on his opponent's new offensive. I think I've read about it in one of the monastery's books. It was the name of a technique.
Following his brother's suggestion, Renel swung his axe sideways towards Mavros's helmet, but the wandering knight evaded by leaning backward. Then, relying on the downward momentum of his avoided attack, the Grianzan warrior suddenly looped his weapon towards one of Mavros's legs. The axe's head aimed to catch the limb like a hook around its calf and bring him down.
The hook.
Attentive to the feint from the beginning, Mavros anticipated and easily evaded it by lifting his endangered leg before the axe could reach it. Renel then launched sequences of strikes with both weapons once more, which the knight dodged with total ease. Noticing how Renel exposed and neglected his legs in his attacks, Mavros kicked his shins, throwing him off balance. The Grianzan warrior narrowly avoided being knocked down.
Confident, the knight allowed himself to take a few casual steps around his still dazed opponent. Any trace of mockery or skepticism from the audience had disappeared, replaced by solemn silence.
Sheida, the only one who had been confident of his victory from the outset, maintained a wide, unerasable smile. He was enjoying a justice he had only believed possible in his wildest fantasies.
Then, Renel regained his balance.
You… you damn son of a bitch! he thought, his eyes burning with hatred at what he was already feeling as an humiliation.
The Holy Warrior lunged at the knight with a thirst for blood.
"Cyprain! Qué es que tu fé la bá?! Aid lé!" Docemin shouted with agitation.
Those in the crowd familiar with Grianzan language immediately understood that it was a plea for Cyprain to come to his twin's aid.
Docemin is right, Renel is losing control. Cyprain agreed, watching as Mavros turned his back, completely engrossed in his brother; the perfect opportunity to intervene had presented itself. I have to do something now!
Meanwhile, Renel got within inches of the knight, ready to strike. Mavros sharpened his gaze, capturing even the tiniest details in his opponent's body positions and limbs during this brief interval. Details that allowed him to predict Renel next moves and prepare a powerful response. With his right hand, he deflected a charge from the Grianzan warrior's shield, and with his left arm, he intercepted a sideways swing aimed at him with the axe. After achieving this simultaneous block, he launched a front kick towards Renel’s unprotected abdomen, pushing him back a few meters.
I'll end this!
At the precise moment he was kicking his brother, Cyprain shot forward himself like an arrow to strike Mavros from behind with all his strength, confident that he would catch him totally defenseless.
However...
What?!Just when he thought he would succeed, the knight launched a backward kick with his other leg without even turning to look at him, repelling him with the same force he had just used against his twin. It was a reaction born of a powerful blend of senses and instincts.
In pain, both twins clutched their breastplates, struggling to catch their lost breath and stay on their feet. Astonishment overcame the impressed audience, finding it difficult to digest what was happening.
He could respond to my attack without even looking at me, all while dealing with my brother at the same time... Cyprain thought in bewilderment as he recovered. Who is this bastard?
The pensive twin raised his head. His eyes widened.
RENEL, NO!
With horror, he and Docemin watched as their friend lunged again with the desperation of a wounded beast. He raised and swung his axe towards Mavros' head like an eagle's claws in a dive, furious claws that were deflected by the knight's left arm. With his right arm thrown like a battering ram, he executed an elbow strike to the jaw of the Grianzan warrior. Renel fell to the ground instantly.
"RENEL!" Cyprain and Docemin shouted in dismay.
Seconds passed, and he didn't get up. The crowd remained in silent disbelief. The wide-open mouths of many and ear-to-ear smiles of others said more than any words could express.
“Ce, ce ne pá riél…” The Sublieutenant murmured nervously, interspersing it with terrified giggles. She was overwhelmed by a profound sense of shock.
At her side, Luciara observed her with a wicked grin. Discreetly, she passed her left hand behind the Sublieutenant's neck, who was too absorbed in her fallen comrade to notice what had just been done to her.
"Hm?" Shortly after, she detected a burnt smell, accompanied by a sensation of heat behind her neck.
"My Lady!"
"Your hair!"
Several people around her pointed in alarm. When she looked at it…
MY HAIR IS ON FIRE! She realized in terror, seeing how the tips of her hair were engulfed in flames.
Covering her mouth to contain her laughter, Luciara amused herself by watching her frantically patting them with both hands in an attempt to put out the flames.
Attracted by the small commotion, Mavros observed the scene from the arena.
That girl has an innate knack for mischief, he sighed, observing Luciara with mixed feelings. On one hand, her immature whims embarrassed and irritated him greatly, but on the other, they evoked a nostalgia that made him admire them. She has a lot to learn if she wants to follow in her parents' footsteps.
In contrast, Cyprain was completely unaware of his friend's hair troubles, unable to take his eyes off his brother.
Is...? Is he...? He wondered, tormented by continuous shivers.
The knight turned and coldly observed Renel’s motionless body. Then, he addressed Cyprain, who was still standing:
"I have just rendered him unconscious. I aim to impart thee a lesson; thou shalt not grasp it if thou art deceased," he informed Cyprain, with unsettling impassiveness. He furrowed his brow. "I shall grant thee a minute to bear him from this arena. I desire him not obstructing our path. Once thy task is complete, we shall resume."
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