Arlin’s First Duel
As Arlin nervously prepares to head into battle, his hands slipping on the hilt of his wooden sword, you clap him on the shoulder and lean close to his ear. “Don’t worry,” you say. “I’ll help you out.”
“How… would you help me out?” he asks, trembling yet wary.
You quietly recite the spell. A new and improved Battle Premonition that would work on targets other than the caster. Or at least, that is the idea. You would have no idea how it works out until it actually does. Hopefully Arlin would be able to handle the effect when it kicks in. “You’ll be able to see through your opponent’s moves. Probably.” You whisper to Arlin, trying to prepare him for what is to come. “Just do your best, and see how far your sword skills can take you.”
Ahead of the boy, an impatient and rather flustered Wisteria stands in the center of the garden, her eyes steadily avoiding you no matter where you go. When you had made your proposal she had seemed rather stunned, and Nostrus himself let out a scandalized groan of disgust. He had agreed on her behalf, however, confident that his fiancée would win. Besides, it was only one date. What harm could that do? So saying, he convinced Wisteria to follow through, and she agreed reluctantly.
Arlin walks forward, stopping a few sword lengths away from the Knight-Captain. The females in the crowd let out collective little “Ooh” at his appearance; he does look rather fetching in his impromptu battle-dress and that flimsy wooden sword. Like a little kitten with its claws out, pretending to be a lion. You could understand his appeal to a certain type of woman – certainly you had exploited it yourself before, though never personally. Not successfully, at least.
Wisteria draws the sword and whips it in front of her, raising it upright in a crisp salute. Arlin bows and takes his stance. Beads of sweat run over his brow, and his eyes seem a little unfocused. As Nostrus calls the start of the match, he moves first.
Dashing across the cobblestones, his speed takes Wisteria by surprise. Her eyes widen, and you can see the grip on her sword tighten as she responds. Arlin’s first strike, a low-angled cut aimed at her knees, is quickly blocked as she lowers her weapon, knocking his attack aside. He recovers quickly, darting around behind her. Barely moving, Wisteria turns a little and blocks his second attack just in time, crossing her sword behind her back. She is not matching him in speed, but her defensive technique is impeccable, allowing her to be in position to guard against Arlin’s moves almost before he makes them. Arlin dances around her, making swift slashes in an attempt to find a gap in her defenses, while Wisteria patiently blocks his strikes, her face a mask of intense concentration. She does not seem to be underestimating the boy at all.
As Arlin hops backward, repelled again, Wisteria makes her move. With a sudden burst of speed, she lunges forward, the point of her blade an oaken blur. Arlin lets out a gasp of surprise, but he is already moving to the side even before she thrusts. He tumbles, rolls to his feet unsteadily, and gets back into position. The crowd applauds. Although he has not yet landed a single strike on her, they must be impressed that a young boy such as he is acquitting himself so admirably against a Knight-Captain of the kingdom.
A flicker of a smile passes across Wisteria’s face. “Very impressive reflexes,” she says. “I will try harder from now on.” Taking up a high stance, her sword high above her head in a two-handed grip, Wisteria places one foot forward.
Arlin’s mouth is set in a firm, thin slit, and he raises his sword again. His feet dig into the ground. His pale face is drained of blood. His breathing quickens. His muscles tense, as if preparing to pounce.
Then, he drops to the ground on all fours and vomits.
The audience is silent for a moment, and then erupts in laughter. Without saying a word, you walk over to Arlin, kneel down, and pat the coughing boy on the back. “Did you eat too much of the shellfish?” you ask loudly, for the benefit of the crowd. “That’s alright, I’m feeling a bit queasy too.” There are more laughs, though you successfully divert their attention back to you. Now they are making joking remarks about weak-stomached foreigners.
“I… I see too much… I’m dizzy…” Arlin mumbles disjointedly, clearly no longer in any condition to fight. It looks like he was too unused to the effects of the spell. Well, it might have been a little too intense to expect him to handle it immediately in a fight, let alone against a skilled opponent. Especially if he has had no experience in filtering out multiple predictions so that he is not overwhelmed by the premonitions. A full 2.5 seconds was quite likely too much for Arlin to handle.
Nostrus stands over you, gloating in his nasally voice. “Well well. That did not last long, did it? Did the tension get to your boy? He does not seem to be able to handle stressful situations well. Anyway, I win the bet.”
You keep quiet, thinking.
Mistaking your silence for fear, Nostrus continues, “Oh, but I am willing to give you another chance, Trider. I’m a fair man, no one can say I’m not! I mean, I wouldn’t want you running off, welching on the bet, pretending that it wasn’t a fair try, since your boy seems to be sick. After all, the party’s just started. A bit too early to end it, definitely not on such a sour note.” He wrinkles his nose at the acrid smell of Arlin’s regurgitated stomach contents.
“Well, Nostrils, it’s my fault for not noticing his condition in the first place,” you say blandly, telling a bold-faced lie. “I don’t think I can complain if you asked me to make good on it and strip. But what’s this chance of yours?”
“You are a magic-user,” he says.
You nod.
“You are not too shabby with a sword, by your own admission.”
You nod again.
“Well, why not entertain us with your prowess at both?”
Ah. You see what he is getting at. “Let me guess. Lord Elmont and your fiancée?”
“Smart man, smart man,” grins Nostrus, confident and gleeful. “Of course, if you want a date with Lord Elmont, that can be arranged… Of course, I fully understand if you are too frightened to embarrass yourself any further, Trider. You could just walk away, without carrying out the terms of the bet. That’s fine. Everyone here will think it’s fine.”
Nostrus clearly has no further interest in negotiating terms: this is his final offer, and you recognize it has been made in an attempt to humiliate you, personally, and not just through Arlin’s failure. And of course, if you do walk away now, that would be your reputation hanged and quartered, though you do wonder if you should care too much about your reputation with this lot at the moment. Of course, you could take the risk of playing around with two people at once – Wisteria, skilled as she is, is no Rin – or you could just strip and honor your word.
***
A. You grab Arlin and walk away, leaving the party. It means reneging on your bet and utterly making a fool out of yourself after your big words, but you do not want to get involved in this little farce any more than you already have. You will have to just swallow your pride and get on with it.
B. You’ll take on Elmont and Wisteria at the same time. No problem. It is not that you have anything to prove, but you do not feel like giving Count Nostrus “Nostrils” Algonquin the opportunity to gloat about putting one over you.
C. You’ll honor your word and strip. It is time to amaze them with your body; they will definitely be dumbstruck in awe at your magnificence. There is a slight tinge of regret that you did not practice your illusion magic, but there is nothing to be ashamed about your figure anyway, so it does not truly matter.
