Konrad was all about swords.
He was aware that other weapons existed, too, but why bother? When he reincarnated, he wanted nothing but a straight blade to defend himself in the new world.
Lucky he warmed up to the peddlers and got one early on.
Swords were expensive. They required a skilled blacksmith, constant maintenance, and—
Yeah, they were a bother.
They weren't the ultimate weapon in the universe, but swords were awesome.
Every kid dreamed of owning one. Once he got his, he practiced until he became the best, and he had proven himself over and over. He held his own against Rabid Crows or Church guards.
But looking at Helena's warhammer and stance now, his confidence waned.
Don't imagine a bulky, blunt fantasy weapon people associate with the name. It was a small, slender hammer with one square, blunt end and two spiky ones.
It could dent or pierce heavy armor plates without problem.
Swords weren't built for that. Great against unarmored opponents, but mediocre in everything else. A spear had a longer reach, was cheaper, and required less training.
A hatchet—everyone could get one, and they were a menace against shields.
For someone desperate enough, clubs also doubled as weapons, and maces were devastating.
But this hammer was a clever multi-tool of death.
It didn't have the same reach as his bastard sword, but it seemed much lighter and nimbler, too.
The claim that she broke so many blades didn't seem that far-fetched now.
And she also spoke with confidence that only hundreds of matches could've given her.
"Let's play by the knight training rules," the princess offered, stretching her arms. "The goal isn't to kill the opponent but to capture them. Disarm or make them yield."
"Of course," Konrad gave her a curt nod. "I'm familiar—"
With the bastard version of it, practiced by mercenaries.
"The fight continues until surrender or the loss of one's weapons," Vargas shouted. The old schemer looked more excited than he had ever seen him. "And here, a piece of advice, kid—"
He waved Konrad closer, unsheathing his old arming sword that he still carried as a backup.
"Take this, and don't bother with armor," he said. "She'll go for the blade, and it'd be a shame to break the one Welf made for you. Try not to lose too fast."
He wasn't teasing; his face was serious.
"Come on, you saw me fight before," Konrad muttered. "Adamantite wouldn't break like that."
At least, he hoped so. He still remembered his first encounter with the Griphlets.
And how his first valuable weapon snapped in half—
He was always careful with his blade alignment, and has broken no swords ever since. He also trusted Welf's craft and the durability of the ore he had created, but—
"You do you, kid," the captain scoffed. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Vargas had no reason to mess with him right now. This was only a practice match, anyway.
"Fine, give me a second to get the hang of it, then," he conceded, taking the blade and giving it a few swings. It wasn't lighter than his bastard sword, but the blade was shorter and thinner.
The balance was different, perfect for quick stabs.
It still wasn't as fast as Helena's similar warm-up swings, and the hammer had a bulk at its head.
It would have been foolish to underestimate the punch it could pack.
"Ready when you are," the woman nodded, and Vargas raised his hands.
"On my mark, then. Go."
Konrad's first thought was that Gabrielle played a prank on him. Time almost stopped. At least, he felt himself suspended in it, while Helena was speeding towards him.
The captain was right.
She didn't aim for his head or torso, even though he would've been an easy target.
The princess was fast, and her hammer was even quicker.
If he had brought his adamantite blade, he would've had no chance to move it out of the way in time. This arming sword cut it close, too, but he avoided a hook in the last moment.
Adrenaline rushed into his system, his heart beating faster already.
Helena changed her swing, her movements like a dancer's, and aimed for his blade again.
It was not a fight he was familiar with. He always struck at the man behind the weapons, treating them as obstacles. But the woman only cared about the sword itself.
Her next attack bounced off his blade, and its edge chipped immediately.
How? They were both moving, she couldn't have put that much force into—
Nope, no time to analyze. She was already mid-strike.
Konrad was on the back foot, his vision tunneling on keeping his borrowed sword in one piece.
He even threw his body in the way—unarmored and vulnerable, but the princess danced around him. It was more like an intensive game than a real duel, but it wasn't without purpose.
She was a knight. Not trained to kill, but to defend and capture.
For most men, they were only a threat while they had a weapon.
If she could break them or knock them away, they were as good as captured. Of course, he could've incinerated her without the sword, too. They didn't say no magic in the duel after all.
But that would've been an underhanded tactic.
He wanted to impress the steward, not to piss her off.
Although that was before this match started.
Now, he wanted to win. And it seemed impossible.
Helena turned her warhammer into a metal whirlwind, avoiding his vitals by inches. And that, too, by her own choice. If she so wished, Konrad would've died a dozen deaths already.
His blade was still functional, though.
Chipped, and no match for her movements, but he still clutched it like his life depended on it.
Not holding back, either.
He lacked the woman's finesse and wouldn't shy away from stabbing at her body. She wore full armor anyway, which made it all the more impressive how fast she could move.
But even her blocks were dangerous.
All she had to do was hook her hammer's back spike into the arming sword, and it would've flown off into space. Every clash of metal worked in her favor. Konrad had to be careful.
Measured. Tactical. He was starting to enjoy this.
How long have they been fighting? He was sweating, but the steward's strikes did not slow.
The best he could do was to put a few harmless scratches on her breastplate, and his arms were already burning. It was very tempting to resort to his magic, at least for an illusion, but—
He wouldn't even have had the time to cast something.
In the end, he was no match for her. A well-aimed parry caught his blade, and his wrist almost snapped. The metal actually did, too. It flew off, landing in pieces, inches from hitting Vargas.
The captain didn't care, cheering like a teenager, gathering the fragments with pride.
"I can die happy now," he hollered. "I saw Bladebreaker Helena in action."
The woman blushed, panting after the intense battle, but she gave him a smirk.
"My shoulders were sore after that long travel—our next bout will be better," she promised.
"N-next bout?" Konrad fell to his knees. He couldn't even lift his arms anymore. "Kill me now."