The courtyard stilled as Arthur strode to the center, as if the ground itself had been cleared for his stage alone. His boots rang against the stone with a rhythm that hushed the last whispers. Sunlight struck hard on his crimson armor, so polished it seemed to carry its own fire. He turned once, surveying the ring of people, soldiers and servants packed along the fence. His gaze lingered on the banner snapping above, then slid over the pale faces of children clinging to their mothers' skirts, and finally settled with cool satisfaction.
Lugo followed behind him, platinum hair catching the light, practice staff already balanced in his hands, body lean and coiled, eyes alive with arrogant certainty. The boy was short for ten, wiry but strung with muscle like steel wire. His expression carried the confidence of someone who had never once doubted the outcome of a contest.
I could feel Father's eyes on me, but he didn't speak. Grandfather's cane tapped once against stone, the signal that no further words could change what had already been decided. Father's shoulders were rigid, fists hidden behind his back. Neither of them spoke. The silence pressed like a weight.
Theo stepped forward, his voice carrying across the ring. "Prepare yourselves."
The crowd pressed closer. Men leaned on the rails, mothers pulled children tight against their skirts, even the guards held their breath as if the outcome might weigh on their own honor.
The air thickened. I tightened my grip on the blunted staff, wood biting into sweaty palms. My chest rose and fell too fast. Sweat prickled before I had even moved.
"Begin!" Theo barked.
Lugo didn't rush. He stalked forward, loose and patient, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His eyes never left mine. His steps raised almost no dust.
"Patience," Mnex whispered inside my head. "He wants you to lunge. He's fishing. Don't. Make him show you the angle."
Then it came… A sudden weight shift, his foot sliding forward, staff lifting high. Exactly as Mnex had predicted. I shifted left, weapon raised to meet him, and the world cracked. My staff spun from my hands, sent flying with one twist of his wrist. A jab to my ribs followed, so fast my lungs emptied before the pain even registered.
"First rule," Mnex said in his driest voice. "Don't lose your weapon. Second rule, don't stop breathing. You've broken both in five seconds. A new record. First, you were too lazy to learn how to fight… now you're too lazy to breathe."
Gasps rippled through the villagers. A woman covered her eyes, another muttered a prayer. Fathers in the crowd clenched their jaws, as if the strike had landed on them too.
Lugo smirked, lowering his staff slightly. "Is this all? You were talking like a honorable Janisarion in front of my master. Now look at you. Eating dust." The words drew only stony silence from the watchers, their faces tight with anger they dared not voice.
I gasped and scrambled, reaching for the staff. But Lugo was on me, strikes hammering like drumbeats. Left, right, overhead, waist. I blocked what I could, arms screaming, wrists numb. Each impact rattled through my bones, stealing strength.
"He's writing a bedtime story with your mistakes," Mnex observed. "Change rhythm. Fake a block, pivot, do something unexpected. Anything."
Another blow slammed into my shoulder. My knees sagged. The crowd flinched as one. Somewhere behind them, a child whimpered, hushed quickly by a mother's hand. My vision blurred for a second.
Lugo dipped low, staff cracking against my shin. Fire shot up my leg. I stumbled but stayed upright.
"Don't show pain," Mnex warned. "Predators smell it. And this one's hungry."
He's ten, I thought through clenched teeth.
"And a predator," Mnex answered.
I roared and hacked down in a wild overhead slash. He slipped aside like smoke, clipped my arm, and my fingers opened without permission. The staff clattered to the dirt a second time.
"Second rule amended," Mnex sighed. "Don't make the same mistake twice. You're improvising a trilogy. Too late."
Lugo glanced toward Arthur, smirking. "Master, this is pitiful." The crowd bristled, some muttering under their breath, others shifting uneasily, but no one dared speak aloud.
Desperation burned hotter than pain. I lunged barehanded, aiming for his wrist. For a heartbeat I almost had him. Then wood smashed against my jaw, stars burst in my eyes, and my legs buckled as he swept them from under me. I hit the ground face-first, grit grinding between my teeth.
Mnex gave a commentator's sigh. "Ladies and gentlemen, the rare and pitiful Godfrey face-plant. Very rare, very collectible. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee… his butt needs to be registered as a deadly weapon. Even better if you have to yell the attack to activate it… Twerk Attack! Buns of Steel! Booty Mama!"
The villagers gasped again, but not in mockery. Mothers turned children's faces away, men swore under their breath, and guards shifted in shame and anger. Father's nostrils flared, but he stayed silent. Grandfather's eyes were narrow slits of iron. Arthur didn't move, only tilted his head as if judging a blade's balance.
I spat dirt, dragging myself up on shaking arms. My lip tasted of blood and grit.
Lugo didn't wait. His strikes rained down again, each hit a drumbeat. My staff caught one, then another, but the third tore through and slammed into my ribs. The strike landed clean on my ribs, and pain burst sharp and hot. My eyes squeezed shut before I realized, as if darkness could shield me from the next blow. It didn't. I doubled over, coughing.
Think. Plan. Move. My mind screamed, but my body lagged.
"Last chance," Mnex said. "Ditch the weapon, crash him with your weight. Ugly, but maybe effective."
"We're sword-fighting!" I gasped.
"No, you're getting murdered. Adapt," Mnex hissed. "Don't just bleed. Collapse on purpose, bait him close, then hit low."
I let my knees buckle, staggering as if finished. Lugo's eyes lit with cruel delight. He pounced.
I swung upward from my knees, a desperate arc. For a blink I thought I had him. But he twisted mid-air, staff grazing my swing, then cracked the flat into the side of my skull.
White fire exploded. My ears rang.
"That one's permanent," Mnex muttered. "Maybe get a helmet next time."
The crowd recoiled. A few villagers cried out. Theo's foot shifted, but he held his ground. His hand twitched toward his hilt before forcing stillness.
I swayed but forced myself upright. My chest heaved, vision swimming. One more chance. Just one.
I charged forward, staff arcing overhead. Lugo barely shifted, slipping under, punishing me with a thrust to the gut. My body jerked. My grip failed.
The staff hit dirt for the third time.
"Third rule," Mnex whispered almost kindly. "Don't repeat history."
I dropped guard and charged, trying to ram him. For a second it worked, he backpedaled. Then his staff jabbed my gut, folding me in half. I collapsed to my knees, gagging.
I rose again. I staggered forward anyway, barehanded. Lugo sidestepped with a laugh, sweeping my legs. I hit the ground again. The staff slammed my shoulder, then my ribs. I crawled, but each rise was met with another blow.
A new flurry of strikes drove me back toward the fence. Lugo's speed was relentless. Even when I guessed, even when I braced, he still found openings. My arms shook, my vision swam. The courtyard echoed with the crack of wood and the hiss of breath.
Father finally took a step forward. His voice cracked with suppressed rage. "That's enough…"
Arthur lifted a gauntleted hand, stilling him with nothing more than a look. "Not yet."
Lugo didn't hesitate. His staff slammed into me again, once, twice, each strike echoing through the courtyard like a drum of cruelty. I staggered, too dazed to defend, wood biting into my ribs and shoulder. The blows blurred together, each one stealing breath, each one daring me to fall and stay down.
Theo's jaw tightened. His teeth ground audibly even from where I stood. His hand hovered near his sword hilt, but he did not draw.
The villagers murmured, torn between horror and sympathy. Some muttered prayers, others clenched fists at their sides, all powerless to intervene.
I tried to rise once more. Dust clung to my sweat-soaked skin. My arms trembled. My head swam.
Theo's voice broke, raw. "Enough!"
But Lugo's staff was already in motion.
The final blow struck my temple.
The courtyard blurred. The banner above melted into streaks of color. Father's face warped in grief, Grandfather's in fury, Arthur's in cold indifference. Lugo's grin lingered last.
From the crowd came a raw, collective cry. "No!"
And then the world went dark.