"Strange. What exactly is Yaevinn thinking? Why refuse to trade hostages? Not caring about Victor would be normal, but that other Scoia'tael—judging by his clothes, he clearly outranks the rest—was refused as well. And with this standoff, it's obvious they won't be able to get away." The one speaking was Rose Knight Siegfried.
"Lady Keira went back to prepare a few things. She'll be here shortly. If the Scoia'tael want to stall for time, then let them stall," Lily Knight Roderick said.
Brushing the red hair that had fallen over her forehead back behind her head, Princess Adda stood by the window and looked up at the sky. "A torrential downpour is coming soon. Are they planning to break through when it hits?"
That reminder jolted the captain of the city guard into motion. Vincent rose to his feet. "I'll go confirm again—make sure there aren't any holes in our arrangements."
The Lily Knight and the Rose Knight stood as well, coordinating as they prepared to return to their respective troops.
Burgomaster Velerad clapped his hands twice. "Gentlemen! Spirits up—Yaevinn has a date with the gallows. Don't let him be late."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a massive crash sounded from upstairs. Then came the growing roar of chaos—commotion rolling nearer and nearer, surging straight toward the command room. The trend was so obvious that everyone's attention was pulled along with it; even Princess Adda, who'd been watching the world beyond the window, turned her head to stare at the door.
Where the men in the room held the grim readiness of veterans expecting blood, Adda's reaction to the unexpected was the exact opposite—bright, amused, openly expectant. And fate, for once, did not disappoint her.
Bang!
Rose Knight Siegfried swept aside the door as it was kicked off its hinges. Through the haze of dust and drifting splinters, a man strode in with swagger—hotter than the hearthfire, freer than the open sky. Black leather. A bat emblem, unmistakable.
He offered the room an elegant bow. "Sorry—wrong place. My apologies for the interruption."
Victor had no intention of making enemies with the people inside. Aside from Velerad and Princess Adda, the other three were the sort who actually fought for a living. The only reason he'd come here at all was to extend the lifespan of the "Dark Knight" persona.
After all, "Batman" had appeared from the very room where Victor was being held. If he wanted to keep using that disguise, the people at the top needed a clear, lasting first impression: Batman and Victor were built differently. Establish the image. Lock it in.
Goal accomplished, the youth pivoted, slipped past a knight's chopping swing, and drove a fist into the side of the man's helmet—launching him into the space beside the wall. Then he snapped his cape and surged straight toward Princess Adda.
Even though Batman's reputation, so far, included no instances of striking women, Adda still retreated two steps. Rose Knight Siegfried and Lily Knight Roderick moved together, interposing themselves in front of her to ensure she wouldn't be harmed.
But it was only a feint. Batman's target wasn't Adda—it was the window beside her.
Crash—he burst through the glass and vanished outside.
Realizing she'd been played, Princess Adda immediately jumped through the broken window after him. "Velerad, I'm going to catch Batman. Handle the bank situation as you see fit."
She ordered a nearby knight off his horse, swung into the saddle, and took off in pursuit.
Victor, out in front, sprinted onto the main street, cut a corner, and fired his grappling hook to vault up to a second-floor balcony on a neighboring townhouse. Just as he was about to start another dramatic escape through the busy district, he heard Princess Adda's command ring out from below:
"No one is to use any weapons. Capture Batman."
For a second, Victor thought he'd misheard. He couldn't help stopping and looking back toward the princess. And the flood of palace guards pouring out behind her also stared, bewildered by the absurd order.
Reaching Adda's side, Roderick wore his confusion plainly—but before he could speak, Adda raised her voice:
"Against an unarmed target, does Temeria's finest and bravest—this many gallant gentlemen—really need weapons just to catch him?"
After that, every knight present fell silent.
Watching from afar, Victor could feel it: to this noblewoman, the entire scene was a game. And that was good. No—better than good.
From the balcony, the youth performed a flawless noble bow downward. "Adda the White—Batman pays you his respects. Your chivalry leaves no room for argument. A true daughter of King Foltest." A few pretty words were free, after all.
The princess liked his flattery. He always seemed to say exactly what she wanted to hear. She called up to him, "Batman, it isn't even night yet. What are you doing here?"
"The King's agent, Master Thaler, has been working very hard to hunt me down. I came to have a small conversation with him—politely—so he won't be quite so enthusiastic."
A knight stepped closer to Adda. "Thaler was beaten black and blue. He's unconscious, but his life isn't in danger."
At that news, the princess's red lips curled.
Roderick bellowed, "Batman! Just you and me—one-on-one! No weapons, only fists! Do you have the nerve?"
Lily Knight Roderick made the demand because he'd noticed the princess's interest in the bizarrely dressed man. Adda's tastes changed quickly, yes—but Roderick would not allow anyone to affect his rise. Defeating Batman in a public one-on-one would be the fastest way to make Adda lose interest. The defeated never held a place in this noblewoman's heart.
Facing Roderick's challenge, Victor let a smile tug at his mouth. "Thank you for the invitation. To spar one-on-one with the famed Lily Knight is a tremendous honor. Such a rare opportunity—refusing it would be nothing short of foolish."
Seeing that familiar smile from memory, Adda murmured at the exact same time Batman did:
"But I refuse!"
Lifting her chin, the princess whispered with confident certainty, "I see through you."
And then, the very next instant, her mouth parted in pure shock at what she witnessed.
Up on the balcony, Batman raised both arms high—upper arms nearly parallel to the ground, forearms angled upward in a deliberate pose, fists clenched—compressing his biceps and holding the stance.
His cape snapped and flared in the wind. His arms looked full and round, the muscle clearly defined; his torso formed a clean inverted triangle. From that elevated angle, he put everything on display for the crowd below: his sculpted physique, his underarms, and—if one believed the crude whispers of ignorant boys—his "black banana."
He shouted, "I can't accept your duel! My sincerest apologies!"
For a heartbeat, Princess Adda went blank. Was he… apologizing with that pose?
Then she noticed the knights around her—Roderick included—each one looking as though fire might burst from their eyes, as if they'd suffered an unforgivable insult. A wild urge to laugh rose up from somewhere deep inside her.
She forced her face into cold seriousness and issued her command. "Catch him—and you will receive my reward!"
Meanwhile, Victor—still holding the front double biceps pose up high—could only sigh at how easily medieval people were startled. They simply couldn't appreciate the beauty of a classic Olympia bodybuilding posture. Paired with the second-generation bat-suit, the visual effect was absolutely worth the effort.
Though, to be fair, that wasn't entirely true. At the very least, in the princess's eyes, Victor saw a kindred spirit.
Too bad she was also a perfectly trained political creature.
And when she gave the order to capture him—essentially firing the starting pistol for the second "Vizima Street Parkour Contest"—Batman, last year's defending champion, accepted the reckless challenge of every brave fool in sight.
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