Rama stepped into the ring with a plan already forming, the same kind of careful mathematics he'd once applied to council votes and diplomatic negotiations, now bent toward something considerably more physical.
Win convincingly enough to satisfy Bhargawa's challenge and the watching delegates' expectations. Lose control of nothing that would let anyone in this yard, soldier or king, walk away describing something no ordinary training could have produced.
Bhargawa circled opposite him, practice blade loose in his grip, the specific coiled readiness of a man who'd been waiting weeks for exactly this opportunity.
"No holding back, traveler," Bhargawa said. "Whatever you did to those raiders. I want to see it honestly."
"You'll see what I have," Rama said, and meant it as truthfully as circumstance allowed.
