The day of the tournament had finally arrived.

  A day I dreaded terribly, and yet one that might also bring a solution to my problem with the tuition fee—if fortune favored me and I won the grand prize. I hadn’t dared to hope too much, but I kept a cautious thread of optimism.

  Together with Elesya, I arrived at the arena gates at the first hour of morning, where the magical duels were to be held. At the entrance we presented the sealed scroll proving we had paid the registration fee. Without a word, a mage-professor led us to the official tribune.

  Elesya had found time to smooth the curls she had worn the night before. Now, with her hair tied back and a headband across her brow, she had regained that innocent air of a serious student—the kind of girl who would never in her life set foot at a party.

  Elesya confessed that she had not slept at all the previous night, her nerves having kept her awake. She had managed to conceal her dark circles under a heavy layer of makeup. Truth be told, I was anxious as well, for I was not certain how the public would react after I had blown up their party the day before.

  Clad in an imposing toga, the herald who announced the progress of the tournament began his speech:

  “We find ourselves in an unusual and most embarrassing situation. I must inform you that all the teams, save one, have withdrawn from the competition. This means that the public will see no duels today, and the winners will be declared directly—the sole team remaining.”

  A wave of optimism surged through me. So we had won without a single fight. Sun Tzu would have been proud of me.

  Elesya smiled and discreetly flashed the sign of victory with her hand. All her earlier anxiety evaporated in an instant. She smiled in that way only she could—half na?ve, half cunning. I was glad that, despite the differences in our ways of thinking, we had found a form of cooperation.

  Inwardly, I was pleased. The Academy had demanded magic, and I had given them more than they could handle. Of course, what interested me most was not the victory itself, but the prize of 25,000 sesterces.

  “Esteemed spectators,” the herald continued, “we shall now ask whether there is any challenge issued by another school of magic. Any competitor from an academy other than Wyrmlithus has the right to challenge our champions to battle. If no challengers present themselves, the team of Sam and Elesya shall be declared the winners. It would be the first time in the history of the Academy that someone has triumphed without a duel.”

  He paused for a few seconds, raising his hand as he turned from left to right, surveying the crowd in the stands.

  “No one? Absolutely no one? Is there truly no challenge?” he asked regretfully. “Well then, in that case, I declare the winners—”

  “Wait!” came a girl’s loud cry. “I challenge them!”

  The crowd began to stir with excitement in the direction of the voice. Cheers rose as the girl pushed her way forward through the throng toward the herald’s tribune.

  I looked at her more closely as she approached—and froze. She was tall, nearly my own height, her arms and legs heavy with muscle. She wore wide trousers and a fitted black tunic that only accentuated her strong physique. A short, straight sword hung at her hip, its hilt capped with a skull-shaped ornament. It was plain she was no stranger to weapons. In short, a true Amazon.

  “Yes, I challenge them,” she said, her eyes flashing defiantly at us.

  “Who are you, and what academy do you represent?” asked the herald.

  The girl called for silence, and from the height of the tribune began a short address:

  “I am Thanida of the Royal Academy of Atrolos, where I am training to become a war-mage. I was merely passing through the city and wished to see how the finest mages of Wyrmlithus fight. I would not have involved myself in the contests of another academy, but seeing how cowardly you have become before this ridiculous team, I felt compelled to intervene. You have forgotten how to fight. You are afraid of your own shadow. I cannot allow such disgrace to stain the reputation of a school of magic—even if I do not study here.”

  The noise in the crowd grew louder. Some murmured their discontent at being branded cowards by Thanida, while others rejoiced that at last someone had stepped forward to fight us.

  “Have you really come to fear them?” Thanida said, laughing, as she pointed at us with scorn. “This ragged, makeshift mage? And his ally, nothing more than a frail young lady?”

  Elesya shot her a burning look as soon as she heard those words.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Brimming with energy, Thanida carried on her ironic tirade against us. It was immediately clear that she was arrogant to the core and full of contempt for anyone unlike herself.

  “Tell me,” shouted Thanida, pointing at me, “what did he frighten you with? With his patch-magic and cobbler’s charms? He can stitch clothes by magic—inside and out? You might as well set this mage to guard a field. With his rags flapping in the wind, I am certain he would drive away the crows that eat your grain.”

  Roars of laughter and shrieks of delight burst from the crowd. Raising her hands, Thanida basked for a moment in the reaction, then pressed on in a mocking tone:

  “I have heard all manner of strange rumors about this man you shelter in your Academy. Some say he is no true mage at all, but a non-mage possessed by dangerous demons. Yet I have seen nothing to prove him invulnerable. I shall defeat him here, and show you he is nothing special.”

  Thanida now stood at the very center of attention, cheered on by hundreds of voices. From what I could see, she delighted in playing the idol before her adoring fans.

  “And this young lady?” she gestured toward Elesya. “If the tournament held contests of make-up, she might stand a chance.”

  Elesya said nothing, but her eyes, darker than usual, spoke volumes.

  I whispered a brief spell from Vabazon’s book to alter my voice. If I gave Thanida no reply, the crowd would take me for a coward who dared not accept the fight. My hard-earned reputation as a figure of dread would be tarnished.

  When I spoke, my voice rang out metallic, a full octave lower than normal. It was a voice that would send chills through anyone who heard it.

  “Thanida,” I said, “you would do well to think before you speak. If we were as pitiful as you claim, you would never have challenged us. No warrior seeks glory in trampling the weak. A victory over such wretches would bring only shame to your name. So though you pretend we are powerless, it seems you find us worthy enough to earn your attention as a warrior. Is that not so, Thanida?”

  For a moment, Thanida was struck silent, unsure how to respond. The crowd erupted in cheers; it seemed our exchange of words thrilled them almost as much as a real fight.

  “You are quick with words,” cried Thanida at last. “But in the arena, it is not words that prevail, but magic.”

  I stepped forward toward the dais.

  “Do you accept her challenge?” asked the herald.

  “What are the options? May we refuse?” I inquired.

  “You may refuse,” the herald replied, “but then you forfeit the prize already won. Yet you have the right to impose a condition upon your challenger should she lose. For example, you may demand a great sum of money. If she does not accept your condition, she must withdraw her challenge. If she does accept, the duel proceeds.”

  I withdrew a few paces to confer with Elesya.

  “This will be difficult,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked. “Do you think we cannot defeat her?”

  “I do not know. Thanida may well be skilled in magical combat, especially if she trains to become a war-mage. I must not only defeat her but do so without killing or crippling her. I have no wish to incinerate half the arena.”

  “So you will not use your special fire-spell?”

  “No,” I answered firmly. “I shall not invoke Spell No. 55, though it would likely bring me victory within seconds. I doubt Thanida could withstand such fire. We must find another way.”

  Elesya thought for a moment, then asked:

  “Could we not demand a condition she would never accept?”

  “I was thinking the same. Perhaps then she will withdraw.”

  “And if she accepts?”

  “Then we must fight,” I admitted. “Still, I hope she will weigh the risks before binding herself to such folly.”

  I turned back to the herald and declared in a solemn voice:

  “We accept Thanida’s challenge—but on one condition. Should she lose, Thanida must serve as my slave for one full year.”

  Thanida froze in shock at my demand.

  “You cannot ask such a thing! It is too much—unfair!” she protested.

  “Then withdraw your challenge, Thanida. I am within my rights to set the terms if you lose.”

  Still she protested:

  “I cannot accept this. Slavery would be an unbearable disgrace. I would lose my honor as a warrior!”

  Tired of her protests, I replied:

  “Then why not abandon your challenge? Nothing changes. I keep my prize, and you keep your honor. Neither of us loses.”

  “No!” she cried quickly. “That would mean you win the tournament without ever once fighting in the arena. It would be a shame to the Academy and to all competitions alike.”

  I sighed deeply, regretting the turn our parley had taken.

  “You see, Thanida? You are not only arrogant—you are stubborn besides. Why should you care for the honor of this Academy? You do not even belong to it. I, on the other hand, truly need these sesterces to pay my tuition. Do you see my position? Withdraw your challenge, and neither of us need risk anything.”

  But Thanida was not one to be swayed by reason.

  “I cannot accept that,” she replied hotly. “The Academy cannot lose its honor in so shameful a fashion. The reputation of all mages in the realm would suffer if it were said we yielded without a fight. The common folk would think us weak and cease to respect us. Every mage must fight for Wyrmlithus—even one who does not belong to it. Better you should yield.”

  Our argument had begun to resemble the bargaining of two street gangs disputing a corner of territory.

  “I would gladly yield, Thanida,” I said, “but tell me this: if I forfeit the tournament, will you pay me the twenty-five thousand sesterces I have already won?”

  “Certainly not,” she sneered. “Be content that you escape with your life. You are a feeble mage and deserve not a coin from this tournament.”

  “Then we are back where we began,” I observed. “If you refuse compromise, so must I. Thus do wars begin, Thanida.”

  I turned once more to the herald and proclaimed aloud:

  “You have heard my condition. Thanida will be my slave for a year if she loses the duel!”

  Murmurs surged through the crowd, swelling into a clamor. Everyone seemed to have an opinion to shout to his neighbor.

  “Then you are a coward, doing anything to avoid the fight!” Thanida goaded me.

  “Indeed, Thanida?” I retorted. “If I am so feeble as you claim, why fear the thought of slavery?”

  “I do not fear it at all!” cried Thanida. “I accept your condition of slavery. We shall fight to the end! And know this—I shall not accept if you attempt to yield!”