Hector sat on his horse, surveying the land before him. It had been weeks since he had left the capital, and his efforts had finally borne fruit. With Lord Bovera’s support, he had managed to persuade Lord Galra and Lord Nazau to settle their dispute over the death of Lord Nazau’s son with a duel, rather than plunge their houses into war.

  The chosen site was a small open field at the border of their territories, surrounded by a thick, rich forest. The land on which they would duel was the very land the winner would claim. With the trees ablaze in every shade of red, yellow, and brown, the duel would be fought enveloped by a storm of colors, the autumn leaves turning the world into one that looked like it was on fire.

  Breathing in the crisp autumn air, Hector scanned the area, noting the soldiers on both sides.

  Looks like they both brought their elite warriors, he thought, silently judging the way they stood in formation. I need to keep my eye on Lord Nazau; he’s the most likely to break the rules and attempt to wipe out all of Galra’s troops. Hopefully, he’ll be too focused on them to notice mine are still green.

  Behind him stood a thousand soldiers—soldiers meant to enforce the rules of the duel. Yet most of them barely had the training required to march in unison. During the negotiations, he had drilled them relentlessly, not for battle but to at least appear formidable when standing in formation. They were a paper army, but to the untrained eye, they looked strong.

  Signaling Sol, one of the few veterans who had accompanied him, Hector squeezed his legs together, nudging his horse forward. Seeing his movements, a small detachment from both sides rode forward, their horses whining as they walked closer.

  “My Lord, was taking an army of a thousand inexperienced soldiers, a good idea?” Sol asked, his horse half a length behind Hector. “Wouldn't it have been better if we brought a smaller but more experienced group? If a fight breaks out, we won’t be able to stop it.”

  Sighing in frustration, Hector pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, this is a gamble. But we don’t have a choice. Without a large force, we wouldn’t have been able to pressure Lord Galra into accepting this duel. He’s someone who sees numbers over quality.” Taking a deep breath, he took control of his emotions. “This is the choice we have made. At this point, all we can do is to see it out.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Sol said, his worried expression forcefully wiped from his face.

  Reaching the center of the field, they sat on their horses, letting the cool breeze wash over them. The wind ruffled their hair, tossing strands across their faces. Hector brushed his back with one hand as he took in the scene: fallen leaves danced constantly across the battlefield, and the faint smell of last night’s rain lingered in the air. It was a good day to have a duel.

  “Lord Hector.”

  Lord Bovera approached, leading Lord Para, Lord Galra, and Galra’s sons. He nodded to them in greeting.

  “Lord Bovera, I would like to thank you for helping me set up this duel,” Hector curtly said, bowing slightly from his horse.

  “Nothing good can come of a war between the Great Houses. It is my duty as a citizen of Vanura to keep our kingdom as strong as possible,” Lord Bovera replied, the smile on his face never quite reaching his eyes.

  That smile brought Hector a momentary flash of guilt and sadness. Once, House Bovera had been the most loyal of the Great Houses to House Salizia—decades of trust and loyalty bound them together. But everything had changed during The Dark Times. When Bovera needed Salizia the most, King Alfred had abandoned them, allowing Queen Kina’s father, Basti, to squander the relief fund meant for Bovera for his own pleasures.

  By the time King Alfred had fallen ill and Queen Kina’s family had been executed, the damage was irreversible. Lord Bovera’s action of not bringing his soldiers to the capital during Calahan’s rebellion proved this. Hector knew he could no longer trust him. He understood Lord Bovera’s reasons, but understanding did not equal forgiveness. The wound Alfred left on Bovera would never fully heal.

  Drawing a slow breath, Hector tried to convince himself that there was a little bit of hope left. If Queen Milina could prove her ability to rule, if she could choose a husband wisely and uphold the laws of the Kingdom, then perhaps she might convince Lord Bovera to be loyal to her… even if he still distrusted House Salizia.

  “We can both agree that our Kingdom’s safety is always the most important thing to us,” he said, turning to look at Lord Bovera. Their eyes locked for a second. Holding the stare for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, Hector nodded before setting his attention to Lord Galra.

  Lord Galra wore traditional dueling attire: light brown pants tucked into black leather boots that reached his knees, a black coat over a dark shirt, and a light white scarf tied in a bow at his throat. Atop his head sat a triangular hat. The coat was embroidered with delicate flowers and a magnificent peacock. At his hip hung a rapier.

  He looks confident, that’s unexpected, Hector thought, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Everyone knows he’s weaker than Lord Nazau. Does he have something up his sleeve?

  As he pondered, a bellowing shout erupted from behind him, so loud that several horses reared in fright.

  “Essen, I will see you beheaded today!”

  Lord Nazau had finally reached them, his three remaining sons following him like bloodthirsty hounds.

  Unlike Lord Galra, Lord Nazau wore spartan dueling attire—no embroideries, no bows, no hats—just plain dark, thick leather. His two-handed sword was strapped to his back.

  “Lord Nazau,” Lord Bovera said, his voice carrying across the field. “I would like to remind you that this duel is over once one side yields or is killed. Killing an opponent who has yielded is a crime.”

  Hector knew Lord Bovera had added Aether to his voice so everyone could hear. By making sure the rules were clear to all, he ensured Lord Galra would be safe once he surrendered.

  “Do not think I have forgotten your family's involvement in this, Bisconti!” Lord Nazau viciously replied, anger causing the blood vessels in his forehead to pulse. “If it were up to me, I would butcher you as well.”

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “Lord Nazau,” Hector said, stepping forward to prevent any further conflict. “As agreed upon, you and Lord Galra will duel to clear up the blood feud between you. The winner will take ownership of the northern lands that are currently in the possession of Lord Galra. I, Hector Salizia, will officiate the duel. Are we in agreement?”

  “Yes.”

  Dropping his voice so only those close to him could hear, he warned.

  “My Lords, I remind you that this is a formal duel. If either side breaks the rules of engagement, I, Hector Salizia, acting on behalf of Queen Milina, will punish the offender in her stead.” Taking turns to look at both men, Hector put a slight amount of Aether into his eyes, a clear warning. “Are we clear?”

  “Yes,” both sides answered, their eyes locked on each other. Without waiting for Hector’s signal, the two Lords strode to the center of the field, their swords drawn. Their faces mirrored their emotions as they settled into their martial stances, the very air rippling as Aether radiated off them.

  The crowd was silent, no one daring to make a noise.

  Feeling a knot of anxiety in his chest, Hector watched the duel begin. In an instant, both Lords moved!

  Lord Nazau rushed forward, his lightning-fast blade cleaving forward, his blade missing Lord Galra’s throat by less than an inch.

  “Essen! Your disgraceful excuse for a son killed my boy! No notice, no formal duel, no honor! He was butchered like a common criminal! I will avenge him today by dragging your dead body back to his grave!” Lord Nazau shouted, spittle flying from his lips. His face was distorted in grief and rage, his voice quivering uncontrollably.

  Leaping back and falling into a defensive stance, Lord Galra sneered. “Your son never even inherited your family crest! Being killed by my son was the most honor he could have hoped for!”

  Hector grimaced. From Lord Galra’s words alone, he knew Lord Nazau would lose his reason.

  Consumed by rage, Lord Nazau drew as much Aether into him as he could, his wordless scream shaking the air. His crest flared violently as waves of bright light billowed out and formed into a terrifying tiger.

  “I will desecrate your body! I will sever your path to the last sea! Your ancestors will forever mourn your inability to return to them!” he roared, the terrifying tiger charging forward.

  “You dare!” Lord Galra snapped, summoning all his power in turn. A radiant peacock burst into existence behind him, its feathers fanning wide in a dazzling display, blinding those who looked too closely. The two energies collided with each other, the impact causing a powerful wind that flattened the grass around them.

  Deflecting Lord Nazau’s sword, Lord Galra countered with a flurry of precise strikes, his House’s third sword technique: Death’s Beak! Like a predator’s beak, his rapier constantly stabbed forward.

  Lord Nazau rolled to the side, dodging the attack with ease. He struck back with an upward slash, forcing Lord Galra to block awkwardly, his stance broken. Seizing the moment, Lord Nazau unleashed a savage barrage of heavy blows, each strike hacking at Lord Galra’s rapier, sparks flying with every impact.

  “If he doesn’t do something soon, his sword will break,” Sol whispered beside Hector.

  “He needs to create space,” Hector nodded in agreement.

  Almost as if he had heard Hector’s words, Lord Galra seemed to notice the urgent state of his sword. He jumped to his side then leaped into the air, floating for a moment ten feet above the ground. Twisting midair, he reached into his cloak and unleashed a fan of daggers; House Galra’s famous barrage of daggers!

  The air rang with the clang of steel as Lord Nazau deflected the most dangerous daggers, ignoring those that weren’t aimed at vital areas. There was a splatter of blood as one dagger sank deep into his thigh, while another bounced off his thick leather shoulder pad.

  “Lord Galra drew first blood!” Sol gasped. The cheers of Galra’s soldiers erupted across the field, reverberating like a rolling drumbeat. Across the field from them, the soldiers of Nazau silently watched, their knuckles white as they gripped their spears.

  As if the wound didn’t bother him, Lord Nazau roared and closed the distance in a single bound, his sword raised high. Slashing downward before Lord Galra could land and regain his footing, he carved a deep gash across Lord Galra’s chest, bright blood spilling out.

  Nazau’s soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers, their voices drowning out Galra’s men. Lord Galra tumbled across the field, blown back by the terrifying display of raw power. Coughing up blood, he rolled to his feet, his shaking hands no longer holding his rapier. Frantically scanning the field, he dove to the side, snatching his rapier off the ground.

  “How is he still alive!” Sol shouted, eyes wide.

  “He has multiple daggers strapped to his body,” Hector explained, his Aether-enchanted eyes seeing every detail. “They blocked some of the impact, but because they are flat against his body, they allowed Lord Nazau’s blade to cut him still. If he didn’t have those daggers, he’d have been cut in half.”

  Staggering, Lord Galra kept his distance, hurling waves of daggers at Lord Nazau, each one streaking through the air. His own blood spattered from his hands, mixing with the deadly daggers. Yet, even with the injury to this thigh, Lord Nazau pressed forward, his masterful swordsmanship allowing him to parry the barrage of daggers.

  With a burst of power into his legs, Lord Nazau surged forward, scattering the autumn leaves into the air. The battlefield was soon filled with a storm of red, yellow, and brown leaves, the falling leaves catching the specks of blood as the two Great Lords fought. If it weren’t for the threat of death, it would have almost been beautiful.

  “The fight will be over in seconds,” Hector breathed, drawing his two-handed saber and getting off his horse. If Lord Galra surrenders, I need to stop Lord Nazau.

  Within moments, a loud clash rang out as Lord Nazau slammed his greatsword into Lord Galra’s rapier, the impact causing the watching soldiers to cry out in alarm. With a clear snapping sound, the rapier shattered, shards of steel embedding themselves into Lord Galra’s forearms. Staggering back, he raised his hands in front of him, blood dripping down his arms.

  “I surrender!” he shouted, his face pale, streaks of blood and sweat dripping down it.

  Hearing his words, Lord Nazau’s face twisted into an unhinged expression of rage. Ignoring the plea, he roared like a beast and struck down, his greatsword flashing down in a terrifying blur.

  “DIE!”

  The sound of steel against steel rang out as Hector lunged forward, his saber intercepting the strike in the nick of time.

  “Lord Nazau,” Hector said firmly, his eyes locked onto the raging man. “The duel has ended. Lord Galra has surrendered. If you continue, I will be forced to consider it a violation of the law.”

  Baring his teeth in a salvage snarl, Lord Nazau knocked Hector’s blade aside and spat at his feet. Locking eyes with Hector, he yanked the dagger that was still lodged in his thigh free and tossed it into the ground.

  “I want all of you to get off my land,” he growled, his voice echoing across the field. Ignoring Hector, he walked over to his sons.

  Keeping his guard up until Lord Nazau had reached his son’s, Hector glanced down at Lord Galra.

  Lord Galra was lying on his back, his arms over his head, blood dripping onto the ground. He was severely injured but alive.

  Hector had once dismissed him as one of the weaker Great Lords, but today he had proven otherwise. Not only had he held his own against Lord Nazau, but he was able to injure him, a man widely considered to be the third-strongest warrior in the Kingdom.

  Frowning in thought, Hector waited until Sol, Lord Bovera, and the other Lords rode up.

  “Father!” Shyldis, Lord Galra’s eldest, dismounted at once, followed closely by Bricks and their men. They rushed over to their father’s side, frantically tending to his wounds, their faces pale.

  “He’s injured, but he should recover,” Hector reassured them before turning to Lord Bovera and Para. “I trust this duel has settled the matter and spared us from war?”

  Lord Para only grunted, a curt nod the closest thing to an answer. Lord Bovera, meanwhile, forced a smile, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, Lord Hector. As long as Lord Nazau does not provoke us, we will not retaliate.”

  Nodding in satisfaction, Hector turned to Sol. “See to it that the transfer of land is completed within a few days. I’ll take half the men back to the capital. I want a full report by the end of the week.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Sol answered.

  Mounting his horse, Hector allowed a faint sigh of relief. For now, war had been avoided, but he was not sure how long it would hold. Lord Nazau was not someone who forgave, and Lord Bovera was not someone who left potential enemies be.