"My people only 'duel' in arenas. Though unlike what I've seen in the human world so far, every duel was a fight to the death. Gladiators and gladiatrices like myself would fight for the amusement of the wealthier members of society. Whoever survived would win renown for their patron, and perhaps better supplies and privileges for themselves. Such is the way of things."

- Raylani Nelass, Dark Elf, "Stories With Elaria Kastiane."

The land was bathed in the eerie purple glow of an otherworldly arcane wall. Ancient spells that perverted the very gentleness of the blue sky. Below it, a wild and lush countryside vibrant with plants that breathed new life into lands once devastated by the march of death. Interspersed around a lonely field just within sight of a lonely brick barracks that stood solemnly to cut through the purplish were a few dozen people. Traders, peasants and soldiers alike gathered to witness the spectacle being played out before their very eyes.

Amidst the murmuring of spectators and the metallic clanging of blades, Lucinia noticed something odd. Beyond this little amusing gathering of people there was little other noise. No bird calls or the chirps of creatures, not even the rustling of trees against the breeze. It felt as if the world around them had stilled simply to watch what was happening. It was an eerie feeling, to see the life rolling green hills just nearby and yet feeling none of the life that it held.

The horrific clang of metal dragged her focus back onto the fight at hand. A Gratian chevalier now dueled with her half blooded comrade. There were no rules beyond no killing and that victory is achieved by forcing the other to surrender or being in such an advantageous position that superiority is all but guaranteed. A pointless, uncouth affair in her eyes. For there was no 'honor' that could be found in such an ill regulated and vulgar clash.

Their movements were elegant enough. Both trained warriors in their own way. Though, even after the first few blows they traded, Lucinia could tell who held the advantage in experience. Sophie's movements were fast and chaotic, yet she could dart in and out between blows only to strike at another angle. But the chevalier was a professional knight, and in such a situation his training and likely decades of training seemed to prevail. Although he seemed increasingly willing to fall into Sophie's provocations and give chase, his movements were more deliberate, controlled, and measured. Each step followed by another with some grand plan evolving within his mind, each sword strike made to sing with intent in contrast to Sophie's more frantic style of combat.

Unlike other duels she'd witnessed in the past though, there was no flow here, no dance of skill or sophisticated expression. What was on display wasn't the celebration of their efforts, but the ugly desire to dominate the other. And for what? They aren't even fighting about detaining us or something else anymore. Just two idiots with something to prove to each other. A frightening lack of nobility on display for such a sacred act. Then again, what would a peasant know about proper dueling etiquette, let alone a former maid. At least the knight is holding his head high.

Lucinia held back a tired sigh. She found the affair of a duel with its result almost preordained terribly dull. While she had no doubts that Sophie was a capable combatant, she was out of her depth. She had heard of the half blood's exploits and the feats of martial prowess. But they were all underlined by a key factor that would not be present here. That of desperation and the desire to survive. Even with the chevalier's anger towards her, Lucinia could already see that the facsimile of a proper duel was already reigning his emotions in. She doubted that he would break the codes of conduct, though admittedly she didn't know how exactly the Gratians conducted such ceremonies.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and frowned. Distracting herself from the sorry state of affairs, she turned her thoughts back towards home. She recalled gaudy displays of elegance and culture, the unmissable pulse of civilisation that brought the world alive. The duels of honor and resolution, afforded to those wronged or otherwise in conflict. The careful preparations each fighter would have to make before clashing in a terrific display of arms.

She almost smiled.Thoughts of a long held Traxian tradition known as the 'week of honor' filling her mind. A festival in which even the peasantry were trained in the basic arts of combat, at least those who hadn't been conscripted or had served with the legions before. A week-long event in which hundreds of thousands feuds, conflicts, disputes, arguments, and more were solved through a display of martial prowess.

Lucinia was never one for violence, though she understood the need for it. She just enjoyed such events more. Ones in which only a handful ever died through accidents or otherwise. But beyond them, a festival to celebrate the history of the empire as well. To remind both its people and the world that it was more than capable of standing up for itself. Those of whom performed more than admirably could even be rewarded by local adjudicators recommending them to elite military academies. A well paid blessing to the common folk who often clamored to improve their lot in life.

Another terrific clash snapped her attention back onto the display currently in front of her. The chevalier had assumed a defensive stance, sword held forward and his right leg braced for an attack. Sophie meanwhile, was standing a little further back, licking her wounds and calculating what next avenue she could take to attack.

With a sudden burst of speed, the chevalier launched his attack. Two thrusts and a slash. Sophie deftly parried the jabs before jumping out of the way of the last one. Sensing an opportunity, the elf lunged forward, managing to land a blow on against his flank and scraping some paint off his pauldron. The chevalier reacted by throwing his shoulder against her, forcing her to disengage and create some distance lest she got crushed by the armor.

The two combatants began circling one another once more, having regained their bearings after the short skirmish. A few of the onlookers whispered amongst themselves, most noting how irregular their blows have been. Lucinia agreed. Unlike regular duels with points, techniques, and rules that contained explosive actions all within a few minutes, these two had already been going for what felt like dozens if not an hour. They circled each other like hunter and prey, often switching between the roles as they launched into quick but ferocious attacks only to retreat just as quickly.

Lucinia watched as the elf reset her own posture and circled her opponent, keeping her blade pointed at him. Regarding this matter, she concluded that Sophie carried herself with a certain amount of poise for a lowborn. Almost as soon as the thought entered her mind did it come to an abrupt halt. Lowborn, that's what she is, a lowborn knife ear. Or so it should be. Lucinia mused, but now…

The elf struck for this time, dashing in to deliver a hefty blow against the armored man's torso. A loud thwack echoed as the blade met the armor, the sturdy wargear effortlessly making her blade slide off. The chevalier retaliated with a quick spin, Sophie barely getting enough time to block the blow. His sheer strength made her stagger backwards and almost lose her balance, opening her up to another blow. He seized his moment and tried to disarm her. Before his gauntlets could grip her blade, she ducked and scrambled out of the way, putting the two of them back to square one.

A little relieved, Lucinia let out a soft sigh before shaking her head in disgust. What am I doing? Getting worried about the half blood? How foolish. In her mind, Sophie didn't need the support anyways. She was more than stubborn enough to act on her own regardless and just as competent as she was foolish, at least from what she could gather. And seeing how the half elf was faltering but still holding her own against a professional chevalier this whole time lent some credence to her observations.

Sophie and the captain immediately launched into another bout, their blades finding themselves locked together. In an attempt to shake herself free, Sophie surrendered the clash and hoped he would let momentum carry himself forward. However, to her dismay, the chevalier recovered just as quickly and lashed out to the side. Lucinia felt a small pit in her stomach grow when she watched how the chevalier's blade slammed its side against Sophie's back. Though it did not penetrate or cut, the blow itself and the knight's strength forced the wind out of her lungs.

Come on you silly idiot, that can't be what brings you down. Lucinia wanted to yell.

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"Stand firm." Mila hissed quietly, "Do not let pain sully your footing."

The inquisitor appeared almost pleased when Sophie managed to recover.

Lucinia bristled with a strangely familiar sensation. A sour bitterness that now filled her tongue, her nostrils taking in the smell of sweat around her even more acutely than before. For she spied more than just respect or acknowledgement within the inquisitor's expression, but something more. Something akin to pride or even joy in seeing a comrade succeed. No, they are friends. Lucinia corrected herself.

She glanced over to the others. Philippe was taking full advantage of the lack of attention on him to take a break. An understandable desire. The hulking mass of armored green muscle called Marduk acted as one of the enforcers, ensuring that no zealous soldier or uppity peasant would interrupt the match. Then there were the other two, the bard and the assassin. Both of whom carried themselves with a certain amount of dignity and grace that was born from the sheer certainty they had in their own abilities.

The church folk flocked to Mila. Who in turn had joined up with the half elf. Elaria, of course, was connected by whatever convoluted familial lineage that she shared with Sophie. That left the question of the strangest elf, Raylani. Somehow, the bard had managed to completely subjugate or seduce the assassin. Whichever way didn't matter to Lucinia, only that it had happened.

Whatever the case, they all had their roles to play. Each bringing a mixture of skills to the table that formed an odd but functional adventuring party.

She felt it again, that bitterness. And seeing how the others cheered for Sophie, she was made even more keenly aware of the sensation.

Not only did she have none of the skills that the others had. She also had none of their bonds. Be it colleagues like Mila and Philippe or the sibling connection that Sophie and Elaria shared. Not even a wandering assistant like that of the oddly colored purplish blue elf. Not anymore.

Her own siblings saw each other as obstacles to the thrones of Traxia. Only the middle brother showed more than an iota of care towards her outside of the world of nobility that they inhabited. Though he was more inclined towards pursuing more carnal delights than spending time with family, not that she blamed him. Given the cutthroat nature of the imperial family, it was probably the safest way to create some distance.

Then came the support structure. The underlings and followers that she once had at her command. Her influence upon society had always been very limited given her opposition to the old ways. Her almost foolish desire for a halt to Traxia's ever increasing war efforts had seen her sent to Arteria and now, stripped of her titles and staff.

It was at this point that she let out a soft sigh. Regret tinged with tiredness. Unlike the others she had little to offer. No active skills and now even less connections. Her only loyal compatriot, Olviia, she had sent away to ensure that the girl wouldn't have her future affected by her. Although it was moments like this that the familiarity offered a small sense of reassurance and comfort.

For the first time in a while, Lucina could properly grasp the emotions she felt. She was horribly jealous. Whatever idiocy Sophie possessed was matched by an equally expansive and growing network of connections. The church, dwarves, city elves, adventurers, and even members of nobility were counted as acquaintances or even friends. Her mood only soured when she considered the matter of Sophie's accolades and titles. Potentially ancient royalty or not, Lucinia had to begrudgingly admit that if all of Sophie's tales and stories about her contained even a small grain of truth. Then she had steadfastly clawed her way towards earning all of it for good or ill.

Then here she was, Lucinia Trax. Former princess, former heiress, and former citizen of Traxia. Whilst the others could offer their skills and services, she had little to give. Where Sophie cut her way forward no matter what, she was floundering. Worse of all, the others all knew or respected each other even if they disagreed amongst themselves. For they were all capable people and they knew that. As for her, there was little she could do. The odd one out. The useless one, she frowned.

Devastated by the conclusion she arrived at, she let out a frustrated yelp and kicked at the ground. It was meant to be a display for herself. A brief venting of her own inadequacies. Yet, somewhere between her feet lifting off the ground to stomp back down, did a final mortifying revelation cross her mind. The fight had resumed in earnest and the people around her were silent, enraptured by the martial display ahead of them.

Sophie was sweating. The girl was struggling against the chevalier's onslaught and barely holding on. But she made a respectable and even commendable attempt nonetheless. She was lost in the fight and fought all the better for it.

Yet it was sound that proved to be an impartial master. A blade striking a blade would always sound like metal hitting metal, save for the differences in material and craft. The clanking of armor would always alert you to movement. And in the heat of battle, as the desire to win consumed you, most things would flow like unintelligible background noise. All it depended on was one's skill in processing such information and the inevitable conclusion that one could draw from it.

So it was that within the fury of battle, only those sounds most unique and familiar to one could immediately draw even the briefest of breaks within that intensive level of focus. And Lucinia realized, only too late, that Sophie paused ever so slightly to glance over at her, having all too clearly heard her cry of frustration amongst the quiet of the crowd. For hers was a voice that the half elf recognized.

And within that moment of distraction, a savage blow was landed that almost tore her arm off. The chevalier slammed his blade against hers so that the hilt of his weapon would strike the back of her hand. Pained and surprised, Sophie's hand unwittingly released her grip in an attempt to recoil from the pain. Disarmed, she had little time to react before the chevalier's blade was raised towards her throat.

A silence descended upon the arena. No one in the crowd spoke, no more sounds of battle. Only the soft crunch of grass underfoot as a few people shuffled about. Many were simply too stunned at the sudden halt to the fight.

"Le Capitaine Henri Fontaine victorieux!" A chevalier announced.

"Captain Henri Fontaine stands victorious!" Philippe scrambled to repeat after another moment of silence.

As disbelief faded from the crowd, a loud cheer erupted from some of the gathered soldiers. Their joy soon spread to the citizenry who were just happy to have witnessed such a spectacle.

Lucinia dared not meet the gazes of the others and cast her eyes to the dirt. She had thought that Sophie would lose given the mismatch in professional skill. That perhaps the half elf would surrender after one last flourish to end a fantastic display of skill. Instead, because of her, such futures have been rendered moot. A soft simple thud as Sophie's blade hit the ground.

The world around her was abuzz with talk and applause but hers was silent. She could only hear her own heartbeat as it grew in intensity. The same way it had beat when she had been caught rummaging through the Imperial Library at night and how horrible it felt.

She was the useless one, the one that they pitied and brought along with them. They showed understanding even if they didn't need to and now she had sabotaged them. Dread enveloped her soul in its icy embrace and she felt her whole body grow rigid. She dared not move or even breathe. Afraid that the next movement might reveal her presence to the world once more and invoke its harsh rebuke. They were not friends, but she did not want their ire either.

"You alright?" A voice startled her.

Lucinia almost jumped at the intrusion. Her inner sanctum breached, she turned frenzied eyes sideways to find the bard staring at her quizzically. In stark contrast to her own features, Elaria was poised and composed. Her face was wreathed in a mask of indifference, rendering Lucinia unable to gauge how to properly respond.

"Lucinia, are you alright?" Elaria repeated, a flicker of concern at the Traxian's silence.

"I… huh?" Lucinia mumbled.

"Are you alright? Did someone try to grab you? Did you see something suspicious?" Elaria quickly put on a wary snarl.

"What… no, no… no. I'm… fine?"

Elaria appeared unconvinced, but seeing that Lucinia would be offering little else, the bard shrugged.

"Well… okay." Elaria rolled her eyes before patting Lucinia's shoulder, "If you're ready and able then get ready to mount up again."

"H-huh?"

"Look at the meathead." Elaria snickered and pointed towards Sophie and the Captain, "One good fight and suddenly 'they understand' the other. Pfft. We'll probably be on the move again within five minutes. So shake off what you need to and get ready."

Lucinia followed her hand and snuck a look at the combatants. There was no formal passage of arms or proper farewell or greeting. Only two warriors staring at each other before breaking off their gazes after some strange consensus was reached. For her however, the dread only grew as she found no signs of a reaction about the loss upon Sophie's visage. No sense of what would happen next or how they would rid themselves of their weakest compatriot.

"Oi, Lucinia. Stop pretending to be a log and move, I mean it when I said we'll need to be ready to go." Elaria called out once more, the more aggressive tone finally snapping her back to focus.

Panicked and confused, Lucinia mutely nodded and obeyed. Her mind was still racing about the duel that she had just ruined. Stupid, stupid.

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