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Sieg and Marien - Part 3 - Duel

"This really is not necessary."

"Just sit still and this will go much faster."

Lieutenant General Kent Silver sighed heavily as the doctor worked to clean an ugly gash on his arm. "Pointless, just wrap it up and leave it be. A few more scars might do well for my reputation."

"Thank goodness your lieutenant had more sense and insisted on bringing you here," the doctor replied, gently working a cotton swab around the wound. After a moment she drew it to her nose and sniffed, a frown crossing her face, "There is dirt and detritus in the wound already, if it isn't cleaned it could get infected."

Kent raised an eyebrow, "Infected? Who do you think you are talking to? I am a Basitin warrior, not a human."

"Yes yes, you soldiers are all very strong," the doctor grumbled to herself, dropping the bloody cotton swab into a bucket beside her feet. From the pocket of her long white coat, she withdrew a small bottle of ointment, popped off the little cork, and dabbed some on a cloth, "So, with that being said, I am sure you won't even feel this."

"What are you-" As the doctor slapped the cloth against his wound, Kent slammed his mouth shut, only a tiny squeal of agony escaping his lips. It took all of his control to keep himself from leaping up from the bed, and his tail stuck straight out with such force that it sent a pillow flying across the room. The claws on the ends of his toes dug into the floor and carved little furrows in the wood.

"There," the doctor said with a smile, patting Kent on the head. "Not so bad after all, is it?"

"No," Kent replied, unable to prevent his voice from squeaking. "It's... just... fine." Had he looked down at his arm, he was certain he would see smoke rising up from it.

"Good. Now, a few stitches should do the job. Maybe next time you go hunting you'll be more careful."

As the doctor set about sewing up his arm, Kent turned to her, "You're a fine doctor Sara, but you would do well to remember that I am a General. What would the Matron say if she saw you treating an officer like this?"

Despite her blindfold, Sara's hands were a masterful whirlwind as she knitted Kent's flesh back together, "She would probably wonder, as I do, why you soldiers seem to be able to take wounds on the battlefield with gritted teeth and a smile, yet turn into newborns when the time comes to patch you up."

"Well, on the battlefield one tends to have larger problems to concern themselves with than scrapes and bruises."

"Hmph, you soldiers like fighting entirely too much."

"That's a strange thing to say considering who you..." Kent's voice trailed off as his ears picked up the sounds of running in the hall beyond the door to his room. His ears twitched as he heard the sounds of excited voices and yelling.

"What is it?" Sara asked, the noises catching her attention as well.

"Don't know." Kent hopped down from the bed and grabbed hold of his sword, "I'll go check."

"Oh no you won't!" Sara said, stepping in front of Kent. "Just give me a moment to finish, then you can- General?" Sara paused and reached out a hand, waving it around but feeling nothing but empty air, "General? Kent? Hello?"

===

Beneath a tree in the Healing Guild's front garden, Sieg and Lyon prepared for their duel. Around the two warriors, a small crowd had gathered and was swiftly growing larger. Doctors, nurses, and even patients, as well as passers by on the street, all formed a tight circle around Sieg and Lyon, all variously whispering and muttering to one another.

Sieg drew his weapon from its sheath and held it in front of him. Across from him, Lyon also drew his blade, whipping it around him with a confident flourish.

Despite his circumstances, Sieg couldn't help but feel a flash of awe at the sight of Lyon's blade. The sword was at least a hand's length longer than Sieg's, with a subtly flared tip that allowed for faster and easier cutting. The silvery sheen of the metal made clear that it was crafted from valuable stainless steel, which was almost impossible to create without the aid of magic. Inlaid upon the blade were runes carved from gold and decorated with small emeralds. The elegantly carved grip was carved from rich black pine, likely shipped from the black forests of the snow leopard lands in the northern reaches of the mainland. Every detail of the sword made it obvious that it was a work of art by a master craftsman.

Shaking his head to clear away the distraction, Sieg set about checking his own weapon. His guardsman's sword was reliable but unremarkable, crafted from common steel, with a simple handle and pommel. But despite its ordinary appearance, Sieg had taken good care of his weapon, and its blade, sharpened to a razor's edge, flashed in the morning sun. As he drew his weapon, for the first time since leaving his house, Sieg noted the absence of his armour.

"He's just some rich fop with a fancy sword and a title he got through nepotism," Sieg thought to himself, testing the edge of his sword with the back of one of his claws. "I'm a real soldier, I can take him."

As Lyon tested the weight and heft of his weapon, an older Basitin dressed in long black robes stepped out of the crowd. A pair of half moon spectacles sat upon the man's wizened old nose, and an impressive grey beard reached from his chin to his waist.

"Lord Chariot, what are you doing?" the old man demanded. "What is this?"

"A simple matter of honour Jabarian," Lyon replied. As he spoke, a leaf from the tree above broke off and floated towards the ground. Lyon's blade flashed like a bolt of lightning as he neatly sliced the leaf in half, leading several of the onlookers to gasp and whisper.

Sieg felt his heart sink as the two halves of the leaf fluttered to the ground, even the stem cut neatly in half lengthwise.

"This is unnecessary!" Jabarian urged, shuffling closer to Lyon. "You have no need to fight this... this..." Jabarian gestured over at Sieg, "This nobody! Amber started the fight, there is no need for you to do this!"

"Perhaps not," Lyon replied, pushing Jabarian aside as he finished testing his sword. "Then again, no one touches what is mine and gets away with it. Besides, it's not like anyone will miss him."

"But-"

"Know your place, caretaker, and get out of my way."

Jabarian's nose crinkled as he frowned, but he obediently stepped back into the crowd.

Stepping into the center of the circle, Lyon looked around at the assembled onlookers, his face cracking into a smile. "Do I have a volunteer to get this started?" He looked around before aiming the point of his sword at a pretty young female in the front, "You."

"M-me?" The young woman blinked in surprise.

"Yes." Lyon pulled off his cape and tossed it to the girl, "Once we are ready, drop this and we can get this over with."

"It's an honour my lord," the young woman replied, blushed slightly as Lyon winked at her as she caressed the rich, soft fabric of the cloak.

As Lyon talked, Sieg reached into his tunic and withdrew the piece of fabric that Marien had given him and tied it around his arm.

"You're not getting to her." Sieg muttered to himself, glaring at Lyon, "No one is getting to her, not now, not ever."

Turning back to Sieg, Lyon reached up and pulled off his helmet, tossing it aside.

"Are you certain you want to fight this out, little guardsman?" he asked, making a show of looking down the length of his blade at Sieg. "If you just stand still I can make your death so quick you won't even feel it."

"Shut up," Sieg snarled back.

"As you wish." Whirling his sword around in his hand, Lyon called out to the crowd, "I am Lyon Chariot, Son of Andar Chariot. I make this challenge-" Lyon raised his blade, aiming the point at Sieg's chest, "-so that I may avenge my wife, my sweet Amber, who was wounded by the loathsome Western harlot this cretin calls a wife."

"Your 'Amber' was wounded in a duel that she instigated," Seig shot back, his words drawing whispers and murmurs from the crowd.

"The Westerner needs to learn her place," Lyon replied with a small smile, "And so, it seems, do you."

Gripping his sword with both hands and planting his feet, Sieg spoke, "I am Sieg Kolvest, and I accept your challenge, if only to get you to shut your mouth."

With a low chuckle, Lyon looked over at the woman with his cloak, "Whenever you are ready."

The young woman nodded and raised her arm, "Let this matter be settled."

For a few heart pounding moments everything was still. The crowd held their breath as the two warriors sized each other up.

Willing his heart to stop thumping against his ribs, Sieg took a deep breath.

The young woman released her grip and the cloak fluttered to the ground.

The moment the fabric touched the grass, Lyon lunged forwards, moving fast and low. He brought his sword up, aiming a blow at Sieg's chest, a common opening move. Sieg blocked the strike, but was thrown off guard when Lyon pressed the attack, using the weight of his blade to force Sieg back and knock his sword upwards. As Sieg stumbled, Lyon lashed out with the tip of his sword, the blade slicing through Sieg's tunic and raking across his left shoulder, just above his collarbone.

Sieg cried out and stepped back, clutching at his shoulder. The cut wasn't particularly deep, but it was extremely painful. Worse than that, Sieg also knew that, had Lyon wanted, he could have easily slashed his throat and ended the duel in one shot.

"Oh, that looks like it hurt," Lyon said, stepping back. "Are you sure you don't wish to take me up on my offer?"

In response Sieg attacked, striking at Lyon's shoulder and then his left leg. Lyon deflected the first attack and dodged the second, using the opening to launch an assault of his own.

Lyon advanced again and again, swinging his sword with casual, practiced dexterity. Sieg was able to block or dodge out of the way of the blows, but only just barely. The ring of steel clashing against steel rang through the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath as the two warriors fought. With one well placed stroke, Lyon inflicted a cut just above Sieg's right eye and sent his helmet flying. Sieg's helmet fell to the ground and rolled into the ring of onlookers, vanishing amid the feet of the crowd.

Shaking his head to clear the blood from his eyes, Sieg knew he was in very deep trouble. He was being toyed with, and it was no small wonder, not only was Lyon older and larger than he was, he had clearly been trained by a master.

As he was forced to take step after step backwards, the crowd behind Sieg parted. Glancing over his shoulder, Sieg found he had been driven back towards the Guild's outer wall. Sieg knew he had to stop his retreat, or he would find himself trapped.

With a cry, Sieg met one of Lyon's blows with all of his strength, forcing Lyon's sword away, before taking a step forwards and aiming a sweeping two-handed blow at Lyon's midsection, a swing strong enough to cleave armour and bone. Sieg's blade missed by a hair's breadth as Lyon stepped backwards, while at the same time thrusting with the point of his longer sword. Though he tried to block, the blade found its way under Sieg's defense and the point of the sword dug deep into his thigh. With a furious cry, Sieg fought through the pain and pressed the attack, forcing Lyon to disengage and step back.

Taking a series of deep breaths, Sieg fought to retain his composure. Even through the adrenaline, Sieg could feel the lack of sleep, as well as the stress of the morning, and his desperate sprint from his house to the Healing Guild, catching up to him. He could already feel his muscles beginning to complain, his eyes stung from the blood, and his grip on his sword trembled slightly. Worse, he could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around his heart, he was losing.

Lyon, on the other hand, wasn't even breathing hard. He had a confident smile on his lips, and his eyes shone the excitement of certain victory.

"I'll grant you, you have fought better than expected," Lyon said, casually resting his sword on his shoulder as he paced back and forth. "I expected a punk with a smart mouth and nothing to back it up, but you're not doing too badly."

Raising his sword in front of him, making certain not to make it obvious that he was still trying to catch his breath, Sieg shot back, "If you're expecting me to return the compliment, you'll be waiting a long time."

"As you wish," Lyin replied, making a show of shrugging for the onlookers, his sword held tantalizingly loose in his hand as he kept one eye on Sieg, goading him to attack. "Nothing wrong with showing a little decorum."

Sieg's eyes narrowed, it was obvious that Lyon was simply preening for the crowd.

Gripping his sword once more and raising it in front of him, Lyon smiled, "That western woman must be something special for you to go to these lengths to defend her. Who knows, I might even spare her. I suppose we'll see, after I'm finished with you. "

"Are we fighting or talking?" Sieg demanded. Even as he spoke, Sieg cursed himself. Every moment he kept Lyon talking was a chance for him to rest, but the sound of his opponent's smug voice grated on his nerves.

"I have to stay calm and end this," Sieg tightened his grip on his sword. "I can't be defensive, I have to attack!"

Gathering up his courage and his strength, Sieg went on the attack. He lunged forwards and aimed a flurry of blows at Lyon's midsection, before feinting and aiming the point of his blade at Lyon's right foot. Lyon stepped back, his footwork a blur as he dodged Sieg's attack, exactly as Sieg had predicted.

Releasing his grip on his sword, Sieg drew back a fist and slammed it into Lyon's jaw. This time it was Lyon who stumbled backwards, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. Sieg rushed forward and swung his sword, but Lyon's chest plate stopped the blade. With a loud , grinding squeal, Sieg's sword carved a deep gash into the metal.

From within the crowd, Jabarian gasped and called out, "Master Chariot!"

"I have to press!" Sieg's mind raced, "Press the attack!" Despite the screaming of his muscles, Sieg lunged forwards again.

Lyon stepped back as Sieg charged again. Enraged, Lyon blocked Sieg's attack and countered with one of his own.

Despite Sieg's desperate push, swiftly the battle shifted again. Lyon's movements were not as smooth as they had been before, but they were no less calculated and deadly. Within moments Sieg's momentum was broken and he was again forced to defend himself as Lyon attacked relentlessly, his sword a blur. Again and again the point of his sword found its way past Sieg's defenses, piercing his right forearm, his left ear and his right ankle. Sieg attacked and blocked desperately, but he was simply not fast enough to keep pace with Lyon. Every muscle in his body was screaming, his chest felt like it was going to burst, and his vision was filled with disconcerting white splotches.

Stepping forwards, Lyon locked his blade with Sieg's and forced the tip of Sieg's weapon into the dirt. Turning his body, Lyon slammed his elbow into Sieg's jaw, while at the same time stamping hard on the broad edge of Sieg's sword. The metal bent a little before snapping off just above the handle with a loud *TWANG!*.

As Sieg stepped back, dazed, Lyon raised a foot and kicked him directly in the chest, sending Sieg sprawling onto his back, gasping desperately for breath. Several members of the crowd shouted words of encouragement as Sieg tried to sit up.

Panting hard, Lyon reached up and wiped his still bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. "How dare you!" he snarled. Looking down at himself he touched the ugly gash that Sieg's weapon had torn into his gold armour, "How dare you, you little nothing!"

As he struggled to sit up, Sieg felt his hand brush against Lyon's discarded cloak and helmet. As Lyon stepped forwards, Sieg wrapped the cloak around his hand as fast as he could.

Raising his sword above his head, Lyon lunged, bringing the blade down with all of his strength. As Lyon swung, Sieg raised his arm and caught the blade in the hand he had wrapped in Lyon's cloak. The blade sliced deep into the fabric, but was unable to reach Sieg's flesh.

With the last of his strength, Sieg tightened his grip, holding Lyon's sword as tightly as he could, and surged upwards, grabbing hold of Lyon's helmet as he did. With a cry that was as much in pain as it was in desperation, Sieg struck Lyon across the face with his own helmet as hard as he could. Lyon took a staggering step backwards, releasing his grip on his sword.

Sieg managed to get to his feet, and before Lyon could regain his balance, swung Lyon's sword like it was a club, sending the handle of the sword crashing into its owner's jaw. There was a loud crack as a pair of teeth spiralled out of Lyon's mouth.

As Lyon dropped heavily to the ground, Sieg's knees quacked and finally gave out. Sieg dropped onto all fours, his vision spinning and his ears ringing loudly. No matter how he tried, he could not get up. His body simply did have anything left to give him and he collapsed to the ground.

With a grunt of agony and rage, Lyon pulled himself onto his knees. The blood vessels in his right eye had been damaged, turning his pupil a bright crimson, and a constant trickle of blood ran out the side of his mouth and nose.

"You little nothing!" he snarled, forcing himself to his feet and taking a staggering step towards Sieg. "I'm going... to gut you... like a fish!"

Even though all of Siegs instincts screamed at him to get up, he simply could not seem to get his muscles to cooperate. All he managed was to roll over onto his back.

Picking up his fallen sword, Lyon took another step forwards and raised the blade over Sieg's head. Sieg could do nothing but watch as Lyon aimed the tip of his sword at his throat.

With a deep breath, Sieg closed his eyes, "I'm sorry... Marien."

*TWANG!*

A split second before the blade touched Sieg's throat, another blade flashed from within the crowd and deflected the tip away into the dirt.

"What the-" Lyon froze as the crowd pulled away, revealing Kent, standing tall with his sword drawn.

"I think that's enough for now," Kent said, stepping into the ring, keeping his sword raised and ready.

Lyon blinked in surprise, "L-lieutenant General Silver?!"

Despite his exhaustion Sieg tried to sit up, but found he was incapable of doing little more than moving his arms, which felt like wet noodles, uselessly against the grass.

Separating himself from the crowd, Jabarian hurried forward, "General! What are you doing? This is highly irregular!"

Kent silenced Jabarian with a wave of his hand, "This duel is over."

"It is not over!" Lyon growled, "He's mine! It's my right!"

"It is your right, that is true," Kent nodded, "But tell me, when there is an investigation into this matter by the Council of Honour and Integrity, do you really want your file to read: 'after being beaten with his own helmet and sword, Lyon Chariot killed his helpless opponent, an unarmed and unarmoured guardsman four years his junior'?"

"But Lieutenant General, that's-"

"Exactly what it will say, I can promise you that," Kent interrupted, his eyes hard as steel as he met Lyon's gaze directly. "You may not be punished directly, but that record will be read by every commander you have from now until the day you die."

Lyon paused, "I..."

"Alternatively, it could read: 'after a valiant struggle, Lyon Chariot showed his defeated and defenseless opponent mercy by dropping the matter and allowing the doctors to treat him'. Now, you tell me, Lieutenant, which of those is more likely to aid you and your career."

Lyon hesitated, his blade still hovering over Sieg's throat. Finally, grudgingly, Lyon returned the blade to its sheath with a frustrated growl.

As Lyon turned to leave, Kent stepped in front of him, "Not yet, say it."

"I..." Lyon started to grit his teeth, but the pain in his jaw stopped him. After a moment he looked down at Sieg and snarled, "I.... I hereby drop this matter. It's done and settled."

Sieg didn't have the energy nor the inclination to argue.

"An excellent choice," Kent said with a nod. "Now go and get those wounds looked after."

"Yes sir." Turning, Lyon walked out of the ring. Jabarian hurried forward and scooped up Lyon's helmet and cloak, before he too vanished into the crowd, pausing only to shoot Kent and Sieg a nasty glance.

Sieg felt a powerful rush of relief wash over him as Lyon left and the General knelt down beside him. As he looked up at his saviour, Sieg felt a strange sense of familiarity, he knew the man's face but he couldn't remember from where.

"Relax young one," Kent said, gently patting Sieg on the shoulder. "It's over. You'll be alright." As he spoke, Kent noted the small piece of fabric bound around Sieg's forearm.

Sieg started to protest as Kent reached down and untied the cloth.

"Peace boy, peace, it's alright," Kent said gently, folding the fabric and placing it in Sieg's palm, 'There you go, that's better."

Climbing back to his feet and turning to the crowd, Kent gestured at Sieg, "Alright, get him inside quickly. Let's move!"

As a trio of doctors rushed forwards to help Sieg, Kent turned to the other onlookers, "As for the rest of you, the show is over, move along."

Every part of Sieg's body hurt as the doctors loaded him onto a stretcher as gently as they could. He gripped the fabric tightly, pulling strength from its touch.

By the time the doctors picked up the stretcher, the adrenaline had started to fade. Despite his best efforts Sieg found himself whimpering from the pain, and the sudden realization of how close he had come to being killed. Hot tears streamed unbidden from his eyes, his shoulders shook uncontrollably, and it took all of his control to keep from weeping like a child.

As Sieg fought to control himself, a doctor approached the stretcher, the same one that had been tending to Marien.

"Y-you..." Sieg managed.

Behind her blindfold, the doctor raised her eyebrows "That voice, are you- Oh you foolish boy." Turning to her colleagues she spoke, "I'll take responsibility for this one."

"As you wish Doctor Hail."

As she walked beside Sieg's stretcher, the doctor reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a small vial.

Dabbing the contents on a small cloth she held it under Sieg's nose, "Breathe this and try to relax."

"W-what is..." As Sieg spoke, suddenly he felt as if his body was getting lighter and lighter. Within moments he felt as if he was being lifted off the stretcher, in fact it felt as if he were floating free of his own body. All of the pain left him as he drifting into the sky, floating upon a warm wind and a cloud of soft rose petals.

As Sieg fell into a deep sleep, the doctor replaced the vial into her jacket. "Alright, take him to room twenty nine, and call Doctors Hawthron and Kendel, we have work to do."

===

With a satisfied smile, Kent shook his head as he watched as the doctors hurried Sieg away, "Foolish young ones."

Suddenly, a hand tapped on his shoulder from behind and a soft voice spoke up, "Oh General."

Slowly Kent turned to find Doctor Sara standing behind him, her hands on her hips.

"H-hello doctor."

"We aren't done yet."

Kent cleared his throat quickly, "Y-you know Doctor, I really think you've done fine work, and I really do feel much improved, I'm not sure that-"

Drawing herself up, Sara reached up and raised one corner of her blindfold so she could glare at Kent, her amber colored eyes flashing, "You are coming back and I am finishing with your arm. If I have to drag you back by your ears I will."

"I-"

"Back there, now."

Shrinking down slightly, Kent sighed, "Yes dear..."

===

As Sieg was rushed down the hallway, he passed by the room where Lyon was already being seen to. Lyon sat on the edge of a bed as a doctor gently poked around his face

"Disgraceful!" Jabarian muttered to himself, crossing his arms as the doctors rushed past the doorway. "The Lieutenant General had no right to interfere like that."

"Perhaps not," Lyon replied, wincing as the bag of ice he held against his jaw shifted. "Still, for a nobody he fought rather well."

"They should be digging a hole for that traitor and his western harlot, not treating them."

Lyon's cheek twitched, "Traitor? Are you suggesting I showed a traitor mercy, Jabarian?"

"Wha- no of course not!"

"Good," Lyon winced again as the doctor gently poked and prodded his jaw. "Then we shall leave it at that."

"The less speaking you do, the better," the doctor mused, his free hand stroking his chin as he gently felt around Lyon's face. "Your mandible superior is partially dislocated, perhaps fractured, and your supraorbital and nasal column bones are bruised. You are fortunate he hit you where he did, had he struck you lower down he might have hit your temple and you would be a corpse. As it stands, I suspect you have a concussion, and you will definitely feel some pain in the days to come."

"I'll survive."

"You will at that." The doctor turned back towards a small collection of medicines sitting on a nearby table, "But you will likely have a headache that will make you wish you hadn't. Now, lie down please."

As the doctor set about his work, Lyon couldn't help but smile to himself, "Not bad for a guardsman... not bad at all."

End of Part 3

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