“Title: Group D Report On Matters Of Concern

  Author: Caroline Hosenfeld, 2nd Year

  When my group and I were performing a routine astrological experiment, our telescope observed some strange movements in the astral plane. While I lack the appropriate vocabulary to describe the situation, our group leader instructed me to inform you of our observations which goes as follows:

  - Observed a stellar constellation called North Wind momentarily ‘blinking’ in and out of existence.

  - Observed abrupt shifting of astral currents for approximately three minutes

  - There was also a noticeable shifting of ambient mana in the observatory and both myself and Falien’s wards failed due to unknown reasons.

  - Magister Adrien’s detection apparatus shattered from what we deduce to be magical feedback of unknown origin… ”

  - Caroline Hosenfeld, Conclave of Stellar Causality - Academy of Arteria, “Student Report”

  Sophie practically stumbled into the clearing, the jingling of coins and the shock of the current situation keeping her upright. She wearily tried to process what was happening only to forget about everything when the cold evening air danced gently across her face. Compared to her overheated self, it was like a soothing balm that she wanted to bask in for all eternity.

  A small crowd followed her. Soldiers, patrons, random citizens, and even one or two other chevaliers. Her only relief came ironically from the hulking figure of the shield bearing orc that Mila had assigned to her team. His presence was perhaps the only indicator that she hadn’t been abandoned by her comrades amidst her increasingly intense feeling of loneliness that crept up within her.

  Across from her, Sir Fontaine and his own little retinue of chevaliers stood menacingly. The look of disapproval within his eyes sent a small chill down her spine. She could tell that whatever disdain he held for her, it was something that reached deeper than the surface, something that clawed at the soul.

  Gah, what the hells did I do to piss him off so much? What did I say? She let out a soft groan as she tried to nurse her aching head. The pounding grew more painful alongside her own doubts. Stars above, she cursed, at least the locals are distracted. Uhn.

  Cheers and hushed chants echoed all around them. They were in a backyard somewhere, one of the inn’s patrons having led the two duelists and their followers to a large yet secluded area. Sophie wobbled into position, only somewhat taking note of the space around them.

  A walled courtyard that served as a manor’s backyard. Stone archways and hedges that led to the center square, a fountain at the far end, and a plethora of little potted plants and pathways that ran across the whole area. Whose house is this?! Where am I? She could see finely detailed architectural elements that reflected a person of wealth, but her mind was too foggy to make any conclusive inference.

  They came to a stop around a large stone dais that marked the center of the yard. The onlookers took advantage of the benches and shrubbery to rest what appeared to be weary feet. Confused, Sophie frowned and looked around once more. Where are we actually?

  A harsh tut caught her attention and she snapped back up. Across from her, the capitaine sneered, evidently displeased by something. Following his gaze, she only found that they landed back on her. Annoyed, she defiantly glared back at him.

  “What’s your problem?” She challenged him.

  He seemed almost taken aback, but not in a pleasant way. Rather, one that suggested that he was aghast at her lack of understanding. This only irritated her even further.

  “Mon dieu, you really remember nothing already?” He incredulously queried.

  “Remember what? All I know is I told stories of my past. Nothing more.” She growled.

  “You claimed you killed on of them, non?”

  “What? The undead? I think everyone’s tousled with some before. Provided they serve on distant frontiers.”

  “Ce n’est pas la seule raison.” He lowered his voice.

  “What?”

  “Non, it is about what you claimed to fight. The undead knights with their panache, the plumed ones.”

  “What? So what about it? It was an undead, He wanted to die, I could see it in his eyes. So we fought and I won, and struck him down, honestly.” She tried to recount events.

  He scoffed, deliberately turning away in an attempt to snub her. Thankfully she had the wherewithal to avoid rising to the provocation, her brain still aware enough to register the potential danger she could be in with all the soldiers around.

  “Mais, ce n’est pas possible. It’s a joke.” He argued.

  “But it’s not! I did! I remember ruins so clearly, everything!”

  “But we’ve fought them before, here, in Gratia. The heretical knights of the Trissians, how they cut through our people. Each of the armored warriors attacked with terrible powers. They were like monsters. Et la petite fille? Et elle en tue une? Impossible.”

  “Hey, I don’t know what you said there. But I assure you it happened.”

  “That is a possibility. That is why we fight, non? To have you prove to us that you indeed did. That you are not perverting our suffering for your amusement, outsider.”

  A round of support passed amongst the crowd. It was a low murmur, but they were against her. At least there were a few jeers, a scattered chorus of those who did believe her. Either they were humoring her or not, she would not disappoint those who had faith in her.

  “And you called us cowards for not facing them. For all these preparations instead of attacking. Or worse, that they were to be treated as equals, pah! Never have I been so insulted. You even implied that we abuse the people, that we neglect them! The gall!” He roared.

  This time the crowd cheered for him. Gratians, it appeared, did not take the mentioning of their weakness lightly. There was just one problem for her.

  “I… did?” She asked.

  “You swore upon your blade that you would show us the meaning of strength, or have you already forgotten?”

  Sophie stared blankly at him, the despair within her rising. She had no recollection of saying such confrontational words. Though the last thing she could definitely recall was when the capitaine had first confronted her and her arrival here. Between that and now, she struggled to come up with anything else. I couldn’t have, could I?

  “Eh?” She shrugged.

  She could see him trying to control his emotions, his gauntlets trembling ever so slightly with rage.

  “So you would mock our bravery, and now mock our tradition of dueling? I thought your stories were those of courage and honor. The songs that your sister sang. They were songs of a hero, not a coward.”

  That comment stung her fiercely. Time and time ago, she had thrown herself face first into the heat of battle. To protect her comrades, the innocent, or even strangers. Yet, she was also of sound mind, able to recognize enough that she was far too unstable to participate in proper combat. Whatever amount of drink she had combined with the rumbling in her stomach told her that it was too much.

  He had dared to speak of honor and courage against her. In a situation where he seemed more or less clear headed, and she was very much not. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, but she refused to suffer the slander. With her mind on overdrive simply trying to remain functioning, she awkwardly grasped at the hilt of her own blade.

  “Honor, courage… yeah, I’m mocking yours alright.” She smirked.

  Judging by the panicked whispers and unfriendly stares, they weren’t the right words for the crowd. But she didn’t care, they were the words she needed to speak. Words that would galvanize him even further.

  “You dare?” Someone hissed.

  “I do.” She declared, trying to stop herself and the world from wobbling, “I do. Because your captain man, he is yelling at me about honor. Saying that… that I’m a coward or whatever. Sure. But somehow, looking… geh, looking sober and standing firm. He thinks it’s honorable to fight someone like me?!” She exclaimed mockingly, “I can barely see the ground in front of me. The world’s going real fast. I’m pretty sure I’m smaller than him. I know I’m definitely not professionally trained to duel. So yeah, I think it’s kinda funny he’s calling me a coward. The little bitch can’t fight me when I’m sober, eh?” She smirked.

  “You…” The capitaine hissed.

  But it was too late for him. The grumblings of the crowd were now divided between the two of them. Still, she could sense the atmosphere well enough. No matter what they thought, they were here to witness a duel. None seemed particularly eager to restrain either of them.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You insisted you were able despite evidence to the contrary. Enough that we agreed on terms to settle this insult. And now you wish to back down?”

  “Course… ugh, course not.” Sophie let out a few coughs, “Just wondering if you’ll try to justify beating a small girl while she’s drunk. Bet ya feel real heroic and chivalrous after that, eh?”

  “Enough of this nonsense. You tarnished our honneur, questioned our bravoure, and we shall rectify that notion. Here and now.”

  “Right, right. Now I see why you guys are still caught in a civil war. Rather fight some half dead girl than do your job. Hells, I don’t even remember how I got here, heheh. But sure. Feel good about it. No wonder all the peasants wanted to leave, hah.”

  Even as she said it, the remaining rational portion of her mind was screaming for her to stop. But lacking the control it usually did, the words spilled out like an unstoppable torrent. Ah, shit. Too far.

  A dangerous silence descended upon the courtyard. More hostile glares than amused ones looked towards her. She shivered ever so slightly, she didn’t need to count to know she was outnumbered almost a hundred to one. Then she caught a glimpse of the green giant blending in with some trees and amended her calculator. Hundred to two.

  “So? Going to lecture me on honor when you also have none? Or how about we get scuffling, eh?” She mustered what bravado she could and unsheathed her blade.

  Only for two people off to the side hurriedly rush over and gently coax her into putting it back in its sheath.

  “Eh?” She mumbled.

  “Training blades, madame.” A nervous gratian answered, "For safety."

  The second soldier thrust a wooden sword into her hand.

  “Makes sense.” She bobbed her head in agreement.

  Swinging it around, she almost lost balance but managed to keep her composure.

  “Well?” She taunted.

  “Arretez! Cease this ignorant posturing. Our honneur has been stained and you shall answer for it. The rules are simple, when I hit-”

  “Bah.” She interrupted, “How about this? When one of us shouts ‘I surrender’ then the other one wins. Simple.”

  “That’s…”

  “Oh? Scared now? A captain but only blustering to a drunk?”

  “Fine then. Curse you outsider. You understand nothing of our culture and yet you judge and mock us.” He glared at her, “Sir Valerie, you’ll be our director for this match.”

  “D’accord. Pas de problem.” One of the other chevaliers responded.

  The two sized each other up. Sophie already knew that she was at a disadvantage. Even in an actual duel, she suspected she would struggle. Given her current condition, her only choice was to absorb the blows and hopefully deliver her own. Better aiming for specific targets though, she consoled herself.

  “Camarades, elongiez vous.” The director shooed the crowd before turning to the two of them, “Step onto the opposite parts of the yard, please.” The other man, Valerie tried his best to speak in common, his thick accent slipping through. At least he’s trying.

  He then raised his hand once the two were in position. Fontaine lifted his blade up, but not pointed at her, merely in a position more akin to a salute. Taking her cue from him and the unruly audience around them, she quickly tried to mimic his stance.

  “En garde.” Valerie motioned at them.

  The two remained still, searching for each other’s weaknesses.

  “Pret?” He looked between them.

  Sophie didn’t understand Gratian, but she saw the capitaine nod. So she did the same. Valerie nodded back in acknowledgment then lowered his hands.

  “Allez!” He yelled.

  Sophie could guess that it meant go.

  In the blink of an eye, the two ran at each other, and their blades met in combat. Despite the odds, Sophie couldn’t help but smile a little. The blood in her veins flowing once more. Back in the thick of things, feels good.

  There were no clangs and clinks that followed the rhythm of regular battle. Just the clacking and clattering as wooden blades made contact. Sophie wasn’t a duelist but she wouldn’t be a push over. Remembering Taurox’s training, she darted and stepped between his strikes, cutting through what little openings she could find with an unexpected deftness.

  In a normal contest, she reasoned that she would lose far easier. Targeted strikes and techniques that favored one trained in such things. An art form she had yet to indulge in. Still, her own suggestion had its downsides. As she dodged another blow and dashed behind the capitaine, she swung her own blade forward, the weapon flying past her with a gust of air. It hit the man’s armor and did nothing. She was too unsteady to land heavy blows, her arms increasingly feeling like mushy pudding after each hit.

  She stumbled backwards, her feet almost tripping over themselves. Fontaine responded almost immediately, his blade rushing straight for her, missing her cheek by an inch due to her stumble. A lucky break. She scrambled to gain some distance for herself.

  In her haste, she failed to notice Fontaine’s follow-up attack. A sharp pain clouded her mind, the dulled blow nonetheless still sending shockwaves all throughout her body. Letting out a soft yelp of pain and surprise, she swung wildly to dissuade him from attacking further, buying herself just enough time to regain her footing.

  Grunting with exertion, she found the pounding in her head distracting her. She was trying to come up with any hint of a plan. A way to try and take advantage of the gratian’s openings. But the fog that lingered in her mind clouded her judgement and decision making. It was irritating, obnoxious. She needed a win, a way to avoid being utterly humiliated.

  Finding a small opening, she tried to decide how to attack. But as she readied herself, the shadow of a strike was already heading for her. Relying on her own instincts, she side-stepped the attack and maintained distance. The opening was lost.

  Gah, fuck. She growled to herself. Need to focus, focus!

  She backed off, ceding the momentum to the gratian once more. Though this time, the capitaine was being more careful, he neither moved to advance or retreating, simply holding his position. He was trying to goad her into a fight, to push when she wasn’t ready. Unfortunately for him, her ingrained training stopped her from rising to the bait.

  If there was one thing she enjoyed from this encounter, it was the dedication that they both shared towards the craft of combat. A quiet dance, with victory decided only by their ability to fight.

  She wiped the sweat from her brow. It was tiring, but it was familiar. Unlike her sisters, she was a relatively simple person, that much she knew. Heh.

  Almost in perfect sync, the two combatants recovered their stances and charged forward. With a low roar emerging from the back of her throat, she aimed for his chest. In response, he moved to parry her blow, pushing her strike aside and launching one of his own. Ever on the back foot, she ducked to the side and scraped her leg against the stone dais.

  Wincing from the new wound, she used her leg to pivot and swing around. With a foolhardy courage, she smacked her blade against the gratian’s kneecap. Perhaps caught off guard, he jumped backwards and gave her enough time to recover.

  Pushing herself off the ground, she let out a deep breath and sighed. She could feel herself fast running out of energy. Her movements were getting more sluggish, the consequence of her unintended alcoholic adventure. Her own stomach seemed to be growing louder in its rebellion as well, the back of her throat slowly tasting the bile churning within her.

  Sensing her weakness, he counterattacked. In what felt like but a millisecond, he was upon her. Their blades meeting as she desperately tried to block his attack. Failing to even parry, his sheer strength overwhelmed her and she staggered backwards, opening herself up. Without a moment to recover, she barely caught a glance of the blow that struck her. Twisting his sword to the side, he slammed it into the side of her waist.

  Sophie was launched sideways and stumbled onto the ground, her hand letting go of her own weapon from the agony. Stirred by the blow against her, she could resist the moment no longer. Desperately crawling away, she couldn’t hold back and hurled her insides out. Searing pain scratched at her throat and a wave of nausea overwhelmed her.

  Not even giving her time to recover, she had no time to react when she felt the wooden blade crack against her back. Unable to even yelp, she had to use all her energy to flee without stumbling into her own vomit.

  Before he could come in with a finishing blow, she raised her arm to halt the fight.

  “Bleh, yield, yield. I yield.” She managed to speak before doubling over to throw up some more.

  There were no cheers, no celebrations beyond a joyful whoop or two. From the start, the odds had already been decided. Her blatant disregard for cultural norms and her disheveled state had meant that she had poisoned the joys from victory. A small win for her part, made irrelevant by her current need to vomit.

  “Arretez! Le duel est termine! Stop! Duel over!” Valerie bellowed.

  The capitaine even had the gall to look smug about his win. Sophie had to do everything in her power not to try and taint the victory anymore. Not that she would have the chance. Ahead of her, the orc warrior had shuffled his way through the crowd.

  “La vainquire! Capitaine Henri Fontaine, chevalier l’ordre du cerf argent! Honneur et glorie!” Valerie declared.

  A cheer returned to the courtyard, the duel was over officially. Though soured, it was likely still a spectacle for the crowd. One that would take their mind off the tension hanging in the air. Next to her, the orc’s large hand clasped her shoulder, steadying her uneasy swaying with an iron grip. Reluctantly accepting his offer of help, she spit out the last few flecks of bile still within her mouth. He handed her a waterskin and she nodded appreciatively as she used it to wash her mouth of the bitter flavor it contained. The waters were cool and sweet, so much as that she wanted to swallow a feel gulps until she realized how bad of an idea that would be.

  Taking one more swig before gargling and spitting it out. She bobbed her head profusely to thank the orc, now utterly exhausted and aching all over. The capitaine looked ready to speak once more but this time, the orc stepped in between them. His towering form more than enough to make the gratian pause.

  “Enough of this foolishness.” Marduk declared, “You have won and preserved your honor. Now go in peace. My charge needs to recover from this and needs to take a nice walk before anything else.”

  “Tch. Mind your own business, greenskin.” The man sneered.

  But much to Sophie’s relief, he did not press things further and neither did the other gratians. His posse seemed most satisfied by the win, though himself did not. Still, in Sophie’s mind, a win was a win no matter how spoiled it was.

  Likely considering that any further provocation would now fall upon him given that she had lost, the capitaine motioned for his company to disperse. Seeing this, so too did the crowd from the tavern begin making their way back to their watering hole.

  Sophie frowned, trying to catch the orc’s eye. Things were now going almost too smoothly. Not only had she dueled the capitaine and lost, but she had also lost the attention of the gratians in the audience. It felt like everything was had just slid into place. The orc grunted, hauling her upright and supporting her.

  “Take no issue with the whimsy of fate. Embrace it, and may it carry you back into its good graces.” The orc whispered under his breath, "They are fool enough to let us go. Let them remain as so in spite of your defeat."

  Still too fatigued to truly care, she just grumbled under her breath before muttering a question, “What now?” She groaned.

  The orc grunted to himself before physically hoisting her onto his back, much to her shock and terror.

  “Now? We meet the others, sick one. You have done your job admirably. Rest, I will carry you there, as the warmaster had commanded.”

  Sophie just rolled her eyes and lay there, doing as the orc said and accepting her fate. Goddess above, I feel like shit though. At least the gratian’s are off our backs for now. Until they find out we’re missing. Tch.