Chương 55: And It Arrives

"Fight… against the Oathrunner?" The hall remained quiet after Duke Gawen's announcement, and for a moment, it truly seemed like no one would accept the gauntlet. Even after they had moved the tables and set the stage right at the center of the hall, no one moved. Of course, why would they? Most of them had heard the stories already growing around him with each passing day. Challenge the Oathrunner? The boy who fought the King of the Dark Forest? The boy who made even the Duke of Lorran kneel? No.

Most seemed content to stare at their cups. Enel looked around the hall, then slowly turned toward Duke Gawen who was seated at the same table.

"Your Grace… perhaps no one wishes to object."

"Let us just wait a few more," Gawen said.

"P—" Enel was about to say something else when someone finally stepped forward. It was a young noble, perhaps only a few years older than Enel. A proud face, and a small silver hawk pinned to his chest. The young noble bowed first to Duke Gawen, then to Robert, then finally to Enel.

"I, Arton of House Hawkwick, wish to challenge the Oathrunner." A whisper passed through the hall, but before Enel could even stand, Tiny appeared in front of Arton with one hand raised.

"Stakes," he demanded. Arton looked down at him.

"What?"

"Participation fee," Tiny repeated, holding out a pouch. Arton looked toward Duke Gawen.

"One gold wyn," Gawen said.

"A gold wyn?" Arton's face changed slightly.

"For a duel? That can feed a family for a month."

"House Hawkwick cannot afford a single gold coin?" Tiny sighed, then glanced at Gawen and shook his head. Arton glanced around the hall. Too many eyes were on him now, far too many, and perhaps he realized he could no longer step back without looking like a coward. His jaw tightened, and he pulled a gold coin from his coat before placing it into Tiny's pouch. Tiny stared at the coin for a moment, a grin threatening to curl on his face. But of course, he quickly stepped away before anyone noticed.

Enel sighed and started to rise.

"Very well. I accept your—""No," Lamb said. She stood before Enel could take another step, rolling her shoulders as she looked at Arton.

"Sit there and look pretty, M'lord. I fight for you." Enel blinked.

"Are you certain?"

"What?" she asked, smirking.

"You think I will lose?"

"No."

"Then sit." Enel stared at her for a moment, then slowly sat back down. Tiny's head snapped toward Lamb, his eyes as wide as they could be as he motioned for her to sit back down. But Lamb completely ignored him. The atmosphere in the hall changed almost instantly. A few people leaned closer, whispering to each other. The Oathrunner would be impossible to beat, his Sword was not.

"W-wait! I would like to issue a challenge as well!"

"Me too!" And the moment she walked into space at the center of the hall, another noble stepped forward and handed Tiny a coin. Then another. Even one of the knights approached. Tiny stared at the money being offered to him, and although he still panicked at Lamb destroying his plans… he could no longer help contain his excitement.

"Line up!" Tiny said, raising his voice.

"No pushing. Gold wyns only. If you do not have gold wyns, Sir Ulric is available for short-term arrangements." Ulric, who had been drinking quietly near the side of the hall, slowly lowered his cup… then smiled. Enel looked at Tiny, then at Ulric, then at Duke Gawen, and all of them looked proud. Arton stepped into the cleared space across from Lamb, his face red now. Perhaps because he thought he was being insulted, and perhaps he was. Lamb only cracked her knuckles and looked at him.

The herald hurried forward, glancing at Duke Gawen for permission. When the duke motioned for him to continue, the herald cleared his throat and raised his voice. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

"The duel shall continue until one side yields, is disarmed, or can no longer continue. No killing blows. No maiming. No striking the guests, the musicians, or the tables." He paused, then glanced at the two.

"You may begin at any moment." Lamb arrogantly motioned for Arton to attack first. But the noble did not let the taunt get to him. He raised his hand and wrote in the air. [Sovereign, Sword.] He grabbed the Script, and light crawled from his palm and formed into a narrow blade, straight and clean. Arton's other hand then moved lower, writing a second Script near his leg. [Urtmother, Haste.] The light wrapped around his calves and sank into his boots.

The floor beneath him cracked slightly as he crouched, and a few nobles nodded with approval.

"I heard he was at Second Depth?" someone whispered.

"How old is he?"

"House Hawkwick has been raising him well." Lamb looked at the glowing sword, then at the light around his legs.

"Huh." She raised her own hand and wrote in the air. [Haste,] she Breathed out, grabbing the script and slapping it down her legs as well.

"That is her, right? Duke Gawen's prodigy?"

"I overheard from Duke Gawen that… she is half a breath to Third Depth?"

"What?! How old is she? Is she not… a peasant?"

"I heard she is only a bit younger than the Oathrunner."

"That is… impossible. That little girl already has enough Breath to lift a cart with four people?"

"Most do not even reach Second Depth until they are seven and ten. She is a genius, no? Impressive." Arton's eyes narrowed at the whispers, but Lamb only grinned and taunted him again. The noble still did not let himself be taunted, but he rushed in first anyway. He was fast enough that several nobles gasped, his sword cutting toward Lamb's shoulder before most of the Breathless in the hall could even follow him. Lamb did not block him.

She leaned back, let the blade pass in front of her nose, then stepped in close and hooked her foot behind his ankle.

"Wh—?!" Arton's eyes widened as he suddenly found himself falling to the floor. And for a moment there, he could only hear himself drop. No one spoke at all, but he could hear people whispering and stifling their laughter. Enel sighed from his seat.

"Lamb. Do not humiliate him too much." And then more people laughed, which only caused Enel to glance around in confusion. Arton pushed himself up on one knee, his face now darker than before. The sword in his hand flickered, then steadied as he stood again. He charged again, driving himself forward and thrusting his sword straight to Lamb's shoulder. But this time, Lamb was not smiling at all. She stepped forward instead of dodging, caught his wrist, and twisted.

"Kh!" Arton's grip on the sword broke, and before it could even clatter on the ground, Lamb stepped closer and drove her fist into his chest. She did not hit him too hard, but it was enough that the sound cracked through the hall. Arton dropped to one knee again, both hands clutching his chest as he tried to breathe.

"Ha!" Duke Gawen stood up from his seat and started clapping.

"Yield, young lord. It is not your fault you are weak," Lamb said, then she waved her hand at the crowd as they began to clap after the duke.

"These other young nobles are not worth anything, M'lord." Lamb turned back toward Enel and raised her thumb at him, and Enel could only sigh and shake his head. Arton did not seem to take the fits of laughter that well, however, as his face twisted in shame. He gripped the floor, and he lunged toward Lamb while she had her back turned.

"Grah!" The one who ended up screaming, however, was Arton as his fist struck Enel's raised hand. Most of the hall had not even seen him stand. One moment, Enel was near his seat. The next, he was between Arton and Lamb. Enel was not pushed at all, he only looked down at Arton's fist, then at his face.

"You would strike someone from behind?" Enel asked. Arton's mouth opened, but no words came.

"Return to your table, my lord," Enel continued.

"You are done." The noble stepped back at once, breathing hard as he stared at Enel's hand.

"I… I apologize." He quickly lowered his head and walked away. And when he returned to his table, he was immediately slapped at the back of the head by his parents. Lamb walked beside Enel, crossing her arms.

"I had that. I knew he was coming."

"I know."

"Wh—then why did you have to block it?"

"He no longer deserved to cross blades with you," Enel said, sighing as he faced the herald.

"I will be the one fighting from now on."

"Ack. Boring." Lamb waved him off before returning to their table. As for the herald, he stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure what to do. He looked toward Duke Gawen, then toward the nobles, then toward Enel before finally clearing his throat again.

"The… gauntlet continues." But of course, no one stepped forward. Some of the men looked for Tiny to get their coins back… but Tiny was already gone. And before they could even ask anything, Duke Gawen stood up.

"Well then!" He bellowed, laughing as he clapped.

"If no one else wishes to object, then I say the matter is settled!" He grabbed his cup from the table.

"Eat! Everyone, eat! Clan Goldhand had prepared a feast for us! Music!" And without even a second of him mentioning it, the musicians started playing. And with it, the gossip and conversations rose. They did not stop, even as the servants began serving the food.

"I could get used to Widow's Wall being wealthy, M'lord," Lamb said, devouring every plate of food the servants placed on their table. Enel and Guinevere were about to eat, too, but then a noble bowed before them. Then another came, followed by a merchant, then a knight. Enel did not ignore any of them, of course, and thanked all of them one by one each time they congratulated him and Guinevere. Guinevere remained quiet, her eyes studying every movement of anyone who approached them.

"Lord Enel," one merchant said, "should Widow's Wall need timber, I can provide better rates than any man in this hall." Another merchant objected.

"That is untrue." Enel looked between them.

"I… am not the person to ask about timber." Enel slowly looked toward Lamb. She was still eating peacefully, and when she saw him looking, she lifted a piece of meat, smiled, and just continued eating.

"Lamb," he called for help.

"That is not my job, M'lord." And Lamb just shrugged in response.

"That is the little tit's job." Enel sighed at that, and the only thing he could do was entertain all the people visiting their table. Until finally, a familiar voice approached.

"Pretty noble." Enel quickly turned, and it was not only him, everyone turned as soon as they saw the man approaching him. How could they not, when Tommen was wearing a full breast plate, with his pale red scarf still hanging from his neck… and a long, ballooning skirt around his waist. Enel's eyes brightened.

"Marshal." Guinevere's eyes stopped wandering as soon as he arrived. Lamb also stopped eating, her hand instinctively gripping the fork she was holding like a weapon. Tommen noticed that and quickly winked at her, which caused the hair on Lamb's neck to stand. Tommen did not say anything to her, however, and only turned to Enel.

"Congratulations on turning four and ten," Tommen said, bowing to him before turning to Guinevere.

"And congratulations on your engagement to the Oathrunner, Instructor Lorran." Guinevere also lowered her head in response.

"I was not aware you would be here, Marshal Tommen."

"You and I both." Tommen chuckled while covering his mouth.

"But I am actually here by request of the pretty lord."

"Me?" Enel blinked.

"You asked me to find someone who knows an entire lot about the Veil." Tommen smiled.

"I found someone."

"You have?!" Enel's eyes widened.

"Yes," Tommen said, the smile on his face thinning.

"An old man whose entire town was swallowed by the Veil."