the duel

Varis, despite requesting a fourth serving, had remarkable table manners. Reg watched him closely. The boy likely was some sort of nobility; no peasant would eat with a fork and knife like Varis requested. If he was nobility, some Lord’s son, he no doubt had some skill with a sword. After all, he had just sent most of House Rorsk’s soldiers to aid Duke Whomeverthefuck.

“Hey, stable boy,” Reg called, deliberately using Varis’ new role as an insult. Varis looked up and set his utensils down patiently. “Can you fight?”

“Yes.” Varis’ expression was painfully neutral. Reg sighed; getting information out of this kid was almost more trouble than it was worth.

“With a sword?”

“... Yes.”

“Fight me.”

Varis smiled pleasantly. “All right.”

The two met out in the courtyard. Reg had pulled a set of old mail that he wore years ago to give to Varis. The boy had refused. He did, however, accept the use of a sword. Reg, meanwhile, had chosen both mail and a sword. After all, he might have let this strange boy into his castle for a hot meal, but he certainly was not about to risk his life, no matter how entertaining it would be.

“Ready?” he asked the boy.

Varis nodded. “Of course.”

Reg stepped in first, holding the blunt sword tip forward, ready to parry. Varis, however, did not meet the challenge, and stood where he began. Reg frowned, circling to Varis’ right, but the blonde did nothing save for a turn to face his opponent. The lunge that Reg attempted was easily dodged, allowing Varis to strike the side of Reg’s arm with the flat side of the blade.

“One,” said the blonde.

The Count of Majka, Reg Rorsk, straightened himself out, standing squarely on his feet, determined not to let this child show him up in swordplay. Varis graciously accepted the next move, a quick flash of the blade, which Reg parried nicely. They danced around the cobblestone, both on the defensive, neither one willing to concede territory to the other. Servants about their business stopped to stare, rumors beginning to spread before the fight had concluded. Reg lunged again, the blunted tip of his sword jabbing Varis' too-thin midsection. The boy winced in discomfort, but maintained his stance. Reg, however, raised his sword above his head. "I concede.” He’d seen enough; Varis was obviously trained, and mucking out the stables would definitely not be a good use of the boy.

Varis relaxed his posture and walked the sword over to Reg. “What was this for? It seems… unnessecary.”

“I’d like you to be part of the house soldiers.”

His father’s aide stepped forward from the group of crowding servants. “Your Excellency, I don’t think this… child,” he nodded in the direction of Varis, “should be any sort of soldier.”

“He’s good with a sword, Alim. Educate him, and I’ll train him. I’d like him to be a soldier, and a soldier he’ll be.”

Varis stood motionless, letting the two argue over his fate.

“Your Excellency,” Alim began again. “He’s just a child, and one that you’ve just met due to his thievery. Is this really the best idea?”

Reg held the swords out, waiting for some servant to come and take them. A young woman scurried forward and held out her arms, letting Reg place the blades gently into her hands. She scurried towards the armory, blades clanking against each other. “I’ll remind you, Alim, that I am the Count, and I’ll make the decisions in my own castle.”

Alim paused, weighing his next thoughts carefully. “Your Excellency, please--”

“I’ll be a soldier. I’d prefer it, actually,” Varis cut the aide off.

Reg’s self-satisfactory smile beamed. “There you have it, Alim. Get the tutor here tomorrow, and we’ll treat Varis here as one of our own. You’ll behave, I hope?”

The blonde child smiled in response, “Of course.”

Reg patted his father's aide on the shoulder. Alim made a face, obviously displeased by the display of familiarity. "Alim, what did I tell you about calling me 'Your Excellency?'" he looked the man in the eyes, mouth drawn in a straight, serious line.

Alim swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

The Count's grim expression softened. "Good. And those requests, Alim?" The aide perked up. "I'll get to them in the morning." Alim looked helpless, his eyes darting around the other servants whispering between themselves in an effort to find someone to agree with him. Nobody stepped forward.

"Yes, Sir."