Things were not looking well. No, they were most definitely not looking well. Jack’s plan had been good. He thought so, at the very least. For the woman named Elia to win, her opponent must be disgraced. And what better way for him to be disgraced than for his newly found ally to attack someone without clear provocation and be beaten back in turn. Lack of temper and lack of strength, that was what defeating the knight would have proven.

And therein lay the problem. It was a good plan. A workable plan. But for one detail. The opponent in question was a knight. Oh, he had proven himself to be a man of shoddy temperament. But strength?

Brom thought himself to be strong enough. He had a Class, even if it was low Level. |Axe Guard|. Level 3. He had obtained it after numerous training sessions, numerous sparring sessions. He had seen actual fighting. He had clashed with knights! But he had never clashed with a |Knight| before.

Once again, he felt shame reaching for him. Shame and disappointment in himself. He was not good enough to carry out the fight. He was not strong enough to carry the trust of others. Jack’s plan had been good. But Brom felt that Jack didn’t spell it out specifically because he wanted to give Brom the option to choose. Choose whether he wanted to antagonize the knight or not.

And in his foolishness, he did. He had misjudged his opponent.

Mrk was down, face on the ground, trying to protect himself from the younger Winnow’s kicks. Jack was still standing, though barely, a few feet away from him. He wouldn’t last another blow, Brom knew it. And foolish as he was, he was loyal. He would not step away from the fight and let Brom take the brunt of it.

Not that he could. He was bleeding, not heavily, but enough to make him realize that he could not win this fight by dragging it out. And going by how the knight had started to fight more and more viciously, a win was not what he should be aiming for. Survival was a more reasonable goal.

I have failed them.

“You know, we should really kick his ass already. Mrk looks like he might need some help.” Jack said, in some semblance of humor.

Brom barely heard him, over the shouting from the crowd. He spared a look and saw him grinning. Encouragement. Or perhaps just hallows-humor. He didn’t manage a smile in return.

I have failed. Again.

“My quarrel is still not with you, boy. Leave and be spared. If you continue to fight, I will cut you down too. You are a Jack, yet I have nothing against you.”

The crowd was still shouting, some yelling for mercy, others for all this to stop. A few were jeering.

“Well, that’s too bad. Since I have a few things against you! First one being that you want to kill my friend.”

Friend. How quickly humans develop bonds. Or maybe it was just Jack. Either way, Brom was grateful.

“Friend…” The knight echoed the thought in Brom’s head. “Filth! Be it as you wish.”

He stepped towards them then, sword raised. Jack charged forward, rapier lunging. He was going to die. Brom was too far back to stop him. Too slow to protect him. He was relieving his worst nightmare.

I have failed.

***

Then.

“I am Brom of the Gradun Clan.”

The change in the knight’s posture was immediate. He had been brimming with fury before, face contorted by anger, hand on his sword. Now, his face went slack, features easing into a kind of expressionless mask. His posture straightened, though his hand still remained on the pommel of his sword.

But it would have been wrong to call this a sign of him relaxing. Brom knew this all to well. The knight hadn’t lost his anger. If anything, it increased. Grown to the point where it was no longer visible, the knight’s body abandoning any unnecessary movement and priming itself for a fight.

“You will die.” He said, simply, the ghost of his words escaping is lips.

“Eventually.” Brom said. “In my bed, of old age. Not by your sword.”

His taunting did nothing. Jack’s plan, spurred on the spot as it was, was still a good plan. Brom caught it from the fly, no words needing to be exchanged between them. The knight hated dwarfs. And the most hated Clan among dwarfs, among Amenor men at least, was the Gradun Clan. Thus, to incite the knight to mindless violence and a hopeful loss of face, Brom would act the part of a Gradun Dwarf.

He half-feared that the knight might be able to tell the difference. There were some physical differences between the three Clans. But, apparently, there was no need to fear. Whether it was because humans were inobservant or because the knight was blinded by hate, the change in his posture indicated that the knight fell for the lie, hook, line and sinker.

“You will die. And I will kill you.” The knight spoke, as if he hadn’t heard a word Brom uttered.

“Isn’t that against the law? Hey mister!” Jack yelled at a stray villager. “Go tell the others, this knight wants to murder someone!”

“You will go nowhere or my father will hear about this!” Louis shouted at the man.

“Mr. Winnow might not be the |Village Head| much longer.” Jack argued. “And if you don’t go, blood will be on your hands too.”

The villager wavered, caught between two opposing forces, but finally nodded and ran off. Louis was seething, while Jack was grinning, but Brom didn’t have eyes for any of it.

Cold sweat was beginning to form on his back. He had expected the knight to be easily provoked, perhaps even angered enough to lash out in combat. Brom was confident enough that he could hold his own. He was no stranger to combat. He had fought knights of Amenor before. But this did not look like a man about to lose his temper. Nor did he sound like one. This looked and sounded like a man about to take a life, no matter the cost.

He is still a knight. He’ll abide by the rules. I need to fight him alone.

“So, are we doing this or what?” Jack asked.

Damn it!

He still thought in terms of losing face. Brom could tell. Jack was foolish at times, that much was true, but not suicidal. He thought that they were still provoking the knight, goading him into committing a faux pass. He hadn’t seen true combat. He didn’t recognize the look on the knight’s face.

“I will say this only once. I will kill the dwarf. Anyone who stands in my way dies too. You, boy. And the ratling. Do not interfere.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll-“

“Jack!” Brom said.

He flinched.

Good.

He noticed the warning in Brom’s tone. At least he will be taking this more seriously going forward. Brom himself took out his axe and shield. He would have wanted to do this alone, but he knew Jack wouldn’t have stepped back. The Keeper was loyal. A virtue. And at this point in time, a flaw. Still, he could at least serve as a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mrk stepping back and nearing Louis.

Good.

“Be it as it may. Dwarf. Any last words?”

“I do not wish to kill you.”

The knight laughed, though it sounded empty.

“Don’t you? But I very much wish to kill you!”

His last words were a shout. He lunged forward, sword clearing the scabbard in an instant. A perfect slash, one handed, aimed horizontally. The knight even half-kneeled while stepping forward, seemingly taking into account Brom’s height.

He truly did fight dwarfs before.

Jack stepped forward, aiming to pierce with his rapier in the opening left by the knight, as his sword bounced off of Brom’s shield. It wouldn’t have done much damage, the knight was wearing armor, but it might have served as a distraction. The hit never landed. The knight’s other hand raised and deflected Jack’s thrust with his gauntlet.

The knight stepped back.

“I have no quarrel with you.” Brom tried. “My people do not hunt those of Amenor, outside reason.”

“Your people are monsters!” the knight snarled.

He placed both hands on his sword now. Brom saw that it wasn’t a short sword, even though the knight had first used it one-handed. That must have been skill, if not Skill. It wasn’t a bastard’s sword either. A longsword then or something very much like it. Double-edged and well kept, though not ornate. Currently in the hands of a very riled up knight.

Still.

His reach is longer than mine, though not by much.

Brom was short. Tall for dwarf, but shorter than a human. But his war axe was big enough to give that sword a run for its coins. He stepped forward, shield raised, axe jabbing outwards, probing the knight for a weak spot. Jack meanwhile went wide, trying to get behind the knight. He never made it.

The knight stepped back and to the side, pirouetted until he was facing Jack and struck at Jack, sword going forward tip first, as is he was a fencer. An exact replica of the move Jack tried earlier, only done with finesse. Expertise.

And absolutely no reason, other than to show Jack how the move was done, since that was not how fighting with a longsword was done.

Foolish.

True to his thoughts, Jack acted as the diversion and even managed to deflect the knight’s lunge, though it was more instinct than anything else. Brom used the opening and ran forward, shield up. The knight turned, Jack forgotten and raised his sword to parry the axe strike.

A strike that never came.

Brom instead rammed the knight with all his might, face and chest safely behind his shield. It should be said, that thought dwarf physiology is similar to the human one, similar doesn’t mean identical. Dwarves are shorter, but also broader. They are a people literally used to manhandling mountains and their muscles reflect that. It is very rare to see a fat dwarf, but very common to see a stocky one. All that mass comes from muscles. Therefore, when you got rammed by a dwarf, you felt it.

That was what Brom intended. Ram the opponent’s lower center of gravity and completely blow him off his feet. Once he was down, bash him with his shield and the pommel of his axe, until he gives up. It was very hard to get a dwarf off of you, not least because of their stubbornness. Brom knew that from experience.

That, however… wasn’t what happened.

He felt the impact, felt as his charge moved the knight back. But his charge was blocked, his momentum slowed and in a second he found himself be stopped by the knight, who stubbornly refused to fall down.

“I told you, dwarf. I have fought your kind before!” the knight said.

With a groan, he pushed Brom back. But one of his hands caught the edge of his shield. He heaved and the shield moved, exposing Brom’s chest. His sword was in his other hands and he raised it up, preparing for a cut.

Brom tried to raise his axe to block, but the push back left him in the wrong position. He wouldn’t be able to raise it in time. In was in those few seconds of a clinch, where time seemed to slow down, when he thought all this. He saw it all and realized he would be slashed before he had the chance to defend himself. He was oddly at peace with it.

Too slow… I failed again. Mountains grant me the long sleep.

“|A Fire a Day|!”

The top of the knight’s head ignited. For a second, Brom thought he had been hit and was now hallucinating. It looked like the knight wore a crown of flames, light flashing down on him with terrible rage, like the creatures down in the deepest depths that all dwarfs knew to fear.

Then the knight screamed, hands reaching up to pat at his scalp, sword abandoned on the ground. Brom took the blessing for what it was and hastily backed away. He looked for Jack, wanting to thank him. That was twice that he had saved his life. Once for taking him under his wing, offering him sanctuary, though he would never admit or understand what he had offered. And again now.

He never got to do it. Jack, perhaps high on victory, was running towards the knight, aiming to grab the sword that he had dropped. Foolish.

No.

He opened his mouth to shout at him, to warn him, but it was already too late. Even in his pain, the knight was still battle ready. He kicked Jack in the chest as he approached, hard enough to send him flying back. That must have broken a rib, though to Jack’s merit he managed to keep a grip on his rapier.

Brom ran to him, helping him get up. It seemed they benefited from a pause in the fighting. The knight was still patting his head. The fire was mostly out, but the smell of burnt hair hung heavily in the air. The skin there was red and bloody. The knight himself was fumbling around, patting himself.

“Sir, should I run and get you a potion?” Louis asked.

“Mrk, keep him here.” Jack croaked.

Mrk nodded and grabbed Louis, to the boy’s displeasure.

“You fucking filth, let go of me!”

“Mrk think not.” The ratling groaned, as he started to tackle Louis, collapsing them both.

Unnoticed by Brom until now, people had started to trickle in, becoming wary observers of their so called ‘duel’. Among them was the man who Jack had set off. He didn’t hear what they were saying, but none looked at him and Jack as the ones responsible for this mess. Unfortunately, none didn’t step in to stop the fight either.

“Jack, are you alright?” Brom asked.

“Never better.” He grinned, but his voice was pained. “But I think I’ll be holding off from going in alone for some time.”

“You should have done that from the start. Let me fight. At the very least, we go in together.”

“Got it.” He winced. “Brom. I used |Fast Hands| before. I know it’s not meant for fighting, but even so… He moved faster.”

“Yes. I know.”

The implications of that weren’t good. It was something Brom thought of too, but only as a possibility. It was becoming increasingly more like that it was a certainty.

We need to know.

“Knight.” Brom called out. “Do you have a Class?”

The man had stopped patting his head while they talked and picked up his sword. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but he was looking battle ready again. His eyes betrayed even more hatred than before, if possible.

“I do not answer to dwarfs!” he spat.

“What about to humans?” Jack asked.

The knight crossed his brows, but said nothing.

He’s a knight. If Amenor still has honor, he’ll abide by the rules of engagement.

“My name is Brom Oathbreaker. I am an |Axe Guard|, Level 3.”

For a few seconds, he said nothing, but then he spat on the ground and gave out a bark of laughter.

“You think this will give you an advantage? Oathbreaker… What a fitting name for a dwarf. So be it. My name is Merial Varhat. I am a |Knight| of Amenor, Level 18. So come, little |Axe Guard|. Let me show you the difference between us.”

Brom’s blood completely chilled. Not because of the knight’s jest on accounts of his name and height and not because he revealed that he had a Class. He suspected as much. The knight’s speed and reflexes told of more than just skill and experience. No, it was the Level which frightened him.

He’d been holding back. This entire time, he’d been holding back.

He noticed Jack gripping his rapier tightly, his other hand opening at loosely pointing towards the knight. There was no grin on his face now. He too understood the gravity of their situation. Brom thought that he could always use his Skill, if he found himself in any real danger. That he could at least flee and take Jack and Mrk with him. Now…

Why would the Lord of Amenor send out one of his best warriors?

Brom didn’t understand it. Was Helmrest truly that important? He did not see why. Or perhaps Amenor was starved of allies. Or, most worryingly, Amenor had found a away to increase the Levels of its knights.

“Feeling helpless, dwarf? Good! That’s how all those poor souls felt, back home, when your people slaughtered them.”

He wouldn’t believe me if I’d tell him my real Clan. He’d think it a ruse.

“I was not the one responsible for that.”

That provoked a string of curses out of the knight. His rage finally seemed to poke through his façade. It was while he was yelling at them that Jack nudged him, at gave a pointed look at the knight’s feet.

Better to end this quick. I agree.

He nodded and raised his axe. The knight saw this and grabbed his sword, lowering himself into a fighter’s stance. As one, Brom and Jack dashed forward, Brom going directly for the knight, while Jack went wide, as if to flank him.

The knight braced, preparing to be rammed again, but Brom abruptly stopped short a few feet away from him and lashed out with his axe. Slash and poke and slash. Just at the end of reach, but close enough to be an annoyance. Jack had his hand raised towards Merial, though he didn’t attack.

He didn’t think it wise to anger the knight further. But he needed to be lured in. They would lose if he’d be the first to use Skills. They would loose if this dragged on any longer too. It was surprise and sheer luck that saved Brom before.

More and more do I forsake my honor.

“Tell me, knight.” Brom intoned. “Among those killed by my kin, where there any that you called family?”

The knight’s eyes glinted as he traded blows with Brom, but he refused to answer.

“I see that they were. And tell me, after it was all done, did you cry?” he asked and spat in the knight’s face.

There was real pain in Merial’s features and it pained Brom to goad him. This was not what the relationship between their people should have been. Damn the Gradun. And Damn their Lord.

Merial, finally having had enough roared and dashed forward.

Only to fall flat to one knee, his sword’s tip impaling itself on the ground. There was confusion in the knight’s eyes, as he tilted his head back to look Brom in the eyes. He stumbled. How could he have stumbled? The answer lay in a group vines, planted firmly in the ground and wound tight around one of his ankles.

I didn’t want to do this.

“|Quick Swing|!”

His one attack Skill. It didn’t make his swing stronger. Didn’t make his axe capable of cleaving through rock or metal, like other Skills did. What it did was allow him to swing his axe as he normally would, only faster. Too fast to parry at this distance, not even by a Level 18 |Knight|.

Brom looked Merial in the eye while he slashed. He went for the collarbone, instead of the head. Perhaps he would not die. It was the only thing he could do for him.

His axe collided and Brom felt the impact all throughout his arm. It went through the knight’s armor, drawing blood. Yet, something was off. Brom drew back his axe. Blood was flowing… but it was only a trickle. A trickle when it should have been gushing out.

The look of confusion in the knight’s eyes was gone. It was replaced by fury, all consuming.

Merial sprung to his feet, one hand jabbing out, pushing Brom back. The other was grabbing his sword, using it to cut away at the vines ensnaring him. In heartbeats he was back on his feet, wounded but very much alive.

Brom engaged him again. He didn’t know why the knight wasn’t dead, but he couldn’t let him press the advantage. Jack must have thought the same thing, as he saw him attack the knight from behind. Going low, he angled his shield so it would protect him, while swinging his axe at Merial’s legs. Jack leapt off the ground, hand outstretched, looking to ram his sword into the back of Merial’s head.

They both failed.

Merial jumped, while one of his hands shot back. He grabbed Jack by the wrist, while his feet landed on Brom’s shield, pinning him down.

“|Quick Swing|. Good Skill for a Level 3. You can stop trying to cast, boy. I’ve got |Minor Spell Protection|.” He said, while he threw Jack down next to Brom.

“Though that would kill me, didn’t you dwarf?” he sneered.

Brom tried to stand back up, but Merial’s boot collided with his head.

“Stay down!”

Jack tried to do the same, before a kick to his stomach had him dry heaving.

“A dwarf |Axe Guard| and a Jack who can use spells. What a pair you make.” He said, looking down at them.

Brom eyes his wound, which was still trickling blood. It was running down his armor, leaving a crimson streak behind. But it did nothing to hamper the knight.

“That Skill of yours won’t work again for some time. Not at your Level. Not that it matters. I’ve got |Skin like Leather|. Wouldn’t have killed me even without my armor.”

|Skin like Leather|? Why-

“Surprised, are you? I didn’t always have armor. Not that many knights of Amenor do. But we both know whose fault that is, don’t we dwarf?”

He stepped forward and tried to kick Brom in the face again. Brom raised his shield, but the kick never came. Jack held on to the knight’s leg, trying to jam his rapier into an opening in the armor. Merial bent down and used his gauntleted hand to slap Jack across the face hard enough to make Brom flinch.

“I told you to stay away, boy.” He said, while Jack toppled.

Steeping forward again, he raised his sword.

He could hear the crowd now. The villagers didn’t even know Brom, but they were pleading for his life. Trying to get the knight to back away. He thought he heard the Lola girl crying. But they never stepped forward. The knight did.

“This ends now.”

“Knight no hurt Brom!”

Mrk materialized on Merial’s back, stabbing his knife into the gap in his armor that Brom’s axe had produced. The ratling was incensed, clawing at biting at the side of Merial’s face. Brom had forgotten about Mrk. One of his eyes was swollen and his snout was dripping blood. Louis must have given him a beating. Or, knowing who his father was, had someone else do it. Still, Brom had never felt more grateful for the existence of ratlings than that moment.

With a roar, Merial ripped Mrk away from his and threw him into the crowd. To his merit, Mrk stabbed his knife deep enough that it still stuck out from Merial’s shoulder plate.

“Boy, I want you to beat that vermin to an inch of his life!” Merial shouted at Louis.

The knight ripped out the knife and threw it on the ground. Brom had used this time to stand back up again. He raised his axe. He couldn’t win. There was no chance. And no one seemed to be coming to their aid. Why was no one coming to their aid?

“Help!” Jack shouted. “Someone, please help! Elia!”

Gone was the grin or the easy-going attitude. Jack looked desperate, almost in tears. Brom was moved that the young man would cry for him. He had known Brom for so little time, yet he cared enough for him to risk his life. He had been chosen well as a Keeper.

“Stop your yapping, boy. None one will come to your aid. I’ve got |Affair of Honor|. My Lords’s Skill. No one will come between a knight of Amenor and a dwarf. Now stay back or die along this dwarf.”

So saying, the knight raised his sword. He was five feet away, but Brom knew he must have had a Skill that would make the distance meaningless.

I can’t stop him. And I don’t have any attack Skills left. So… this is how I die.

Before he could strike though, Jack did the only thing he could do. He opened his mouth.

“Hey, knight. Brom asked if you cried when your family died. You didn’t really answer him.”

Wide eyed, Merial turned to stare at him, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

Brom didn’t understand it at first, but soon caught on when Jack glanced at him. He motioned at the crowd.

Run?

“So, who was it? Was it your parents? Maybe a brother? Did- did they die screaming?”

He was putting on a brave face, but his mask was failing. He was terrified. He was taunting the knight, mocking him and he wasn’t even that good at it. But it worked. It drew the Merial towards him, as the knight was too incensed to care. All to allow Brom to run. To flee. As if he could simply leave him behind.

Things happened in quick succession after that. The knight yelled, pure pain streaming out. But before he could strike Jack, a voice called out from the crowd, yelling out a Skill. Lola’s voice. It made the knight hesitate, just for a second, but it was enough for Brom to crash into him.

He has started running before the knight even moved. All his pain and shame, all his fury at his impotence was let out in a single sound. They crashed the three of them, tangling on the ground. Merial let loose, fighting like a rabid animal, sending out metal covered fists and kicks into Brom and Jack. He did this all while yelling.

“You think you could tempt me? Me?! My love is dead! She was killed! Killed by him and his damned race! Enough! Enough with this village of whores and dwarfs and Jacks! ENOUGH!”

He didn’t stop for some time. His sword lay forgotten on the ground. The knight beat them, abandoning all honor, hitting them while they were on their hands and knees. Hit and screamed and cried, all while Brom felt his nose break and heard Jack’s ribs snap.

He didn’t know how much it lasted. He didn’t know when it stopped.

***

Now.

“Filth! Be it as you wish.”

He didn’t know how Jack still stood. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how he was standing either. The only thing he was sure of was that they were about do die. Because of a silly plan, yes. One they didn’t fully understand. Not the plan, nor the man they had fought.

He could barely move. Yet, he had been called friend. How strange, to be called friend by this human. How strange to think of him as a friend as well.

He wished he could protect him. But Jack had finally abandoned all semblance of sanity. He was grinning. Perhaps that was simply his way of meeting the end.

You have finally found your will. I only wish I could witness it longer.

Jack shot towards Merial, defiant until the end. And Brom lay helpless, unable to protect him.

I fail…