Tucked under his blanket, Istainn was feeling his cheek for the hundredth time.

I will never wash again!

“Boss? Are you awake?”

It was Lau; he had returned to the room after having his breakfast.

“Let me be, go away!” asked the spy.

“Common, Boss, the duel begins in less than an hour! Diago and the Ambassador already left.”

He jumped out of bed, washed - regretfully, but washed - shaved, ate, and dressed.

They both descended the stairs half an hour later. The men were late for once, and the girls were waiting for them in the lobby, next to Missy and Veea.

“Goodness!” exclaimed the spy. “Tell me you didn’t dye your hair! Please, I beg you!”

The princesses had brown and blond hair now, one woven in tresses, the other in a long tail.

“Not that’s any of your business, but no, it’s just a whig,” replied Feyra. “Should we proceed?” she showed the door.

“Moment, let me check!”

The spy had his crossbow hidden under his jacket. He opened the door and checked the street, closing back the door in a hurry.

“There are two big guys to the left and two on the right. They look armed and suspicious,” he reported.

“They are pa’s men,” explained Missy. “You didn’t think he would let things to chance, wouldn’t you? He has men on every street now. Go, it’s late. I’ll stay here with Veea; she does not like the idea of fighting.”

“I don’t know how a decent man can choose violence as his job!” said Diago’s wife, frowning. “Please, Mister Spy, if you see he’s in danger, tell him to quit!”

“Don’t worry, dear friend,” intervened Feyra. “Diago will be safe. He’s formidable!”

“I’ll keep an eye on things, just in case,” promised Istaìnn.

They left the house and walked on the streets. It was his first visit to d’Ornia, and he liked what he saw. The buildings were less crowded than in the Port but more crowded than in the rest of Ohst, and they had all the same look: two to four stores, facades painted in earthy colors, tiled roofs. In fifteen minutes, they reached the Arena. A big square lobby leading to a round hall of about one thousand people capacity, with a square-shaped fighting ring twenty yards wide in the center.

The Ambassador was waiting for them in the lobby. He had with him at least twenty supporters of his party, each hiding weapons in a self-explanatory manner: don’t mess with us!

“Welcome,” he greeted them with a small polite bow. “Let’s go to my lodge; it’s on the second floor.”

“You go,” said Istainn to the rest. “I’ll stay at the ground level, to be closer to the fight. Just in case, you know.”

He spent a few minutes in the lobby. He bought himself a lemonade and examined the other stands around with interest. A few minutes later, he made his way to the front row of the arena, next to the wooden fence separating the spectators from the fighting ring. The railing was leaving about five yards of free space between them and the action.

As soon as he arrived, the arbiter spoke in a loud voice:

“Ladies and Gentlemen. We begin the trial by judgment between the honorable Diago Guerrefido and his highness the king. Representing the king today, Nanoc, the Allamain champion. The weapon chosen by Diago Guerrefido is the greatsword. Here come the champions!”

Diago and his opponent entered from opposite sides of the ring in the crowd applauses, both dressed only in shorts and sandals. They stopped near the arbiter and saluted the crowd. While the spy could hear some voices, especially two crystal clear young ones, who cheered for Diago, most of the public were chanting: Na-noc! Na-noc! Diago’s opponent was very well known.

He’s huuuuge! And his weapon is at least one foot longer than Diago’s… Good luck, my friend…

“Take your places. Begin!” ordered the arbiter.

The two fighters walked to the corners from which every fight was supposed to start. Suddenly, the barbarian advanced, raised his sword with both hands over his head and shouted an indefinite howl, destined to scare his opponent. Diago, who had rested the point of his sword on the ground, hit it with his boot. Transforming the upward momentum in a flourish, he lunged and hit low, before the giant had the time to react and before even he had finished his impressive yelling introduction. With both legs cut at knee height, Nanoc fell on the ground.

Silence fell all over the hall. Gasps and retching noises could be heard here and there. The spy was very proud of his friend.

If only you’d seen him beheading a horse and its’ rider from a single hit!

The barbarian had crawled on his hands for a few moments, trying to claw and to bite at Diago’s feet, but he collapsed, exhausted by the loss of blood. Four solid men were needed to raise him on a stretcher, a fifth to take his legs under his arms, and another three to mop the wooden planks'. Again, lots of retching reactions, and the two clear voices chanting: Dia-go!, Dia-go!

“The first round is won by Diago Guerrefido!” announced the arbiter. “The appeal will follow in two da…”

“Wait!” shouted a voice in a lodge.

The royal lodge. That’s a major-domo, the one speaking, and that big man with the circlet is the king, thought the spy after taking a look at the lodge.

Meanwhile, the major-domo continued.

“What do you say, people? Are you satisfied with such short combat? Not even a real pass of arms! The king has a proposition. Let’s follow on with all rounds today. If Diago Guerrefido reaches the fourth and last round, the King himself will descend in the ring to confront him. They will fight in full armor, with the queen of weapons: the one hand and a half sword. What do you say, Guerrefido?”

The crowd was chanting: Fight! Fight!

Nooooo! It’s a trap; it’s so obvious. Refuse, Diago, refuse!

“I accept!” shouted Diago. “Let’s finish this comedy!”

Aaaaah! Stupid! Stupid! Lots of muscles and no brain! Well, not much brain!

“Let it be so. Fifteen minutes break,” announced the arbiter.

As fast as he could, the spy made his way to the lobby, where the Ambassador had already arrived.

“Come, I’m going to speak with Diago,” said the man.

He followed him to the backstage, to Diago’s lodge.

“Why did you accept?” the spy attacked. “It’s a trap, it must be.”

“I want to finish the comedy once and for all. Ten years on the run because of him. It will end today. And don’t worry, there is no such thing as a trap. He’s just stupid and overconfident!”

Let’s hope it’s not you, the one overconfident! the spy thought.

“Diago, if you feel in danger, please abandon,” asked the Ambassador. “We’ll go to plan B and assault the palace.”

“Pah, danger!” replied Diago. “The only danger is because you annoy me, and I lose my concentration. Please go!”

They obeyed, both sighing.

“It’s a trap, I’m sure,” said the spy on the way back.

“I feel the same,” agreed the Ambassador. “But we can only wait and see.”

When the spy reached his spot again, Diago and his new opponent had arrived. The two men dressed the same, white shirts, black pants with boots, and armed with rapiers.

I know this man from somewhere, thought the spy, then froze when the arbiter announced.

“And representing the king, Sebastain Karul, from Ohst!”

Goodness! I’ve heard about him. He’s notorious, provoking anyone to duel for a whim. It’s said he killed scores of people. Well, he killed his fellows, nobles, so that’s a good thing, but still…

“Why are only foreigners fighting for the King?” shouted the Ambassador.

The girls must’ve recognized him too.

“There is no law forbidding it!” replied the major-domo.

“It is true!” accepted the arbiter. “Take your places. Fight.”

For a while, both opponents circled the ring, examining each other. While Diago's stance was elegant and high, the ohstian was more ground-oriented, moving obliquely, like a snake.

“I’ve studied your school extensively,” spoke Sebastain. “It is outdated. You follow the rules from the past; I make rules for the future.”

“Studying the past is already progress,” replied Diago.

And in a blink, the other attacked. The spy could not even see the pass of arms. He saw some shapes moving, he heard swords hitting each other, and then he saw his friend staggering from a deep stab on his right biceps.

“I proposed myself to make three passes today,” continued the ohstian. “At the third pass, you’ll be dead!”

“No plan survives contact with reality!” affirmed Diago, and he attacked, transferring his rapier from the right hand to the left.

While his move surprised the Karul fencer, he did manage to parry Diago’s hit and riposte, this time wounding the duelist with a cut on the outside of his left thigh.

Goodness, he’s cutting him to pieces! thought the spy, alarmed.

“And now it’s time to learn what true fencing means!” goaded Sebastain Karul. “Say your last words, Diago Gue…”

In the same second, Diago threw his weapon like a spear, forcing the opponent to dodge it for fear of not being skewered, and exploded forward. Before the other had the time to react, he was near the ohstian, hitting him violently in the groin with the knee. It seemed that Diago had not read the adage about not hitting an adversary on the ground because he immediately stomped on the other’s head, killing him.

“Now I’ll tell you about what true fencing means,” Diago said. “Do the unexpected. Win. You thought I will reply to your taunt at the third pass, as I’ve done before. You were wrong. Dead wrong.”