In the Hall of the Seven, the crowd stirred at the shocking scene that unfolded before their eyes, and the quiet expanse became awash with jibes and taunting cat-calls once again. This time round, however, Minister Zila's attention was so focused on the lady standing ahead of her that she did not raise her hand.

From among the crowd echoed words that amplified across the hall.

"Preposterous! How could she defend the prince of Nox against her own country?"

"Traitor!"

"I knew that coral-pink hair was a curse. She will never be one of us!"

The prince absorbed the sudden turn of events with suppressed astonishment. In my defence, a council member had invoked some ancient right to stand against her own brethren at the risk of her own death? This had become more complicated than I initially foresaw. He then spoke, his voice directed at the enigmatic lady standing before him. "You don't have to do this. If Ceil won't have us, we will just have to find another way to stop Aderis."

"I'm not doing this for you," came the terse response.

"I urge you to reconsider, Misaki. You are the Champion of Ceil. There's no reason why you should risk your life to do this," Faelynn spoke from her seat at the table.

"What use is the Champion of Ceil if she cannot defend the nation from its own undoing? The prince spoke truly, yet his words fell on deaf ears," Misaki responded calmly.

"The tragedy has come full circle, it seems. It was only twenty years ago that your master once stood in the exact same place you did, with the same eyes of grim determination..." Minister Zila's words trailed off.

"The Last Request," Harshra spoke with a sombre note in his tone.

"The Last Request saved me. And I intend to do the same for this foreign prince, if it means protecting this city."

"You don't know that, Misaki. Are you protecting Ceil, or ruining it?" Minister Zila asked pointedly.

There was a moment's pause, which was then broken by Misaki's firm voice. "I am the Champion of Ceil. And I will uphold my duty to protect this nation from the day of my appointment until my last day. If any man should question that, let him come forth and we shall settle this honourably under the laws of Ishva." Minister Zila shook her head slightly, as a string of loud murmurings snaked its way across the spectators in the dome. It was interrupted only by the sudden shuffling of a chair as a man stood from his place.

"Very well then lass, I will take you up on your offer," the biggest man seated at the Heptagonal Table spoke, his eyes glinting with unspoken agenda. He looked once at the minister; the latter briefly scanned the remaining members of the table for objections before giving a morose nod. No one else was willing to answer the challenge, and the minister had no other candidate in mind. The declaration of Ishva, once issued by a council member, was absolute and unshakable.

Harshra cleared his throat briefly before speaking. "Under the laws of Ishva, the duelists will engage in a one-on-one battle. The victor is decided once the opponent is killed or forced to yield. In the case of the Protector, yielding is not an option. Her life would be staked as the price of declaring Ishva."

"Oh I don't want her to die..." Gyburn said with a wide smirk, as broken teeth, stained by years of wine drinking revealed themselves in their naked glory. "I have a better deal than that."

Minister Zila frowned deeply. "This is the ancient law of Ishva, Gyburn. It does not bend to your whims and wishes, unlike the prancing dancers you like to...host...at your mansion, if dancers is even the right word. I don't expect you to know Ishva by heart, but respect it you must."

"Oh I will respect it all right. Nobody said nothing about disrespecting it," the bearded giant uttered, eyeing the pink-haired lady like a wolf eyeing its prey. "Except that as I recall from one of the old man's ramblings, there is such a thing called Precedence, is there not?"

Slightly jolted by the syndicate lord's words, Harshra sat a little straighter in his seat, as if he did not expect that the warrior would remember any of his scholarly words. "Err-hem yes...I did indeed mention it..."

"As with all yer bloody laws dictated by words and imperfect minds, a sentence can be understood from different angles. Should she lose, the Protector forfeits her life to the Challenger. Understood simply, it meant killing the Protector if she loses. But then some bugger came up with this wise concept called Precedence, ain't it? Which dictated that laws were also interpreted by virtue of the predecessors who have invoked them in the past. Thirty eight years ago, didn't Kundius of The Council, who challenged the Protector and won, choose to free him instead of killing him? The agreed verdict was, the forfeiture of life to the Challenger also meant that the Challenger could do as he pleased with that life because it was 'given up' to him. That included the choice of killing the Protector. But it was a choice, not a mandated action to murder." Gyburn elaborated with a touch of glee in his voice.

A sea of silence met those words. Minister Zila raised her wizened hand to her eyes and pinched them tiredly. Of all the scholarly teachings and historical events he could remember, the oaf had to remember some of those with least value to the daily affairs of Ceil. The darn brute. She thought.

As she lowered her hand, the minister conceded, her voice one of suppressed impatience. "So what do you want, Gyburn?" The man stroked his beard in feigned thoughtfulness, his eyes alight with a sudden stroke of enthusiasm. "Well...you know I have always wanted to merge the army of Ceil and the Half-Brother Company into one entity under my command. After all, your army alone, the size of peanuts, wouldn't hold its own against an invasion by any of the great nations, that's why you people are so paranoid of an obviously fallen warmongering nation, not to mention the need to pander to the other powers so much and call it diplomatic relations..."

"Careful now, syndicate lord," Minister Zila warned, her voice dripping with subtle fury. "One more insulting word and you will be out of this hall in a heartbeat." To the sides of the platform which supported the Heptagonal Table, the royal guards stood at attention, donned in full plate mail along with sword and shield. As stationary as they were, the well-disciplined guards were ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Hah!" Gyburn scoffed, as if the soldiers posed not the slightest threat to him. "My point is, given that I have consistently been denied what I want despite the...seeming inexperience of Ceil's current army leadership, I shall instead ask to have Misaki serve as my personal deputy in the Half-Brother Company. Instead of losing her life meaninglessly, her skills will serve to bolster my forces for the purpose of protecting Ceil. She will be granted a personal room in my mansion, as the mansion has always been a critical meeting point for discussion with my generals."

The council members exchanged glances. This was an unexpected development. It looked good on paper; better than the risk of potentially losing a capable member of their own. But again, on paper. The clandestine happenings within Gyburn's mansion were not a closely guarded secret. Whether by Gyburn's hand or out of fear of his unruly henchmen, the carnal hear-says regarding that luxurious abode were deemed to be unverified or mere 'rumours'. Whatever they were, they were still better than Misaki meeting certain death under Ishva's bindings.

Hopefully.

Not that The Council was underestimating the Champion of Ceil, but Gyburn had a fearsome reputation to behold on the battlefield, as seen from Ceil's decades of cooperation with the Half-Brother Company.

"I do not need protection from an unarmoured lady against a common brute," Zenvix spoke, his patience having finally worn thin from the syndicate lord's last words. "Especially a dishonourable one of lewd intentions, Gyburn."

The colossal man unsheathed his blade of massive proportions and slammed it down towards the platform in sudden rage. The force with which he propelled the sword pierced the sturdy platform and created slight tremors across its immediate vicinity, sending the other council members to their feet in alarm. The spectators watched with bated breath.

"Common brute, is it, boy? Big words. Instead of snivelling behind pussies, why don't you come right up to my face and say them again?" Gyburn dislodged his considerable sword from the platform, unveiling a deep laceration within the solid wood.

Undaunted, Zenvix made a step towards the syndicate lord, only to be stopped by a raised hand from Misaki.

"Fine then Gyburn, have it your way."

The army general Faelynn clasped her fingers together and shook her head, almost in sadness. "You don't know what you have gotten yourself into, Misaki. Don't do it."

Gyburn pointed a finger at the seated general in rebuke. "Quiet now, woman. Misaki is a big enough girl to be making her own decisions," the syndicate lord said with a relish. Recollecting himself from his outburst, Gyburn made a wide grin at Misaki. "So, if you lose..."

"If I lose." Misaki punctuated his statement, interrupting it and ending it with a resolute finality that bordered no further discussion.

Gyburn chortled. "My, my, what a bewitchingly confident lady..."

How I would love to break you. He thought, swinging his inhumanly large blade over his shoulders with ease. Zenvix scrutinised the lady standing in front of him, visibly concerned for her safety. The last thing he needed was for a woman to sacrifice her freedom to become another's plaything, all for defending his proposal under a ridiculous ancient law.

Misaki Alinsky was dressed simply, too simply in fact to be looking like a proper combatant of any sort. As she unbuckled the black-white coat that draped across her shoulders and tossed it aside, the prince caught a glimpse of a white latex cloth that was rolled tightly around her generous chest, reminding him strangely of how a man would bandage a wound. The same cloth was wrapped securely around her fists up to her forearms. Aside from those, the lass had no other protective fittings on, revealing bare shoulders and an equally exposed midriff. What caught Zenvix's attention however, were the pair of undeniably lengthy swords attached to a belt on her long pants, comprising the only apparent signs of her warrior status apart from excellent physique.

Dual swords? That's a novel sight. An ambidextrous warrior is exceedingly rare. I have never seen one across my experiences in Western Elaria. Zenvix thought.

Dylas drew his breath abruptly, causing Yurisiviel and the prince to turn their heads out of curiosity. "Never thought I would see those weapons again in this lifetime." Yurisviel glanced once at Misaki's swords. "What's the big deal? They are just swords, aren't they?" She asked.

Dylas shook his head sagely. "Those aren't ordinary swords my lady, those are katanas. There are critical differences. The traditional eastern art of creating katanas was a treasured craft that precious few smiths were capable of learning. It involved taking one edge of a blade, honing it tirelessly across multiple folds without breaking the core, and then producing a sharpness so keen that it could literally cut a man in two without much effort. As you can see, the essence of creating katanas lies in focusing zealously on one singular aspect, and then taking that to uncompromising perfection."

"And I suppose the contrast here is that our swords, whilst not comparable to katanas in the sharpness department, are of higher durability and ease-of-use? Just look at how thin those katanas are, they seem like they would break easily if not handled with care. Our swords are double-edged as well compared to katanas," Zenvix deduced. Dylas nodded in agreement.

The prince turned to look at his protector, his eyes a mixture of hesitance and curiosity. While he feared for the lady's life, he couldn't help but feel curious about her background. An easterner holding prestigious membership in the highest governing body of Ceil‒a western nation? Intriguing.

"I should warn you that I am not called Gyburn the Fierce for naught. I would hate nothing more than to hurt that precious body of yours. Yield now and become my deputy while you can, and I will‒ "

"Blah blah blah, blah blah. Are we getting on with this or not?" Misaki declared, one hand on her katana hilt, while making a yapping sign with her other hand, reminiscent of ducks quacking.

"Jerius would love her attitude," Zenvix muttered, his lips fighting to suppress a smile. With a snarl, Gyburn leapt from the platform to the carpeted floor below, his massive frame causing a thunderous crash to resound from the impact. Upon landing, he made a lumbering dash towards Misaki; Zenvix and his group backed away instinctively to give the lady room to fight. The monstrous blade arced through the air in an overhead slash, only to find that its target had disappeared at the last moment.

So fast. Yurisviel thought. Dodging the blade effortlessly, Misaki somersaulted over the head of her opponent and withdrew her katana in a flash, smashing the flat side of her blade in Gyburn's face while in mid-air, derailing her opponent from his momentum. The man staggered towards his right, his visage bearing a growing blue-black across one cheek.

A tinkling laughter sounded from Misaki. "The make-up suits you well." Growling in anger, Gyburn wheeled around and pursued his target, attempting a horizontal slash at the pink-haired lady; she crouched to evade his assault, then countered with a forward stab of her own, completing the Passata Sotto. The thin katana pierced precisely within the gap of Gyburn's leg armour, causing the man to yell out furiously in pain.

Her swordplay is one of the best I have seen in years. She would give prime Michas a run for his money. Zenvix thought. As the exchange of blows resounded across the dome, the prince noticed that Misaki had never once sought to mortally wound the syndicate lord; many a time, she used only the flat side of her katana. One katana, when she had two.

Is she intending to literally beat the syndicate lord into submission?

"Looks like she is not thinking about ending this early," Zenvix remarked.

"She can't, Your Highness. While she is definitely quicker, a katana is not naturally built to cut through armour. That is why she is attacking the gaps within Gyburn's armour," Dylas observed.

"That doesn't explain why she didn't just cut that man's head clean off when she had the chance. He's helmetless, and that thick neck wouldn't stand a chance against her katana."

"Mercy, I suppose. She wants him to yield." Zenvix snorted quietly at his knight-commander's response. He ain't worthy of that. The prince thought.

Gyburn panted, grasping his blade edge-down towards the floor. Fucking hell, I have tried, again and again to catch that pink-haired bitch, but she kept dancing out of my fingers...Gyburn reflected.

He attempted another horizontal slash, and missed.

What I would not give to chug a damn cold jug of wine right now.

Then another overhead chop, which met thin air.

Lyra and Mandy are waiting for me in bed with their big teats...

He chased down the retreating swordswoman, his mind racing with a barrage of conflicting thoughts.

What's the point in all this, I can't win, she's obviously better than me.

Wait, what the fuck am I thinking?

I want to go.

No...I need to win this.

Fuck this council, I want to go home.

Get your shit together, the girl will be yours!

No..

No....

I - no...I ...

.....

You can't what, you oversized idiot?

...

I can't.

I can't do this shit no more.

"ARGHHHHHHH!" The behemoth of a man hollered in frustration, plunging his blade down in the floor, his uncanny strength causing the concrete to rupture slightly from the impact.

His eyes clouded with sweat, Gyburn looked up at his opponent in fury and revulsion. He grasped the hilt of his sword tightly for a long moment, and then with deliberate force, pushed the blade away from him. The sword dislodged itself, falling forwards to the ground in a loud clang. Around them, the dome was deathly quiet; shocked into silence at the syndicate lord's cry of outrage. Then a raspy voice came.

"I yield."

Wait, what? The man still had a lot left in him. The prince thought, looking confusedly between Gyburn and Misaki. He glanced at Dylas who shrugged, and Yurisiviel who had a thoughtful expression on her face. She shook her head, not understanding the flow of the fight.

Similarly baffled at the abrupt end to this duel, The Council was at a loss for words. None could question the outcome, however; Gyburn had announced his defeat. Harshra cleared his throat hurriedly to declare the verdict.

With a swish of her katana, Misaki Alinsky sheathed her weapon and smiled. It was a tough battle to play the card of attrition, but killing unnecessarily was the figurative card of disaster. The demise of the Half-Brother Company's leader would get the lecherous man off the council, but that would also invite a murderous backlash from his syndicate as well. Even with the combined might of Ceil's army and the Silent Guard, she was not sure they could repel the storm of vengeance that the Half-Brother Company would surely bring, without paying a dear price. The internal strife and civil war would be nigh unimaginable; unbearable for the common folks of Ceil.

She turned her head and walked back towards the prince and his group of retainers.

Only to find the Nighvictorian hurtling towards her at high speed; she instinctively reached for her katana, but the man was unarmed. Zenvix grabbed Misaki by her shoulders and shoved her to the right, allowing himself to fall in tandem with the exerted force as a glint of silver whisked past them at deadly velocity.

A throwing knife.

"What the...." Misaki whispered, a look of astonishment across her countenance. She turned to look at the direction from where the knife came, seeing only Gyburn in a half-kneeling position, his face a mask of venomous hatred. A string of curses perforated the air as the man slammed his fist to the ground, his eyes affixed at the throwing knife which landed harmlessly some distance away from the pair.

"You dishonourable coward. What man would strike when the duel had ended and the opponent's back was turned? Have you no shame?" Zenvix proclaimed as he helped Misaki to her feet.

"Shame? Dishonourable?" Gyburn pulled his head back and laughed mirthlessly. "Your words are lost on me, boy. Honour and shame are words you worship in your world. In mine, they are nothing more than horseshit in the wind."