I woke up the next day with a headache and an annoyed elf poking me with a foot.

Why was she bothering me? Didn’t she have princess stuff to do or something? Let me sleep!

“Guh’way Arya.” I said blearily. “Sleep’ng.”

“If you sleep any longer you are going to miss the duel you decided to accept.” Arya replied as she mercilessly dug her foot into my ribs.

Duel? What duel?

“The one you agreed to after insulting the Queen where anyone with ears could hear you.” She replied when I asked out loud.

Did that really happen? I remembered most of the night but after a while things got…hazy. Damn I drank way too much didn’t I?

And now I had to pay for drunk!me’s mouth…

Blegh, not what I wanted to wake up to.

“Any chance I can claim drunkenness and skip the whole thing?” I asked hopefully.

Arya just stared deadpan at me and raised an eyebrow. “If it had just been you two, then yes. But like I said, you decided to scream your insults to the queen for everyone to hear. If you wish to make yourself more presentable, you should hurry. There is not much time before noon and you will still need to make your way two the practice field.”

“Mrrrrrrr…………” I groaned but ultimately resigned myself.

Stupid elves.

-o-

I was a bit surprised to see that Eragon, Saphira, and Orik were nowhere to be found. Had no one told them I was fighting a duel today? Actually, that would make sense if Islanzadí wanted me out of the way with no one interfering. Eragon asking for a cancellation would be pretty hard to deny without potentially pushing him away.

She had already alienated her daughter more – bullshit ‘reconciliation’ aside – thanks to yesterday. Perhaps it was easier for her to pretend she had nothing to do with this until it was over.

Or she really did have nothing to do with it and I was reading too much into things. The others could simply not be here because no one thought to tell the important official guests what I did last night. Though plenty of other locals seemed to have gotten the message…

“I suppose it must count for something that you managed to arrive on time.” The Elf I assumed was my duel opponent said imperiously. “Even if you still look like a drunken wretch.”

“Whatever, I’m here. Can we get this over with so I can go back to bed? I have a massive hangover.” I lied as I faked a huge yawn causing the elf to frown deeply. I had healed myself of any lingering aches from last night long before I arrived at the field, but I hadn’t taken any steps to fix my appearance so I looked like I had just rolled out of bed in the clothes I wore last night.

…which I technically had.

“Very well, to the terms then,” He scowled at my actions before looking at Arya, “Arya Dröttningu has declared that death and serious injury are forbidden, thus I propose we settle this with first to yield or be rendered unable to continue.”

I shrugged. “I’m fine with that.”

I was actually a little relieved I wasn’t about to get stuck in some ‘to the death’ nonsense. Because no one won in that circumstance. Either I ended up killing a – probably – important noble in the middle of the elven capital and then being stuck here until Eragon needed to return to the Varden, or he managed to kill me. Which I wasn’t much of a fan of even in the unlikely hypothetical.

“Should I win, I demand that you retract your words and apologize to our Queen. You will then swear an oath in the Ancient Language to never step foot in our lands again and be escorted out of the kingdom.”

Apologize for calling out Islanzadí on her utter lack of maternal ability? No way was I going to lose now.

“Fine, but when I win…” I trailed off. Actually, what would I want for winning?

“You don’t happen to have a Rider sword, do you?” I asked eventually, though going by the shocked gasps I might have accidentally committed another social misstep.

“I do not possess such a blade.” my opponent said, only the fury in his eyes informing me that he wasn’t perfectly calm.

I think I stepped on a landmine there.

I also couldn’t really think of anything I would want from winning this so in the end I just settled for him promising to give me any information on unclaimed Rider blades or Brightsteel he heard about. Not a great prize, but eh.

“So how are we doing this?” I asked once the rewards were confirmed to the surrounding witnesses.

“As the challenged party, you are the one to set the terms.”

Oooh, in that case…

“Then how about any weapon you want and any spell that doesn’t directly target your opponent?” Meaning no annoying mental/soul battle and no trying to just tell my heart to stop beating or something. Neither strategy should affect me since I had altered my mental and soul defenses after dealing with the Twins and the natural density of mana in my body should counter direct magic effects, but I also didn’t really want to have to test that right now. Especially since I was going to scare the hell out of everyone here without revealing those tricks.

Now that everything was set the two of us were ready to begin.

The witness moved back so there was no chance of anyone getting in the way, leaving the two of us in the middle of a wide circle. And both of us drew our swords.

I wanted my tracing ability to be a bit of a surprise so I had actually carried a blade here similar to what I had done when I first ran into Eragon and Murtagh. Nothing outwardly special, just a simple double edged steel sword.

My opponent, Lord Vrealian according to Arya, had a longsword that he held easily with one hand, showing his familiarity and control over his blade. It also showed his arrogance since just by looking at his sword I could tell it was clearly meant to be handled two-handed.

I fell into a technically acceptable, if lazy, defensive position myself and waited for the duel to start.

When it did, Vrealian fell directly into my trap.

Honestly it wasn’t even his fault. He did the thing nearly any experienced warrior would do, punish a flaw and create an opening. His sword smashed into mine faster than a normal human could move and was raised overhead to give a finishing blow. Vraelian apparently wanted this finished quickly, but unfortunately for him the disheveled state of my clothes, my lazy stance, and even my uncaring attitude had all been misdirections to encourage him to perform an aggressive opening.

He assumed I was going to retreat or panic when my own blade was forced out of position to defend against his.

He wasn’t expecting me to step closer instead. Or move as quickly as I did.

I stuck close, maybe inches from actually touching him, as I stepped in and around his body until I was at his back. Then my sword snapped back up so I was basically hugging him from behind with the blade pressed lightly along his chest from hip to shoulder.

“Do you yield?” I practically purred into his ear. And considering the dead silence that had fallen over the field, every elf there heard it.

Vrealian went purple and practically shuddered with rage. He reached up and shoved my sword away from him while moving to get some distance.

I didn’t really try to fight it. This was his freebie. I wasn’t some human he could effortlessly crush. I was a much bigger threat. Something I emphasized by adjusting my posture so I was no longer slouched and straightening my outfit.

“Cheap tricks!” Vrealian hissed.

I shrugged. “You’re the one who fell for them. And it would have lost you the duel if I didn’t want an actual fight.”

That seemed to piss him off even more as he was soon in my face again. But even angry Vrealian wasn’t a pushover. Yes, he was being overly aggressive. But he was just as fast as Arya, perhaps a touch more skilled, and rapidly regaining control of his emotions. Once his initial flurry of slashes failed to pierce my defenses he shifted to a much more controlled style of fighting.

Swords flashed and clanged off each other as we danced back and forth across the field. I couldn’t help but grin as I felt the little tugs on my clothes from the near misses of Vrealian’s sword. He was experienced in the same way the older Soul Reapers were. Practically perfect form caused by decades of practice a normal human simply wouldn’t live to see.

I twisted to avoid a thrust and caught the blade with my own. Vrealian muttered something and I felt a shock leap between our swords. I could have fought through it but I realized as much fun as this had been there were other things I needed to do today. Time to take this seriously.

I deliberately loosened my grip and allowed the plain sword to be ripped out of my hands. Now it was Vrealian’s turn to hold me at swordpoint and gloat.

“Do you yield?” He asked, parroting back my earlier words.

“Why would I do that?” I shot back, still smiling confidently.

Somewhat shockingly, Vrealian didn’t bother giving me a reason why or asking again. He just jumped straight to trying to stab me again. Not an unreasonable reaction to facing a spellcaster smiling at you while apparently unarmed.

Bakuya dropped into my hand and gasps rang out at the sight of the traced blade and its twin appearing in my hands.

Vrealian fell back, shocked, after the sudden display of impossible magic – to them – and then scrambled even further when more swords appeared midair behind me as they shot forward at him. Some missed as the elf tumbled acrobatically, others were deflected by his sword, but a good many were only stopped by Vrealian’s wards as they were magically deflected or halted before they skewered him. Another muttered spell actually animated some of the fallen swords to either block the new incoming ones or shoot back at me, but I simply dismissed those when they got close.

Unnoticed in the chaos of flying steel, a single cross shaped dagger formed and shot forward. Unlike all the others, this one wasn't aimed at Vrealian at all nor was it launched in a way that would prevent him from dodging another blade so it went nearly ignored until it stabbed into his shadow and locked him in place.

I needed to immediately dismiss the rest of my projectiles as Vrealian lost the ability to move but since a single Black Key wasn’t going to prevent him from using magic I projected dozens of swords hanging over him like a sword of Damocles.

“Now then,” I said confidently as I pushed some hairs that had come loose during the fight out of my face, “unless you want to become a pincushion I think this is my win.”

I looked around at the stunned silent observers.

“So, anyone else want to challenge me?”

-o-

Arya was the one to ruin my fun.

Apparently there was a schedule today for everyone that came with Eragon and the only reason I wasn’t taken there already was the fact I was challenged to a duel. Going by the slight twisting on Islansadí’s face when she spotted me coming to join the group I had a sneaking suspicion that she was really hoping I would lose my duel.

Yeah, she definitely didn’t like me.

But I paid the queen very little attention beyond agreeing to the oath she demanded before we met Eragon’s teachers. While I already knew who – and what – they were, no one here had any reason to think I did, and Islanzadí was quick to threaten to kick me out if I didn’t agree.

So once everyone had given the oath, we were escorted to a nice field leading up to a cliff.

Moments later a dull thud echoed through the forest as a wave of air washed over us.

Then it happened again.

The third time it happened a massive golden shape rose from the cliff bottom. It was a dragon. A huge golden dragon, with a Rider on its back.