Rael swerved out of the way from the fist, keeping their center of balance low to the ground. The young raider twisted on his feet, trying to throw another punch towards Rael as they danced away. Rael frowned in concentration, two warring instincts budding into a third. For the first time since the encounter with the fae, Rael was getting comfortable in how they moved.

Ruen had moved like a panther with too many old wounds to get hit. An ambush predator, ending fights in seconds through deception and accurate blows. Bjorn was the opposite, more akin to a wild bear using it superior strength to crush its foes. He would allow himself to be bloodied and take hits if it meant that he could terrify his opponents into fleeing.

Rael circled around the raider, careful to keep a few paces away from the circle marking the fighting area. They cut out the sounds of hollering Faulk, tossing coins from as far away as Doub to Kip as he took bets. Instead, their focus was trained on the raider, his own mask of concentration not slipping. He leaned forwards. Rael mirrored him. They rushed at each other. Rael held their right fist back, rearing up for a punch. Their opponent matched them, but he was slightly faster. The punch sailed towards Rael, their quick dive causing the blow to glance off their back.

Before he could back away, Rael hooked their foot around his ankle. He looked up in surprise as he stumbled slightly backwards, realizing Rael’s right hand was a feint. Before he could recover, Rael delivered a quick jab into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Rael jabbed twice more on his side as he began to fall. The Dragonward stepped back as the raider landed on the ground, gasping for air.

“You good?” Rael kept their stance low in case he wanted to continue.

“Yeah.” The man rubbed his jaw, where Rael had punched him two fights ago. “But maybe I’m pushing myself.”

“C’mon, one more!” Rael still had adrenaline rushing through their veins. It wasn’t often that they weren’t the one on the ground.

The raider smiled and shook his head. He nodded his head towards Kip as he gave out winnings, keeping a sizeable chunk for himself. “I think your friend has made enough off of me.”

“Kip, will you cool it with the betting?” Rael rolled their eyes when the young captain guffawed, juggling heavy coin purses of his earnings. “You didn’t have to constantly yell about how badly I did every match.”

“How else would I get ‘em ‘t vote against ya?” Kip chortled, turning around to the crowd of Faulkie travelers, raiders, and crewmen. “Now who else is brave enough to fight a Demonslayer?!”

Azmond stood next to him and joined the throngs of people roaring in approval; Rael turned away from them to help their opponent up. He clasped the hand and patted Rael on the back. He had a small smile when he noticed Rael’s burning face avoiding the crowd.

“You fight well for one so young.” The raider stretched, his back popping in several places.

“I’ve had great teachers.” Rael found themselves saying, embarrassment at the attention fading. “The way you fought reminded me of Captain Derrol’s Tome-warrior.”

The raider’s eyebrows raised high enough that Rael thought they might pop off his forehead.

“To be likened to Thorgan the Unkillable is high praise. You honor me.” He bowed his head and walked off the circular platform, leaving the Dragonward confused and mouthing the name Thorgan in confusion. The audience respectfully made ay for the fighter, receiving a few hearty claps on the back for his good performance. Rael was left alone on the dais, avoiding the crowd’s attention to focus past them and into the easter mountains. Rolling green hills congregated into massive spires of stone, the mountains of the Spine reaching high above the fog. Yet the memory of the Edge dwarfed the titanic mountains, which seemed to reach desperately into a sky they would never surpass.

Beyond them lay the Bergin empire. A threat on the horizon that Rael thought they could ignore once they laid low. It wasn’t as simple as that. They were now embroiled with a people who rushed headfirst into war with Bergin, and Rael could not let them go alone. No matter how much they just wanted a peaceful life for Az and themselves.

“I’ll fight!”

Oro cried out. The young man jumped on stage and got into position. His meek smile widened as Rael turned around with their own excited grin, glad to be free of their thoughts. Rael hadn’t seen him for a while.

“Two days for you to gather up the courage for our first spar?” Rael got into a similar pose; the one Ulric had taught them. “What took you so long?”

“You’re more intimidating than you think, Dragonward.” Oro said as the two began circling each other, the hubbub of their audience drowning out of their awareness. “Few would choose to follow the philosophies of the Great Champion as closely as you have.”

Rael’s smile faltered for a moment. Thankfully, Oro either didn’t notice or choose to take the opportunity. Rather than let the thoughts distract them, Rael paid attention to Oro’s movements. His center of gravity was low and his legs were firmly and evenly placed. He held both of his arms up in a defensive position, and his fists were clenched. He wasn’t thinking about grappling, then. Instead, his shoulders were tense, so he was probably going to start with a few quick jabs to prod Rael’s defenses. They could use that to give him a false idea of how well they dodged before locking his joints and slamming him to the ground. A risky play, but one that might be necessary since he knew more about how Rael fought than anyone else who’d been in the ring. Not to mention Rael had been fighting without any break for almost thirty minutes.

Rael frowned in concentration. Oro made his first step towards them…and a red-pelted deer bowled him over. The crowd’s cheering turned to confused exclamations. Rael blinked a few times as the deer bucked about over the sputtering young man. They rushed over and pushed the deer away, the strange creature almost squinting angrily at them, and then bounded away.

“Thrice-cursed deer!” Oro groaned, nursing a swelling hoofmark on his cheek. He rolled to his feet and stood up with a dejected expression. “Sorry about that, Dragonward.”

“No worries, Oro.” Rael held up his arms and investigated the quickly forming bruises. “You’ve got no broken bones. Nothing serious.”

“It never does any lasting damage.” Oro limped off the platform. “Except for my pride. I should talk to some fae soon. Maybe you can—”

“Dragonward Rael!” A familiar voice called out. Captain Klai was pushing through the crowd to stand at the edge of the stage. “I challenge you!”

“Did you not see what just happened?” Rael glared down at the captain. “My last opponent—”

“Your last opponent lost. Now it’s my turn.” Klai ripped off his shirt, revealing his thick musculature and complex blue tattoos. Rael wanted to say something about being wasteful, it was a perfectly good shirt, but the obstinate captain continued. “Face me or be forever branded as a coward.”

“Oro could choose to go again.” Rael asserted. Klai sent a glare that could chill a serpent’s heart in Oro’s direction. The younger man flinched and slinked off dejectedly. “That was unnecessary. You could have waited your turn.”

“So you could claim to be too tired when you lose?” Klai barked in laughter. “Fat chance!”

“The more you talk, the more I want to punch you in the face.” Rael grit their teeth and Klai’s smirk simply grew. Oro had already disappeared into the crowd, his long blond hair lost in a sea of gold. Kip was of no help either, eagerly taking bets again. “But I get the feeling you want that, and I really don’t want to make you happy.”

Azmond was jumping in place excitedly, cheering Rael on. He gave Rael a thumbs up, a slight frown crossing his features when he looked at Klai.

“Are you as cowardly as him, then?” Klai said in a sickly-sweet tone, clasping his hands together in mockery. “Awww, poor thing. Couldn’t get a chance to ru—"

“Enough!” Rael’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Get up here and let’s get this over with.”

Klai eagerly jumped onto the stage, flexing his muscles before the crowd, and swaggering around the stage. The wind turned, filling Rael’s nose with Klai’s sweaty, acidic smell. The Dragonward scrunched their nose in disgust.

“Flinching at the sight of a real warrior?” Klai smirked.

“More from the smell of puke. When was the last time you bathed?” Rael got into position, holding up their arms defensively.

They ignored Klai’s scowl, sizing him up instead. The two were about the same height, but the man had arms as thick as tree trunks. A higher center of gravity would mean he would be easier to topple, but the captain’s pose was lower to the ground than Rael’s. If he got Rael in a grapple, they did not think they would be able to escape. However, his legs were not as thick as Rael’s. This suggested he never worked as a rigger, but rather as an oarsman. He was unlikely to use kicks. The two paced around each other like predators, a knowing glint in Klai’s eyes.

Slowly, Klai’s patience began to wane. He grew restless, legs jittering from waiting. Rael continued to convey an air of cool confidence, even though the adrenalin leaving them let them feel the soreness they’d built up from the spars so far. The longer they could wait, the more their tired limbs would slow them down. But their eyes continued to dig into Klai, digging at his vulnerabilities and picking at Klai’s uncertainty.

He got tired of waiting. He rushed in, throwing a quick jab at Rael. The youth stepped out of his reach, bouncing on the balls of their feet. Klai jumped forwards again, aiming a few more quick jabs into Rael’s side. The first blow glanced off their ribs, Rael dancing away again. Klai continued his onslaught, throwing a wild swing towards their gut. The Dragonward slapped the blow away, grabbing onto the back of the man’s head and slamming it into their knee.

Klai stumbled back in a daze, the clamor of the audience drowning out his curses. Rael frowned. They should have drove the knee harder into his face. The man’s nose was bloodied and his eyes were watering, but he was still standing.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” Klai pointed a finger at Rael, who was half-tempted to reach out and break it.

Rael made the ‘come at me’ motion. A vein pulsed underneath one of the larger scars on his forehead. The stout captain charged again, putting his whole back into the punch to deliver a haymaker in Rael’s chest. The youth was taken aback; he seemed to be moving faster. They narrowly avoided the blow, turning with the blow to twirl around and kick the man in his head. Astonishingly, Klai caught the leg. He hadn’t expected much force behind the blow, surprise on his face as he stumbled away. Thinking quickly, Rael jumped up with their free leg, kicking off the man’s knee to pull themselves out of his grip. They backed away from Klai, their vision swimming.

‘Did I overwork myself again?’ Rael concentrated on Klai, noting the ever-present smirk and tired eyes. ‘Something is going on.’

Azmond was intrigued as well. To him, it seemed as if Rael’s reactions were slowing down since the fight started. Which was odd because Rael normally got that tired after an hour! He frowned in Klai’s direction again. His horns had been prickling ever since the red deer ran onstage. But the deer was gone, so why was the feeling still there?

He cheered loudly as Rael landed a solid kick after a successful feint. Then winced with the crowd when Klai slammed his fist into Rael’s chin. The Dragonward stumbled and fell to the ground, eyes out of focus. Klai rose a fist to slam it into Rael’s head. A moment of lucidity shone through, and Rael rolled out of the way, staggering to their feet.

Something was wrong. Azmond pouted. When he concentrated on the feeling in his horns, he could feel more of the prickling on his right horn. The sensation moved around with his head, the feeling growing stronger the more he moved in a certain direction. The crowd, enraptured, did not notice the Child of Dragons pushing through the crowd.

Azmond followed the feeling in his horns, pushing around people until the sensation covered his horns entirely. In front of him was a man that stood completely still. Unlike the rest of the audience, he did not cheer, or even shuffle around. He was as still as a statue. There was nothing in his eyes, his mouth whispering words Azmond could not hear over the crowd.

“Hey, this is a Tome!” Azmond realized. His words pierced through the crowd and the people began to mutter among themselves. Klai paused his battle, nervous expression quickly masked.

“I thought we was allowed to use spells.” Klai asserted, barely mollifying the audience.

“Thass’a load of bull!” Kip had a white-knuckled grip on the sacks of coins he’d won.

“Then why were you hiding your Tome with us?” Someone called out.

“Not hiding!” Klai held up his hands and sheepishly smiled. “There wasn’t enough room for us both.”

“Klai.” Rael’s voice was ice cold. Azmond recognized it as the quiet fury Rael had carried with them on the ship. “Will you concede for breaking the rules?”

“As I said, I didn’t know we were doing traditional sparring.” Klai shrugged. “How is it my fault?”

“Then will you at least release the spells you have cast on me?” Rael’s smile was beautiful and serene. Azmond shivered. He’d never seen Rael smile like that. “So we can fight honorably.”

Klai cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. “I suppose that’s only fair for an honorable fight.”

Rael’s Tome appeared in their hand a moment later. Klai frowned but said nothing, instead summoning his Tome beside him. The two positioned themselves again. And the fight began anew, Rael dodging more than before as they summoned blobs of water to beat back Klai and his Tome. Klai, no longer needing to be subtle, flung out his own flashy spells to crash against Rael’s. It became a battle of attrition, Rael’s superior efficiency with their water spell closing the gap Klai had made between them. Not completely, but enough that they were evenly matched.

Someone tapped Azmond on the shoulder. The child turned around to find a shaman in semi-ceremonial dress smiling at him.

“You are Azmond?” The lanky man asked as he crouched down.

Azmond nodded, his head cocked to the side. The audience around them cheered as the sound of several meaty thwacks echoed from the stage. Azmond was tempted to turn around, but his instincts told him to keep an eye on the shaman. He was younger than Bak, probably no more than thirty. But where Shaman Bak gave off the impression of a wise turtle, this shaman felt more like a snake, unblinking and constrictive.

“There’s a special man who wants to meet you.” He held out a hand with a warm smile.

Azmond shook his head and stepped back.

“Rael told me to stay close.”

“The next High Jarl wants to meet you.” The shaman extended his hand further. “Don’t you want to learn more about the Dragonborn?”

Azmond backed away again, a subtle twitch in the shaman’s eye the only evidence of his real feelings.

“Come now.” His hand snapped forward and grabbed the Child of Dragons by the forearm.

Rael was tired. They’d had to prioritize avoiding Klai’s blows to prevent him from doing anything more to them. Rael had shot so much water that the platform was nearly slick with water. They didn’t have a lot of energy left, but the furnace of rage in their heart kept them going, the sound of their heartbeat in their ears a comforting metronome counting down to the moment they’d bash Klai’s face in. The captain wasn’t doing much better; Rael’s strategy, though exhausting, was effective. A strong blow to his ankle made sure he couldn’t move as fast, and a quick [Minor Cut] to his Tome’s achilles tendon crippled its movement as well. If they continued like this, Rael wasn’t sure they’d win. ‘Ulric showed me using the environment to my advantage could do wonders. What if I made an advantageous environment?’

Rael channeled one of their weakest spells to settle over the surface of the dais.

“[Minor Chill].” Rael whispered.

It wasn’t a powerful spell, but it could reliably bring down the temperature of a wide area past water’s freezing point. Eventually.

A weird instinct pulsed, their eyes scanning the crowd for Azmond. They couldn’t find him in his usual spot. A tinge of worry grew within Rael’s chest, beaten aside under Klai’s fresh onslaught of attacks.

‘Where is he?’

That moment of distraction was almost enough to lose the fight. Klai charged, embracing Rael in an iron grip around their midsection. Rael struggled to free one of their arms, panic and wooziness threatening to steal their mind. He lifted them up to slam them into the ground, his Tome-warrior approaching. A kick sent the Tome stumbling back. Rael elbowed Klai between the shoulder blades. He staggered but continued to lift. Another blow landed in the back of his head. Klai’s grip shifted enough for them to free their other arm. Clasping both hands together tightly, they brought down their full strength onto the back of Klai’s neck. The captain collapsed into the near-freezing puddle at his feet, Rael twisting out of his grip.

“Can we stop for a second, I can’t find Az.” Rael said, but the Captain just smirked woozily.

His Tome rushed to grab them from behind. Rael, enraged, snarled and whipped about, driving their Tome-dagger deep into its gut. The dizziness spell was broken, but Klai’s Tome was not out of the fight. It gripped Rael’s hand, keeping the knife in place as it used its free arm to bat at Rael. The two exchanged a flurry of strikes, Rael unwilling to unsummon their Tome and release the spell they were casting. The cold water shook Klai out of his daze faster, pulling himself up woozily. Rael grimaced when he shot them a grin of victory. He took a step forward…and slipped on the ice. Klai looked down in confusion, his bloodied face staring back at him in the frozen reflection.

Rael let their dagger go, kicking against the Tome and tackling the confused Klai. Unprepared for the slippery ice, the captain fell on his back. Rael straddled him. Klai opened his mouth to say something, but Rael punched him in the face.

Azmond struggled out of the shaman’s grip, the man stumbling to try and keep control. A staff appeared in his hand and the sound around them faded away. The curious people around them had begun to turn around to see what the commotion was about, but their eyes grew hazy and unfocused. The child tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. The shaman’s cruel laugh was silent and mocking.