"You in or no?" asked a burly sailor with a chest hair fuller than his regular hair.

He was referring to one of their favorite pastimes. Brawling. Every few days or so, the crew would all go on the main deck and run fights. Sometimes they would throw in some prize if a particular combatant performed especially well, but mostly the fight itself was rewarding enough. The fights were meant as a break from the day-to-day life that could prove to be oftentimes boring on a merchant ship. They were organized by the crew themselves, but Captain Edmund had given it his blessing.

His blessing not to break it off, at least. Keziah could imagine a few reasons why the Captain might not be too thrilled with it. Broken limbs being one of them.

The fights themselves were to surrender, or when one of the participants was clearly unable to continue. Participants were voluntary, and there were a lot of them. Six or seven bouts would usually be fought during the course of the evening. Those who didn't want to fight could still have some enjoyment out of it, surrounding the duel and creating a circular ring with their bodies. Intentional harm not in the spirit of fair competition was prohibited.

"Is fine if you don't," said the burly sailor, more to the circle than to Keziah. "Ain't no surprise that a mage doesn't want to show off how he punches." The man laughed along with the crowd, who chuckled and whistled to encourage the man's taunt.

Keziah stood up from his comfortable meditation pose and turned to face the man with a smirk.

"Just don't kill him, please," said Annette next to him, still sitting down and working on unlocking her third mana channel.

"Don't worry," Keziah reassured her, still smirking at the big man, "I can control myself."

"Right. Is what you do with us when we spar 'control?'"

"Oh, yeah. I actually can't wait for you to get stronger so that I could finally start trying," Keziah broke eye contact with the burly sailor and glanced at Annie.

Annette studied his face for a brief second. Her own face went wide when she realized that he was actually dead serious.

"Well… I'm waitin'!" shouted the sailor.

"Coming, Red," Keziah said back after winking at Annette. "I thought we were close enough for you to call me by my name and not 'the guy with the funny sword.' Did your desire to get beaten so badly erased our precious relationship already?" Keziah continued to the "OOO" sounds of the crowd.

"I ain't forgot nothing," said the shirtless man. "Yous told me yous were a fighter, then let's fight."

"You know what, Red?" Keziah said while making his way to the circle of men chanting, "fight! fight! fight!." "That's the truest sentence I've heard all week. I am indeed a fighter, and I do indeed fight. To be honest with you, I've waited for an invitation to remodel your face ever since I stepped foot on this ship." Keziah stood right in front of the man, twice as big as him and a head taller.

The crowd went silent at his words. They all waited for Red's reaction. Nobody dared to make a sound or even cough. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Red finally broke it with a laugh. "Hah! I knew you wasn't as pompous as yer look!"

The crowd, having now confirmed that Red didn't take the insult personally, started cheering louder. Whistling and clapping were the only sounds that could be heard. The vast emptiness of the surrounding sea only amplified it.

"Bard! Play us somethin'. What's a fight without music to dance along!" someone shouted from the crowd to Scoyl, sitting on a railing. He spent his evenings performing for the sailors, so this wasn't anything new to him. In fact, Keziah thought that Scoyl might actually enjoy doing it, and it wasn't just a cover for his latest mission.

"I-is that okay, Ash— sir?" asked Scoyl nervously.

"Man is right, a dance requires music. And with a partner as illustrious as Red over here, I won't settle for anything mediocre. Give us your best, Scoyl." Keziah took off his vest, leaving only the white, slightly loose shirt.

"You got it, sir!" replied Scoyl, his nervousness replaced by excitement. Scoyl put his lute in position on his cross-legged lap and started with a slow tune that held a promise of carnage in it.

Keziah cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck a few times before squaring off with Red. Red, apparently always ready, just stood across the circle from Keziah and waited. Another sailor, who was the referee for the match, as Keziah surmised, started explaining some ground rules.

"No breaking bones, no unnecessary harm, no blows that would be considered dishonorable. And also, no magic." He looked specifically to Keziah, who threw his hands in the air in an attempt to show his innocence. He had no intention of using it, anyway. It felt unnecessary. "The first who yields loses. Remember boys, the winner doesn't matter. The fight matters." He looked at Keziah, confirming he understood, then glanced at Red, who was already a veteran and needed no explanation. "Then begin!"

The crowd roared, momentarily thundering over Scoyl's lute. They quieted down when both fighters didn't immediately rush into battle. Scoyl's music then came into existence once more, still in the early stages of his song.

Keziah and Red circled each other slowly. Keziah had an ever-present smirk on his face that made many feel ridiculed and forced them to jump at him recklessly. He did it so many times that it wasn't intentional anymore. He just felt confident and felt no need to hide it.

Red was surprisingly calm for a man of his character and size. His demeanor changed from a boastful sailor to a cautious hunter. He circled along the ring of men, who showed the fighters the respect of not interrupting. His hands were ready, knees slightly bent, and his face impassive.

After almost exchanging their starting positions, Keziah stopped. This caused Red to mimic him. Both fighters showed no signs of weakness or gaps in their defense. Having no desire to dash at the big man, Keziah instead slowly walked at him. His back straight, his gaze centered at Red's face, but also keeping in sight the rest of his body, legs, and hips especially.

Red showed the slightest sign of uncertainty when he didn't immediately copy Keziah's move. Instead, it took him a whole two seconds to do so. It was the first victory of the fight for Keziah.

They were two yards from each other, and Keziah's eyes showed no fear. One more step and they would be in range for the first attack. Keziah looked like he was ready to dodge it, with his hands being in no position to launch an attack. Red prepared himself for a quick dash that would follow after Keziah's dodge.

It was in vain.

Keziah, instead of preparing to dodge Red's attack, stopped in his tracks and said, "I do hope you won't mind me keeping it quick, I'd rather not have any stains on—"

He didn't have the chance to finish as Red — his name really suited his face now — launched the first attack. It was Keziah's second victor — getting in his head. The big man started to burn with rage and embarrassment at being mocked by Keziah.

Keziah dashed to the right, dodging Red's left hook. He followed with a quick punch to the side, showing that he is there rather than doing actual damage to the giant. He continued his motion as Red turned around to face him again. Scoyl's music started to intensify, strings were getting louder and more frequent.

Keziah was the one to attack first now, trying to throw Red out of establishing his rhythm. He threw a wide right hook that caused Red to his guard up. When Keziah noticed Red taking the bait, he swiftly changed the target and swung a kick at the side of his knee, keeping his momentum from throwing the initial punch.

Red put his right leg up in a late attempt at defending it. Keziah dashed around him again with another punch to the side, this time with a little more strength, right below Red's guard. He had now his third victory — initiative. He decided the next moves, and those would lead him to his fourth objective — control.

Keziah struck while Red was still mid-turn, lowering his guard in order to look over his left shoulder at where Keziah was. Exploiting it, Keziah dashed with a straight and precise punch right to Red's chin. It caught him while he was still turning his head toward Keziah, so the force was much more exponential.

The punch stunned Red momentarily. Keziah could see it in his eyes. The man didn't know where he was. To his credit, he didn't collapse, nor lower his guard any lower. He might not be fast, but he was definitely strong both physically and of will.

And there weren't many who were faster than Keziah.

He took the opportunity to exert his now full control of the fight and launched a deadly uppercut to Red's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and before he even fell and regained consciousness, Keziah threw a left hook to his liver.

It was accompanied by Scoyl's closing, slower tune. He used his whole body, testing his hips and turning his upper body, and planting his feet hard on the ground. It was needed in order for him to do true damage to the giant without using his magic to enhance his body.

Red fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He had no strength or control over his body. The crowd was silent. The whole ship was silent, with Scoyl also having ended playing. Shocked faces stared at the lifeless body of Red. He fell on his face, hands along his body. Some of those faces turned to Keziah. Some with awe, some with fear. The first one who broke the silence was the referee. "Is— is he…"

"Oh, he will be fine in a few minutes. Might want to turn him on his side, though. Don't want him to choke on his dinner," Keziah said with hands on his hips. "No lasting damage, no broken bones… I believe I've won fair and square!" he exclaimed, sounding pleased with himself.

The referee nodded while sending two other sailors to turn Red on his side. He already started mumbling something, showing that he was not, in fact, dead. After two more minutes of trying to regain control of his body, Red stood up on shaky legs. He managed without vomiting, proving to Keziah that his punch didn't penetrate his abdominal muscles enough. It wasn't surprising. The man was truly built like a brick house.

The two sailors helped him up, but he quickly waved them away. He wanted to stand on his own. Red scanned the crowd around, some of which have already dispersed, knowing that this was the last fight of the evening. Having spotted Keziah, Red started moving toward him, still slightly limping. Those who remained watched the incoming exchange with bated breath. Nobody wanted bad blood forming between the two.

Keziah stood still, waiting on Red. He didn't want to belittle him more by showing that he was beaten so much that he couldn't walk anymore. He deserved the respect.

Red stood before Keziah, looking down on him due to their height difference. Keziah was decently tall himself, so the experience was quite unusual to him. Red started him down and said: "Good fight," to the visible sighs of relief from the remaining crowd.

“Aye, it was,” Keziah agreed. “Though I doubt you remember most of it.”

“Only the important bit.” Red awkwardly smiled. “Yous damn fast. Like a snake. Or somethin’.”

Keziah chuckled at the compliment. “Thanks, Red. Always happy for a rematch.”

“Oh, no. I know when I lost. Me head still ring—”

He was cut off by a shout from a sailor on the lookout in the crow’s nest.

“Ship approaching!”