Valor and Violence

“There are a lot of people here,” Ferez said, his gaze sweeping over the packed longhouse.

“Astute observation, Ferez. Truly, you are an unparalleled genius,” Ingrid replied, draining her third mead horn in the last quarter of an hour.

“No need for snark. It’s just that, if I recall, you weren’t even sure anyone would bother coming.”

Ingrid’s jaw twitched as another pair of armoured warriors approached the head table.

“A dream, it seems,” she said, eyeing the pair without trying to hide her disdain.

“Hail, Jarlessa Luftfaust,” one said, raising a hand in greeting.

“Hello, Jarl Feueranzunder. Jarl Goldgewinner.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Feuer said, giving Ferez a fierce side eye as he did so, “but I just wanted to let you know I have brought with me a gift of twenty caribou to add to your herd. As thanks for hosting the Jarlsmeet.”

“Well, I’ve brought forty!” Goldge said, stepping in front of his companion.

“You did not! I saw your herd. There’s twenty there, if that.”

“Yes, but after I kill you and take yours, it will be forty.”

“Quaint words, runt. I think I’ll kill you for that and take yours for my own! And of course, add them to my gift to the Jarlessa,” he said, nodding almost reverentially towards Ingrid.

She yawned and waved them off.

“Have at it, but do it outside. Whoever wins, take the animals to the pen on the northern edge of town. You can put them in there with the others.”

“Certainly, Jarlessa. Perhaps, after I kill this weakling, we might sit and talk a little? I have an idea for strengthening the bond between our clans, and I would appreciate the chance to discuss it with you.”

“No. Now get out of my face,” she replied, her resigned demeanour undergoing an astoundingly rapid shift from apathy to proactive anger.

“But-”

“Last warning. Get out of my face before I break yours.”

Feuer’s eye twitched and Ferez could see the urge to meet Ingrid’s aggression with his own mounting, but in the end the ordinarily underdeveloped Skjar sense of self-preservation won out, and he bowed his head as they retreated from the table.

“Gods, this is why I’ve never called a Jarlsmeet before,” Ingrid said, deflating slightly. “Not killing every one of these parasites is exhausting.”

“On a positive note, your caribou herd has over doubled,” Leo said.

“Shut up.”

Leo snickered and went back to chatting up the woman seated beside him. She had originally sat on the other side of the head table with her brother, Reichblut, and their father, but she had abandoned them to speak with the foreign men as soon as the initial formalities were out of the way. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Leo had started in hard trying to woo the warrior. As always, and to Ferez’s constant surprise, he was doing very well. He whispered something in her ear that set the six-foot, ninety kilo bundle of corded muscle giggling like an adolescent, and Ferez rolled his eyes.

“Leo, don’t you have someone back home?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Leo asked, not looking away from his new friend.

“You know, the naked lady I found in your bed.”

“Oh, her? That’s nothing serious.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’d say so. Why’d she accept my money otherwise?”

“What?”

“Come on, Ferez. I understand that you’re severely undersexed, but even you must know what a prostitute is.”

“No, I do but, I just… A prostitute?”

“Don’t be a prude. Besides, it’s my duty as ruler of the island.”

“So now you are the ruler? And how is it your duty to hire prostitutes?” Ferez asked, planting his elbow on the table and cupping his cheek.

This should be good.

“Economic stimulus,” Leo said, finally looking at him. “I give her money for sex, which she uses to procure goods and services elsewhere on the island, leading to prosperity for all.”

“I think you’re overestimating yourself, Leo.”

“Actually, I think you are underestimating my libido. I swear I’ve kept the entire place afloat during some lean times.”

“Really? And what about Mia?”

Leo frowned and scratched at the stubble on his chin.

“Did I tell you about her? Odd, I don’t remember. Anyway, what’s she got to do with anything?”

Ferez made a disgusted noise and turned away, letting the two get back to their flirting. If the Skjar woman was bothered by the extended discourse on Leo’s bed companions, she gave no sign.

“Did I hear you say you own an island?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Why, yes. Yes, I did,” Leo said, once more relegating Ferez to background noise.

At least it’s keeping him out of trouble, the High Mage thought, tut tutting at the back of Leo’s head. Though I wish he was talking to me instead.

Calling the mood at the table tense would be an understatement. Or perhaps, awkward, was a better word. Ingrid had given as much effort towards conversing with Reichblut’s father as she had Ferez, which was to say, none. She had spent the entire time studiously ignoring them, though Ferez had no idea why. Reichblut, for his part, had just glared at Ferez since they sat down, and it had been eating at his patience.

“Do you have something to say, child?” Ferez finally snapped, leaning back in his chair to look around Ingrid at the burly Skjar. His father cocked an eyebrow at Ferez, but declined to get involved as Reichblut stood.

“Actually, I do, southling. Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat and raising his voice to address the crowd. “Warriors of Skjar! I have an announcement to make!”

“Gods, what is he doing?” Ingrid asked as the rowdy group before them quietened down.

“This runt you see here, seated at the head table where a good, strong Skjar warrior should be, is the reason our Jarlessa of Jarls has refused to take a husband!”

Ingrid groaned and slumped forward, letting her forehead bang on the table as she groped about for her mead horn.

“Some eighty years ago, he instigated a war between the clans and then abandoned our Jarlessa. The poor woman has been pining ever since! This weakling caused the greatest upheaval in Skjar in living memory!”

His denouncement was met with a sea of murmurs, and more than a few glares were cast Ferez’s way. Reichblut kept at it, though, quickly whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

“And the ultimate insult? After all these years, the Jarlessa calls a Jarlsmeet, so we can sit here and listen to this southling! Will we accept this without action?”

“No!” the crowd shouted in unison, banging drinks and axes on tables.

The little shit waited until everyone was half drunk to start this up, Ferez realised as one warrior missed the table with his axe and toppled off his bench.

Ferez stood, ready to give the upstart a piece of his mind, but a strange hush fell over the room. He looked around and noticed everyone staring at him, some eyes showing fear or trepidation, others looking positively giddy. He had only intended to yell at the kid a bit, but it seemed he had steeped in the proverbial and was now expected to make a statement. The problem was, he had no idea what to say.

“Demand trial by combat,” Leo whispered beside him.

“What?”

“Demand trial by combat!”

“What the Pit is trial by combat?”

“Just trust me.”

Ferez glanced at Leo, who gave him a reassuring smile.

“Alright then, here goes,” Ferez said, raising his voice to address the hall. “I demand trial by combat.”

As one, the sea of faces turned perplexed and Ingrid sat up, just for a moment, before slumping back in her chair and staring at the ceiling.

“Ferez, what the fuck is ‘trial by combat’?”

The high mage looked at Leo, who shrugged and mouthed ‘oops, sorry’ at him.

“Why do I ever listen to you?” Ferez sighed, pulling a face and turning to Ingrid. “Uh, you know. Trial by combat? I fight the boy to prove my innocence?”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How does winning a fight prove you’re innocent?”

“But, you Skjar settle things with violence all the time.”

“Yeah, because if the injured party is dead, they can’t take revenge. It doesn’t mean you’re innocent, and if you kill Reichblut, his entire clan will declare war on you.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“You’ve really fucked things up this time, Ferez,” she said, her eyes sliding across to meet his gaze. “It was Leo’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“My bad,” Leo called out, raising his horn in apology.

“Whatever. Reichblut, anything to say?”

The Skjar looked at the assembled clans and back to Ingrid, weighing up his options. His face showed uncertainty, though he tried to hide it. Eventually his father tapped him on the arm and whispered something to him, prompting Reichblut’s face to crack into a broad grin.

“I’m willing to accept,” he said, smirking like a dipshit. “But as the challenged, I think I should pick the weapon.”

Probably going to select axes or swords, Ferez thought. He’ll be thinking magefire is the only weapon I can use.

“Sure, that’s fine by me,” he said. He would show the boy what a fatal miscalculation that was.

“Excellent. Then, with the Jarlessa’s leave, might I suggest we all take this outside? I’ll announce the weapon there.”

The crowd surged to the doors, eager for the coming bloodshed. Ferez followed behind, rolling out his shoulders and doing some torso twists to limber up. Ingrid fell into step beside him while Leo trailed behind with his companion on his arm.

“Don’t kill him,” Ingrid muttered. “He might entertain this stupid notion, but there’s no guarantee his father will if he dies.”

“Beat him into submission? Got it. Should be easy enough.”

“Are you sure? He’s literally twice your size and in the prime of his life. And though his clan doesn’t raid much these days, he’s still a Skjar warrior.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried for me?” Ferez asked, looking sidelong at her. She glared back at him.

“You’re my official guest. If you die, it will reflect poorly on me. Don’t screw this up,” she finished, then sped up, breaking away from Ferez and joining the crowd.

“She’s definitely worried about me,” he said out loud.

“Oh, for sure. I can only imagine the tears if the kid rips you apart,” Leo said, transitioning into a poor imitation of a sobbing and wailing Ingrid. Not that either of them had ever seen, or could even really imagine, Ingrid behaving like that.

“High Mage! Sir!”

“Patriarch!”

Two voices called out to them as the crowd parted to reveal Asim and Leanne. They were still in their travelling clothes, a horse cart pulled by a cold and cranky looking horse trailing behind them.

“Ah! I was wondering when you two would show up,” Leo said brightly, stepping forward and wrapping Leanne in a bear hug. The warrior woman looked decidedly uncomfortable, but endured it until Leo released his hold and stepped back. “Asim, how’s the cold treating you?”

“Fine, sir,” he replied, barely casting the water mage a glance before looking back at Ferez. “High Mage, what is going on? We arrived just as the doors were thrown open and a bunch of drunks stumbled into the snow.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re looking for another pub?”

“They were chanting ‘fight!’ over and over again.”

“What makes you think it has anything to do with me?”

Asim stared, letting the silence hanging in the air between them do the talking.

“Alright, alright,” Ferez said, throwing his hands up and pushing past his bodyguard. “I may be in a duel to the death with one of the Skjar nobility.”

The guardsman sighed and turned to the horse cart, drawing his halberd from beneath the tarpaulin covering the stores.

“I leave you alone for a few days and look what happens,” he muttered. Leanne gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“Easy now, Asim,” Ferez replied, bristling a bit at the familiarity between Asim and the woman who had drawn steel on him last time they met. “There’s no need for that.”

“I will fight the duel on your behalf, High Mage.”

“Nonsense, it’s my fight. I won’t see you put in danger on my behalf.”

“Is your opponent young?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a capable fighter?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then I will fight on your behalf,” Asim said, giving his weapon a few warm up swings.

“I said no, Asim. I am more than capable of defending myself,” Ferez replied as his bristling increased in intensity.

“The council would cast me out if I let you die in a duel.”

“You don’t think I can win?”

“Sir, with all due respect, you are a mage.”

“A battlemage!”

“And old.”

“… Ouch.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s true. Let me fight for you.”

“Truth be told, Asim. I’m not sure I can. I may have inadvertently started a new legal tradition. The intricacies of it are still being worked out, but I doubt they’ll let me substitute in a proxy.”

“Gods damnit,” Asim said, hanging his head.

“Do not stress yourself,” Ferez said, patting his guard on the back. “I am quite certain I’ll be alright. I may be old, but with age comes experience. Now come on, let us not keep everyone waiting!”

Ferez pushed through the crowd until he popped out into a cleared area in the centre. Reichblut waited on the far side, decked out in a full suit of steel plate armour.

“Finally. I was beginning to think you had fled,” the turd said.

“From you? Never.”

“Excellent. Are you ready for my decision regarding weapons, then?”

“Very ready. What will it be? Axes? Swords? Spears? I assume someone from the crowd will lend me whatever it is, didn’t bring my own, you see,” Ferez said, making a show of patting his pockets. He was chuffed when this prompted a smattering of chuckles from the crowd.

“That won’t be necessary, southling. I choose… fists!”

The crowd erupted, stamping their feet and shouting as Ferez’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, fuck me.”