M46

It was still dark out when Morgan heard the knock on his door. He sat up in bed. Having been awake for the last hour or so, staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t startled by the sound. He stood up and slipped on his boots - he was already dressed. He went to the door and said, “Who is it?”

“It’s Roald. I have your sword.” Roald’s voice was a gruff whisper. Morgan opened the door, and the older Ardeni walked into the room, a bundle wrapped in black silks held in his arms. “I just finished an hour ago. I took a minute to eat some food then came right over. Take a look at this beauty.” He pulled the silk wrappings away from the naked blade, holding it out to Morgan sideways, resting on his palms.

“Wow, it looks different. I didn’t expect this much of a change.” Morgan gingerly took the sword from Roald’s hands. The most striking change was that the metal, previously steel-colored with a hint of amber when you turned it just right, was now a dark blue-black color, even in the bright orange light of the Energy lantern in Morgan’s room. The blade was etched with dozens of runes. They ran from the guard up and around the sides of the shallow fuller. Even the dark metal circle of the guard had runes etched around it. At the bottom of the hilt, the agate pommel stone had been replaced by a much larger black onyx. The onyx was also inscribed with dozens of tiny silvery runes, and it gave off a very faint, smokey black aura.

“The color change is due to the gem - It’s bound with the sword now, some of its essence mixing with the metal. You’ll need to bind with the sword now for all of the enchantments to benefit you.” Roald spoke softly, almost reverently, while he looked at his work. “It’s not the greatest weapon I’ve ever worked on, but it’s damn close. That gemstone is my best creation so far.”

“Thank you, Roald. I hope I don’t let you down today.” Morgan held the sword, giving it a couple of practice swings away from Roald. “Should I bind with it now?”

“Yes! No point wasting time.” Roald seemed excited, so Morgan stopped goofing around and held the sword still, slowly trickling some Energy into the hilt. He felt his Energy course quickly through the metal tang and spread throughout the blade, including the black opal pommel stone.

***Umbral Razor: Artificed Weapon. Enchantments: 1. Sharpness - This weapon will maintain its unnaturally sharp edge, recovering from wear and damage over time. 2. Hardness - This weapon has been strengthened by a master Artificer; resistance to shattering is increased by a factor of one thousand. 3. Umbral Eye - This weapon has pseudo awareness and can see a short way into the future. In combat, it will occasionally make its wielder aware of an enemy’s strike before it happens.***

After Morgan read and dismissed the notification, he noticed that the sword didn’t feel the same in his hand. He was still aware of his hand on the grip, but it felt far more natural, almost like it was a part of his body. He swung it around, and he felt like he knew exactly where the blade was in relation to objects he was swinging it by. “This is fucking amazing, Roald!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Roald’s grin spread from ear to ear.

“Can I still store it in my ring? Once, a spirit told me that intelligent items suffered while in dimensional storage items.”

“Aye, it’s not really intelligent - it doesn’t think about things when you aren’t fighting, and when you are fighting, it’s only looking for what your opponent is going to do next. It’s good you know that, though. Intelligent items can be driven mad, languishing within dimensional storage devices.” Morgan nodded, making a few more short swings with the sword before stowing it into his ring.

“Thanks again for the enchantments, Roald. They ought to help! Well, I suppose I should get my armor on. I don’t think I’ll eat breakfast, though.” Morgan sat down on the side of the bed and started calling forth his armor, piece by piece, and strapping it on. He donned his vambraces first, then his greaves, and finally his breastplate. The breastplate, while plain, was undoubtedly sturdy. It had long ago finished mending from the damage it received fighting that Yovashi matron. Roald watched him from a wooden chair situated near the hearth. He didn’t say anything, probably not wanting to distract Morgan before the fight.

Yesterday, while walking around town with Issa and Olivia, they’d visited the martial field where most duels took place. Issa had explained that, unless the challenge specified differently, that was where he’d meet Swent at dawn. Standing with a grunt, Morgan went out to the hall and, with Roald trailing, went down to Olivia’s door. He knocked lightly, and it opened almost immediately. Olivia was dressed similarly to when she’d gone to dinner the other night. This time, though, she wore black pants, a silky mustard blouse, and another coat much like the blue one she’d had on; this one was dark maroon with a mustard and silver-gilt brocade hem. “You look fancy,” Morgan said.

“Hmm? This old thing?” Olivia ran her palms along the lapels of her coat, pulling it snugly on her shoulders.

“Shall we?” Morgan asked, motioning down the hallway. Olivia nodded and fell into step behind him. Roald nodded a greeting to her, and they made their way out, through the dark common room and to the street. They were halfway to the martial field when Issa came jogging up.

“Hey, I just missed you at your inn.” She walked up next to Morgan and took his hand in hers.

“Glad you’re here,” he said, squeezing her hand. They were first when they arrived at the field, a flat open area near the town’s southern gate. The sky was still dark - Morgan knew it would be dawn soon, but because they were in the middle of a forest, they couldn’t see the western horizon lightening. Morgan was glad they’d gotten there before Swent and his crew and any observers. He pulled forth his sword, walked out onto the field away from his companions, and began to practice the forms of his Fighting Crane Style.

He’d never felt so connected and smooth with the forms before. He felt the sword snapping from one position to the next, slicing the air with a satisfying whipping sound. He knew part of it was due to having a proper weapon, but the enchantments that Roald had performed on the sword added up to more than the sum of their parts. Something about the weapon made it more of an extension of his body, and he wondered what hidden attributes it had that resulted in the feeling. He was worried about his low dexterity, though. The faster and more powerful his motions became, the more he struggled to hold the blade precisely right or to turn it in time for the speed and strength of his larger maneuvers. He felt he even had to hold back a little to make sure the minute adjustments of his wrists were set before he completed a movement. He hoped it wouldn’t be a factor in this duel, but he knew he had to find a way to increase his dexterity if he wanted to keep improving his swordwork.

“Morgan,” Olivia’s voice interrupted his practice and his thoughts, and he looked over to her. She walked closer to him and said, “You should meditate or something now. Don’t let Swent get a look at your swordwork.” Morgan nodded and stowed his sword. He sat near his friends and began his cultivation drill, losing himself in the flow of Energy. Sometime later, he became aware of low voices and a warm glow behind his eyelids. He finished his cycle and then opened his eyes. A small crowd had gathered around the field, maybe thirty or forty people. He saw Swent and the men who’d been with him the other night on the opposite side. He was surprised no one had interrupted his drill to let him know Swent was here.

“Are we ready, then?” Morgan asked, standing up.

“Not yet. There’s supposed to be an official from the council to oversee the duel. It looks like the Governor himself is on his way.” Issa said, resting a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “I wish I could give you some battle magic, but they’d disqualify you.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Morgan patted her hand and then turned to the field, looking at Swent. He noticed Morgan and turned to face him, a smirk on his face. “He sure is cocky.”

“Aye, he’s a right prick,” Roald said, spitting into the flattened grass. Morgan made a mental note not to sit there. He didn’t have time to respond because a murmur broke out in the crowd, and then, under the yellow and orange streaked clouds of sunrise, the Governor strode onto the field.

“Alright, let’s get on with the proceedings!” He called out. “Duelists and seconds, come forward.” Swent walked toward the Governor, but before Morgan could take a step, Issa pulled him close and kissed him deeply. Morgan knew part of the passion in that kiss was Issa trying to piss off Swent, but he didn’t care. He pulled Issa into a tight hug and whispered into her ear:

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m not, you dummy,” Issa replied, smiling. Morgan straightened and looked at Olivia. She nodded, reached to her satchel, and suddenly she was holding an impressive staff. It was made out of a long, straight branch of dark wood streaked with bits of lighter grain. A silvery band surrounded the central third of the staff. Long silvery rivers ran through the wood up to the staff’s top, where they branched off to form casings for two large crystals. The crystals reminded Morgan of prisms because of how the light played through them, but they were smooth and round, almost cylindrical in shape.

“Impressive.” Morgan grinned at Olivia.

“Why, thank you, sir.” They walked together onto the field; Swent and his second stood glowering at them as they approached. Morgan noted that Swent was wearing a small round shield and held a naked sword that reminded him of a Roman gladius. He decided that he didn’t want to get caught unready, so he pulled his sword out of his ring, holding it in a low guard position while they stood, waiting for the Governor to speak. Swent scoffed, twirling his gladius in his hand. Morgan couldn’t help noticing how his fingers blurred while manipulating the hilt.

“Right then. All parties are present. We have before us a duel to satisfy a grievance. Does the aggrieved party acknowledge that the person here,” he gestured to Morgan, “is the transgressor?”

“Aye.” Swent spat on the ground in front of Morgan. Up until now, Morgan hadn’t been angry, per se, but that dismissive, rude action did more to boil his blood than all of Swent’s posturing or, in fact, the challenge. He felt heat on the back of his neck and let his ill humor pour forth in his aura. More than that, he let the weight of his Yovashi Bane title suffuse it as it spread out from him. The anguish of a defeated race, the horror of realizing he’d been part of it, his self-loathing when he’d spoken to Ykleedra, all were part of that palpable wave. Everyone around him took a step back, the Governor’s face blanched. Swent struggled to regain face, standing up straight and moving back toward Morgan, but the damage had been done. Morgan just smirked.

“Ahem, yes, Morgan, do you acknowledge that Swent has challenged you to a lawful duel?” The Governor’s voice took a moment to steady, but he was speaking clearly by the end.

“As far as I know. I’m not familiar with your laws.” Morgan stared coolly at Swent while he spoke.

“Do any parties present object to the validity of this duel?” the Governor called out.

“I do!” Issa yelled. “He had no contract or promise from me. I don’t see how he can claim grievance!”

“Is this true, Swent?” Holis, the Governor, asked.

“Of course not. She swore her hand to me on many occasions, and I have witnesses here. Why my second is one of them. Correct, Bennic?” Bennic, face solemn, nodded. Morgan saw the Governor was going to ask more questions, but he could see that Swent and his friends were prepared to spread any lies they needed, so he spoke up:

“Governor, I don’t want Issa’s name dragged through the mud. Let’s just get this over with.” Holis looked at Morgan for a long moment and then nodded.

“The duel will commence,” he said in a loud voice. “Seconds, clear the field.” He backed away, and so did Olivia and Bennic. Soon it was just Morgan and Swent in the field. Morgan was glad that there was a lot of space. “Combatants, take your guard!” Morgan backed up a step and raised his sword into position for The Crane Defends the Nest. Swent raised his shield and held his gladius in a short guard. “Begin!” Governor Holis shouted.