P. Power - Knight Esquire

Tor pointed this out to everyone, how clever the attack had been. Kolb shrugged and told him that it wasn't Wensa. Him saying that took Tor off guard.

“But… mask aside, it fits, about six-four or so, lean and strong, gray skirt… I know that Royal Guards have all those oaths, but if she's gone crazy or something those wouldn't hold, besides, she doesn't even know that I'm a Countier right? So she just thinks that killing me is a game or something maybe? Let's face it, to royals and their guards, killing a commoner doesn't mean very much at all. About the same as a goat or pig really. So if I'm just some regular guy to her…”

Rolph got a thoughtful look. “Well, I haven't told anyone at least. But she really does have an alibi and I don't think she forced anyone to say she was there. They didn't seem stressed about it when asked at least. Of course if it wasn't her, it does leave the question of why anyone would attack Tor. And dressed like that, it would have to be a setup. So something near professional level at least. I'd guess that some of the special school students might be able to think something like that up, right?”

His tall friend looked at the Dean, who nodded.

“Yes, but… well, Mr. Baker is rather popular over there just now. With the entire school I'd imagine. Those poison detectors he gave everyone… Well, if anyone needed funds badly enough to kill, they could just sell theirs and get two or three thousand gold for it right now. More than killing a schoolboy would earn them, by far… Even a noble one.”

That brought up the whole Countier thing, which oddly enough, past the story itself no one seemed to care much about. Given everything, why would they? Everyone was someone here, right? Even him, it turned out. His title as Squire actually meant as much or more in all real world terms. For that matter giving out flight fields and poison detectors meant more than either of those things to most people, according to Kolb and the Dean.

Kolb gave him a tired looking smile.

“A lot of people here have titles. Not many of them keep the soup from killing a body though. That kind of thing has an impact on people.”

Before going to sleep Tor made up a complete set of weapons, an explosive and one of the air thingies. It got him to bed really late, but he just didn't know what Wensa and her group would come up with next. Then, reluctantly, Tor got up when Rolph shook him awake. He packed up everything and tucked the weapons into the little inner pocket of his brown trousers. It wasn't good for quick retrieval, but he could, possibly, buy time by already having his shield on. He activated it on the way out the door. Rolph gave him a funny look, but didn't say anything about it overly.

The big redhead shrugged.

“The dueling ground is on the outskirt of town, we can fly out after breakfast. I heard that a few nobles have come to see it, so maybe we'll see some familiar faces?” Rolph obviously knew something about who was coming, but didn't want to give away the surprise. Tor didn't care, as long as David lived. He just hoped that whatever this Count was bringing to the party the boy had enough to make it a fair fight.

Tor could barely eat, as worried for Davie as he was. Rolph ate well enough, but then he seemed to think everything would be all right for some reason. Tor could only hope that was the case.

The dueling field, like the weapons range, was a bit of a disappointment. It was just an empty field of short cut grass. Or it would have been empty if there hadn't been about a hundred and fifty people standing around the center, most of them tall and well dressed. Two camps had formed already, one around David and one around a huge man that must have been about eight foot tall and who wore very nice looking armor, shiny silver, polished to a mirrors gleam and obviously heavy. He swung a huge sword, one that must have been about five foot long and had to weigh forty or fifty pounds, at least if it was made of steel, which it looked like from a distance to Tor.

Jerk. Bringing giant swords to kill a boy. Probably trying to make up for his small manhood.

David on the other hand had, almost comically, had dressed down to a pair of plain student browns, real canvas ones, not silk, and held nothing in his hands at all. He had his flight gear on and a little leather bag on his left hip, just about big enough for all the weapons and possibly a couple of sandwiches to spare. He didn't look overly worried. Either the boy felt truly confident or was hiding the fear really well.

Either way it was incredibly brave.

Tor held back and waited for whatever else the Count would pull out. The armor was pretty, but in a fight to the death, or in his case to a horrible beating that could at least lead to death, it wasn't enough. He probably had a shield on under it and wore it only for effect. Same with the sword. It looked cool, sure, but as a Count he'd probably have military grade weapons on his person at all times anyway just as a matter of course. Rolph did, and wore a shield around too, even if he didn't turn it on most of the time. So the other stuff was just to throw David off?

Or maybe make him look good while he tried to kill a fourteen year old boy just to spite a third party? That… made some sense. After all, what kind of an ass set up a little kid for murder like this?

A royal one, obviously.

After half an hour a man checked a pocket watch openly, using large and obvious gestures that got everyone's attention easily. This gentleman wore red from head to foot, except for the gold buttons on his jacket. Even the leather shoes were a bright and matching color. He yelled loudly, his voice carrying over the whole field.

“The Count William Cordes Smythe Rodriguez gives greeting to all present, and states that the folly of offense given him is too great to let lay. He asks that all present know that this boy, Countier third, David Edmund Derring, has offended the Counts sensibilities… by daring to exist.” The man cleared his throat and looked embarrassed to be there suddenly. Tor didn't blame him. Calling a boy out to his death because you decided he shouldn't exist? It was about the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Rolph winced.

“He's compounding the insult so that Davie can't pull out without being dishonored. It's a setup, obviously. What kind of a monster kills a kid because he's mad over some vote that the father made?”

Tor reeled physically, actually taking three full steps back before he caught himself and stopped. This was over a vote? He'd thought that the Count was at least angry over something somewhat reasonable, a border skirmish or maybe sleeping with someone’s wife, or daughter maybe. Tor had kicked a Duke in the groin and the guy hadn't challenged him to a freaking duel. A flash of anger took Tor then, acid started eating at his stomach and Rolph's eyes went wide and he hit his shield.

“Um, Tor? I… just remember your shield this time…” His large friend whispered. Tor shook and ground his teeth a little.

This was… ridiculous didn't cover it. He was of half a mind to go and give the guy a piece of his mind right here and now. Before he could, a man dressed in all green except for the silver buttons on his coat stepped forward and addressed everyone present.

“The Countier third, David Derring gives greetings to all and offers full apology without reservation for his trespass of “existing”.” The crowed actually chuckled. “Further, out of great kindness and compassion, he offers the Count his life. Do you yield sir?”

Laughing the man started to wave this away. Before he got his hand half raised Davie shot up in the air to about a hundred feet pointed one of the weapons at the ground a good ways away and triggered a full minute of explosions. Then he landed and bowed towards the Count.