It took her quite a bit of courage to even have the gall to talk back to him. With a rather shaky voice the knight responded.
"I only believe because of the man who gifted me with a life worth living..."She tried to swallow some lingering saliva as her throat felt dry after the king confronted her about her blood brothers. It was then that a reassuring memory of her first blood brother, the death hand from their time slaying the beast. Hildr let out a soft smile.
"Do not worry your highness. If I meet them as enemies... I shall sent them to their grave honourably... More than I would give the Parrencemen."Otto paused for a moment, seeming to consider. If anything, his scowl only deepened. "Clear a space," he commanded, drawing a mighty longsword. "Bard, let us see how well your music might follow the cut and thrust of battle." The king squared himself up. "It is clear to me that you cannot be trusted," he told Hildr. "However, I am nothing if not a fair man. You heeded my summons in good faith and so I shall give you a way to leave here in spite that you are my enemy."
He cleared his throat. "Sir Danneman, step forward." At that, a small, nimble-looking man emerged from the pack of guards. His armour was lighter than most, only covering vital spots. He held a number of daggers strapped to his person and a bastard sword in his left hand. He began circling wordlessly, eyes fixed on Hildr and yet darting about his surroundings, taking them in. "This is Sir Rodric Danneman, a... knight in my service. I would fight you myself but, sadly, I now have higher responsibilities as a king."
The guards had cleared a large space in the center of the great hall. "This shall be a duel," declared the king. "Combatants shall fight to first blood and no further. Fatal blows are to be discouraged but, in the heat of the moment, we shall acknowledge that accidents happen." Otto glanced at his chosen champion. "Should your hand slip and this pagan goes to meet Eschiran and know the error of her ways, you will not be counted a murderer."
"At stake is your freedom as an enemy of this kingdom." He turned to Hildr. "Win and you shall be given provisions and four days to cross the border into your native Kressia. Lose, and you shall be imprisoned as an enemy national." The king stepped back, surrounded by a dozen royal guards, and raised an arm. They began shouting words of encouragement to Sir Rodric: "Eschiran empower you!", "Slay that heathen!", "We shall feast after this, Rod, I know it!"
After a moment of tense silence, Otto dropped his raised arm. "Commence!" he shouted.
All at once, there was a large intake of energy. Sir Rodric disappeared and, surrounding Hildr were five of him. Each began stamping his lead foot, and the sound seemed to come equally from all directions.
Hildr could feel the stamping of that lead foot resonate through her entire body, the thrill of the coming battle overtaking her. It was invigorating, although the way the opponent was fighting got the hire blade rather annoyed.
"Rodric was it?... May I have the privilege to ask what kind of parlour trick this is? I thought this was meant to be a battle, not a dance." To think someone would dare use illusions in a duel. It made her all the more mad thinking about it.
"To think Otto sets the bar for being a knight so low, I almost pity the other knights for being grouped with you." A sly smirk covered her face as she showed herself in a false sense of being open.
There was not a word from Rodric. Instead, one of the five of him plunged right for the opening, while another, moving perhaps slightly faster than the others, circled around to the precise opposite side, trying to hide his half-step forward and tensing up to strike.
There it was, that rush of adrenaline, the man didn't even try to hit her in a non-lethal spot. Hildr picked up a divergence in the sound, it wasn't only the one in front that stopped circling her.... There was also one that deviated from the other side. seeing there wasn't any more time to respond, the knight moved her body slightly to swing the arming sword while aiming for the temple, hoping she calculated his steps well enough.
There was nothing that motivated Sir Rodric quite like a good insult. Nothing more enjoyable to take down than a haughty knight who judged him based on his fighting style. That this pagan would think him so predictable!
Hildr's sword flashed through the shadow clone that he'd set up to give the the appearance of being his true self, sneaking in from behind. Meanwhile, the assassin came at her from the front, his true self the obvious 'decoy'. His sword plunged into the gap beneath her armpit and struck true, drawing a small trickle of blood from beneath her armpit.
Yet, then, something crashed into his head with stunning force, and he staggered backwards, blinking furiously.
The stinging pain of being struck hit the knight as she realised she had guessed wrong, angering her to no end.
Using force magic to draw the blade back with unexpected speeds for such a blade. Hitting the knight of trickery in the head with enough force to draw blood, her pummel barely stained from the quickness of it.
The woman goes in to strike the disoriented knight once more before realizing she had already drawn blood.
Rodric staggered back but quickly caught himself, automatically warping the light to disappear from sight, and not a moment too soon. She had one in for a second strike, the filthy pagan, intent on unnecessary bloodshed as they all were. She was quick as she was wicked and uncocuth, this Hildr: the work Force magic, Rodric knew, an 'honourable' type of magic to the haughty types, while his wasn't. He was used to the double standards by now, of course.
He reappeared some distance away and bowed. Imperfection on his part, but he had learned much. "It appears she drew blood at nearly the same time as I," Rodric admitted. "I apologize for my failure, my king." If he'd faced her the way that he preferred, of course, without the formality of a duel in King Otto's great hall, she wouldn't have even seen him coming. The pagan bitch would be lying in a pool of her own blood, mewling for her heathen Gods to take her soul to their green groom or whatever it was. As it was, he had embarrassed himself utterly by not making sport of her. Such strength and reflexes, he acknowledged to himself, and the former for a woman!
Sir Rodric Danneman knelt before his king and bowed his head low. "I shall compensate for my failure by going in person to Relouse, should your majesty allow it, and leading our mission there."
King Otto stepped forward, now that the duel had reached its unsatisfactory conclusion. "It appears that Dami has spared you for the time being, but as halfheartedly as possible." He addressed Hildr now. "For what purpose, I cannot say, but I bow to the wisdom of the Pentad." He cleared his throat and twisted. "As for you, Sir Rodric, you shall accompany our contingent to Relouse. You shall fight in that conflict and you shall return here and advise me as to the strengths of the two armies involved. We shall speak at length this evening.
He regarded Hildr once more. "As for you, woman, Sir Rodric struck simultaneously and, had he not been aiming for a wounding strike, doubtless could've sent you to your death. Thus, coupled with your behaviour and refusal to disavow false gods, the initial generosity of my offer has been rescinded. You are to leave, immediately, with but the articles in your possession. On my honour as king, you will be given two days to remove yourself from my kingdom, unharried. Should you return, however, I expect it shall be among the Eskandr, where you shall be shown no quarter nor mercy." His guards formed up around him. They parted only to let her pass out the door.
"She will have none from me," said Sir Rodric quietly. Then, more loudly. "I look forward to seeing you upon the beaches of Relouse, my lady, though I doubt you will so much as see me before meeting your gods."
As the battle had come to a close and the tension left the room, Hildr’s normal attitude returned. Coming off much weaker as before.
“Then I thank you for your accommodation… And hope to the Father to not meet you in battle, your highness….” Being escorted out of the hall seemed rather unnecessary to her as the knight already planned to leave. Kressia… She hadn’t been there in a while and it might be worth some coin to be hired there once more. Lindermetz, however, was a lost cause. They’d been wary but open last time. Now, a kind of dogmatic inflexibility had taken over and they were kicking her out as if she were a criminal after having invited her as a guest.
She brushed out of the doorway and there stood an array of commonfolk being ushered away for the day. One woman, however, remained, hands posted on hips. “I heard what happened in there, Lady Knight.” She was middle-aged and a bit overweight, with a leathery face and hard, flinty eyes. “It ain't right what they done to you.” She shook her head. “But they been doin’ it more an’ more lately.” She glanced sourly at the door and, rather presumptuously, reached out and took Hildr by the arm. “Now, they given you two days because they know it in’t enough time to get outta this place, but that’s if you’re you.” She grinned, displaying a crooked, yellowed, but generally well-cared-for set of teeth. “We fix you up with a traveling cloak or a nice dress - on your coin, of course - hide the weapons in a bag… nobody’ll be the wiser. I know a caravan leaving for Salterburgh* ‘round about dinnertime. We hurry, we can getcha on it and somewhere safer.” She paused, forcing Hildr to do the same. “Name’s Frida, by the way. Already got yours. Now what say you?”
"Why would you help a heathen?... Shouldn't you hate me for following the old ways?" Even though she herself wasn't even that religious, she did get the downsides of it.
"But if you truly offer it from the bottom of your heart… I can't refuse… I'll pay for it all.. and I'll be in your debt.." Hildr let out a soft smile towards the woman.
Frida quirked an eyebrow. “All muscle and not much brains to you, huh?” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Not all of us are on about Ipty, Damy, Shoon, and whatever the other two are, you know.” She sniffed and shook her head tightly. “We should be looking out for each other jus’ like the Quentists do. Anyways, fair’s just fair, you know, and you didn’t get ‘fair’ treatment at all. Bugs me.” She pressed her lips into a line, businesslike, and nodded. “Now let’s get you dolled up and on your way. You’re a pretty young thing beneath all that armour. Shouldn’t be hard.”
Hildr would blush slightly as the other complimented her appearance.
"You're not a Quentist?... I never would have guessed... Alright, let's go with your plan. I Will promise to pay you well for your efforts." It seems that the woman was true to her word and after a small redressing in more feminine attire, Hildr set off to Kressia in a newly made dress. It had made her feel rather awkward.
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