When a Steel Soldier is inducted into the Steel Legions, they are given three things. A specialty forged weapon that is a grade above Steel Army issued ones, an insignia of rank, and armor that is personalized according to rank and accomplishment. I, perhaps unsurprisingly, started at the very bottom of the hierarchy despite my service being proportional to that of at least a senior private, or perhaps a sergeant. Then again, that may be the past me having an inflated opinion of my own ability. I never said I had been wise in my youth.
Vuvitsky already regretted agreeing to take the first shift with Kinujitev, even if he had had no choice in the matter. To understand why being placed to guard a noble for a significant amount of time was undesirable, one had to understand just exactly what Steelic culture was like at the time.
Imagine, if you will, a soldier. Now, being born a Steelic, this soldier was raised from birth to venerate all things physical, especially combat. Each Fief might disagree on the specifics on what this focus on combat and fighting prowess is for1, but they all agreed that being skilled martially was good, if not essential. Now take this concept, and see if it fits into the head of a noble. Sometimes, it worked, a lot of nobles are suitably ‘war-like’, many of them even having positions in the Steel Army—and a rare few among the Legions. But then you have people like Earl Zugich.
Oh of course, she was fully supportive of the war efforts, she was one of the most generous donors after all. And far be it from her to disparage the bravery of the ‘strapping young soldiers’ and their ‘willingness to fight the good fight’, which was immediately followed by ‘which is any fight!’ which is met by polite laughter. No, her patriotism was far from being the problem. The problem was her disdain for physicality and getting her hands dirty.
Oddly enough, she was one of those people who had trouble with being in and witnessing physical confrontations, claiming that it made her squeamish. How that worked, Vuvitsky had no earthly idea, but it had an undeniable effect on just how her hired hands worked. More specifically the armed portion of her retinue, which now included two very dispirited Legionnaires.
“Dear me, a wild fox has interrupted our meeting. Would you both kindly slay it? I’m sure you are due for your fix!”
“Oh my, one of my Dancing Trees has stopped moving. Would one of you please, ah, ‘whack’ it with your weapon? Yes, that weapon. The one given to you personally as a sign of your status, yes.”
“Would you both show my friend here how real Legionnaires fight? He needs to know the true might of our King!”
“Please stretch for us to admire you.”
Perhaps that last one hadn’t happened yet, but Vuvitsky swore he saw a few women eyeing the two of them at times.
To his amusement, Kinujitev was enjoying this about as much as he did. His stoic face did a lot to hide his displeasure, but the medic could feel his sour mood in his soul.2 Vuvitsky’s head turned as he heard Earl Zugich call for them once more.
I swear, Ulovistin and Zuvistov are getting stuck with this first chance I get.
Zuvistov and Ulovistin were having a lovely time of it, not being assigned to the Earl at the present moment. The two were currently seated in a quiet corner of the garden, backs to the mansion, sipping on expensive wines. Perks of the job!
Every time the Earl passed by, both Legionnaires smiled and waved at Vuvitsky and Kinujitev with expressions of triumph. Kinujitev was utterly dejected, even if he didn’t show it. Vuvitsky’s face promised murder, showing that classic Laastian temper.
They laughed hardest at Vuvitsky’s expression when the retinue was out of earshot, congratulating themselves on getting out of first shift. First shift was always the worst one, as that is when the novelty of Legionnaires is the highest. The best shift was around the third or fourth one, by the time everyone had seen them and relegated them to simply being background dressing. Unimportant. The ideal perception, in short.
Zuvistov ignored the look one of the caterers gave him as he took a whole bottle of some random wine and inspected it.
“Hey Ulov,” The big man asked.
“Yes?” Ulovistin replied.
“What are the chances this bottle really is from the Gold Monarchy?”
“Wait, what? Give me that.”
Zuvistov handed the bottle to Ulovistin. Her brows lifted in fascination.
“Well, well, well. It sure looks like one. Let’s test it.” She then poured it into her glass, which already had some wine from another bottle in it. The atrocity of the act caused at least three servants who knew the costs of such wine to faint.
Taking a sip, Ulovistin predictably grimaced in disgust. “Those two don’t go well together.”
“You don’t say?” Zuvistov said in mock surprise.
“Oh shut it, you were just as curious. Also this is fake wine.”
Some other servants and a nearby noble with long ears perked up.
“Oh? How do you know this?” Zuvistov challenged her.
“Real Goldic wine should dominate the taste of whatever it is put in, which is why it’s often mixed in with unsavory meals.” Ulovistin said with all the authority and self assuredness of a connoisseur.
One of the servants who picked up such a bottle slowly set it down, opting to get a different one.
“And you know this how? You were never one for fine dining, Ulov. I once saw you eat…something…off the floor.”
“It was a fish pie, and the floor was clean hardwood.”
“You complained about splinters in your mouth.”
“Those were fish bones.”
“No they were not, because I prepared that pie and you know how I feel about bones.”
“And a good job you made of it, I was sick for three days!”
“There’s a reason I threw away the pie.”
“On the floor?”
“Irrelevant, how do you know so much about wine?” Zuvistov changed the subject.
“Well, remember when I was trapped in that closet? The one back in the mess hall in Neyanik?”
Zuvistov snickered at the memory. “I do, yes.”
“Well, there was nothing to do, and just enough light to read by, and there was this book which was the only thing that wasn’t a tool, and…” She tapered off.
Zuvistov had an incredulous look. “You read the whole thing? What was it about?”
Ulovistin’s expression turned to one of distaste. “Grapes, Wines and Everything in Between.”
Zuvistov shook his head. “I am so sorry for you. You should not have gone through such a harrowing experience.”
“Truly, it was one of my worst days. I will bring this memory to my deathbed.”
“What memory?” Asked a young voice.
Both Legionnaires turned to look at the new speaker, seeing a relatively young boy. Definitely a noble, if his garb and bearing were indication.
Ulovistin replied to him. “Nothing that should concern you.”
Zuvistov nodded along. “Indeed, it is not for little men to bear such knowledge.”
The young noble asked petulantly. “Why not?”
This question had Zuvistov had a loss for answers, having to stop himself from saying ‘It just is.’
Ulovistin, however, had another idea. The workings of her mind already in motion, forming an inadvisable idea. Then she decided caution and restraint was for fools.
“Nevermind that. Want to see a magic trick?”
The eager face of the young boy proved that this was a great idea.3
Vuvitsky and Kinujitev were attached to Earl Zugich, detesting every minute they had to speak with someone. Zuvistov and Ulovistin were showing a young, bored, impressionable noble child a very dangerous magic trick. All was going, if not amazingly, then well enough. But what of Sudogostin?
The blue Orc from Stalle was a Talented Evoker4 had been Steel Legionnaire for three years and counting, and a veteran even before that. To say she had an impressive record would be an understatement, in Sudogostin’s opinion. She may be one of the more common types of Talented, but only she used her natural gift to it’s fullest extent. Where others looked for the biggest rock to drop on their enemies, Sudogostin lifted the enemy instead. It was all about controlling the battlefield to your advantage, not throwing as many heavy objects as possible, contrary to some plebeians’ beliefs.
The Legionnaire walked around the garden, projecting an aura of anti-sociability by her sheer bearing. No one approached her to talk, which was the intended effect. She was looking for a more secluded spot to rejuvenate her wells of Inspiration.5 She needed a place to meditate.
She spotted such a place quickly, seeing a particularly grassy spot between two grotesques in the far edge of the garden. She made for it with a purpose, her eyes locked on her salvation. Then something bumped into her, sending her falling flat on her backside as the something fell to the ground.
Sudogostin glared at what appeared to be a large Human male. He was almost as tall as she was, his dark skin6 marked by scars. His left eye was covered in an eye patch. Despite that, his one eye managed to match the impressive glare Sudogostin sent his way.
“Watch where you are going!” He said, his accent betraying his Nikkan descent.
Already sizing him up, Sudogostin concluded that this was a veteran of a war, just like her. He only had small weapons, sidearms at best. He was also Talented, just like her. He did not seem like the type to apologize for a mistake that was so obviously his.
“I’m not the one at fault.” Sudogostin replied coldly.
“How? You were the one not watching your surroundings. I’d expect better from a Soldier, let alone a Legionnaire.
That was it, he had insulted her gravely. There was only one recourse.
“I challenge you to a fight.”
“What do you think Sudo is doing over there?” Zuvistov asked, glancing back at the far corner of the garden where his taciturn Legionnaire was. There seemed to be people gathering around her and someone else.
Ulovistin paused her fifth card trick, much to the young noble’s dismay, to look at where Zuvistov indicated. She squinted her eyes as she tried to look through the press of bodies, leveraging the superior sight that made her such a good markswoman.
“If I had to guess, someone’s sent Sudo into one of her ‘moods’ again.” She finally said after a few moments of scrutiny.
“Zokea’s tides, already? Don’t tell me we’ll have to break it up again, my arm is still bruised from last time.” The large man said with mild dread.
“We may not have to,” Ulovistin clarified. “It’s an official duel from the looks of it. So long as Sudo keeps collateral damage to a minimum, we should be just fine.”
“Ah, that’s a relief to her. Say, I though I caught her opponent having a stick of some sort. Is it a sword, I wonder?” Zuvistov mused, before adding a boast. “If so, our Evoker will show why she is the best at what she does.”
“Unless she’s fighting another talented, of course.” Ulovistin added.
“Of course.” Zuvistov nodded along.
At that, the noble finally stopped moping about the paused trick and turned to look at the gathering, which had spread out to give the two duelists space. It also allowed him to see who Sudogostin’s opponent was.
“That’s my uncle Outivsky!” He said with the tone of a child showcasing his favorite relative.
Ulovistin chuckled good-naturedly and patted the child on the head. “Oh, is he now? Any relation to Outivsky The Master Forger7?”
The child scrunched his face up in thought for a moment. While Ulovistin waited for him to answer, not really caring about it all that much, Zuvistov leaned out of his chair to get the cheapest bottle of wine he could find. Not finding the prices, he chose one with the least interesting name, figuring that was as good a choice as any.
“I grow tired of your boring card tricks, Ulov. Let’s show this fledgling man what a real trick looks like.” He grinned as he waved the bottle. Ulovistin’s face lit up as she went to get a candle. Zuvistov turned to the young noble.
“Have you ever seen a Human breathe fire?”
The child, about to reveal information that would have been very interesting to the duo, completely forgot about all that and watched with rapt attention as he nodded. This would be a party to remember.
Kinujitev had been excused to go and relieve himself by the Earl while Vuvitsky remained beside her. He did not come back for sometime, leading the rookie to believe that either Kinujitev urgently needed care for his bowel movements, or that he was dragging his feet.
It didn’t matter either way, as Vuvitsky was still left alone with the Earl.
“Say, dear Vuvitsky,” He did not know how she had managed to learn his name. “You have been to your fair share of fights, haven’t you?”
Oh no. He was being trapped into another conversation.
“Indeed, Earl. But not as a Legionnaire.” Vuvitsky replied in a respectful tone.
“Oh? I forgot the Steel Legion draws it’s candidates from the Armies. Isn’t that right?”
“Why yes, Earl.”
“Then what is it like?” She asked.
“What part of it?”
“Why, everything of course. Tell me everything of what you did in your career in the Army.” Earl Zugich looked at Vuvitsky earnestly, taking her retinue along with a few interested nobles who were eavesdropping, waking to the mansion. She insisted that they needed a ‘more comfortable setting’.
Vuvitsky was sweating hard, and it wasn’t because of the Sun.
Sudogostin and her opponent—whomever he was did not matter to her in the slightest—led a procession of onlookers deeper along the garden path that led directly into a forest. The two duelists still possessed a modicum of sense, not wanting to fight in broad daylight. They instead stopped on the border between the forest and garden.
Already, a few of the more forward thinking people of the audience had brought chairs and were busy setting them up as Sudogostin and her opponent stood a measured distance apart. Sudogostin holding up her bell, the man placing the flute to his lips. Neither Talented played their instrument. It was not yet time.
The surrounding nobility sat towards the mansion, where there would be less chance of a stray attack landing. One of them, a self appointed Master of the Duel,8 stepped forward, between the two combatants. She held out a hand, counting off the rules of engagement.
“First rule, no lethal blows. The fight is until one yields to the other.” She raised a finger. “Second rule, you are not permitted to step outside of the fighting grounds, which are either fifteen feet toward the Manor or fifteen feet inside the forest.” The dense number of trees to either side of the path they were on were barrier enough for the sides.
“And lastly,” She continued. “You are disqualified upon exhausting your Inspiration. You are required to call out when that occurs.” The two opponents seemed to be almost shaking in place, barely restraining themselves from jumping into action.
The Master of the Duel stayed silent for a moment longer, building tension. Breaths were held across the audience.
Then she raised her hand and stepped back. “Fight!”
The start of the fight was heralded by the resonant jingle of a bell, and an ascending series of flute notes.
Nearby rocks rose up in the air, eerily still without anything supporting them except for Sudogostin’s Talent. She emphatically gestured with the bell towards her opponent, the gong accompanying the sudden increase in speed the rocks experienced.
The rocks flew toward the man, who was still playing on his flute one handed. He raised his other arm just in time to shield his face from the onslaught of telekinetically thrown rocks. On that arm was a steel bracer, clearly made for such protection while managing his Talent. His focus did not waver despite the many impacts on his body from the stones. It did not even elicit a grunt.
What is that man made of? Sudogostin thought incredulously.
She paid the price for her momentary distraction, as the man finally finished playing his flute. A strong, bright golden light emerged from the end of the flute and onto the ground, before reforming into a human-sized metallic creature. It had four legs, two arms that ended in sharp blades and that was about as far as Sudogostin got before she had to fiercely defend herself from it’s sudden attacks.
A small crowd of the younger kind of nobles were watching the most impressive thing in their lives. Never mind that they were in a place where trees actually moved, or that they probably personally knew a war hero or two with ‘riveting tales from the front’. No, the thing that had them all enraptured was…
A large man, who could uncharitably be called overweight, breathing fire after downing half a bottle of dearly expensive wine. It did not help that Ulovistin was setting up progressively more dangerous stunts to do while he was imitating a demented form of Evoking.
Zuvistov was currently trying to exhale two streams of flame while balancing on a stool on one leg. While wearing the most ridiculous hat that made him resemble a duck-headed man. He still didn’t know where Ulovistin had found it.
Sudogostin knocked the construct to the ground, pinning it’s light body with her foot while she tried to pull both blade-arms telekinetically apart from the body. She was tackled from behind by her opponent, having forgotten the basic rule of fighting Talented opponents.
Never turn your back on a Steelic Talented.
Zuvistov was now balancing on three chairs, and his duck hat had a hat of it’s own. Now he was attempting to sing while simultaneously breathing fire. Ulovistin was encouraging the children to cheer on the incredibly risky stunt.
Sudogostin just managed to shove the man off of her, binding him to the ground telekinetically, when the construct came at her. She was prepared this time and delivered a kick at it’s center of mass, sending it flying. And then the man started to whistle.
Another construct was forming.
“One more chair!” The children clamored. “Jump off it!” Said one of them.
Ulovistin was starting to get a little nervous. Zuvistov was at his limit, trying to balance three hats, four chairs, and now a book of poetry while weakly spouting flames. He was getting a little tipsy, quite the accomplishment considering the third bottle of wine in his other hand.
“H-hey, Zuv. Maybe it’s time to end this?” She hesitantly opined.
“Hah, so soon?” Zuvistov said. “I was just getting started!”
It seemed that they had taken it too far. Again.
Sudgostin was going to kill them.
Sudogostin was going to kill her opponent.
Her Inspiration, already not at it’s best (hence the need for a place to replenish it in the first place), was starting to run really low. She was now relying almost exclusively on physically fighting off the two identical metallic creatures as the man got to work summoning a third one.
She was about to give up when she had an idea.
“Come on, the kids have had enough!” Ulovistin said.
“Not nearly!” Zuvistov said to loud cheers. Then he shifted to better adjust his tower of hats. Unfortunately he had proven too heavy, as the stool at the bottom—
Snapped.
Sudogostin backed away to the boundary of the agreed upon dueling ground, her back to the trees. The mad man was summoning a third creature of steel, the body forming from the bottom up in golden light. The other two creatures were steadily advancing at her, their scuttling four pairs of legs setting her nerves on edge.
The audience were holding their breath, waiting to see if she could somehow defeat the two creatures before her opponent managed to get a third one.
All was silent but for the footsteps. Sudogostin took a steadying breath, putting all her focus on her instrument. The bell.
Then Sudogostin swung her bell in a mighty horizontal arc, pouring the entirety of her remaining Inspiration into the Manifestation. The bell let out a resounding GONG loud enough to be heard by the whole manor. The effect did not disappoint.
The two dangerous, light, creatures of steel were picked up and thrown at the Human with the force of a bullet let loose from a sling, crashing into the man and utterly interrupting his flute playing, and therefore the third creature’s arrival.
Of course, using up all her Inspiration came with consequences. The world quickly turned into shades of grey, losing all color to her eyes. Her movements were weighed down, as if she had on a heavier set of armor that was drenched in water.
The audience were screaming at the loud sound, but Sudogostin was too focused on her opponent. He was down and slowly getting back up, that tough soldier. Sudogostin did not hesitate.
She charged for him and tackled him, punching and kicking the Human. A blow connected to his head and his Talent was disrupted, the summon creatures fading away in a dazzling shimmer of golden light. Sudogostin raised another fist to further pummel the one-eyed man when the screaming redoubled. Her attention was finally drawn elsewhere as she glanced up.
The nobles were not looking at her, but at the mansion. A large column of smoke was rising from it. The Orc’s eyes widened as she jumped off her now-forgotten opponent, rushing to assess the damage.
Footnotes
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For example, the Nikkans wholeheartedly believed the ultimate goal of training was for war, while Vollens argued that a fight for it’s own sake was just as good if not better. Stallens bent their martial prowess for the ends of their religions, churning out more crusaders than not. Koverniks were relatively neutral in this regard, accepting all three explanations as valid ends. ↩
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Ah, I remember how much Kinujitev disliked such things. In another time, he might had made a fine ally in my cause. ↩
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To the contrary, it was quite a bad one. But I must admit it made the experience quite a bit more interesting. You will see what I mean. ↩
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There is an entire hierarchy for people who are Talented, with two different classifications depending on one’s nationality. Sudogostin possessed one of the four Steelic Talents, the Evoker. It excelled at combat using destructive energies, but not much else. ↩
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Inspiration is the fuel with which Talented people can use their abilities. Without it, they are no more powerful than anyone normal. Inspiration is built up by engaging in one’s main hobby or pursuit. As you may imagine, the Brass Empire (The supposed birthplace of Talent) has a far more advanced culture of artistry than most. ↩
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If you happen to be reading this as a native of the Sapphire Isles, then let me illuminate you. The Sun is always in the sky at all times of the day, only setting out of view twice a year. As a result, all Humans are dark skinned, many shades darker than what your skin might be. ↩
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Outivsky the Master Forger was a well renowned war hero at the time, known for his unparalleled and skillful use in the Maker Talent. His specialty was summoning creatures (as in, plural. For reference most Makers specialized in summoning only ever get one creature) that were as tough as steel, giving him his name. He was newly retired at the time of this incident. ↩
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As the title might imply, a Master of the Duel is an unbiased party that oversees a duel fairly. ↩