Death's End

Chapter 22 - Duel

In the Hall of the Seven, the crowd stirred at the shocking scene that unfolded before their eyes, and the quiet expanse became awash with jibes and taunting cat-calls once again. This time round, however, Minister Zila's attention was so focused on the lady standing ahead of her that she did not raise her hand.

From among the crowd echoed words that amplified across the hall.

"Preposterous! How could she defend the prince of Nox against her own country?"

"Traitor!"

"I knew that coral-pink hair was a curse. She will never be one of us!"

The prince absorbed the sudden turn of events with suppressed astonishment. In my defence, a council member had invoked some ancient right to stand against her own brethren at the risk of her own death? This had become more complicated than I initially foresaw. He then spoke, his voice directed at the enigmatic lady standing before him. "You don't have to do this. If Ceil won't have us, we will just have to find another way to stop Aderis."

"I'm not doing this for you," came the terse response.

"I urge you to reconsider, Misaki. You are the Champion of Ceil. There's no reason why you should risk your life to do this," Faelynn spoke from her seat at the table.

"What use is the Champion of Ceil if she cannot defend the nation from its own undoing? The prince spoke truly, yet his words fell on deaf ears," Misaki responded calmly.

"The tragedy has come full circle, it seems. It was only twenty years ago that your master once stood in the exact same place you did, with the same eyes of grim determination..." Minister Zila's words trailed off.

"The Last Request," Harshra spoke with a sombre note in his tone.

"The Last Request saved me. And I intend to do the same for this foreign prince, if it means protecting this city."

"You don't know that, Misaki. Are you protecting Ceil, or ruining it?" Minister Zila asked pointedly.

There was a moment's pause, which was then broken by Misaki's firm voice. "I am the Champion of Ceil. And I will uphold my duty to protect this nation from the day of my appointment until my last day. If any man should question that, let him come forth and we shall settle this honourably under the laws of Ishva." Minister Zila shook her head slightly, as a string of loud murmurings snaked its way across the spectators in the dome. It was interrupted only by the sudden shuffling of a chair as a man stood from his place.

"Very well then lass, I will take you up on your offer," the biggest man seated at the Heptagonal Table spoke, his eyes glinting with unspoken agenda. He looked once at the minister; the latter briefly scanned the remaining members of the table for objections before giving a morose nod. No one else was willing to answer the challenge, and the minister had no other candidate in mind. The declaration of Ishva, once issued by a council member, was absolute and unshakable.

Harshra cleared his throat briefly before speaking. "Under the laws of Ishva, the duelists will engage in a one-on-one battle. The victor is decided once the opponent is killed or forced to yield. In the case of the Protector, yielding is not an option. Her life would be staked as the price of declaring Ishva."

"Oh I don't want her to die..." Gyburn said with a wide smirk, as broken teeth, stained by years of wine drinking revealed themselves in their naked glory. "I have a better deal than that."

Minister Zila frowned deeply. "This is the ancient law of Ishva, Gyburn. It does not bend to your whims and wishes, unlike the prancing dancers you like to...host...at your mansion, if dancers is even the right word. I don't expect you to know Ishva by heart, but respect it you must."