OC-tober 2021

Day 3: Duel

Vermillion, gold, and bronze leaves tumbled, dancing through the mischievous autumn gale. Warmth pervaded the clearing in defiance of the falling leaves, summer's last ambition struggling to persevere, similar to a newborn fawn fighting to stand.

Two figures - one of blue, one of green - stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye, with enough space for each to reach forwards and barely brush fingertips. While the one in forest green's light choppy hair stuck out in every direction, the one in blue's was a long and silky black, polished and composed, save for a wild strand of cowlick; red held a thick, fancy sword forward as blue gripped a thin blade behind their back, each as tense as the other.

A rich pause reigned as the fighters sized each other up. They had bowed a moment before, blade tips pointed downward, as still as a lake's serene surface and as reverential as a priest, but were now akin to fiery lions circling one another, judging each movement, each breath.

Only the sound of life around them broke the silence. Had either of them been less fixated on the other, they might have found it comforting or peaceful, the idea that their problems were infinitesimal in the eyes of, say, a squirrel.

For all that, anything that was not their opponent drifted away like a leaf on a river, worries and joy alike. One wrong prediction, one wrong move, would lose the duel.

For Augustine Knox, however, this was expected.

Augustine was far from feeble and helpless, - he belonged to the one and only Invulnerable Knox Strunguli, a budding seed yet a seed nonetheless - but his opponent was practically indomitable. Stories of virtue and strength overran the Kingdom, stories of the unyielding and insurmountable Guardian Mathis.

For the aforementioned Guardian Mathis, this might as well have been another day, another victory. The Guardian of Alendo Kingdom had defeated humans and monsters alike, including Augustine's sisters, the main core of the Knox Strunguli, the children of the Untouchable General. Compared to them, his sisters and Remi Mathis, Augustine found it preposterous that he could win, or more specifically, that the Guardian could lose.

Despite his doubts, he readied his sword, a thin rapier named Felix.

The Guardian moved their weapon simply, aiming for Augustine's throat and catching him off-guard. He had not expected such a brutal move.

He parried messily, managing to nudge the blade to the right, and stepped back, avoiding the thick blade that quickly recovered to slash at him once again.

Remi Mathis was relentless, a barrage of assaults coming from every angle and possible direction. Augustine barely had a second to think. He found it mind-boggling, how easily Mx. Mathis achieved intricate after intricate maneuver. It was as if their body was jam, contorting to their every need like a loyal servant.

Their weapon - a Zweihander - was likely excessively heavy and elaborate, but they paid it no mind as they twisted and turned. Despite the simplicity and directness of their actions, it was far beyond what Augustine had ever seen. Every move was as precise as an archer pinning a fly by its wings from a mile away.

They sliced and carved the air, mutilating the space where Augustine had been a moment before. It was only by the skin of his teeth that he managed to dodge so many blows, the wind around him marking another jab, slice, or hack at him.

Disregarding his discernable awe, he desperately searched for possible solutions, turning it over in his mind like a child with a playing hoop. They had an advantage in height, skill, speed, and most likely, raw strength, meaning he was hopelessly outclassed. Since the duel had begun, every step he'd taken had been in retreat, the Guardian pressing forward more tenaciously than an electric eel on the prowl (Augustine was quite the fan of aquatics - he had forced most of his tutors to inform him about them as a reward).

All in all, what had been indicated from the start had proven true: Remi Mathis would not lose.

He must either concede or force a draw.

At the end of the day, Augustine would rather be in bed, listening to stories of the deep sea, of all the eccentric creatures living there, and of a diverse variety of other topics. To end this farce was tempting, to rest and recuperate from this humiliation, but he found his body unwilling to comply with his demands.

Each step back should have been a step towards the end, to the safety of no longer upsetting himself by reaching for the impossible, yet he found himself hardening like clay in a kiln or sludge turning to packed sediment. Every strike Mx. Mathis hit, drawing blood against his light skin, it was like the waves on the beach, chipping away at him yet cooling his will into iron.

He redirected an overhead blow, turning into Mx. Mathis's grip as if a dance partner about to be dipped, and, completely undignified and unfitting for a person of his station, stomped on the Guardian Princess's foot.

He had hoped to get in a spare elbow jab, but Mx. Mathis promptly wrapped their arms around his waist and dragged him over their knee, squashing him onto the ground face first. They pulled his right arm backward, harshly pressing a knee to his back to add to the tension.

As they reached for his left hand, sword seemingly abandoned, he thrashed wildly before turning on his back while simultaneously freeing his right hand from their firm grasp, slapping the Great Guardian of the Alendo Kingdom across the face like a commoner.

......

As silence regained its reign, and Augustine's face heated, something dangerous gleamed in Mx. Mathis's eyes. Any second now, and Augustine was sure they would lose all formality and decorum and rip out his throat with their teeth.

Instead, they gripped one hand on the offender's throat and another calmly wrapped its fingers around the hilt of a sword. As they brought it down with a calculating yet savage gaze, Augustine was sure he was dead.

It wasn't until the blood hit his cheek did he realize he had caught the blade. He wrenched his eyes, closed from fear, open and gawked. Mx. Mathis bore down on him, with both their sight and their body weight, seemingly vehement and undoubtedly violent.

He swiftly let go of and avoided the blade, letting it drive into the earth. With Mx. Mathis unbalanced from this movement, if only for a moment, Augustine knocked into them, managing to free himself out from under them.

He scrambled to his feet, fishing up his rapier and pointing it at Mx. Mathis's neck.

Too focused to be elated at his apparent victory, he glanced at their hands, where they held their Zweihander to his chest.

It was a draw.