Selene

Chapter Fifty-Two

Justinain's hand came down on Artorījos... but the sword did not! A four-legged, feathered beast snatched it in mid-stride and flew off with the weapon.

"What the- Oof!"

Artorījos was nothing if not an opportunist. All the men staring up at the bird-like animal were paying no attention to him. He rammed his head into Justinian's stomach and ripped Leon's blade out of the mud, then waited.

The Legionaries jumped him again, though he made no move against them.

"A duel Justinian! A duel for the unconditional surrender of our troops." He said as they pulled him back. "Why waste any more blood if you and I can settle this?"

Justinian straightened. "Let him go."

Begrudgingly they obeyed orders.

"A duel? You still haven't got the wind back in your lungs from your last fight." The Legionnaire looked the tired man up and down.

"Well you don't have much to lose then." He sneered, taunting Justinian's ego.

Now this was the Artorījos he'd heard of. A coward would have killed him when he had the chance, or at least bartered with his life, and certainly would be begging for his own at this point.

"Give me his sword and we'll settle this like men."

They threw the sword his way and the duel began.

It was nothing like as eloquent as Hiccup and Alvin's. These men were warriors, used to very basic but extremely effective strategies with the broadsword, backed with strength as much as it was skill the sound of their steel could be heard over the din of battle.

For all Artorījos weariness he fought like a maniac! Justinian found himself on the retreat most of the time, only managing to get two or three offensive swings in for every five The King dished out. In the poor conditions they both made fools of themselves slipping in the mud.

Two long minutes later Justinian over extended, Artorījos swiped at his torso which Justinian blocked, but at the cost of his balance. As he tried to regain it he left his left leg exposed to attack. The King struck, cutting a long and deep gash into it.

The Commander roared and fell, Artorījos kicked his weapon out of his hand and held him at sword-point, panting heavily.

Justinian slowly rose to an upright position.

"What's it going to be Justinian?" Artorījos demanded between breaths, holding his side with his free hand. "Surrender or death?"

The Legionnaire glowered, frustrated. "Neither... unfortunately for you."

Soldiers circled once more, archers among them. Artorījos growled. "And you insulted my honor."

"What is honor?" He snorted, standing again with a slight limp. Someone handed him the sword back. "But the downfall of all great men? Take a look around you! The world doesn't function on such ideals."

"Little corners of it can and do with the right compass."

Exhausted, wounded, cheated, and without a clue how to escape, the strength that had kept Artorījos going buckled. They engaged, swords meeting thrice before the King went to block another of the Commander's attacks. His weapon was flung from his hand. Justinian grabbed him by the shoulder-

SHHHHHHRRRRRIIIIIeeeeEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!!

The Gryphon gave his signature scream. Romans found themselves rooted to their place, including Justinian with sword just about to thrust through the Wotādīni King.