Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 52: A Duel's End

The courtyard of Gate Secondus was alive with fanfare. Rebels squabbled and jeered from one side as Vangen soldiers shouted over the din. Regis was doing well so far. He'd dodged everything the giant was dishing at him and had returned in kind a few lucky strikes. The Jotan's armor was scored with hits, leaving chunks of black metal littering the ground.

Dux sucked on his teeth and swallowed tightly. Even with all the confidence in the world he had for Regis, he couldn't quite shake his uncertainty. Guess it came with the perks of being Captain. Anything that could go wrong usually did. It was just the way of things. Any moment now, Regis would make a wrong decision, twist an ankle, or lose his sword, something that would result in being crushed to death by the Jotan, Aeturnus.

A hand grasped his shoulder. Dux turned to see Magus looking up at him with dark, rheumy eyes.

"He's going to be fine," Magus assured him.

"I know," Dux said, more in assurance for himself than anyone else. "I just—"

"He's going to be just fine," Magus cut in. He lowered his gaze. Dux followed suit, looking down to see the Magician's old hobbled fingers twitching ever so slightly.

"What are you doing?" Dux slipped his iron mask on, hiding any emotions that would betray what he'd seen. From the other side of the courtyard, he could make out Tyrannus and Custodia watching them, mouthing wordlessly. So far, they'd had no cause for alarm of Dux's trickery. At least, he'd hoped so.

"Just giving Regis a bit of an edge. Nothing but a little sunlight in the Jotan's eyes. Tis' a bright morning after all."

"Indeed, so it is." Dux looked up at the cloudless sky, so blue that it felt like the ocean would come crashing down on him at any moment.

*

Up top the parapet, Culter sat on his haunches, watching Regis fight for his life. It was entertaining, to say the least. The big man versus the bigger man. What a fecking sight. And here he was in the skybox as if he were someone important enough to afford something like that.

But it was something else now that caught his attention. He made out Hallan soldiers moving quickly through the porter's entrance from beyond Gate Tertius, forming a line outside. Strange, given that Dux had ordered the exact opposite from Lord Hallan.

The back of Culter's hands began to itch. Which only meant one thing. Something fishy was going on, and of course, he had to make sure. Silently he rose from his haunches and skulked off down the parapet. Dux didn't need him there anyway. Everyone was handling their own affairs just fine.

Culter reached the parapet's end where the sheer wall of the castle met. From above, he could see a small window. Easy enough. He took a few steps back and leaped, snagging his fingers into one of the many arrow slits that dotted the palace. With every finger a fish hook, he hoisted himself up, pinning his feet in next. He went up and over a window, landing gracefully into one of the rooms of the palace.

There was activity just across the door. Boots and armor jingled excitedly as gold, and crimson colors flashed past the polished marble floor. Culter moved quickly, pressing against the back of the door. Just in time too, as it burst open and two spearmen came pounding in.

"All clear." One of them muttered. "Guess the Vangen are all outside."

"Can't be too careful," The other said. "Lord Hallan wants the plan to go off without a hitch."

Culter peered warily past the door's edge. Plans was it? And what sort of plans did the dear little Lord have for Captain Dux? No doubt it was something treacherous. All Lords were, after all. Culter could only guess why, but if he were betting man, he'd wager it had something to do with pride. Ever since the Captain had arrived, he'd been dishing out orders and making some very questionable gambles, enough to build some bad blood. Bad enough to constitute treason.