Chapter 194 - 192: Shell Shocked.

Chapter 194: Chapter 192: Shell Shocked.

The servant enters the sparring ring. And to applause, by the look of things. Then they give him a sword.

​What had gotten into the princes today? They were going to be the death of order in this castle, or at the very least the death of him.

​The small mercy is that at least they put him in armour. They’re breaking all sorts of castle protocol, but at least they’re being safe about it.

If throwing a poor servant into a sparring ring against a trained soldier –especially one with as disagreeable a personality as Hasbar–could be called being safe .

Even from this distance it’s not difficult to tell what Hasbar thinks of the match, but for some reason the servant doesn’t flee the ring on the spot; the poor fellow has to be terrified.

​Prince or not, this is going too far, and Drogger won’t stand for it. He’s already on his way to demand an explanation for whatever the gods they think they’re doing, when Hasbar shrugs, and starts to move.

​( Shit . He’s too late. He thought he could trust his men more than this.)

​And then he realises that the servant isn’t running.

​He’s not even backing away.

​In fact, he doesn’t seem in the least bit terrified.

​The short sword in his hand starts to move. Not towards Hasbar, just in place; the kind of movement a soldier uses to get a feel for the weight and balance of a new blade.

It looks very deliberate. Practised, even.

Drogger holds his course, but doesn’t yet break into a run.

​Something’s not right.

​Something is about to happen.

​And Hasbar doesn’t even seem to realise it.

​He lurches forwards first –overly lazy and predictable; it’s a good move for testing the mettle of children or farm boys who want to be soldiers, but an insult to anyone with any degree of familiarity with a sword.

​The servant takes it as an insult, side stepping with ease and swiftly bringing his blade up at such a crisp angle that Hasbar’s sword immediately goes flying.

The idiot hadn’t even been holding his sword properly. Drogger’s not sure if that’s because he was being careful, or if he was being petty. He suspects it was the latter.

​No one moves to help Hasbar retrieve his blade, and he has to storm several paces to pick it up. The servant watches him the whole time.

​The second strike is better. And again, the servant nimbly side steps and sends Hasbar’s sword skittering away.

​By the third attempt, Hasbar has clearly had enough. He’s fast, and proud, and while it’s fun to let children think they’ve bested a soldier, it’s obvious that that had not been his intention.

So even before he moves Drogger can tell just from the glowering expression he’s wearing that he’s about to go overboard.

This time, when the servant side steps him, he twists before the blades can connect, and strikes again, swift and low –only for his sword to meet nothing but air.

​An instant later, he goes reeling backwards; a muddy boot print pressed into the side of his face where the servant had planted a kick into him in mid air.

​He lands, light and undaunted, and settles in for Hasbar’s next attack.

​Drogger’s jaw falls open.

​Who the fuck is this guy ?

​By the looks of things the kick had been more embarrassing than painful but Hasbar looks incensed .

A couple of soldiers call out to him –encouragement or taunt, Drogger can’t tell –but whatever it is he doesn’t want to hear it, and flies forwards again.

​This time, he takes him seriously.

​So does the servant. This time, instead of darting aside, he lets their swords meet.

​It’s clear the moment their blades meet that Hasbar is the stronger of the two, and for a moment there it looks as though the servant will have his sword bodily ripped from his hands.

But raw strength isn’t all there is to a fight, and from the way he twists to break away, and uses the edge to deflect the follow up blow, it’s evident that this servant knows his way around a blade.

​In fact, he’s good.

​Very good, even.

Drogger watches him the whole time; the sleek, darting way he moves and strikes, so light on his feet and never in one place for too long, and the deft way he can suck away enough force from Hasbar’s strikes by turning them aside instead of crashing at him head on.

It’s not a style typically adopted by soldiers, who tend to lean towards brute strength and length.

​If anything, it’s more suited to those who favour knives.

​(The shortsword suddenly makes a little more sense.)

​Incredibly, his eyes never stop.

​Hasbar’s strengths are his speed, his bloodhound-like tenacity, and when he tries his feints are a thing of beauty, but it’s like this servant sees straight through them.

And not only that, but it’s like the longer they fight, the more patterns he finds, and the clearer he sees the holes in Hasbar’s guard.

Sure, Hasbar lands a few clean hits, but far fewer than he should, considering his training and the servant’s supposed lack of, and whenever they pull away he seems to have a fresh cut.

He seems bewildered.

​A lot of the soldiers seem bewildered.

​Not Khobi, though.

​He seems pleased. Proud, almost, and he yells out encouragement whenever the two opponents break for breath.

Hasbar’s also got the upper hand in terms of physical conditioning, but the servant – Binny , Drogger gathers, from the obnoxious way Khobi is carrying on –doesn’t seem to be faring too badly.

The servants work long, physical hours, after all, and often at pace.

​Focused as they are on the spectacle taking place in the ring, no one notices him approach –at least, not until he’s right next to them, and by that time it’s too late; one of Drogger’s hands landing firm, heavy, and decidedly unimpressed on a shoulder of each Khobi and Rogard.

​"Rogard," he greets darkly, tone much calmer than he feels. " Khobi ." They both jump at the sound of their names, and turn towards him with an appropriate amount of dread in their expressions.

​(" Oh, shit ," Montrel chimes in, even though he’s clearly relieved to have not been addressed directly. If Drogger had a third hand, he would’ve been next in line.)