House Disputes
Story by kleet on SoFurry
Two nobel houses decide to settle things the old fashioned way: By having champions fight in the arena.
A commission for kz2101 on FA
House Disputes
The Magistrate strode out onto the high balcony of his mansion, causing the gathered crowd of nobles and warriors below to quiet.
“Let it be known that on this day, House Vermoe official accepts the challenge from House Erthus. The dispute over land on their borders will be settled by combat-“
The final words from the pontiff were drowned out by the rhythmic stomping of spears on the smooth flagstones and the clapping of swords on shields. The armies of both Houses were keen to show their strength for the nobles gathered. This was the first time in a decade that tensions had escalated far enough for a formal challenge to be raised – and accepted.
“Remember to utilise your arsenal, Ciruleus. Your tail and wing-tips are just as ready to fell a foe as your breath. Do not leave that length trailing on the ground to be stabbed, keep your tail moving”
“I know how to fight, Cirux” the younger dragon responded, staring into the scared veteran’s eyes as he strapped on his thin armour.
“And you know I am undefeated in the ring. This isn’t a battlefield, hatchling. The arena is different. Just like that armour!”
The battle-worn white raised a foreleg and slashing at the shoulder-guard of the younger blue. His nails left deep grooves in the thin metal. Cirus chuckled at the look of shock on his apprentice’s face before circling behind him at a leisurely pace and continuing his lesson.
“It is mostly for show. You cannot risk being encumbered in a fight like this. Your scales will need to save you – or your agility. Now, as I was saying – keep your tail moving, use your breath to burn or blind. And if it is required, take a hit. A scar is cheaper than your life. And a scarred hero will earn more respect from Erthus’s elites – believe me on that one” the elder dragon said, surreptitiously scratching at the deep grooves on his right flank.
“W- Why even bother with armour like this! How can you expect me to bleed on purpose!”
“Relax, young warrior. This is not a fight against dragons, or even mages. You will be the victor, and win the favour of our house. A scar will just encourage them to shower you with praise. The armour is to change that youthful look and kindly calm into a beast of battle. Your opponents will see a creature of war.
“Now, as I was saying: Keep your tail moving, and...”
“Keep your guard up”
“I know what I’m doing, Arthus. I’ve fought the arena before”
“Yes, but this time it won’t end with a picked pocket – so keep your guard up so I can’t-“
Frustrated with the stocky clansman approaching her, Tierie feigned and parried with her silver sword – easily working inside Arthus’s guard and forcing the man backwards against the wall.
“You should pay less attention to my guard and more on your own, Arthus. Or did you forget that I had a general to teach me how to use a sword?”
The thief lowered Ardenthurn, her blade, and ran a hand through her hair to remove it from her face. He could feel her muscles burning lightly from the hard training, enjoying the feeling of exertion and adrenaline. Picking up a water-skin, she drank deeply before tossing it to Arthus.
“The daughter of a general. And here I am, an outcast of an outlaw clan”
“Hah! With nothing but your reputation as a deadly assassin and powerful mercenary to keep your belly full. How do you manage in such a cut-throat city as this?”
“Ha! Touché”
The two sparing partners sat side-by-side as they recovered. Tierie adjusted the grip on her sword, taking care of the leather, as Arthus oiled his shorter dual blades.
“So why do you fight with me for Vermoe, my renegade clansman?”
“The same reason as you, my lady – freedom. In my case, a pardon. In your case, to avoid the noble lifestyle”
“My father is a general, not a noble”
“True. But with a sword-arm like yours, he won’t be able to marry you above your station”
“...touché”
The crowd was silent – mostly because the two high houses considered themselves above the cheering masses that usually filled the arena benches – as the sun slowly climbed to its apex. In the soft sand below, the dragon Ciruleus slowly padded around the Erthus end of the ring. His long ears twitched and his strong tail and wings flexed as he sized up the small duo that would be his opponents. His sharp eyes could see that the sword the female carried was far superior to the rest of their equipment. The male would be a greater threat at close range, but he expected that he would easily overpower them both.
The two humans stood in a ready stance, weapons drawn and waiting for the midday gong that would signal the fight’s beginning. Arthus could hear Tierie’s loud breathing – clearly the lady was struggling to keep her composure. He could feel the old battle wounds on his back itch with anticipation of battle, the more feral section of his mind pushing itself to the front as his blades called for blood to sate their desires.
The Magistrate looked down on the arena, his face hidden behind a peaked hood and porcelain mask that protected his pale skin from receiving a “common” tan. Raising a hand to silence the already quiet crowd, his voice carried his message to the ground below.
“Prepare yourselves, warriors. You fight for more than your own lives; you fight for your Houses”
As minute after slow minute ticked by, the shadows around the nervous fighters became thinner and thinner. Suddenly a loud ringing bell sounded – the gong’s drone causing the crowd to stand as the three fighters began to advance on each other.
Arthus wheeled towards the imposing dragon, easily rolling under the dragon’s reaching paw and bringing one of his blades across the knee join – the blade scratching over the thin metal and cutting through the scales beneath. Ciruleus roared in pain before leaping away from the small stocky human. Whipping his tail around, he struck the dark skinned man and knocked him across the sand.
“Arthus!” Tierie cried out, moving towards the dragon with sword ready before her. She could only look on in shock as the beast shifted carefully on three legs and unleashed a torrent of corrosive breath at her companion – the caustic fumes engulfing the human before he could recover or escape. She could barely hear the blood-curdling scream from the thrashing body caught in the dragon’s acidic blast – her heart pounding louder in her ears. She pushed herself to move faster, already in the shade of the dragon’s spread wings.
Ciruleus roared as he watched the burning man cower and curl from his attack, his swords long forgotten as his skin blistered and fell from his body. His ear twitched at the noise behind him. Turning his head, he brought his tail around in a slow sweep – attempting to swat his second foe away. His attack struck nothing, as the woman had already rolled beneath his belly. Kneeling near his injured leg, he could see the flash of silver as she pushing her glittering sword deep into his navel.
-
Tierie thrust Ardenthurn deep into the dragon’s belly, her rage fuelling her powerful arms. She did not stop until her arms were covered with the warm life-blood of the howling dragon. As the beast reared back away from her mortal blow, she tightened her grip and thrust her blade to the side, following it in a low roll to clear the beast’s reach. She looked on, her faced locked in a hateful grimace, as the dragon’s legs and tail thrashed – his forepaws futilely trying to stem the tide of viscera spilling out of the large gash. The smell of acidic blood and sundered bowels barely covered the sickening scent of Arthus’s half-dissolved body. She could not bring her gaze to look at the clansman that lay dead nearby. Instead, she focused on the writhing enemy before her. She cut at one of the dragon’s wings as it flapped close to where she stood – not needing to hurt the creature further, but not wanting the beast to touch her, not after the damage he had caused to her heart.
Ciruleus’s eyes were wide, his torso in agony from the gash through his navel. His strength left his body as he rolled onto his back, his injured wing bent awkwardly below him. He could only see the silent crowd of his house – their faces filled with anger and disgust at the dragon’s failure.
He struggled to curl his neck and raise his head towards the woman that had wounded him, hoping to get one last blast of deadly breath to hit her – but before he could take a gasping breath, he saw that cursed silver sword plunge past his hanging guts and stab deep into his pulsing heart. His chest exploded in ice-cold pain as the steel sundered the mighty muscle. Blood flowed like a burst wine cask from his belly, his body spasming in a final spasm of fear and agony. His eyes wide open, his head flopped down into the now red-stained sands. The final sound to reach his ears was the mournful cry of Cirux.
“The battle is over” the Magistrate said, standing once more on the high balcony of the arena. “House Erthus’s champion has fallen. House Vermoe is victorious. The disputed lands of Erthus will now be passed into Vermoe’s control.
“Champion Tierie, you have gained the status of Lady of Erthus. You may make one request of the household. What do you wish?”
“A pardon for Arthus” The silent crowd murmured at the request, several of them having lost sons and daughters to the raiding clansman.
“Arthus is dead, my lady. He is beyond redemption. You have waste your request”
Tierie closed her eyes to help hold back the tears at the loss of her ally. If it eases his soul, it is not wasted.