Wilhelm directed his gaze toward Lugft as he declared a challenge on a future date. His eyes narrowed at the younger Drakken, throwing a temper tantrum as though he were scarcely even a century of age. And all because he was so insecure in himself that a mere Gem could goad him. It was disgraceful, really. But still, he had issued a challenge to combat, and the Right of the Duel was one of the most holy aspects of Drakken culture, with but one possibly surpassing it- the Right of Spoils to the Victor.
"Very well Lugft," he said, calm and composed as ever,
"One of my servants shall bear my terms to you at the proper time, when we have both concluded our... nuptials."At that moment, the Princess moved to speak again. The smirk still playing about her visage left no doubt in Wilhelm's mind that she intended to further provoke those present. At first, he had found it amusing and it had piqued his interest, but her taunting had rapidly lost its novelty as it gave more and more hotheaded nobles the gift of gall to bark and bay about him as though he had any cause to pay them mind. It would cease.
Immediately.As Annayeva called her first sentence and began to finish her second, she would suddenly feel the air in her lungs fly from her, through her throat and out her lovely lips as her words dribbled to a halt in the middle of a phrase. It would feel to her as though she were being strangled by an invisible hand as she sputtered and gasped for air, but found none with which to sustain her breath. As panic surged into her eyes, she felt an icy grip fall upon her shoulder as Wilhelm's hand clenched upon it like a hawk's talon upon a hare. Little sips of oxygen began to respond to her, not enough to speak or perform any strenuous action, but enough that she would live, retain consciousness, and most importantly,
listen."That. Is. Enough." Wilhelm's voice washed over her like a nightmare, pulling all of her attention, all of her thoughts to his words. There was no anger in his tones, no resentment or wrath to be found; only the certainty that he would be heard and obeyed.
"As pleasing as your voice is, my little flower, today it has caused far more trouble to hear than it warrants. In time I will... educate you in such things. But for now you will be silent, lest I address you, and then you will be quick and to the point. Is that clear?"Wilhelm chose not to wait for an answer; the look in Annayeva's eyes as they met his own was more than enough.
"Excellent."A sharp glance toward Kithra told her that the same mandate applied to her, and that she would suffer the same fate should she dissent. By that point, however, Rynek had decided to surpass Lugft's own motion and challenged Wilhelm to single combat then and there. But rather than the Princess' hand, it was Kithra's fate that he wished to hold sway over. His boldness, along with his staking, were surprising enough that Wilhelm's eyebrow was raised in response. Then again, he suspected, it was likely all a facade; Rynek wanted the fight, and nothing more. Well, if it was a battle the royal brat wanted, who was Wilhelm the Black to refuse him?
"Very well, Prince," said Wilhelm as he released the more secure of his two claims,
"Draw your weapon. We fight as we have before- he who yields or is unable to battle further loses. No elements- only steel." As he issued his terms, which was every bit his right as the challenged, Wilhelm took his place several paces away from Rynek. His right hand reached across his body to rest on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it. Instead, he waited, his hawkish eyes never leaving the Prince.
"On your guard."Allowing his eyes to drag away from Kitty and admiring her form, they returned to Wilhelm. With a subtle nod, Rynek turned and whipped his cloak off, throwing it to a nearby Gem girl for safe-keeping. Another few brides had joined the line and they looked as delicious as the previous ones. At least he would still have a selection of impressive looking Gems if he lost. One white-haired girl in particular caught his attention but he was busy now - whoring came after battle.
Turning, he moved into position as his right hand settled on the long hilt of his blade. His left found the sheath, gripping it tightly so that he could both draw the blade and slice if the need arose. With that, his eyes met Wilhelm's and the true battle of wills begun. This was not going to be easy.
The two began to circle one another, the distance between them slowly closing as their revolutions continued. Rynek was aggressive and partially insane, but he was no fool. He would adopt the same method as Wilhelm, to wait until his opponent struck and then launch a counteroffensive. The duel was rapidly becoming a staring contest of lethal proportions, and sooner or later something would have to break.
It was Wilhelm that moved first. Without any warning he bolted across the circle toward Rynek, his right hand flying from his waist toward Rynek's neck! And if there was any doubt in Rynek's mind that this was meant to be anything less than instant death, the killing intent in Wilhelm's eyes would soon absolve it. But Rynek, ever the daredevil, did not raise his own blade to block. Instead, he swayed back enough to duck and avoid the attack before drawing his own blade to strike back.
It was all too late when he noticed that Wilhelm's sword was not in his right hand. Reverse gripped in his left, the black sword flew from its scabbard to lash at Rynek's face, and this time the Prince was forced to abandon his assault and block the attack, shifting his weight to dash past Wilhelm and out of his former mentor's reach. He smiled as Wilhelm's weapon, a black lacquered edge that curved like the reaper's scythe itself, found its home in the older Drakken's right hand. Rynek remembered it well; Wilhelm had them specially forged for his style of combat. It was long and sturdy enough to be able to parry any other blade without being overwhelmed by size, but the crescent shape allowed it to strike in tight spaces that a longsword could not. It was a terror to fight and a challenge to overcome. But, then, Rynek lived for a challenge.
Taking his white blade in hand, the prince squared his stance and advanced with frightening speed. His weapon tore through the air with grizzly force, and even as Wilhelm moved to parry his attacks he found himself needing to shift his stance and reroute his solidarity to sweep the blows aside. More worrisome still was that Rynek only struck with the tip of his blade as he danced about at the edge of Wilhelm's reach, justifiably afraid to close in any further. If he wished to attack, he would have to come into the center of Rynek's ungodly destructive force. A feat any Drakken would hesitate to attempt.
Any Drakken, that is, save Wilhelm the Black.
The instant Rynek showed a slight opening, a delay of merely a second between his attacks, Wilhelm was in motion. The curved black sword came flashing forward at viciously high speeds, and each strike was swiftly followed by another. The blows did not resound with the beastly force that the prince's did, but each of them sent tremors down Rynek's sword all the same as the Drakken Lord concentrated all of his power on the tiniest point and directed it to the vitals of both sword and man. A wide swinging rebuttal forced him to back away to avoid being torn in half, and from there the circling resumed.
"Your skills have improved.""And yours haven't dulled a bit.""Good."From there the battle resumed in much the same fashion. Raw strength and harnessed brutality matched against honed dexterity and weaponized cunning. Overpowering force faced with debilitating precision. A white tiger locked in combat with a black viper. Neither gave an inch to any of the other's efforts, each time repelling the opposition only to seize the initiative and press their own attack. It seemed as though the cycle would never end. But Rynek was growing visibly tired. And though Wilhelm was being equally assailed by weariness, he showed none of it; he simply stood across from his old protege, his breathing constrained to normality and his shoulders held straight and tall.
As Rynek rose to his full height, he took his blade in both hands and burst forth in what could only be achieved with a forward leap, the gap between them rapidly diminishing. Sensing the oncoming blitz, Wilhelm stepped forward himself and lashed out with his own sword, targeting the single weakest point of Rynek's weapon with all the might and precision he had. When the two blade met, they stopped for but a moment as each swordsman attempted to push through his opponent's defense. But the iron will of the men proved more durable than the steel they held; after a single, final, monumental tremble across both edges, the swords broke against one another! As shards of metal flew outward from the point of the clash, both men stood aghast at the result. But Wilhelm recovered ever so slightly faster, and the back of his fist found Rynek's jaw as he struck the prince with a backhanded punch! It was not without reprisal; Rynek's fist soon nestled itself in Wilhelm's abdomen, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Rynek fell back, a dull pain arching from his wrist to the base of his spine. There was only so many times a body could absorb the shock of having a blade hammer down against its own blade before it began to wear down on itself. His teeth ground together, his jaw feeling a little too tight for his liking. He could taste the iron of the blood in his mouth and knew that the rest of him probably wasn't in a good condition. What had begun with a duel until a yield had very nearly broken down into a brawl for life or death.
Rynek had changed over the past few years, and Wilhelm had noticed. He could see that in the older Drakken's eyes. There was surprise there - no one had ever fallen level with him on the battlefield and if the older man was smart, Rynek thought to himself, he would begin to hesitate when it came to the prince. Granted, the Prince's blade had also shattered but he was the only man in the world to ever not lose to Wilhelm the Black. That in itself was a feat to be feared.
"I suppose I owe you a new blade." Although they had previously tried to tear each other to shreds, there was a new respect that had risen between them. Rynek was tired from a war and unarmored yet he still held his own against Wilhelm.
"Take the Gem whores, the both of them. My point has been proved."Wilhelm, ever composed and nonchalant, sucked in a deep, cleansing breath as he stood again and brushed the dust and metal shavings off of his overcoat. The prince had proved fearsome, that much was certain. But still he lacked restraint. If anything, he had become more of a loose cannon than before, and that was troubling. He would have to remember to keep a close watch on the princeling henceforth, he decided.
"If you held no interest in the ladies, you needn't have bothered with them. I'd have faced you all the same, if your goal was to flex your muscles before the court. I may even have faced you plainly. But no matter. A battle well fought to you, my prince. Enjoy the selection that remains, I have had my fill. And, if there are no other matters to attend to, I will take my catch and be out of the way." "Kithra, Annayeva. To me, if you please."With a simple gesture of his hand, he beckoned his new wife and her new attendant to his side and leisurely made his way to the side of the room, there to watch the rest of the proceedings with the formal half interest that had grown to become him.
"If you've any questions of me, I will give you leave to speak them. And them alone."@Feisty-Pants@NarcissisticPotato@my Lalia[@Every other bloody player in this bloody RP, pretty much.]
