[center]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220927/23fb834f443fddf069b302a80ffae13a.png[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220927/713c9ea7f90a3bccf2680492bc93671a.png[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220928/bcf4c8fb894d886cf1f86d12d903935e.png[/img]

[color=1E90FF][b]Interactions[/b]: Roman [@ReusableSword][/color]
[color=1E90FF][b]Mentions[/b]: Mayet [@13org] Riona [@JJ Doe][/color]
[color=1E90FF][b]Time[/b]: 1530[/color]
[/center]

Sjan-dehk had to agree; this whole thing was far too much of a spectacle for his liking. 

Then again, he only did know of two kinds of duels. There was the sort which arose – rather naturally, he’d add – from the festive and oftentimes drunken mood of a banquet. Simple displays of combat skill, that’s all they were. A chance to learn techniques and share experiences with like-minded peers. The other was usually a more serious affair. Slighted officers and nobles had a tendency to right perceived wrongs via a fight with none of the usual risks of battle. Regardless, prestige was at stake in either circumstance, and neither was something carried out in the presence of a large audience. A moderate one, perhaps, and it would almost certainly be a closed affair at the very least. 

Here, it was completely different. Between the wild and unrestrained audience, the blaring trumpets which heralded the king’s arrival, and said king’s attempt to direct the crowd’s cacophonous fervour towards his son, this all felt like a sporting event than anything else. Sjan-dehk wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it; on the one hand, a bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone. On the other, making it a show, a form of entertainment, felt almost gratuitous. 

Or perhaps, he was simply putting too much thought into it. Roman [i]did[/i] say that only fought to the point of submission. Likely, it was nothing like the blood sport Sjan-dehk was imagining, the gladiatorial matches that were said to be so common during the high point of the old Viserjantan Empire. 

By the time he took his seat and got settled, the current fight was already reaching its end. Even so, there was enough action for Sjan-dehk to see that both fighters were evidently highly skilled. Their blades shone in the light, the clang of their clashes reverberating over the roar of the crowd. It was impossible to know which was the favourite, but Sjan-dehk doubted it mattered. Eventually, one duellist got the better of the other. Judging by the reaction of the crowd, and the chanting of his name, Sjan-dehk assumed that it was the local prince that won.

[color=1E90FF][i]“Yes. Lady Adiyan speaks for Daraya, second of her name. Our High Queen.”[/i][/color] Sjan-dehk took advantage of the relative lull that fell over the arena after the two fighters cleared the stage to answer Roman. There wasn’t much he could say, however. Most of him was still trying to figure out why Roman would’ve brought up the issue of manpower, or the lack thereof. Was he hinting that his lands traded in people? That would be awkward. The High Queen had been especially harsh towards those who dabbled in the flesh trade.

Sjan-dehk decided to shrug off those thoughts. It was far more likely that it was just another instance of his poor command of Caesonian coming back to bite him. [color=1E90FF][i]“Food, wine, medicine, all good. Dried is best. We sailed far to come here.”[/i][/color] There was likely more that the trade delegation would be interested in, but those three categories were what stood out to Sjan-dehk the most. [color=1E90FF][i]“We have weapons too. Mostly bows. Also crossbows. Sudah, that is the trade ship, she has gems and metals and woods. Good for crafting. Spices and wine also. Your lands, what do...Does it need?”[/i][/color]

Once again, Sjan-dehk declined to mention the guns and cannons that were available for trade. 

Before Roman could give his response, the next fight started. He helpfully provided the name of one of the duellists along with his assessment of their skills. Sjan-dehk nodded as if he understood. For all he knew, this ‘Mayet’ could be either of the two. He watched with rapt attention, in any case, leaning slightly forward with arms resting on his thighs. This was the first time he observed fighting styles originating from places beyond the boundaries of his home region. There was much he could learn, and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

Both fighters were women, by the looks of it, one more obviously so than the other. That was about as far as their similarities went. Their arms and clothing of choice diverged greatly, with one so wrapped up that she was conspicuous in her attempts to remain hidden; the other wearing little enough to make Sjan-dehk immediately believe that she had plenty of skill to back up her confidence. As if to accentuate the point, she hefted a curious looking weapon, a circular blade that didn’t seem to have an obvious handle. 

Sjan-dehk knew whom he would be watching closer. 

After a brief greeting, the fight began. The wielder of the circular blade fought with the fluidity and grace of a raging river. Every movement of each limb flowed into the other, her weapon guided by the current. Her opponent was no pushover, however. She weaved between the strikes, allowing the deadly circle to cut through air where she could and expertly deflecting it with her blade where she couldn’t. Sjan-dehk could only imagine the amount of force that came behind each strike of the circle. He had fought against curved blades before – such vicious weapons were favoured by the northern sea raiders – and they were always fearsome to see unsheathed, and tricky to deal with. 

Sjan-dehk wasn't sure how much time had passed, but soon both women stood apart once more. For a moment, he thought he had missed something amidst the turbulent fray. Perhaps one of them had caught a blade somewhere. He was swiftly proven wrong, however, when the ring-blade wielder adopted a new stance and swiftly resumed her offensive. 

This time, she was much faster on the attack, with kicks punctuating each swing of the blade. Sjan-dehk found himself nodding in agreement without even knowing it. A warrior’s first and best weapon was their body; that was the first thing every Viserjantan soldier and sailor learned in training. Brandish a sword, a gun, a bow, or any weapon, and that was all most opponents would see. Few would expect to catch a fist to the jaw, a kick to the chest, or an elbow to the head. 

The fight intensified with each swing and each parry. Sjan-dehk furrowed his brows. Was this still a fight to submission? It felt as if they were just one misjudged limb or one mistimed attack away from turning this into a very, very bloody affair. He could tell that the swordswoman was already beginning to tire under the furious onslaught of the ring-blade wielder. The latter struck like a surging river, each attack eroding more of the former’s strength, each attack widening the gap needed for the decisive blow. 

That blow came not too long after. Sjan-dehk couldn’t for the life of him understand the stance adopted by the ring-blade wielder, and neither was he going to try, but he did know one thing. He’d fought in enough battles to know a killing blow when he saw one. His hands went for the armrests of his seat, gripping them with knuckle-white strength, and he clenched his jaw. Surely, someone had to have seen the same thing and would be calling for an end to the fight. They had to, otherwise everyone would soon be witnesses to an execution. 

But no one moved. [color=1E90FF]“She’s going to fucking die!”[/color] He called out in his native tongue, but the clamour of the excited crowd whisked away his voice the minute it left his lips. Something had to be done. By the laws of his native Viserjanta, this would be the moment when the swordswoman’s second would jump in to stop the fight by force if necessary. Applying it here, to Sorian, was foolish – Sjan-dehk knew that even as his right hand flew across his body for the pistol on his left – but to do nothing was a moral wrong. 

To take a shot from this range at a moving target, and to hope to hit it, called for more luck than skill. Then again, Sjan-dehk didn’t need to shoot the ring-blade wielder. He just needed to cause enough trouble to hopefully get someone to stop everything. A gunshot would likely suffice in that. Sjan-dehk started to stand up, his hand already sliding the pistol from its holster.

A lion let out a ferocious roar. The ring-blade wielder caught herself just in time. She pulled it away from the swordswoman at the very last moment. Sjan-dehk fell back into his seat, exhaling as if he had been holding his breath for ages. The pistol fell back into its holster. 

Silence descended over the arena. For a moment, nothing happened. It was as if everyone and everything needed time to process what had just happened.

Then came the deafening applause and cheers from the crowd. Sjan-dehk didn’t join in; his heart was still racing from that narrowly-avoided disaster. However, he did find it in him to look over to Roman to answer his quip from during the fight. At least, Sjan-dehk thought he had heard him say something; as far as he knew, it could’ve just been his imagination, but he really wasn’t in any state of mind to debate such things with himself. [color=1E90FF][i]“It was…Exciting. She…Ah, Mayet, has good control. Very close.”[/i][/color] Even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure if he believed them. A fighter with truly good control wouldn't have needed a literal lion's roar to narrowly avoid killing their opponent. Sjan-dehk couldn't say he didn't understand, however; he doubted he'd be able to keep himself under control in a similar situation.

Not that it mattered, ultimately. It wasn't his place to judge.

He drew in a deep breath. [color=1E90FF][i]"Too close."[/i][/color]