"And so, two years ago this Autumn, our newly Crowned Queen Regent, her now Consort and Commander at Arms, The Wolf Lord, met with the Eagle, High Lord Shiar and the Heir Prince Caelur in a Faery copse to prevent our two great forces from coming to blows..." The herald called out over the still crowd, her voice carrying through the heat, only accented by the sounds of creaking metal and leather. 

" There, they toiled for hours, before coming to an agreement which would later be turned into a Peace Treaty and still later into this Grand Alliance we are celebrating here, on this first day of Summer! In the Sellexun traditions, the Prince Heir has decreed a tournament between all warriors in the Alliance in order to find a fitting Alliance Champion. There will be three categories: The Melee, The Warrior and the Jouster. Fighters can compete in one, two or all categories and the clearest winner will be decided by our Regents!"

Shiar stood in his armour, helmet under his arm, listening to the explanation drone on and on as he scanned the area. Caelur sat beside the Queen, her Consort and some other Nobles who hadn't chosen to join in the actual tournament, chatting idly in the warm summer sun. 

It was the fellow warriors around him that he was most concerned with, listening to the Sellexun grumble about having to fight women and the Aupanans bristling though perhaps only understanding the condescension and ridicule of the tones accompanying bold glances. Some kept their helmets on, though not all. A large woman, with short dirty blonde hair and a scar across her face met his gaze and gave him a vicious smile. 

He continued gazing around dispassionately, curious about the unknown fighters and trying to gauge how they would meet him in a battle. Some here were un-landed warriors, seeking for the honour to fight and make a name for themselves. Some were Nobles not wanting, or allowed to, fight for their family honour but still seeking to fight none the less.

He bowed along with the rest of them as the ceremony came to the end and walked back towards his tents, listening to the jousting start. He winced at the sudden thundering crash of bone, metal and wood that rang through the air behind him, shaking his head and reaffirming his lack of desire to compete in that event. He had long lost the desire to chase another man with a stick, for reasons other than actual war.

***

"M'lady Wyn, it is obvious who my chosen fighter is." The Prince waved at the back of the retreating Shiar, winking to her in good humour. "But you have yet to indicate who you are cheering for. You must choose someone but I would understand if you agreed with me in my choice."

Wyn laughed softly, offering him a shrug. "Well, I don't know much about Jousting, to be honest, but I chose the same person as Queen Rael for the fighting."

Caelur raised a brow, looking between the two women though neither one of them was letting on who this mystery fighter was. He glanced away from them finally, noticing Kannein glowering as he watched the events of the joust. "You're not happy, my friend."

"I just wish I could be out there, your highness, as you must as well" Came the gruff reply, though the explanation seemed a bit hollow, judging from the amused glances from his female companions.

He laughed in sympathy, nodding. "I've always wanted to join the tournaments but I seem to ruin it, as none of my fighters will fight me. So, I've come to the unhappy conclusion of staying on the sidelines. I am just more used to it, than you, I suppose."

Kannein paused for a moment, before inclining his head and offering a slightly less dour smile. "Yes, I suppose I cannot complain to you about the restrictions of our safety."

"Yes, Kan, you can't be the Queen's consort and the Alliance's Champion all at once. Don't be greedy." Wyn laughed and winked to Caelur, finally willing to answer his initial question. "One of the Queen's Foxes has chosen to fight in the Melee and the one on one Fighting. Out of loyalty, that's our Champion"

"Well here's hoping your champion doesn't face mine right off. I'd hate to have you angry at me so early in the tournament, m'lady." Caelur laughed, watching her blush once again, to his delight.

***

Nerini stood in the tent, alone. 

She didn't have retainers or pages or any of the followers most of the other fighters did. She had a tent, lit carefully by two lamps, walls blocking off a separate interior room within the larger tent in addition the exterior doors being equipped with bells to announce anyone coming in. She had sat in here that morning after the opening announcements, listening to the jousting, hearing the pounding of horse hooves and the crunching of wood and metal. Shuddering at the cries of pain from the unlucky ones.

She winced at a particularly painful sounding crash and shook her head, not understanding the point behind that event. Even in war, two horses would rarely charge one another. It was usually the Calvary's job to crush the infantry or rout a well defended position with speed and force. Standing and fighting once you fell in that heavy armour was a death trap and so it was a rider's honour to stay on their horse.

She had heard the winner declared, a Lord from one of the isles, bringing a lot of honour to his own country, making her smile ruefully. Even with her belief in peace, Nerini still cheered against Sellexu and was nervous about it herself, hoping that she would be beating some of them this afternoon. 

She had eaten lightly throughout the day, drinking more water than she had really wanted knowing the metal armour was heavier and hotter than she was used to. Still, she waited until hearing the break for lunch declared over, then rose to her feet and looked at herself in the lone mirror in the tent, frowning at her reflection. The war paint over her eyes, her hair braided in the fashion of her mother's people, they were now small remembrances of a people no one else knew had been massacred.

"Time to prove it, girl."

She didn't like helmets but she needed the heavier armour for the melee. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with it, in the past she had fought and moved and travelled in this stuff, had forced herself to get used to it in case she ever had to use it. It just wasn't her preferred method of armour but it also helped obscure her identity from those around her. 

She let out a slow breath and pulled her helmet over her head, closing the helm and walking out into the sunlight. She wasn't wearing her cloak today, knowing the chaos of twenty some fighters in one ring and not wanting to be caught by it. Her swords were upside down on her back, as always and her short dagger in a sheath built into the armour of her left leg. She was in white again, the metal lacquered and sculpted, looking almost more ornamental than functional. 

 She stepped into the ring, glancing around at the warriors spread out throughout the makeshift arena and taking measure of what she was facing. It was ringed by four-foot wooden fencing, only a top runner and a cross beam, enough to use to push off of but probably wouldn't catch the weight of bigger opponents if they crashed into it. The ground was comprised of sand and saw dust, to soak up blood and provide a softer ground to land on, she supposed.

Spectators were further cut off, about six feet back from the arena on all sides, with another railing and interspersed guards standing ready to hold them back.

She inclined her head to a couple warriors she knew, Belmora, the large scarred long sword instructor from her childhood, being one of them. The woman was twice her side, her scarred features hidden behind the mask of her helmet and was the only person on the arena pitch who knew it was Nerini staring back at her. 

Belmora raised the massive blade just slightly in salute and remained across the arena. They would not fight one another unless absolutely necessary; an unspoken code of sorts, but they would not form an alliance, knowing that would just increase the likelihood of one of them having to turn on each other eventually. They would fight separately, in hopes that they would not have to meet one another at all.

Her gaze continued to wander and she spotted the Eagle Lord, his silver armour shining with an  blue tint. Shiar stood with his helm open, exposing his mossy eyes and dark stare while holding his bastard sword and short sword, common weapons of choice for Sellexu. Heavier, slower, but stronger. 

One of those could cleave through her armour a lot easier than her thin, razor sharp blades could. She met his gaze for a long couple moments, then gave him a barely perceptible nod. "I'm coming for you" she mouthed, knowing he could not see it behind the grating of her helmet, nor could he even meet her eyes across the distance. 

His head titled, as if in askance, his eyes sharpening before he turned his attention to the herald, who read out the rules just then.

"Melee. Last fighter wins. No duel will be to the death and injury is not the target. Disarm and defeat as necessary. If you leave the arena, whether willingly or not, you will be considered defeated."

She listened to the translation then silenced her mind, letting the world become still and narrowing it to the small space around her. Nothing outside that fence mattered and so she made the sounds drop away till all she could hear was the creaking of metal and the swish of her blades as she pulled them from their sheaths. 

The horn sounded and she embraced the pause, feeling as if she had frozen in one place as time continued around her, seeing everyone else moving. It was the oddest feeling of peace, that stillness, as her mind clicked into the realities of a battle. 

Without much warning, she was in the fight, ducking the swing of a battle axe, rolling and hitting the heavily armoured islander hard on the backs of his legs with the flat of her  two blades, causing his knee to buckle under him. She kept moving and  launched a kick at his head as she flipped over his form , seeing the axe fly from his grasp. She barely had time to turn from him as he collapsed to the ground, meeting the forceful charge of a Sellexun lord, swinging his broadsword wildly and putting her back on her heels as her hands vibrated from lifting her blades to meet his.

 She ducked the swing of his shield and spun, kicking up off the fence she had been backed into and landed beside him as he stumbled past. A quick shoulder-check used his momentum to send him flying over the fencing and out of contention for the melee.

Somewhere, in the crowd, she knew there would be chimes and announcements on who had been taken out of the fight so far but that was not her world, not part of her battle and so it remained lost in the silence of her focus for the time being. She didn't hear the cheers or the yells or the curses, not unless they were in that arena and mostly only if they were directed at her.

She laughed and launched into an attack on an Aupanan Knight, meeting his broadsword and curved dagger in a flurry of blows that had him on his heels and pushed across the arena from her ferocity.

***

Wyn leaned forward, watching the woman decked in the Regent's white armour race across the arena, her own hands clenched as she focused on the fierce battle before them. Rael placed a hand on her arm, sensing the anxiety running through her friend and pulling her back into the moment to encourage her to sit back to see the greater arena. She let out a breath and glanced at her companions. Kannein and the Prince were placing wagers between the Aupanan long sword instructor and High Lord Shiar who kept meeting in a clang of metal and force, near the centre of the arena.

Wyn winced, knowing Kannein didn't realize his sister was out there and thankful of that fact, as he would most likely be giving it away right now. Most Foxes fought in the same style, taught, like her and Rael, by Nerini. He had not spent a great deal of time studying his sister's fighting style and so appeared oblivious to the fact that the sister he was mad at for skipping this event, was in the heart of it.

"She's holding back." Rael whispered softly to her.

 Wyn nodded. "She's having fun. Biding her time for something. What is she playing at?"

"Lady Belmora of Three Rivers has been defeated by High Lord Shiar!" Came the herald's announcement. 

Kannein cursed and sat back, though he was chuckling and inclined his head to the Prince in concession. It had been a friendly wager between the two side lined fighters, trying to keep their desire to fight buried in a different sort of competition. He had, of course, bet on his old instructor out of loyalty.  Though Belmora was talented, she was closer to his father's age than their's and slowing down.

Wyn looked back to the arena and let out a breath, seeing only a handful of fighters left already. She turned to Caelur who was saying. "So that warrior in White, that is who you're cheering for?"

She nodded simply, grinning wider as the Herald announced before she could answer:
"Sakil the Junior, Dragon Lord of Sellexu, is defeated by The Fox of Aupana's Diplomats."

"Yes! Of course, who else?" Wyn laughed, clapping along with Rael as they turned back to watch the fight that was beginning to take form.

***

Shiar spun away from his fallen foe, frowning and meeting the attack from another Sellexun warrior, seeing a flash of white move on the edge of his vision. He had noticed it while he was in battle with the scarred warrior woman from Aupana. 

Grudgingly having to focus on the one opponent in front of him, he was sure they would be attacked by the other fighters looking for an easy win while he was fighting the Aupanan. But the white armoured warrior had danced around the arena, almost as if protecting the two fighters in their battle.

That didn't make any sense, unless she had been trying to protect the other woman, who had seemed to acknowledge the white clad fighter before the fight had begun. Still, however, he found that he was left to his devices, able to fight opponents while others were kept from attacking him from behind.

He launched a straight kick to the man's chest, sending him flying back to skitter across the ground and coming to a rest, where he remained, unmoving. Shiar growled to himself at the rush of it, his body thrumming with the excitement of battle.

He spun, taking a breath as he watched three Sellexun swordsmen parrying and attacking the mysterious fighter and started striding across the arena in their direction as there were no remaining opponents for him to battle. 

 He paused, seeing the first Sellexun knight lose his sword in a flash of red that sent him screaming to the ground holding his arm. Next was the short sword wielding un-landed warrior from his homeland who received a shoulder check and head butt that sent him tumbling over the fence, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground.

The final one only took two more parries, a block and a leg sweep that ended with a sword butt denting in his face shield and dropping him unconscious to the ground. In the time it took Shiar to cross towards her, the woman had finished three opponents at once, none of whom were poor fighters by any means.

Shiar had closed the distance, so that they were within five feet of one another when the other warrior spun up and faced him. The white was now sprayed with droplets blood, coated in dirt and bits of sand, marring the beauty of its craftsmanship. If one thought armour was meant to be beautiful, it would have been a shame. To him, it seemed to enhance the ferocity of his final opponent. The helm was not ornate, but it created shadows, making it impossible to see the features of the fighter within, as if he were looking at darkness in human form.

***

The world stopped, giving her time to breathe and she found herself facing Shiar as she had hoped she would. He was panting, she could hear his breath echoing in the metal of his armour as he took his time surveying her from across the distance between them. A distance that he could cover with his longer sword, quite easily. 

She felt frozen again, only capable of breathing and waiting for him to move. She knew he was as tired as she was, that he was pooling with sweat and breathing hard beneath the hot sun in the heavy armour that would protect a fighter in the chaos of battle such as this as surely as it would bake them alive.

Her right hand ached where she had punched into the metal helm and her arms felt like they were lagging down towards the ground, complaining that they had fought more people than they needed to, in far heavier armour than they liked. 

Nerini wanted a drink of water, badly, and her ears were ringing from the echoes inside the stuffy metal helmet. 

 She grinned and nodded to him again, murmuring in Cleandrian, a language he wasn't likely to know. "And so we meet again."

The expression on his face told her he had no idea what she had said, though he grinned in challenge nonetheless.

***

"I think your Fox did this on purpose." Caelur said softly, sitting back in his chair as the two faced off. 

The crowd was silent, poised patiently, waiting for the fighting to continue and shocked at how easily dispatched most of the favourites had been. Usually the melee was more than a fight between a couple fighters but it didn't seem like there had been any purpose than to bring Shiar in contact with the warrior in white.

Wyn blinked and looked over to him, raising a brow. "On purpose?" 

"Yeah, at first, I thought it was the Aupanan warrior being protected, but the Fox worked at it after she was down until it was just the two of them. Avoided him until they were face to face. You can see the tactics in every fight she chose. She singled Shiar out for a one on one battle."

"Or they could just be two proficient warriors who managed to come out on top. Aupana and Sellexu, to answer the age-old question of who is better." Kannein murmured softly, watching the arena with singular focus.

"They are evenly matched." Rael replied, glancing to Wyn then back to the arena as the sword fight started anew. Neither fighter was giving or gaining ground yet, seeming to be testing one another or trying to regain their breath after the flurry of battle.

"I may have to agree with his majesty, to be honest. I think Rael's Fox wanted a shot at the Eagle." Wyn winked to Caelur who chuckled and nodded to her, though he wasn't sure if the amusement in her gaze was from a personal joke or because of something he had said. 

"And here's a fight." Rael answered, frowning as the battle began to pick up in front of them.

***

It was a pattern that he fell into but couldn't predict in a more precise form, or change, because they merely continued to exchange blows back and forth, the initiative switching and shifting constantly. He would attack, then he would defend, redirect and counter-attack. They danced in a circle, blades scraping off one another and every so often came the screech along a span of armour. 

He was forced to move quicker than he was used to, rely more on finesse than brute power against her. He knew if he could land one solid blow with his heavier sword, it would make a difference but without finesse he would be left behind as the other warrior moved lightly, almost seeming to float mid-air as she attacked. 

Sweat dripped down his spine and into his eyes as his arms dragged more and more with each movement. When a blow landed it was due to exhaustion, not skill, and neither opponent scored any lasting damage with it.

 He believed he was fighting a woman, based on the higher pitch of her voice, and the sound of her breathing beneath the armour. But nothing else would have given that away. She was as ferocious and unrelenting as any other warrior he had met in battle. And it seemed as if she wanted to make him pay for something.

He stumbled, she leapt on that, attacking with as much ferocity as she could summon up, her blades flashing. But as quickly as it started, the momentum stopped as he finally managed to catch up. It left her growling as he caught himself and returned her attack in an answering volley that left them with crossed swords, face to face, panting and at a draw that would require a miracle of strength or finesse to break. 

It was an impasse that was crying out for a sudden burst of something from one of them. But neither of the fighters could summon anything extra, having sweated and fought until their bodies were only able to hold on to the status quo, nothing more.

***

The Horn sounded, declaring the fight over.

Nerini blinked, not pulling back as she felt him refusing to give any quarter. They were both locked against one another, his weight screaming against her arms though neither one wanted to give way. He was so close they could smell each-other's sweat and feel the heat radiate from  each other's sun cooked armour. 

The horn sounded again and slowly she could make out the Herald's announcement of a draw between the two warriors. She growled viciously, pushing off the larger Knight as he pulled back, using his momentum against him out of anger. 

She kept her swords drawn, carried at a low ready position as she turned to face where the Regents were, glaring at the Herald as he announced the Judges had declared a draw at the melee and an end of fighting for the day.

The sounds of the crowds filtered back into her existence and she heard cheering, as if both sides were celebrating a win. She watched Rael standing on the dais beside the Prince- Heir Caelur, with Kannein and Wyn standing slightly off to the side. 

Her friends were watching her cautiously, the prince and her brother exchanging words. They were waiting for her. And Nerini just stood there, glaring at them. She wasn't ready to stop, hadn't asked for it to be declared a draw. She could fight until she dropped dead if she had to, but this sudden cessation gave her no conclusion and only left her blood boiling.

"They are waiting for us to accept their decision." Shiar muttered under his breath, in Aupanan.

"I know what they're waiting for." She snarled back. "this isn't done."

Shiar slid his sword away in its sheath slowly, far more controlled than she was, apparently. "For today it is."

She sketched a bow to the Regents, sheathing her swords as she did so, her movements showing her anger but allowing for the appropriate courtesy, nodding. "You fought well, Eagle Lord."

" High Lord Shiar. And you?"

She shrugged and offered him another sketch of a bow, this one full of irony, letting out a slow breath before turning away from him. "I'm a Fox. Just call me Foxes, M'lord Shiar."