Manfred barely recovered from his shock in time to sidestep Juan's initial attack. He found himself allotted only a few seconds afterward to unsheathe his own longsword and immediately swing it through a series of guard positions to block a flurry of his opponent's followup strikes. Juan retained a strong advance, constantly pushing Manfred toward the back wall. His saber blurred from the speed of its attacks. By some miracle, Manfred kept up and defended himself, exhibiting a surprising adeptness in the Torlenian style.

Still, Manfred's breath caught in his throat and his heart raced from the tension. Every incoming sword stroke looked to be his last, but he managed to block or parry every one in rapid succession. Juan wasn't letting up. But neither had Manfred's training failed him yet.

Manfred gasped when he backed into a chair and stumbled. Juan immediately took advantage of his faltering footwork to swing a heavy-handed blow. A quick jerk of Manfred's sword knocked the saber aside, but Juan had still succeeded in knocking him further off balance. He caught himself on a nearby table, but having taken one hand off his hilt to do so rendered his moves with his lengthy sword much more sluggish.

Juan came in for a blow to the chest, which Manfred blocked. But the older man redirected his blade with a quick pivot, and Manfred wasn't able to defend in time. The curved blade bit into his shoulder, drawing a hiss to his lips and blood to the surface.

Manfred stumbled away with his longsword in a guard position that covered most of his body. When Juan charged at him again, he kicked a nearby chair into his path. Sputtering curses, Juan tripped and landed on his hands and knees. Manfred rushed in to snatch the curved blade from his hand.

But a swift swipe of the saber kept Manfred at bay, and before he could advance again, Juan had already leapt to his feet. He kicked the chair back. Manfred cried out at the impact of wood on his shins. But he found himself forced to ignore the pain in favor of parrying a lightning-fast cut from his opponent. This time, he saw the pivoting return strike coming, so he warded that attack off as well.

Manfred and Juan continued in a mostly balanced fight consisting of strong offense countered by equally thorough defense. Due to inexperience, Manfred faltered here and there, but he always managed to recover in time to avoid serious injury. The slice in his shoulder bothered him constantly throughout the fight, but the thought that any mistake could mean far worse injury motivated him to keep going.

Juan's ever-moving sword confused Manfred at first when it swung in an X-shaped pattern so fast that it became invisible. But judging by the position of his opponent's arm, Manfred used the greater heft of his longsword to stop the smaller blade's momentum and temporarily throw Juan off balance.

Juan recovered so quickly that Manfred puzzled over if he had truly stumbled or not. Another attack whizzed at Manfred's eye, so he parried. His longsword blade swiveled around the other and tore halfway into Juan's neck. The nobleman's eyes widened, and a weak grunt escaped his lips. Blood spurted from an artery, and when Manfred yanked his sword away in shock, the flow only grew stronger.

The saber clattered from Juan's hand, and then he dropped to his knees with a loud crack. He weakly attempted breathing for another second before falling face first onto the floor. His growing puddle of blood reddened the wooden floorboards.

Witnessing his second death for the day, Manfred's heart beat erratically. He dropped his own sword out of shock and fell to his own knees, throat tightening so much he could barely breathe. A war broke out in his mind as he debated whether or not what he had just done was really right. What made him and Juan any different?

Manfred further lamented the fact that he hadn't just killed any traitorous knight; he had just slain Juan Feliz, Andre's father. How would he tell him? What would he tell him? Surely Andre wouldn't be easily swayed to the opinion that his father, the most respectable knight the order had to offer, was in reality a double agent with a hand in both Monterayne and Innutuk's coffers.

For that matter, who exactly would believe Manfred's report over the things they had observed all the years Juan had been active? There had been no sign of this treachery beforehand, so how plausible would it be to merely take one swordsman-in-training's word for it?

Manfred let out a shuddering sigh, picked up his sword, and rose to his feet. He shook his head as if to drive the multitude of questions out. Then he inhaled deeply and made his way out of the dining hall. Whether he was believed or not, he had to tell somebody what had happened.

****

Manfred made his way from the knight's hall to the castle in a flustered state of mind. His racing thoughts applauded his deed one moment, only to turn around the next and give stern condemnation. And he couldn't shake the feeling that his own mental conflict was only a prelude to the reactions of any recipients of his report.

But nonetheless, he made his way to the throne room doors and informed the guard standing there that he had a message for the king. The man looked him up and down with a wrinkled forehead, gaze lingering particularly on the dark red blotch on his right shoulder. But the guard nodded, and after tapping the knocker, he opened one of the doors a crack and slipped through.

Manfred folded his hands behind his back and sighed. Here his nerve-racking wait commenced. As he thought over how to word his report, he only revived the internal storm. He questioned himself over and over again, demanding an answer as to what right he had to slay a member of the knightly High Council, given his status as nothing more than a student. Manfred had no answer. For that matter, he couldn't even remember if that blow had been aimed to kill or not.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, one of the throne room doors cracked open, and the guard squeezed through. Manfred's stomach sank as the other man's nod indicated the time had come. The long wait still felt all too short now. With his head hung, Manfred followed the guard through into the throne room.

To Manfred's surprise, King Maxwell wasn't seated in the throne against the back wall. Instead, he sat at a large desk not far off that was covered in sheets of parchment. With a scarlet quill in his fingers, the king wrote in a slow, meticulous pace with black ink.

After Manfred had approached the desk. King Maxwell looked up slowly from his beautiful calligraphy to meet the young swordsman's nervous eyes. Manfred couldn't hold the gaze for long.

A genial smile crossed the king's face. "Good morning to you, Manfred. I hear you have something to report?"

Manfred found himself confused that the king remembered his name so readily, and equally baffled where to start. "Well...it's nothing pleasant, unfortunately. I'm really sorry."

King Maxwell's pleasantness dropped somewhat and morphed into curiosity. "Please tell me."

"I...this morning, I went down to the knight's hall. Wanted to...basically look at what I'll be initiated into soon, if that makes any sense. And I actually ended out being able to sit down with Sir Alden Holt to talk. Just about knighthood, morals, and such."

"That is excellent, but I hope I rightly assume that is not what you have come to tell me?"

Manfred gulped. "I wish it was, but no. So when we'd finished, I got up to leave and passed Sir Juan Feliz on my way out. He started talking to Sir Holt about strategy and things. Just when I was almost fully gone, though, I heard a sword leave its scabbard. That and a strained grunt. So I rushed back, only to see Sir Feliz standing over Sir Holt's dead body!"

All King Maxwell's features scrunched together in bewilderment. "It cannot be!"

"If I wasn't there, your majesty, I'd be equally disbelieving. But I saw what I saw."

"So you beheld that sight and hurried here?"

"I'm...starting to wonder if that's what I should have done." Manfred struggled to speak through his tightening throat. "But I approached Sir Feliz and said I'd take him directly to you, your majesty. He didn't like that idea too much."

Maxwell's meaty fingers threaded through his beard. "What did he do next?"

"He attacked me. I defended myself. And...after we fought a while, I cut his neck open. I...well...I honestly couldn't tell you if that was intentional or not. In the heat of the fight...I don't know."

"So you mean to tell me..." King Maxwell rose to his feet with a sharp breath. "...You intend for me to believe that in one day, Monterayne has lost two of her finest knights, and you alone witnessed it all? Do you not see how difficult such a tale is for me to believe? Juan was an upstanding man, and a good friend! I would trust him with nearly anything, and yet you stand before me, claiming that he murdered one of his knightly brethren?"

Manfred shuddered. His erratic heart beat so hard that it hurt. "I can see how it'd be hard to hear...even harder to believe. But I can't deny what I witnessed. Sir Feliz told me he's been working as a double agent for years now, cultivating your trust and helping Innutuk's war effort at the same time. It was him who trained the unmarked swordsman years ago."

"Your tale unfolds more and more, and the absurdity therein only multiplies. I fear there is little I can do but have a thorough investigation made into this matter." The king let out a deep sigh. "My initial inclination would be to have you confined until a thorough inquiry be made, for I cannot help but have my suspicions of you having a greater involvement in this matter than you admit, but I shall be generous nonetheless. No chains shall bind you, but you are to stay within the walls of this castle until I send word instructing you otherwise. Do you understand?"

Manfred nodded vigorously. "I do. Thank you, your majesty. I'm...sorry again for any grief this may cause you."

"My grief is boundless, but I shall recover by and by. Turn in your weapon to the guard on your way out."

"Yes, your majesty."

With that, Manfred exited the throne room with his eyes trailing along the ground and his head hung. He couldn't decide whether to feel relieved or dreadful, or some measure of both, but neither way would change anything. All he could do was wait for a verdict.

**** 

A/N: And the drama thickens! One of Monterayne's most revered knights and the king's personal favorite, both killed in one day with only one witness...likely story, huh? I feel bad for Manfred, because this would be a hard case to make. 😬 

But I think I can make a good case for you voting and commenting, because that's what a reader's to do around here if he/she enjoyed the chapter he/she just read. 😂 

(I know, that was an unbelievably graceful transition. I'M A GENIUS. 🤣) 

Anyway, editing four chapters for this week in one morning was a bit exhausting, but I hope it only means more enjoyment for you. Next week, we'll be back to our normal two, and I hope to see you then. God bless!