"Despite its habit of ending a fight by the death of a participant, elven honor duels were quite strictly regulated. Not only were confirmation and agreement required from both parties, but their next of kin were also made to sign documents that acknowledged the duel as valid - and thus not a just cause for vengeance. Even selection of weapons and armor were limited strictly, with both parties only allowed to carry equivalent amounts of weapons and armor. That last rule came into place after the one time a participant wore full plate mail made of mithril and just demolished his opponent with utter disregard." - Desiree Qastrafia, Elven sociologist.

Right as the sun reached its highest point the next day, Cal walked calmly and entered the dueling grounds. The area itself was little more than a flat square floor, weaved from tightly interwoven branches that were much more tightly woven and far thicker than what she saw so far.

It made sense, for after all, the floor of a dueling arena needed to be able to take impacts after all. It would have been hilarious otherwise if the ground crumbled away while combatants traded blows on top of it.

Unitia's whole family followed behind Cal. They were somewhat reassured by the revelation that she was an Archmagus caliber blood mage, but they still worried. Her opponent has four whole centuries of experience and training over her after all.

Said opponent stared at her from the opposite side of the field, with a cruel grin full of self-assurance on his face.

Once they both arrived, two older elves - Unitia told Cal that they were members of the council of elders - walked towards them, one to each party. The old elf - Cal estimated him to be well in his seventh century, if not eighth - politely greeted Unitia, then handed over a parchment sheet for her to peruse.

Out of curiosity Cal took a peek at the formal document as well while Unitia unfurled and read it. Its contents were in elven script, which she fortunately learned from her late father, so she understood what it said. The document was basically a formal agreement, which stated that Cal agreed to participate in the honor duel against Bastille, and should she perish in said duel her next of kin would not pursue the matter.

Once Cal read through the document, she borrowed the quill and ink from Unitia and signed her name in the given space. Unitia had also already signed hers in a different place for the next of kin. They then handed the document to the elder elf, who checked it and nodded, satisfied.

The two elder elves then showed their documents to the other side as proof. Cal noticed that Bastille's document had no signature on the next of kin section and queried. The answer she received from the elder - to which Unitia concurred - was that the old elf had no family, and thus no next of kin.

Spectators had gathered around the square, as was expected, and along with them came other members of the council of elders. Apparently it was tradition for the council to witness should one who was presently an elder or used to serve as one get embroiled in an honor duel. Both Unitia and Bastille had served as elders before.

The old, slender figure that led the elders was someone Cal recognized, the High Elder Nydia, who she once saw in Paradise's festival. The high elder's eyes also flitted with recognition when she noticed Cal, but she said nothing.

Nydia walked into the center of the square and beckoned both combatants to approach her. When they gathered in the center, the high elder confirmed once more their desire to carry out the honor duel, and asked if neither would reconsider.

"Very well," said the high elder after both sides affirmed their decision. "Bastille Orendia, as the challenged party, you have the right to determine the rules and amount of weapons allowed in this duel. Make your decision known."

"Everything allowed," said Bastille with a sneer. He then brought out a dozen steel ingots from his storage ring, placed them on the ground, then tossed the ring to the high elder. He patted the strange flat whip he had rolled up at the side of his waist while he said his next words. "These are enough for me. Nothing else is needed."

"You have seen what weapons and armor your opponent chose, Celeysria Ambervale," said Nydia as she turned to Cal. Bastille had no other weapons on him and wore a leather and bone lamellar armor over his torso, as well as forearm and shin guards of the same materials. "You may proceed to choose an equivalent amount. Your storage artifact will be passed to your next of kin for safekeeping no matter what happens."

"Understood," answered Cal as she drew out her long crescent-bladed halberd from her storage. Some sharp-eyed elves amongst the spectators recognized the dark glint of pure adamant and gasped audibly. She then pulled out her two shortswords, showed them to Nydia, and sheathed them by the sides of her waist.

For her recurved dwarven knives, she brought all four out and sheathed two behind her back, and another two besides her thighs. Cal also brought out a dozen throwing darts, and secured them in slots meant for them in her belt. A suit of sea drake leather lamellar armor was worn over her torso.

"I believe that will do for me," Cal said as she carefully removed then handed Nydia her pendant.

Nydia nodded and carefully held onto Cal's pendant, then she signaled the two combatants to head towards opposing corners of the square. She herself erected a strong barrier of wind - one that would have deflected stray projectiles away from the spectators without blocking vision - once she stepped outside the square.

"Begin!" Echoed Nydia's voice within the square, as the high elder used magic to carry her voice past the barrier.

From their respective corners of the square, Cal and Bastille assumed their stances.

Bastille unfurled the rolled weapon he had. Now that he had it unfurled Cal realized that it wasn't a strangely flat whip, but was a thin, very long, very flexible sword instead. One that measured at least three meters in length.

The twelve ingots of steel he brought levitated into the air as they flattened themselves. Within moments, what used to be blocky ingots of steel took the form of flat wheels, with serrated, razor sharp edges. The twelve floating wheels flew around Bastille as they were tethered to him by his mana.

On her side, Cal shifted her halberd to her left hand, and with her right she drew out one of her shortswords that Aelfried had gifted her. Much like her knives and the weapons she ordered for her students, the narrow triangular blade was crafted out of high purity adamant steel, and she recently had them all re-enchanted as well.

As razor sharp metal wheels whizzed towards Cal, so had the battle begun.