The dueling rules were a throwback to an older, more brutal time of the kingdom. There were few requirements, but the few that existed were vigorously defended by the dueling pit’s aficionados. The area of battle must be lowered to designate the arena. The pit must be filled with sand or mud, and once both competitors enter the arena, the duel has begun. The use of pure white sand was an affectation of the Duke’s to showcase his wealth and capabilities despite his family’s obvious financial issues.

Alexis knew the dueling rules; it had been part of her training in etiquette, so she was prepared for Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat to attack her the moment she entered the sands. What no one had been prepared for was the glowing fog-like feline legs that briefly surrounded his own before he launched himself across the arena and toward the Baron’s daughter. The smaller man didn’t bother swinging his swords as he lunged forward. Instead, he drove his blades onward, one toward Alexis’ chest, the other toward her groin, almost diving forward behind his weapons.

Demonstrating her talent with her large sword, Alexis held her weapon vertically, point down, and rotated her body away. Then she shoved both the chief’s blades away using her sword like a thin tower shield held by its upper rim. At the end of her turn, her arm was fully extended, blade still pointing downward. Alexis twisted her wrist as she stepped onto her back foot, leveraging the weapon up through the strength of her wrist alone. Her weapon extended directly toward Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat as she crouched as if recovering from a lunge with a rapier. The move seemed to be a flair in dance rather than positioning herself to attack.

The shorter man seemed to recognize that he was outmatched, the larger woman’s movements fluid and unhurried, designed to gain space instead of counter-attack. Taking her movement as the taunt it was, the chief flushed redder than before and attacked again - this time without the glowing legs of the Active Effect of his Skill. With an outward rising strike of his left hand to Alexis’ sword, he drew the extended weapon out of line. Pushing forward inside her body line, his right arm cut in a rising strike - left arm tucking close to follow with a stab as a follow-up to his initial attack. Unfortunately for the smaller man, Alexis was already circling to keep herself away from Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat.

Watching the crowd, I could see a few of the nobles chuckling at the way Alexis had easily blocked and dodged the other Northmen’s savage attack. Her demonstration of skill had already made a laughing stock of Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat. Even a novice of the blade could see that she was playing with the man. That Alexis was managing to dodge and block the chieftain’s weapon even with his occasional use of his ghostly Skill made her performance even more impressive.

The sudden gasp from the crowd stole my attention back to the duel where Snowy was dodging away from the now smiling chieftain, her shoulder pouring blood in a crimson splash on the white sands. Somewhere in my brief distraction, the chief managed to hurt Snowy, somehow he had overcome her skill and struck her. Her shoulder was shredded in a long ragged line, the bone-deep wound gushing blood even as she practiced her now-familiar breathing pattern matched to her Skill. At the sight of the wound quickly filling in, Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat roared in the Northmen tongue, cursing as he charged, his body spraying sweat and steaming from his exertions.

I had missed how he had managed to hurt Snowy before, but I tensed at his new charge, watching for his latest attack. The ghostly feline legs surrounded his own again as he flew forward, matched by an even more whispy paw stretching beyond the tip of his sword. Still, Snowy was able to dodge the attack, throwing her body forcefully away from the attack. Despite her speed, she was slower than the smaller man and his ghostly weapon. Turning with the strike, Snowy sacrificed her already injured shoulder, letting the claws rip away another chunk of muscle as she retreated.

Gasping, Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat staggered, his body hunching against his wishes, halting his forward movement.

Despite the gushing blood, Snowy was still breathing slowly and carefully, her body reforming, the ragged wounds knitting themselves closed while the crowd watched. I think this was when the crowd realized that Snowy was more than just Skilled with a blade and that she was more dangerous than a simple swordsman. It had to seem like she was taunting the man, not even flinching as her wounds closed, her face stoically staring down the man who challenged her.

Despite Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat struggling to take a full breath, Snowy just continued to watch, no signs of struggle on her face. She knew that the gasping was a mental effect of Skill use and didn’t actually reflect a real loss of breath. Appearances aside, he could suddenly find a second wind and recover himself from the mental strain of his active Skill use. Snowy herself was struggling under the burden of heavy Skill use and weathering the effects; the chief could be faking his own lack of endurance.

Observing the gasping man, Alexis raised her longsword one-handed, the tip pointed at her attacker as she stalked the chief. Her moves were slow and measured, one step gently landing after another, her body unintentionally imitating his namesake. When she was in range, her sword dipped then slashed upward at his neck, the move controlled to avoid overreach as her arms flexed to manage the unwieldy weapon’s awkward weight. Just as her sword would have struck the chief, his body blurred forward and around her blade, the ghostly feline surrounding his body in a transparent veil.

I almost lunged forward into the pit at the sudden apparition. Terror lodging itself in my throat as I watched the blur tuck itself within Snowy’s guard, shortswords lunging forward.

My fear was misplaced as Snowy released her longsword, both of her hands latching onto the chief’s forearms like manacles. Snowy’s freshly scabbed over wound tore open, the injury leaking as her shoulders flexed, but she held him in place. Shattering the crowd’s silence was the sudden snap of bones. Snowy’s arms jerked as she leveraged Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat’s arms up, his weapons falling from senseless fingers as he released a shriek of pain.

Staggering back, Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat stared at his ruined extremities where bone jutted from one arm, and a bend distorted the other.

Snowy waited for his outpouring of pain to end. Waited for her former chieftain to return from his world of pain and to acknowledge the world around him. Once his eyes looked past his arms, she struck him across the jaw with a powerful right hook. The sound of his jaw - no, neck - snapping shot across the field, the sound a counterpoint to the stunned silence of the gathered nobles. Watching as he collapsed in a heap, she stepped forward and checked to see if he was still breathing. Seeing that the broken neck had failed to kill him, she grabbed his neck. She flexed her arms again, the sudden sound of his neck grinding and cartilage collapsing again silencing the now gape-mouthed crowd.

Snowy didn’t move. She just stood over the fallen man, her arms flexing in strain while she calmly waited. There was only a brief moment where a gurgle could be heard, but that lasted for less than a breath, and then Snowy released her grip and stood.

Stepping over the corpse, Snowy walked to her sword and picked up the long bar of steel as if moving a book. The runes that had extinguished when she dropped the blade began to gently glow again. She slung the weapon over her shoulder at a jaunty angle, her movements suddenly carefree compared to the movements of a stalking cat she showed during the final moments of the duel.