If there was one match that the audience of the Winter Tournament seemed the most hyped for, it was this. Frances Windwhistler, powerful the Otherworlder, the newest Windwhistler, versus the darling of the stadium, the best duelist, Ophelia Voidsailor.

It was for that reason that Ophelia was completely in her element. She’d picked her best orange robes with a blue underdress and gold trim (which were woven to be very tough, but easy to move in). She had her magic rings, and cards. She had a plan.

The only thing she’d forgone was her pointed hat. The reason was that Frances had yanked it over her face in the last duel they had and she didn’t want a repeat of that.

Ophelia grinned as her opponent calmly shook her hand, a serene smile on her face. Frances was equipped with much of the same gear she had last time. Her estoc—long stabbing sword—at her waist, diamond ring on her left hand, mage belt with pouches and wand in her right hand. Some research and eavesdropping had revealed to Ophelia that Frances’s wand was a Named Wand, though, as its wielder no amount of reading revealed Ophelia Ivy’s Sting’s nature.

The only difference to Frances was her brigandine, basically a shirt with hardened steel plates riveted to the cloth to form a breastplate. Not that it would do much, Ophelia had a plan to render all of her opponent’s power, her reaction speed, all of Frances’s strengths, and render them useless.

“Are you ready, Frances?” Ophelia snickered.

Frances’s smiled widened. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but it might as well have been from the reserved girl. “Yes. Hopefully, this match won’t get sabotaged.”

Ophelia snorted. “You have a rather dark sense of humour. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.” Frances released Ophelia’s hand and walked to her side of the ring.

The pair waited. The referee raised his starting pistol and fired.

Ophelia’s plan was to end the fight as quickly as possible. A decisive show of her strength and capabilities as a mage. She knew she might be able to get used to the tempo of her opponent’s casting as time went on, but Frances’s instincts and power might wear her down before that happened. Her safest choice was thus an all-out assault from unexpected sources.

She raised her staff in her three-fingered right hand, whilst raising her left hand. Her left hand was encumbered with four different rings. One for each of the four elements, earth, wind, fire, and water.

Well, Ophelia activated all of her rings.

Frances sunk into the ground as the dirt below her turned to mud. Fireballs hurled themselves at her, shot toward the shorter girl by gale-force winds. Frances’s eyes widened and she began to sing, her diamond ring glowing Ivy’s Sting swishing. A shield appeared, blocking the fireballs.

But that wasn’t Ophelia’s only trick. Still focusing on her rings she sucked Frances down into the ground, whilst she continued to project a torrent of fire. She could feel the drain on her magic reserves, a growing hunger that gnawed in her stomach. However, there was no escape for Frances. It was all Frances could do to use her diamond ring and wand to hold off the torrent of flame.

The tone and tempo of Frances’s song changed. And instead of a white glow, there was a bright blue glow. Circular magical shields projected across the paths of the tongues of flame. Suddenly, Frances was rising out of the mud and was charging at her, the circle shields continue to follow her and protect her from the fire.

Ophelia immediately cancelled her spells and switched to Plan B. She had no idea what was going on, but that’s why she had contingencies. Throwing a bunch of cards from her pocket at Frances, she expected her opponent to back away—

No, Frances just ran right at them, not even raising her wand or reacting as the cards detonated with a series of bangs. If they hit, they would have thrown Frances off her feet, but the blue shields suddenly reappeared and blocked every single card.

At the same time, Ophelia tried to rip Frances’s wand away from her, but there was a fizzing, buzz as another shield appeared around Frances’s hand. Ophelia concentrated harder, speaking more Words of Power, stringing them in a strong clause, but Frances was singing again, moving her wand in a figure-eight pattern. Whirling away, Ophelia ran, continuing to throw smaller spells just to try to cover her retreat.

Only, Frances kept coming, the blue shields continuing to blink in and block the cards.

And to Ophelia’s confusion, her opponent, a noted song mage wasn’t even singing. She was just humming under her breath as if she was fishing on an Erlenberg pier.

What the hell was going on?

A while ago…

Edana watched from the door as Frances, still bandaged, was muttering to herself and scribbling something on a sheet of paper. She was using the meal try as a hard surface and a piece of graphite. Whatever it was, it seemed important and Edana didn’t want to interrupt.

After standing at the doorway for some time, however, Edana began to feel her back wanting to rest and asked, “Daughter, how are you?”

Frances squeaked but managed to hold onto her graphite and makeshift desk. “Mom! I’m good. I’m just… well, it’s a silly idea for if I ever get the chance to fight against Ophelia again. Or any other strong mage. But um, maybe if you could take a peek?”

“Of course.” Edana sat herself down and leaned over to look at the drawings. “So it’s a kind of magical device?”

“You can’t make out my scribblings can you?” Frances asked, her shoulders sagging.

“You’re brainstorming, dear. Remind me to show you some of my lecture notes when I was sixteen. I was not a good note-taker. Or a good doodler. One time I doodled Igraine and when she saw the drawing and thought I was drawing Alice...” Edana smiled at the nostalgic memory “... she put a pinecone under Alice’s seat the next day.”

Frances blinked owlishly as she tried to imagine how her mom could have made a drawing of the lithe and slender Igraine look like the brawny Alice Trollhammer.

“So, what was your idea?” Edana asked.

Frances swallowed. “Well, it wasn’t just Ophelia, but like… there have been many battles where I’ve been knocked out, or surprised, or ambushed. When I start casting my magic, I can hold my own, or hold off my enemies or enemy until I can get to a better spot. But every time I get caught off guard, I get hurt, and then the people around me get hurt trying to help me.”

Edana examined the drawings and notes for a moment and found both eyebrows rising towards her hairline.

“So um, I was thinking of some of the machines in my old world. You know, the computers I told you about? Before I got here, my class was starting to learn how to program… that is, make them do things by themselves if something happens. So, I was thinking that I could create an enchanted device, where, if I was in a dangerous area, I could funnel magic into the device. It’ll automatically project shields to block enemy spells and projectiles. What do you think?”

Edana was peering intently at Frances’s notes now, her own mind awhirl with ideas and calculations.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, Frances.”

The first thing Frances and Edana realized was that the device couldn’t simply be an object like a ring. It would have to be a larger object.

“Magic tends to have side-effects on the object being enchanted. There is a relation between the size of the object being enchanted and the spell. If a small object is being enchanted with a very powerful spell, there’s a greater chance of it having a lot of side effects,” Edana explained as she paced in front of a blackboard.

“So it can’t be an object, maybe we could put it on clothing, or some kind of item I can wear?”

“Probably some item of clothing.” Edana pursed her lips. “However, it’ll need to be durable enough to have duplicate enchantments written on it.”

“Written enchantments? Why can’t we just enchant it—oh right, because if it’s damaged then it’ll lose its effect,” Frances realized.

“The problem is that clothing isn’t very durable and horribly hard to enchant with written enchantments. We could in theory enchant your shirt or underclothes, but a good scrubbing might rub the writing off and wreck the magic,” said Edana.

Frances thought back to her friend Martin’s new suit of armour and asked, “What about armour? Like a cuirass?”

“Ideally, but a properly enchanted cuirass sized to you is going to take a while, and you don’t have much time before your next match,” Edana pointed out.

That was true. A properly forged and fitted cuirass would take quite a bit of time, especially one made to her size. There weren’t many other armours that would work, however. Chain mail was difficult to write enchantments on. Cloth armours weren’t strong enough. Leather armour, much to Frances’s disappointment when she had found out, was a thing in Durannon, but not in the Human Kingdoms. The Human Kingdoms, especially Erisdale, had an abundance of wool which they used for gambesons and quilted jackets. They didn’t have a lot of good grassland to raise cattle, however, whilst the Alavari did. The Alavari also had a species of cattle that apparently had a far thicker hide than typical cattle and could be used for armour when cured and treated properly.

That being said, there was another option that Frances had noticed some of the soldiers in Erisdale’s army wearing. She’d thought it was fantasy-like studded armour, but Martin had explained otherwise.

“What about brigandine then?” Frances asked.

Edana pursed her lips and nodded. “That would work. Brigandine is made of many steel plates riveted to a cloth jacket. They’re easy to assemble, we can write enchantments onto the plates quite easily, and if even one gets damaged we can replace it without much trouble.” The older mage grinned. “What do you say, Frances, ready for a shopping trip?”

Shopping was the easiest part. Enchanting was next and it was hard. Frances had enchanted a few items before, but never with such a complex spell.

To speed the process, Edana had provided the power, whilst France personally enchanted the hardened steel plates, writing runes and Words of Power into each plate. Before they riveted them to the heavy cloth jacket, they tested each of them by casting small spells at them.

The result, a none-the-wiser set of brigandine, with a deadly secret. It also fit Frances quite comfortably. Once the armour was activated by Franches simply funnelling magic into it, it projected its blue-coloured shields with instantaneous flashes.

There were a few discoveries made when testing the armour, though.

“Why are the shields blue? I thought they’d be white,” Frances remarked as they examined the armour glow blue again. Edana was applying a slow flame to the armour, whilst Frances (who was not actually wearing the armour but standing beside her mentor) channelled magic into the brigandine.

“Well, the shields are blue because they’re the color of your natural magic, Frances. You cast the enchantment, I provided the power. The reason your shields have been white is because the colour of my magic is white and you’ve been casting your shields by focusing through your diamond ring, which I enchanted.” Edana pursed her lips. “You didn’t know your magic was blue?”

“No. I… I find it very easy to imagine fireballs and well earth moving. I didn’t think my magic was this pretty a colour,” Frances admitted. She smiled. “It’s nice.”

Edana smiled too. “How much magic is the armour draining from you by the way?”

Frances winced. “It’s a noticeable drain. I think that because it’s a written enchantment that detects oncoming threats, there’s some magic being used to detect and categorize the threats.” She raised her wand and with a single note, made a light glow from the end of Ivy’s Sting. “I can cast spells, though.”

“Hmm, we’re going to have to get you to practice moving and concentrating on this armour to improve your channelling efficiency, but I think this is going to be the best we’re going to get in this short time.” Edana patted Frances’s shoulder gently. “But this is a fantastic piece of magical armour. I’m going to make one myself when I get the chance.”

A welling of elation spread an almost painfully wide smile across Frances’s features. “Really?”

Edana nodded. “You made a perfect reactive armour that you simply need to push magic into and that you can cast other spells while keeping it active. I’m surprised nobody has thought of this before, Frances.”

“Oh well, I kind of owe Ophelia for it. If she hadn’t surprised me so badly, I wouldn’t have tried to think of it,” said Frances blushing slightly.

Edana chuckled. “Don’t underrate yourself, Frances. She’s going to be in for one hell of a surprise.”

“Edana, what in the Gods of Sea and Sand is going on and what do you know about it?” Eleanor stammered.

Edana, who knew her mother probably read her slightly malicious smirk, chuckled. “Frances had an idea for a reactive magic armour to counter anything Ophelia might throw at her. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Frances was counterattacking now, allowing her magical armour to take the hits, whilst she charged for a lightning bolt. Ophelia was attempting to break through, all five rings on her hand glowing as she tried smashing ice, then fire, rocks, and then a tornado of wind carrying a withering hail of rock and sleet. Yet the brigandine’s enchantments held.

Ophelia was sweating, her smirk wiped from her face. She threw up two layers of shielding, one magical and one rock, just as the tip of Ivy’s Sting flashed.

The stadium filled with the drum of thunder. Lightning smashed open Ophelia’s magic shield, and blasted earth, but the orange-robed mage remained safe.

She was, however, showered with debris and had to cover her eyes. That didn’t stop her from throwing more cards at Frances, who leapt forward, her magic armour reacting with its shields.

This time, orange sludge covered Frances’s magic, obscuring her vision. The sludge also hissed and spat even as it dripped onto the ground, and Frances was suddenly quite glad she hadn’t actually been touched by the viscous liquid. Ophelia followed this up with a blast of flame, her ring of fire glowing. Frances bulled through the flames and hit Ophelia with a simple, brutal, fist of magic.

The blow was only partially blocked by Ophelia lightning-fast shield, but she didn’t cast it with enough strength. Tears filling her eyes from the magical backlash as the shield shattered, the mage was shot backward. She hit the ground, rolled over twice, but somehow managed to struggle to her feet.

The hit had cut open her lip, however, and Ophelia wiped blood from the back of her hands as she wiped her mouth.

Frances, sweating, slightly out of breath, inhaled slowly, and smiled gamely.

“Right, you’ll pay for that.” Ophelia raised both arms. She had wanted to save some of her magic and tricks for her impending duel with Ayax. She actually needed to because the power in her rings, her cards, her items, had all been built up over time and with her family’s assistance. Anything she expended today couldn’t be used in her next match.

But that wouldn’t matter if she lost today, and she wasn’t going to lose to Frances again. She had to put everything on the line today, at this moment.

She felt the hunger grow in her stomach as she channelled her magic into her rings. She drew more cards from her pocket and activated them. As the wind in the stadium started to pick up, flecks of dirt began to rise in the moist, almost damp air. Meanwhile, a brilliant orange corona of fire circled her head.

Frances, seeing this, moved, mirroring Ophelia. Her armour flashed again, blocking Ophelia’s fireball. Ophelia threw a card at the earth snake Frances’s tried to flatten her with, blasting it apart. Frances was rocked back as a dozen cards struck her at once, exploding and forcing her to step away. Ophelia fell on her face as her robes wrapped around her and tied her legs. Frances lunged forward, Ophelia rolled and ripped her own robes so she could stand. They both blasted each other with glowing blows of magic, orange and bright blue beams narrowly grazing each other, sending each other flying.

It didn’t stop. The brutal slogging match continued. The Otherworlder weathering the Erlenberg native’s storm. The orange-robed mage ripping card and item and later potions from her endless pockets. The small, slender form opposing her, wreathed in crackling lightning-blue shields, continuing to fire back.

The entire stadium was on their feet, cheering, roaring the names of the two girls who were putting everything on the line. Each spectator waiting to see who would give, and what would break this brutal stalemate.

And something did break this stalemate, but it wasn’t quite what anybody anticipated.

Frances was running into a problem she hadn’t thought she would ever run into for some time. She was running out of magic. Maintaining the magic channelling into her armour, and throwing spells at Ophelia was draining her considerable reserves. Soaked in sweat, a deep gnawing exhaustion was permeating through her very bones.

She had to break the stalemate and she also knew that Ophelia would be anticipating her to try to do so. Her opponent also knew her well, and probably knew how she’d react.

Frances, would normally try to disengage and flank Ophelia, so she couldn’t do that. She needed something unexpected. Her mind seized on a last, desperate idea.

Drawing a vial from her belt, Frances threw it to the ground and watched as the vial shattered and smoke blocked her view of her enemy.

Ophelia immediately summoned a wind to blow the smoke away.

Frances was there, and suddenly she wasn’t. Ophelia gasped, twisting around, expecting her rival to have teleported behind her.

Except there was nobody there. Ophelia spun around to see Frances reappearing, right in front of her. Her wand was raised, a spell on her lips.

Frances sang a high note, only for Ivy’s Sting crackled and fizzled out, the blue glow around her vanishing. Frances staggered, her balance gone, an empty filling in her stomach, she wanted to throw up, and yet there was nothing to throw up.

She’d just run out of magic.

Ophelia immediately threw the last of her cards as Frances drew her sword and thrust. The estoc struck Ophelia’s chest, right after Ophelia’s cards activated.

The moment cards sent arching tongues of electricity across Frances’s body, the emergency shield activated and dissipated the charge. Barely a moment later, Ophelia’s shield activated, pushing the mage away from the point of Frances’s sword.

Exhausted, the two girls crumpled to the ground, lying spread eagle on the ground, even as the referee yelled, “The winner, by the closest of margins, Ophelia Voidsailor.”