The castle was even worse than the usual mess of expansions and different buildings running into each other, or covered walkways or corridors connecting rooms. Even when Stathis tried to navigate by looking out of a window and keeping to an outer wall, she still lost her way rapidly, coming to a balcony overlooking a completely different part of the castle, or on an utterly different level. She turned a corner, coming into an internal courtyard, flowers around the edge, trellises on the walls holding up roses, their scent heavy in the air. A training dummy was stood in the centre, looking distinctly out of place amongst the flowers. Something flew towards her and she sidestepped, sound of metal crashing against stone, as a spear flew into the wall, before falling to the ground.

Stathis bent to pick it up – it was a lot heavier than expected, crafted from a single piece of silvery metal, the shaft warm to the touch, woven through with gold spiralling towards the point. She looked up from it to see a girl, wearing worn armour, looking at her strangely. From her flushed features, she must have been training.

Stathis held out the spear towards her. ‘This yours? It doesn’t feel weighted for throwing.’ She looked at it more closely – in the sunlight, it seemed almost translucent, the silver shaft covering veins of barely-visible gold, curling and twisting through it, glinting in the sunlight. In the enclosed courtyard, the biting wind was held at bay, the sunlight warming Stathis. The girl grabbed the spear from Stathis’ hands without speaking, before turning back to the dummy and thrusting with a guttural shout.

‘Your upper body stance is good, but you want to plant your feet properly first. That’s why you’re not penetrating far into your target.’ Stathis stepped forward, standing next to them, setting her legs apart in a wide stance, bending her knees for emphasis. ‘You’re doing the right thing with your shoulders, but you’re not heavy or strong enough to skimp on your stance.’

The girl glared at her, face hostile, but followed her instructions, settling her feet securely before stabbing again. This time the spearpoint penetrated properly, some sand spilling out of the dummy.

‘That’s better. Now try doing it while moving.’

The girl mumbled something that might have been a thanks, stabbing again.

‘Don’t worry about it. Um, could you tell me how to get out? I took a wrong turn somewhere, and don’t know where to go.’

The girl gave a heavy sigh, shoulders visibly rising and falling before she thrust again, then spun the spear into a resting position, slanted across one shoulder. ‘I guess. Come with me.’ Without turning to look at Stathis, she walked away, setting a brisk pace as she headed across the courtyard, towards a small door. Getting through necessitated some awkward fiddling with the spear, as the door was heavy and required both hands to open, but she obviously didn’t want to put the weapon down, so there was a lot more straining and effort involved than was required. Stathis waited quietly, not wanting to offend the girl’s pride by offering to help, until the door was wrestled open, and she vanished through it, Stathis following.

They moved along a hallway, the walls here covered with tapestries and banners, in between them the inevitable old weapons and faded trophies – despite the thick stone walls, this felt lived in and like a home, rather than a place of business or a defensive strongpoint. They turned into a room, with a thick rug covering the stone floor, Stathis wishing she’d wiped her feet first, but her guide didn’t seem to care. She stretched up, having to stand on tip-toes to slide the spear into brackets above the fireplace, then tugged aside a wall-hanging to reveal another door. Stathis had no idea if she was being led a direct way or if this was some kind of joke, but she could distantly hear activity, so they must be getting somewhere. This led into a narrow, empty hallway, which, via a twisting spiral staircase, led to a more inhabited portion of the castle, the sounds and scents of cooking somewhere nearby.

Her guide pointed towards another narrow passageway. ‘Go that way, then take the second left through the kitchens, then you’re in the central courtyard.’

‘Thanks. I would have been wandering around for ages without you! And keep it up with the footwork, if you’re going to be fight with a spear you’ll want to be moving a lot, but make sure you’re properly planted to attack if you want any force behind your attacks.’

Her guide gave a slight grunt that was probably intended as an answer, before Stathis left, ignoring the odd looks she got from staff as she walked through the kitchens, coming up from those back into the courtyard. She glanced around before exiting, just in case Janaxia was around, before heading out of the castle, and back towards the fair again. Getting her armour cleaned was a good idea, and if they were spending much time here, then some better travelling gear would be nice. A wind cut through her, making her shiver; Janaxia’s fur-trimmed cloak was very showy, but was probably a lot warmer than her own worn and patched one. Maybe one of the merchants would have something?

Amongst the fair, there was a commotion coming from the gambling tent. Stathis drifted towards it, tankard of beer in hand. Four stakes had been driven into the ground, rope running between them to form a fighting ring, surrounded by a crowd, bets getting called. Leant against one of the posts, looking entirely too relaxed, was Semari. She’d stripped out of her tunic, her breasts now covered only by cloth wrappings, more bound around her knuckles. She took a long drink from a bottle of beer, before flexing and stretching.

‘Right, so who’s your best? That dude was, like, a total pushover.’ She pointed outside of the ring, to where a young man was laying on the ground, bruises starting to form over his bare torso, glazed eyes staring upwards. Well, at least she wasn’t getting into drunken brawls and arrested, this sort of thing was probably alright. A hulking giant of a man, at least three heads taller than Stathis, loomed through the crowd, not even having to push, as Stathis made her way to the bookmakers table.

He moved into the ring, large enough that it was easier for him to step over the ropes than to duck beneath. The height difference between him and Semari was large, but she appeared utterly undaunted, taking another drink and calmly looking up at him.

‘Wow, you must have been expensive to feed growing up! You, like, half-giant or something?’

His voice was a deep rumble, making Stathis’ body vibrate, as he tied his long hair back out of his eyes. ‘Gotta a problem with that, half-pint?’

‘Nah, knew some giants over Breakspire way. Nice folks. Good food, and not stingy with the portions, but, like, hard to talk to, when they’re all the way up there. And their booze is super nice. Has a kick like a damn mule though, I was out for days afterwards.’

Stathis counted the coin she had on her – if she’d known Semari would be fighting, she’d have bought more, then turned to the bookkeeper. ‘I want 29 gold, 16 silver and 28 copper on the small one.’ Without speaking, he pointed at a sign; “Gold only”. ‘Fine, 29 gold then. What odds are you offering?’

‘Against Brevik? For him to win, or to win in a single round? I’ve seen him smash a boulder with those fists. That woman got a lucky strike against Bran, but he never did learn to guard his head properly.’

‘What about for her to win in the first round herself? I’m feeling lucky today.’

The bookkeeper gave her a long, wearied look. ‘Eight to one.’

It would have been easy to talk Semari down, pointing out the size and seeming difference in strength, but that seemed a bit dishonest. Instead, Stathis nodded and took the bet, handing her money over in exchange for a token with the details scribbled onto it, then pushing back through the crowd, finding a decent place to watch from.

The pair of them were engaging in pre-fight banter, each insulting and trash-talking the other, as they flexed and prepared themselves. Brevik’s skin was a dull, slate-grey colour, likely marking his statement about a giant parent as truth – that must have been a strange pairing. He launched a few punches at air, fast enough to be audible, before wrapping cloth around his knuckles, hunching his shoulders and darting and jabbing to warm up. He had decent speed, and any hit from him would have the danger of knocking Semari out of the ring if she wasn’t braced for impact, even aside from whatever damage it would do. Semari’s own preparations were far more lax, as she drank between doing her stretches, jumping lightly from side to side, twisting her shoulders and elbows and limbering up.

The bookmaker rang a bell, announcing an end to betting, and calling for the competitors to move to their corners. They did so, ready to square off against each other. A referee moved into the ring with a large club in hand, in case things got rowdy.

‘No biting or eye-gouging, or you get the stick and get disqualified! I want this clean and simple – first to submit or get knocked out loses! No magical items, no spells, just good, honest fists!’ He gestured them into the centre of the ring, where they tapped fists together, the height difference making it look slightly ridiculous, then they both settled into fighting stances. Semari was already moving, lightly skipping from side to side, hands high and ready to strike, as Brevik hunched, protecting his head, taking a more stationary position.

‘Three, two, one!’ The referee jumped backwards out of the way, as they both moved. Brevik punched at Semari, a huge fist hurtling towards her. She jumped to the side, coming around to his flank, hands blurring as she launched a flurry of blows into his ribs, sidestepping again to capture his rear. He spun, trying to catch her with a roundhouse, but without having her in sight, she easily ducked, retreating out of range for a moment. He moved forward, charging in and trying to pin her in a corner and restrict her movement, as she dodged and swayed away.

Stathis caught Semari’s eye and shouted, hoping to be heard above the crowd. ‘Knock him out, and I’ll buy you dinner!’

She dodged another punch combo, before blocking the next, the force enough to knock off her balance slightly. Before Brevik could capitalise on her weakness, she threw herself to the side, rolling back to her feet, ducking beneath another punch and coming up close to him. Despite standing bare inches from him, she was able to pack enough force into her strikes to stagger him, before dodging away as he tried to grab her.

He went to elbow her as she moved past, manage to clip her head and daze her slightly, but she kept moving, always staying just out of his front arc, slamming attacks home, Brevik slowing as the damage started to get through to him. From the bloody stains starting to appear on Semari’s fist wrappings, his skin must be tougher than usual. Brevik swayed for a moment, Semari darting around to his front, a punch to his jaw getting blocked, and giving him the chance to counter. He leant into the strike, putting his full weight and strength behind it, enough power to send Semari flying if it hit.

The crowd went silent, as Semari twisted in place and barely avoided the strike, then stooped low and jumped to counter with a leaping uppercut, smashing straight into Brevik’s jaw. She struck with enough force to knock him upwards, his body flying through the air before crashing back downwards, landing on the rope, his body heavy enough to pull the posts out of the ground.

He groaned and twitched, trying to get up as the referee counted, eyes blinking as he tried to collect himself, unable to gather his wits before the count reached ten.

‘And the winner!’ The referee raised Semari’s hand into the air, as the crowd reacted with shock to the loss. Stathis moved closer to where Brevik had fallen, one of his friends splashing him with water and trying to wake him up. In the general chaos of the crowd, it was easy to reach out and heal him slightly, his body relaxing as she did so. Semari had probably pulled her blows enough to not do anything permanent, but it seemed polite to heal him up, in case she’d done anything permanent. Then Stathis went to claim her winnings, a satisfyingly large bag of coin getting handed over.

When she turned around, Semari was helping Brevik back to his feet, pulling on his arm as though she had any hope of being able to lift his weight. Fortunately, he regained consciousness quickly, taking several deep breaths to steady himself before standing up, slightly unsteady on his feet. After checking that he was alright, Semari came over to Stathis.

‘That was fun! Never fought anyone that strong before.’ She looked at Stathis. ‘I’m not, like in trouble, am I? He wanted to fight, so that’s allowed, isn’t it?’

Stathis chinked the bag of money. ‘Pretty good for me, so I’m not going to complain. We’ve got a room up at the castle, and Janaxia was threatening to style me up.’

A heavy snort of disapproval came from behind her, and she turned to see Larrik, arms crossed as he scowled at her. ‘Gambling as well, Knight Stathis? Is this how a knight should behave? I find it scarcely surprising that such a one as you was responsible for the destruction of a holy relic at Redcastle.’

She sighed. ‘I’m paying for a replacement! Eventually, at least. And it was a choice between that or let the Casket of Zakran get broken, which would have been far, far worse, what with countless demons being unleashed and stuff.’

‘The armour was a sacred trust from the heavens, to be kept for times when darkness threatens the lands!’

Semari glared at him. ‘Hey, things got pretty dark! There was, like, a goat, and this flying demon lady, but I hit her with a book and it ate her a bit, and then she made a sword eat her. And the maid turned scary, and was the demon. Or one of her was. The other one was still scary though, but not, like, demon scary, just normal scary.’

It was hard for Larrik to present a counterpoint to Semari’s babble, as Stathis took advantage of his confusion. ‘I’m not exactly happy about it either. Trust me, you don’t want to know how much damn debt I’m in. But it was that, or a huge horde of demons, which would have been far worse for everyone. So an intact shiny relic, or a town full of people - which would you rather have?’

‘Yeah, don’t be a dick! Who are you, anyway?’

Larrik drew himself up, barely shorter than Stathis and easily overtopping Semari, glaring down at her, armour gleaming in the light. ‘I am Larrik Guthrena Estherthorne, of the Haringjay lineage, and a true-sworn Knight of the Sun. But unlike Knight Stathis, I take my vows and oaths seriously. Gambling and drinking? What separates you from the common mercenary, Stathis? Have you no shame?’

Semari answered before Stathis could. ‘With a name like that, I bet you’ve got ancestors. Do they live in your basement? Did they give you any cool powers? I’ve not got any ancestors, except Kethys, and she gets all grumpy if you mention age. And she’s not dead. I think that’s, like, a requirement for an ancestor, otherwise they’re just a grumpy old person?’

Semari’s babble disrupted his speech again, as he tried to figure out what was saying and an appropriate comeback. In the end, he satisfied himself with another glare of disapproval, before leaving.

‘Old friend of yours? Not as nice as Brina was.’

Stathis sighed. ‘Not exactly a friend. Anyway, shall we go grab some food? I promised you that, didn’t I? And you’ve earnt it, I’d say. That was a good win.’