“Hold it, hold it, hold it!” yelled the heir apparent to the Ars-Dhahabi Family. “You can’t be the champion!”

Alistaira’s eyes moved in place of her head before narrowing and making her icy gaze that much darker. “And why is that?”

“Because you are part of the prize! Besides that, you’re a woman! Well, not that women can’t fight... Gah! What I mean is that it is obvious you aren’t built for combat! You can’t fight! You should be back on the ship, doing something else!” While he appreciated an easy victory, even attacking them outside of the ring, he would not accept a win like this to stain his reputation. Especially considering the capable people he hired, he was hoping for more power on their side.

This outburst elicited some acknowledgment from those who had gathered to watch the duel. Not much was known about the heir other than having to recently take up the position after his brother’s unfortunate demise, but the Sultanate was a progressive nation where women were equal in all aspects of society (at least on paper, anyways). The military, the government and even the civilian sectors all had women in high positions of power, and they had not gotten there by brownnosing but via their own hard work. However, it was a bit obvious to the crowd that, while it didn’t matter that she was a woman, she did not have the look that screamed “I am a walking bundle of flesh and muscle”.

Alistaira cracked a small smile and replied to the rant.

“Well, we’ll see about whether those words are true or not, fool. Bring out your own champion and, if they can win, then it simply means you were right in the first place. Not that anything you can send against me would be worth my attention, but here we are, doing this stupid little song and dance…”

The Elf heir was about to launch into another fit, but his mage-looking companion put a hand on his shoulder and calmed him with a few words.

“Elthairon, my dear liege, I can tell you are getting rather angry, but worry not. I have prepared the most powerful healers in advance just in case anything should happen to you. Your family certainly wouldn’t mind if we use them to piece that woman back together after she faces a crushing defeat, so how about we let her taste the power that you, the great and noble Elthairon Ars-Dhahabi, can bring to the table?”

“Well, if you say so… Listen up, woman! I will accept your entry, but you will have to pay me back twentyfold for every coin I spend returning you to pristine condition! Of course, this will lead you in debt to my family, but you will still need to repay the cost nonetheless.”

Many people frowned at this comment, but no one actually fought against it. While they were still against sexism, it was a bit hard for the country to completely get rid of the stereotypes that have existed since the dawn of man. No one disagreed even after a minute or so, as the idea of true gender equality stayed present.

“Let’s get on with it.” Alistaira muttered just loud enough to be heard over the raucous crowd. “Every second spent here is a second wasted on something other than studies, and I don’t have the time or patience for this bullshit.”

…

“Ladies and gentlemen! Today is a lovely day here in the beautiful Ars-Saihar, otherwise known as the Saihar of Ars or the Port of Ars for those not familiar with how the first Sultan set up our naming convention! Here upon the biggest dueling stage a person can rent out, we have a fight unlike any other in the past few years! In one corner we have the newcomer to the city, a woman from the infamous black ship, an enigma wrapped in a conundrum and contained by a mystery, the Arch Mage of a nameless land, Alistaira Crowley!”

As the announcer pointed to Alistaira, the crowd erupted into cheers. She was considered the underdog, mostly because nobody knew how much of a beast she was. Words of support poured out of many mouths, many commoners begging for the so-called Arch Mage to bring one of the rich down a peg or two. Alistaira didn’t seem to notice any of this, having already planted her staff in the ground and started leafing through a rather ominous-looking book. The announcer then pointed to the other side of the dueling ring and was slightly shocked when not one but three men walked out of the shade and into view.

“Hold on now! That isn’t acceptable! Only one of you can-!”

“Shut it, bastard!” yelled the eldest one of the three. “We are a package deal, and besides, look at the script!”

The announcer looked over the document in his hand and his face fouled up. He scowled first at the three men in their heavy white-painted armor before giving the smug bastards in one of the booths a stink eye, not even caring about the brutal one sided combat about to be unleashed, instead imagining the gold they were about to receive in bets. Sighing, the announcer looked at the lone person on the other side and shook his head at the terrible numbers advantage.

“And in the other corner we have three people acting as one. They call themselves the ‘White Tri-Stars’. That’s all.”

“Hey!” shouted the youngest of the three. “What about the script?!”

“The script?” the announcer asked as he dropped the document to the ground and crushed it under his foot. “What script? Have a nice fight, I guess.”

Alistaira and the three men stepped up onto the circular raised platform and the announcer held a small box in the air.

“Ready? Set? Fight!”

The object made a loud dinging noise and the three men walked calmly towards Alistaira, who appeared to be so shocked that she was stuck standing still.

“I would say that we’re sorry about this and all…” said the eldest.

“But in all honesty, we’re getting paid to do what we love…” said the second youngest.

“So, we aren’t the least bit sorry for you! Get ready for us to tear your body to bits, bitch!”

Alistaira sighed audibly before stabbing her staff into the dirt of the ring, lodging it there for all to see. She tapped the side of her head once, twice and then three times before sighing again.

“Are ya ready to break, little bitch?!” the three heavily armored men yelled at once as they all rushed towards her with unnatural speed.

“I could say the same to you.” Alistaira remarked before catching one of the fists of the three and twisting it in the wrong direction. As the first person to reach her, the youngest of the three was the first to feel the Arch Necromancer’s power and was the warning to his fellows that this was not going to be a simple beatdown of a helpless woman. The other two jumped back and Alistaira returned their brother to them with a foot planted directly into the youngest brother’s breastplate. The crowd, after seeing this, went from fear, to shock and then to joyous cheers as the third brother popped what to Darksol would have been an extremely fast-acting pain-blocking drink.

Meanwhile, Elthairon started sweating in his own booth, and not from the heat. Humans basically never had a connection to magic, and even when they did, the power was sub optimal at best. A human showing magical enhancements on par with an elite elf’s... he began to wonder if this was a fight he could not win. If a mere mage was this strong in hand-to-hand combat, how powerful would she be when she started slinging spells? It was a question that sent shivers down his spine, and it was one that would be answered sooner rather than later.