He had been hopeful that this fight could be cleaned up quickly before it could become a larger spectacle than it already was. Kaldalis was anxious enough that Heluna and her friends had seen him faking bravado in the Contender’s face. The idea of them watching him fistfight the most important man on the archipelago gave him a feeling of stage fright. But that had been manageable. His abrasive attitude towards her brush with death was probably going to be the bigger challenge to his relationship than if he got his ass handed to him right after talking a big game.

But all his hopes were dashed when he emerged from the bar and onto the street.

Apparently a significant number of the town guards had given chase after Kaldalis and the Contender when they left the town hall. About twenty of them were encircling the building, obviously seeking to block exit in order to contain whatever scene might erupt. They honestly looked surprised to see Kaldalis and the Contender exit through the door instead of by bashing a hole in one of the walls. Even now, there were more guards arriving on the scene, streaming into the area around the bar from the direction of the town hall.

The guards’ presence encircling the building created a spectacle, and the numbers that were still arriving attracted all the more attention. It hadn’t yet become enough to draw the other adventurers out to break curfew, but it meant that Balrim, Myrin, and the rest of the Cotanaku council had managed to follow them here. What was more, Garyung and Brother Gnider were pushing their way through the line of guards with their smaller retinue of temple guards.

It seemed like this fight was going to have an audience whether he liked it or not.

“This doesn’t look good for you,” Kaldalis pointed out. “If you want to surrender now, I think we can get to the end of this without any more violence.”

“I was about to say the same to you,” the Contender countered. “Once you’re out of the way, I doubt these guards have the same affection for your friends that causes them to disobey my orders for you.” He gestured out at them and raised his voice. “So long as they recognize my authority once you’re out of the picture, all is forgiven. I can excuse this lapse in judgment, but only so far as it makes my victory sweeter.”

Kaldalis wanted to snap something witty back at that, but he didn’t like the way the guards encircling the place grew a little bit grimmer at the Contender’s words. It was possible that he was right. Balrim, Myrin, and Garyung could put up a reasonable fight for their own defense here, but if the guards were going to fall in line with whoever won this fight, they were going to be grossly outnumbered.

And the Contender was unlikely to pull punches the way Kaldalis was. That meant Brother Gnider and his guards were likely going to permanently die in the fight. And that was only the start. There was no telling what would happen to Heluna and her friends. Or the council, if they continued to fight against the Contender’s push to consolidate his power by dissolving the constitution.

“No pressure,” he grumbled to himself.

He needed to find a cleaner way to resolve this.

“I don’t understand how you intend for this to play out,” Kaldalis said. He turned on the Contender and raised his hands, curling them into fists slowly. “Hand-to-hand may not be my specialty, but I can roll with anything you can dish out. We both know you’re going to tire out long before I’m more than mildly bruised.” He set an aggressive stance, making a beckoning motion with one hand. “And that’s if I don’t fight back. How do you plan to win this fight?”

“It’s not hard to understand.” The Contender smiled. “I plan to cheat.”

The Contender didn’t wait, launching himself at Kaldalis. It was suddenly apparent that he hadn’t put down his daggers despite the agreement. The wavy blades ripped through the air at Kaldalis’s face and neck, forcing him to scramble back. His aggressive stance was to his detriment now. His weight was forward and having to move back unbalanced him. He nearly fell, but the instinctive lashing of his tail saved his life, keeping him on his feet.

As the Contender kept charging and swinging, Kaldalis quickly found himself leaning hard on the fighting style he’d picked up from the assassin in Baimer. At his current level of proficiency, it had been only moderately successful against skilled foes, but the Contender was not an experienced assassin, trained guard, or enraged adventurer. He was obviously not a complete beginner with his blades - he had to have some skill rating to have access to the Sprint ability - and each stroke was aimed to be a killshot, slashing at Kaldalis’s throat and diving for his eyes and the narrow gaps around the breastplate with every thrust.

But the movements were obvious and telegraphed, without any subtlety. Furthermore, there was no build-up. He wasn’t trying to weaken Kaldalis to ready him for the kill.

Like a petulant child, he was skipping right to dessert.

All Kaldalis had to do was keep his most vulnerable parts protected, and the Contender’s furious assault was nearly harmless.

Obviously, the relentless attacks meant that Kaldalis couldn’t counterattack. The Contender was only going for killshots and Kaldalis could avoid every one, but that meant that the smallest lapse in his defense wouldn’t just mean trading a blow for a blow. It would mean instantly being struck dead just to land a single punch.

Wavy blades lashed out again and again. A dance of death that the Contender led, and Kaldalis was forced to follow. Lean back, duck left, strafe around, jump back, lean in just enough, and then duck low. Again and again. The blades sang through the air, always just shy of Kaldalis’s skin. And every few seconds, he had to acknowledge that only the instinctive adjustments of his tail was keeping him on his feet in the face of death itself.

Kaldalis couldn’t break the assault. The Contender couldn’t be stopped. He was stuck staying just one step ahead of the endlessly-swiping blades.

Panic began to set in. With every second that passed, the Contender had to be getting closer and closer to changing tactics abruptly. Kaldalis was going to be bleeding before he could adjust to whatever new target the Contender turned to. But what was Kaldalis going to do? He couldn’t abandon his defense without dying. He couldn’t stick to his defense without getting pushed even harder into the corner he was stuck in. And he couldn’t get his balance straight long enough to establish some distance.

When Kaldalis could spare the concentration to look around the fight, he saw that the guards had formed a perimeter. Even though the Contender was cheating, there was no way he could count on his friends and allies to step in and turn things back to his favor.

There was only one way to win this fight.

It was time to change the beat.

“Why won’t you die?” the Contender snarled as one of the wavy blades harmlessly glanced off of Kaldalis’s breastplate instead of catching the seam and diving into his lung.

“Just stubborn, I guess,” Kaldalis said, shooting the Contender a grin. “But I admit that you’re better than I thought. Not good enough, but better.”

“We’ll see what that grin looks like when I cut it off of your face,” the Contender snapped.

The calm and in-control priest was gone. The mask was off. All the poking and prodding and delays and outmaneuvering had driven him to true rage. Perhaps Kaldalis didn’t need to reframe the fight. If he just kept the Contender moving, it was possible that he would tire himself out.

But he needed something from the Contender. Knocking him out wasn’t going to solve the biggest issue at hand. When the Contender recovered from his exhaustion, his will to fight against Kaldalis was going to be back. And if his capacity for patient political games was renewed, there was no way to know how long this battle could drag on.

And right here, in front of Garyung, Brother Gnider, all the guards, the Council, his friends, and even Heluna, the last thing he wanted to do was have to execute a man who was no longer fit to fight, just to revert control of Cotanaku back to the council.

“I’m smiling because I know something you don’t know,” Kaldalis said, forcing his grin into something more of a leer as the twin blades lashed out like snakes at his face.

The Contender snarled wordlessly, trying to pressure Kaldalis back twice as hard in his frustration. When Kaldalis ducked to the left, the Contender stepped to intercept, forcing him to go straight back. Kaldalis was starting to see that the enraged priest was finally pushing for the endgame. He was forcing him towards the wall of the bar. He was trying to run Kaldalis out of room to retreat. Once Kaldalis’s back hit the wall of the bar, he’d have nowhere to go for the next killshot.

And in that moment of realization, Kaldalis saw how to end this.

He just had to do it right the first time.

“I wasn’t ever disarmed,” Kaldalis said.

The biggest challenge was the menu. Pulling it up while still fighting effectively was a challenge, even when navigating it had long since become second nature. He felt the edge of a blade physically touch his cheek. The wavy dagger was so sharp that it didn’t even hurt. There was just a dull distant sting and the heat on his jawline of blood running from the wound.

Kaldalis pulled from his inventory the new shield and cutlass. The War Weapons he’d taken from the earlier battle. His only regret was that in blocking the next strike at his face, the shield also blocked Kaldalis’s view of whatever shocked look the Contender had in response to the sudden change in fortunes.

There was no time to hesitate. The advantage of surprise would only work once.

Kaldalis stepped in towards the Contender, planting his feet and answering the Contender’s momentum with a body slam. To his credit, the Contender managed to keep on his feet, his own reptilian tail whipping through the air to shift his momentum to the side instead of being knocked straight back onto his ass in the dirt.

The next strike was with his whole body, starting from Kaldalis’s feet, up through his legs, the twist of his hip, and the roll of his shoulders. Kaldalis’s sword slashed out in a wide arc to the right, putting all his strength into the blow.

It was a difficult attack to land. The Contender’s flailing made it near-impossible. But Kaldalis’s skills were as sharp as his instincts. The tip of the curved blade landed right in the Contender’s forearm, and pierced the remaining sleeve of his robe, as well as the arm beneath. Kaldalis felt the rasp of bone grating against the curved blade as he followed through on the strike. The next impact was the thud of the weapon carrying around and striking the wooden wall of the bar, biting in deep and sticking there.

The Contender cried out, and in that moment of pain and confusion, Kaldalis had him. He let go of the blade for just a second so that he could plant his foot on the hilt in a kick that drove the weapon all the way in. The glittering basket hilt hit the Contender’s forearm, pinning him down.

“Yield,” Kaldalis snapped. “I told you before, I won’t ask you a third time. Right here, in front of everyone, I promise: return Cotanaku to us or die. This is your final chance.”