The news spread like a forest fire.

  An hour after the declaration of the blood duel by Fredrick, whispers were already running across the fort. By the evening, everyone seemed to know of it, and once the sun was down, the betting market had opened.

  Soldiers talked about it everywhere. In the training grounds, in the mess hall, and even during patrols. In just a matter of hours, the rankings in the bouts had been forgotten, and Fort Algar was buzzing with the excitement of the blood duel.

  Soldiers barely got any entertainment, and the bouts were still fights where you couldn't seriously harm your opponent. But a blood duel had no such limitations. It was a fight to the death with a long tradition, and one you didn't get to see often, especially in the army.

  How Captain Edran had even agreed to it was a point of discussion. But the reasons were hardly important.

  Most soldiers only cared about the fact that the blood duel was happening, and it was between a noble and a forsaken with the blood of traitors. Two opposites that made the duel far more interesting.

  Kesh kept moving through the squads, gathering information, and Rayne heard about every rumour and point of conversation in the fort just by sitting in his room. And he was sure Fredrick had added his own spin to the tale.

  Everyone believed that the duel was happening because Fredrick had been disappointed by Edran's decision of only flogging Rayne for the crime, and had taken it into his own hands to punish the traitor.

  The words made Fredrick sound like a righteous warrior who couldn't take injustice, but reality was far from that. It added a negative spin to him, but Rayne was beyond caring.

  The soldiers could think whatever they wanted. None of it would matter once he won, but it would be wrong to say Rayne wasn't worried about the blood duel. He had fought monsters to the death, but men, hardly so.

  Even if he thought Fredrick was more talk than show, he still was a ranker in the bouts, and would have good skills with the sword. Bran talked a little about it before moving to talk to Axel with Hobbs.

  Rayne kept imagining the duel, his opponent’s skills and his own strategies, but more than that, he kept trying to find a way to make his room more secure. It proved to be a good way to distract himself, but he hardly found any solutions.

  Fredrick and his men hadn't broken into his room with force. That much was clear since there had been no damage to the door, but they had clearly entered, leaving the gold coins on the bed before escaping.

  Did they have a spare key? That was the most obvious answer to how they had achieved it. But Rayne could hardly do anything about it if Fredrick had found the spare key.

  He couldn't change the lock. But if he didn't do anything, someone might barge in while he slept and kill him. With his reputation, it was a real possibility, and the only reason he didn't share a room with the others.

  The kingdom wanted him dead by monsters, not fellow soldiers.

  Rayne kept thinking of the ways well into the night, occasionally looking down from his window to see soldiers sitting around fires, talking among themselves, probably about the duel at dawn.

  He only stirred at another knock on his door. Throughout the event, soldiers had rapped on his door, congratulated him on finally moving to hell, and had cursed his bloodline before going away. He expected the same this time, but another knock followed.

  He frowned, grabbing the dagger and moving towards the door.

  “Open it up, Rayne. It's me. Don't tell me you are sulking like a kid in fear of the blood duel.”

  A familiar voice made him lower his dagger, and he promptly opened the door to find Nate standing there.

  The man gave him a look before quietly slipping inside the room, then closing the door himself and moving to sit on his bed.

  “Quite a cosy place you have,” he said, breath stinking with alcohol. And not the good kind.

  Rayne took a seat on his chair. “Yeah, lots of people are probably eyeing it once I'm dead by the glorious righteous sword of Fredrick.”

  Nate laughed, giving him a grin. “You heard the rumours? There's a lot of crazy ones going on. One said you pissed yourself in Edran's office once Fredrick issued the blood duel.”

  “Kesh kept walking in every hour, telling me new ones. Half of it feels like Fredrick's drunken ramblings that his followers spread around.”

  “Probably,” he said, then put a hand inside his pocket before taking out a small bottle. “Here. You can do some of your own drunk ramblings with this.”

  He threw the bottle at him and Rayne caught it. He took off the cap, smelled it, and scrunched his nose. The same smell came from Nate's breath.

  “Do you really want me to drink before the duel?”

  “I thought it's a noble tradition to drink before a blood duel. Heard from the mouth of a bard.” He raised an eyebrow. “Was that just nonsense?”

  “Probably. But it's not like I have been in one before. I was barely a noble, now much less so.” He sighed, giving the man a long look, then finally asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Can't I just come to celebrate a tradition with you, nonsense or not.” He took out his identical bottle and took a sip, cringing at the taste. When Rayne didn't say anything, he frowned. “Okay, okay. You got me. I'm here for a reason.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “And that is?”

  “I made a large bet on you.”

  Rayne stared in confusion. “So, you are here to tell me to not lose so you get rich?”

  “I will still stay poor. One bet doesn't make you rich,” he said. “But no, I'm here to make sure you win, for both of our mutual benefit.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  Nate grinned. “By telling you about every one of the duels Fredrick had in the ranking bouts. I was here for all of them, and let's just say he has a pretty predictable style.”

  Rayne blinked, understanding dawning in his eyes. Nate had been one of the most prolific betters in the bouts, and he had seen all the ones Fredrick had been in.

  With everything going on, and so many thoughts in his head, he had completely forgotten to look for information on Fredrick.

  Nate took a sip, seeing his expression change. “So, do you want to hear it? There were four of them, and he won each of them.”

  Rayne nodded, looking down at the bottle and taking a sip of his own. The bitter, rancid taste made him clench his fist, but it also made him more focused.

  “Tell me everything,” he said.

  And Nate began to recount everything as the night stretched.

  ***

  Rayne walked through the fort with eyes all over him. Every soldier had gotten up to watch the spectacle that was going to unfold in the next hour, and none of them had the decency to not talk out loud.

  If they had, they just didn’t care.

  “Fredrick challenged him, can you believe it? He looks lanky and weak.”

  “Finally, someone’s putting that traitor in his place.”

  “You think Rayne will win? He doesn’t look weak. I heard he can’t die and killed a lot of trolls.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Fredrick’s fought more duels than anyone his age. He said so. The gods will choose him for sure.”

  “We should feed his flesh to the remaining goblins in the forest. They will enjoy it.”

  Rayne winced at the last one and swept his eyes around, but in the groups of soldiers, it was hard to say whose voice it had been. He simply kept walking, aware of the sword at his hip.

  “Don’t listen to them,” Bran said next to him. Kesh patted his shoulder from the side.

  John and Heins walked right behind them with Nate probably already in the training grounds. They had talked late into the night before he had left, and his information had given him a good idea on Fredrick.

  If there was any doubt inside of him before, it had evaporated. Still, the duel could go a lot of ways, and Fredrick was all about schemes. He needed to keep a cool head.

  Another wave of insults came as they reached the training ground. The crowd was dense here, and the contempt was much easier to locate with men not bothering to hide in the throngs of soldiers.

  He matched eyes with a few who sneered at him, and stuffed their ugly faces in the back of his mind for later. One man spat at the ground he walked on, and he realised the public opinion about him had twisted far beyond anything in just a night.

  He didn’t know how Fredrick had achieved it, but it wouldn’t matter after the duel.

  They kept walking, approaching the centre of the grounds. Soldiers cleared the way for them, sneering and scoffing towards him, and even issuing threats as if he had killed their ancestors.

  As he reached the front of the crowd, a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. He turned to see Hobbs glaring at the crowd, then looking right at him.

  “Ignore the bastards. They have no thoughts of their own.” He grunted. “Axel wants you to have this.”

  He slipped him a note, and Rayne turned it over to read it. There was only one sentence written on it, and he curled it before giving it back to Hobbs.

  “Don’t do anything you regret,” the giant said. “I believe you will win.”

  Rayne smiled. “I think so too.”

  Hobbs cleared away the few soldiers blocking his view of the centre and he finally saw the circle. White powder had been spread around on top of the dent on the ground to make it more prominent.

  He gave it a cursory look before meeting eyes with Fredrick, who already stood on the other side. A soldier held his sword and shield, and the man glared at Rayne as soon as he saw him, bloodlust clear in his eyes.

  Fredrick seemed like someone who had never killed anyone, but his talk with Nate changed his views on him. He was a coward, yes, but one who gave no mercy if he thought he would win.

  Fortunately for him, he thought himself already the winner. He could use that.

  Rayne turned his head away from him, looking at Captain Edran standing on the side. Ordinary soldiers had given him a wide berth, and the squad leaders stood with him. Henry and Casper flanked him.

  He met eyes with Axel who nodded at him. Henry grinned as if already seeing him dead and, surprisingly, Casper looked at him with worry in her eyes. Was he reading it wrong?

  He couldn’t decide before Captain Edran stepped forward. Just a few steps were enough for all the murmuring to die down in the crowd. Every eye turned to him.

  “Today we are here to witness a blood duel that both parties have already agreed to,” he said, voice calm and concise. “But I will repeat the rules. A blood duel is fought to the death. The duel will continue until that outcome has come true, or if one party surrenders. Every current possession of the other will be taken by the winner. There will be no outside side. No dark magics. You two can only fight with your skills and will. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, captain!”

  Both Rayne and Fredrick spoke at the same time and stepped forward.

  They walked up to the edge of the circle, and one look at Fredrick’s gear was enough for him to realise he was starting at a disadvantage. Compared to Rayne’s basic army gear, his opponent carried a shiny silver sword with a plated shield that shone red. Even his leather armour seemed to rival his troll armour, the only piece of gear he felt confident in.

  If he had to win, it would be purely on skills and stats rather than gear.

  Rayne didn’t mind that. No one spoke as both of them eyed each other. Tension gripped the whole crowd and shouts of Fredrick’s name rang in his ears, but he blocked them all out. Any distraction was akin to death here.

  Fredrick was no troll warlord. He was the same height as him, and didn’t look impressive to him. He could do this. He could win and—

  “Begin now!”

  Edran’s voice broke him out of his thoughts and at once, the world went still. Fredrick flashed him a cruel smile before he lunged. Faster than he had expected.

  ***