Chapter 131: Make Him Move
Arthur circled the mat and presented the same testing threat toward Marek’s sword side. The movement looked nearly identical to the opening probes.
The heavy competition shield shifted.
Arthur immediately retreated.
To most of the crowd, Arthur looked like he kept hesitating right at the edge of commitment. The circling dragged on, and the murmurs grew slightly louder.
In the stands, Kael’s smile finally started slipping.
Arthur threw another quick threat, this time dipping lower toward Marek’s lead leg.
Marek’s response changed slightly. The shield remained centered, but his sword guard dipped to cover the angle.
Arthur remembered the response and stepped back out of reach. Arthur kept testing different angles and watching how Marek covered them.
After another three shallow probes, Marek realized exactly what Arthur was doing.
Arthur showed the same high entry that had previously drawn the shield toward the sword side. This time, Marek deliberately held the shield still.
Arthur had already begun changing direction, expecting the shield to follow.
It stayed exactly where it was.
Marek’s blunted sword swung out cleanly from behind the stationary shield and cracked solidly against Arthur’s arm.
The whistle shrieked.
The referee stepped in and sent them back to reset.
As they walked back to their marks, Marek gave Arthur a brief look. "Finished experimenting?"
Arthur rolled his bruised shoulder. "Probably not."
Marek became noticeably more active after the reset. He kept his disciplined stance, but started stepping aggressively forward behind the shield whenever Arthur lingered too long after a feint, driving him back out.
Arthur started varying the depth of his entries. Some feints stopped completely outside Marek’s reach. Others crossed into genuine danger.
Arthur came fast toward the sword arm again. Marek held his position, apparently expecting another shallow probe.
This time, Arthur actually attacked.
He drove the dagger deep enough that Marek had to bring the shield across late, moving with sudden urgency. Arthur pulled away before Marek’s counterstrike, but the shield had come across noticeably faster than before.
On Arthur’s next shallow entry, Marek covered the angle immediately.
Arthur tried layering too many things at once—a high feint, a sudden change of direction, a low threat, and then a fast entry toward the supposedly exposed side.
Marek answered the entire elaborate combination with one brutal step forward, driving the shield into Arthur and knocking him completely out of position.
Arthur stumbled, nearly losing his grip on the dagger. Marek followed smoothly with a clean strike that cracked across Arthur’s ribs.
The whistle blew. Another reset.
The dull ache from Darius’s bruises flared back into sharp, burning pain.
Emily’s expression tightened in the stands while Kael leaned forward with growing interest.
"He’s thinking too much," Kael muttered, leaning forward.
"He usually does," Adrian noted calmly.
Arthur rubbed his ribs on the way back to his mark. He was overcomplicating it. He only needed Marek to bite once.
He began worrying at Marek’s sword side again, varying the threat each time. One entry ended against the shield. Another broke away early. The next went for Marek’s sword wrist. Another merely forced him to turn heavily on his back foot.
After several exchanges, Marek began protecting the sword side earlier.
Arthur threatened it again.
The shield moved before he had fully committed.
Arthur saw the early shield movement and backed away.
Marek frowned.
Arthur circled once more. Almost.
On the next exchange, Arthur finally committed to the familiar approach properly.
Marek recognized the angle and rotated the heavy shield toward the side Arthur had spent the last several exchanges attacking. Arthur drove deep enough that Marek had to complete the movement to protect himself.
Only then did Arthur change.
Silent Knife carried the change cleanly. Arthur shifted across Marek’s guard, the dagger following the new line before the shield could reset.
Marek saw it immediately. He tried desperately compensating with the shield, but Arthur was already too close for Marek to bring the broad shield back across in time.
Marek used his body instead. He crashed forward to smother the attack.
Arthur met him. Shield, shoulder, and chest collided in an ugly tangle.
The broad shield was trapped awkwardly between their bodies, too cramped to swing back across Arthur’s line. The sword arm still had room, but Arthur caught the weapon arm with his free hand, checking the movement.
Marek’s sword arm began forcing Arthur’s hand steadily backward.
Arthur yielded to the forward pressure, shifted with it, and pulled Marek into one bad step.
Marek recovered his footing incredibly fast.
Almost fast enough.
Arthur’s blunted dagger reached Marek’s throat guard first, pressing firmly against the protective padding.
The whistle shrieked.
For one second, both men remained frozen in the clinch, the finish too close to immediately trust.
Then the referee stepped in and separated them, pointing decisively toward Arthur’s side of the ring.
"Match!"
Marek lowered his shield and looked at Arthur.
Arthur was breathing hard, rubbing his bruised shoulder where the shield had repeatedly smashed into it.
"You spent half the match teaching me to block the wrong attack," Marek noted, his voice rough from exertion.
"It took longer than I hoped," Arthur admitted.
Marek snorted. "It should have."
He offered his hand. Arthur took it, and they walked off the mat.
Emily reached him first as he entered the competitors’ corridor and looked immediately toward his ribs.
"I’m fine," Arthur said.
Emily looked at him.
Arthur sighed. "They’re worse."
"I know," Emily replied, briefly checking the area without deliberately pressing into the bruises.
Kael wandered over a moment later, looking entirely too happy for someone who was going to be facing Arthur in the near future.
"Don’t try that on me," Kael said.
"I hadn’t considered it until you mentioned it," Arthur replied.
Kael realized he had just possibly handed Arthur an idea. "Forget I said anything."
Arthur stayed for Kael’s afternoon match. He grabbed some food, found a seat beside Emily, and settled in. His ribs ached continuously, but sitting down for a while helped.
Emily sat close to him. She rested her hand casually on his leg.
Arthur immediately gave her a highly suspicious look after the incident in the car.
"I’m not doing anything," Emily said innocently.
"That’s how it starts."
She ignored him, leaving her hand exactly where it was.
Kael’s opponent fought with twin short weapons and moved well enough to keep the opening exchanges competitive.
Kael had tightened up since the early rounds. The aggression was still there, but every time his opponent tried baiting him into overcommitting, Kael checked his momentum and reset.
The familiar, arrogant grin appeared when Kael gained control of the exchange, but his pressure stayed disciplined all the way to the stoppage.
After Kael walked out of the ring, the updated bracket boards displayed the next pairing.
Arthur Vance — Thorne Main Dojo vs. Kael Thorne — Thorne Main Dojo
Kael walked over to their section of the stands a few minutes later, still sweaty from his match. He looked up at the updated board, then looked down at Arthur.
The grin returned immediately. "Finally."
"You already beat me in the yard," Arthur pointed out.
"Exactly."
Arthur looked at Emily. "Your family has a strange definition of fun."
"You’re only realizing that now?" Emily asked.
By the time they returned to the compound, Kael had already started fishing for an advantage. Gareth caught them near the dining room, congratulated both of them on advancing, and immediately refused when Kael asked for advice about tomorrow.
"You both represent the main dojo," Gareth said.
Kael looked offended. "He barely counts."
"I agree," Arthur said. "Tell me all his weaknesses."
Gareth ignored them both and headed inside. "Figure it out yourselves."
Kael spent the rest of the walk to the table complaining about the unfairness of the arrangement. Arthur found it considerably more reasonable.
Dinner stayed mostly peaceful, though Kael had apparently decided that everything Arthur did now deserved tactical analysis. When they reached for the same plate of bread and Arthur happened to get there first, Kael immediately accused him of psychological warfare.
"You hesitated," Arthur said, pulling the plate closer.
"It was bread."
"And now you don’t have any."
Emily called both of them idiots and went back to eating. Seraphina barely seemed to notice; this was apparently nowhere near unusual enough to deserve her attention.
After dinner, Arthur headed back to the guest wing. He genuinely needed to clean up and deal with the fresh damage Marek’s shield and sword had left behind.
Nessa saw him coming down the corridor. Her eyes immediately tracked over his battered tournament clothes and the way he was favoring his bruised ribs.
"You won?" she asked.
"You sound surprised," Arthur noted.
"I am evaluating the evidence," Nessa replied smoothly.
Arthur stepped into his room and pulled off his jacket and shirt, grimacing when the movement tugged at his ribs. Nessa returned a moment later carrying fresh linen wraps and a small jar of the cooling salve the household kept for bruises.
Arthur took the cloth and tried wrapping his own ribs. It was obviously terrible, the linen bunching uselessly over his side.
Nessa watched his struggle for exactly ten seconds.
"Give me that," she sighed, stepping forward.
Arthur let her take the linen.
Nessa opened the little jar first and spread a thin layer of cooling salve across the worst of the bruising. The cold sting made Arthur tense before the numbness began settling into the battered muscles.
Only then did she start wrapping his ribs.
She stood close, the cloth moving carefully around his chest. Arthur noticed she was standing close enough that he could clearly smell the clean, simple soap she used. He watched her hands move efficiently over his side, securing the wrap with practiced ease.
She caught him watching her.
Nessa held his gaze this time.
"Does something hurt?" she asked.
"Not currently," Arthur replied softly.
A small pause stretched between them.
Then Nessa deliberately tightened the bandage around his bruised ribs.
Arthur winced sharply. "Cruel."
"Apparently your reflexes are excellent everywhere except your mouth," Nessa informed him.
When she finished tying the knot, she smoothed the edge of the wrapping down.
The knot was already secure. Nessa’s palm remained against his side anyway.
Arthur looked down at her hand. Nessa followed his gaze. Neither of them said a word.
She calmly removed her hand, picked up the empty jar of salve, and turned to leave.
"Will you be watching tomorrow?" Arthur asked before she reached the door.
Nessa paused. "If the guest wing survives the morning."
"I’ll try to make it worth abandoning your responsibilities," Arthur offered.
Nessa looked over her shoulder and gave him a spectacularly dry look. "That would require you to win."
She walked out and pulled the door shut behind her.
Arthur watched the closed door for a moment.
If the guest wing survives the morning.
That wasn’t a no.
He moved carefully to the bed and lay back against the pillows. His competition dagger sat on the small table nearby. Arthur stared at it for several seconds, then sank deeper into the pillows and closed his eyes.
From somewhere across the compound, the distant, heavy thud of a striking post echoed through the night air.
Arthur opened one eye.
Another heavy impact followed.
Kael was apparently still training.
Arthur stared at the ceiling for a long time. "Of course he is."