Desperate Times

Minutes had passed. Ian watched in horror as his mother and his... Ugh, he couldn't even think the word 'fiancé' without crippling fear clutching at his heart, regardless, the two had left taking Sunny, Michelle, and even Ellea with them.

Then, his mind slowly started working again. He turned to the artisan, who was in quiet conversation with the guard and rather obviously stealing glances at the revolver tucked into Ian's waist. Our Hero waved him over.

"Hey... quick question for you. Think you can convince my father that this," he indicated said weapon, "Is something that we need to research immediately? As in, every second could matter?"

The artisan seemed to think about it for just a few moments. "I don't know if I can quite live up to your expectations, but it's quite likely I'd succeed in that.

For the first time in several minutes, the boy smiled broadly. "Zeke! If you could escort us all to meet with my dear beloved father, that would be swell."

"Your ah... father?"

"Yes. This is my last, best chance to survive the next few weeks."

"Surely, you are exaggerating slightly, my lord," the sergeant noted clinically, beginning to escort the artisan, our hero, and the guardsmen to beg for an audience.

Ian Maris looked his retainer in the eye, speaking calmly, "Did you see the way those boys of the princess's were eyeballing me? Mark my words, they are plotting something and it isn't a celebration for me."

"That... is possible," Zeke confided, walking beside his putative lord, "So, what does your father have to do with this?"

"If I'm quick enough, I should be able to spoil most of those plots. Hmm... I sincerely hope that my goal will end up frustrating each and every one of them."

"Okaaay... I'm certain absolutely nothing can go wrong with this plan, my lord."

"Exactly! It's perfect!"

"Which is what, again?"

"Now, now... I do need to have some secrets, after all."

"Oh? Is that right?" an arrogant voice asked, a number of handsome young men stepping into view. "Enlighten us on these... secrets."

"Oh gods, it's my fiancé's boy toys..."

"Fiancé?" asked the arrogant youth, startled.

"Boy toys... Oi, are you talking about us, you little shit?"

"Wow, you sure are smarter than you look, aren't you?"

"Ah... My lord, might I point out that we're outnumbered..."

"Yeah? So what, they're a bunch of weaklings, right? Sucking up to the princess so they can have power and live cushy lives?"

"Ah... While the last bit might be true, I do recognize several people here that are rather gifted with a sword."

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Arrogance personified asked, nostrils flaring. Looking down his nose at our hero, he added, "Well, did you, worm?"

"I wonder about that... Did I say something offensive?"

"I'm sure you must have, Lord Ian."

"It can't be. I mean, is it offensive if it's true? I didn't lie, did I?" Ian looked sharply at the sergeant, eyes wide in feigned surprise. "Surely, if even I can see that, isn't it obvious to everyone else?"

"Ah... My lord, you aren't supposed to point things like that out."

"Still, that idiot just insulted me in my father's keep. Isn't that, you know, lese majeste or whatever? Can I have him beaten or something?"

"If you think you can beat me, come try it," the arrogant ass half shouted now, his anger obviously on full display.

"Zeke... can I just beat him up right here, or do we have to make it all formal?"

"What, like a duel? As long as you don't kill each other, I'm sure you two can play a little bit."

"I dunno... I don't play well with others and he looks like a filthy cheater. As soon as I kick his ass, he'll have his friends come play with me. You can tell the dishonorable ones by the way they conduct themselves, you know?"

"Do you know of whom you are speaking you insolent little shit?"

"Yeah. My fiancé's boy-toy. I don't take playthings seriously, but I'll do you a courtesy. So is this an anything goes affair?"

"There's absolutely /nothing/ you can do to get past my sword! Even if you used a bow, my ability is unbeatable."

"Sure," our hero agreed, placatingly, "You are absolutely right. Just say when, m'kay?"

"Fool, obviously an arbiter will count it down and determine a winner!"

"Hey Zeke, I just have to make sure not to kill him, right? Like, if he loses function in an arm or a leg, is that going to come back and bite me later on?"

"No, no, I'm sure that'd be fine. He did say anything goes. Ah, going to show off your little toy?"

"No, no, that would be like cheating. I'll use magic."

"Magic?" the arrogant ass asked with just a note of scorn, "As if a pig like you could control it."

"Zeke, count us off, will you."

"Right you are, lad, but here? Want to go back out to the courtyard at least?"

"Nah, nah, this won't take much and he can squirm a bit in the tight confines."

"When I beat you, I think I'll claim you as my personal pet. I'll beat that glibness out of you, pig."

"Yeah, yeah. You tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep better at night. So, Zeke?"

"Right... Take your positions. On your guard... and begin."

"I judge you," Our hero said, the merest hint of a pause to each of his words.

The arrogant ass wasn't just standing there, though, but charged into attack. Ian, in turn, drew the daggers at his belt. The lightning running up and down the blades were something easily seen, even with the naked eye.

Now Our Hero charged forward, meeting the ass head on. His first strike was blocked, however... It might have been the grip, or perhaps the spell blade itself, but the lightning arced into the blade of the sword, through the pommel and guard, striking the ass.

The ass jumped backwards, but was unable to keep his grip on the sword, eyes going wide. This wasn't what he'd expected... worse, Ian's movement matched his own, the second strike coming in.

The ass drew a dainty looking poniard, blocking the attack, though barely... Again, lightning arced and he was forced to drop the weapon. Our Hero wasn't done just yet, however, kicking off the wall and spinning, the heel of his boot coming high for the back of his enemy's head!

Barely dodging, the ass was still standing, but his main weapon and his backup were both down the hall. He dove forward, barely dodging a second kick.

"Did you think I'd let you rearm yourself, you prick?"

The ass barely dodged another kick, but this time a dagger connected directly with his left arm... The lightning surged and he knew no more.

Ian casually cleaned his dagger on the ass's clothing, looking at the other handsome youths. "So, anyone else want to play? If so, you had best to get to it. Otherwise, I suggest you pick your idiot friend up and see to him before he bleeds out or something."

Zeke was surprised, watching his lord move far faster than he'd ever expected him to be capable of. And on top of that, the young lord actually looked like he knew how to use those blades of his. Oh, the young sergeant's life had just gotten interesting!

The other handsome youths wanted nothing to do with this Ian, most running off at once. One collected their friend's weaponry, two more their friend (once Our Hero turned his back on them to walk off).

Zeke casually called out, "Match complete, Ian, son of Maris is the Victor." And then he ran to catch up to his putative lord.

"Judgment Complete," Ian said, just a few steps around the corner... and then he sagged against the wall, obviously drained.

"Magic, huh? Side effects?"

"Likely," he agreed wearily. "Come on, let's talk to my old man first... I can't be sleeping right now, there's too little time."

"Hey, wait for me!" a voice called out, huffing and puffing as he ran to catch up.

"Ah... r-right, our Artisan. Your role will be pivotal, you know?"

"Uhm... yeah, you've said that, but how exactly?"

"It's this simple. I need you to tell my father that this weapon can change the strength of our army forever."

"Well... obviously."

"No, not so obviously. My father's never seen it work before, you know? But not only that, anyone can use it, whether they have magic or not, and that's the important thing. Regular soldiers will be a match for great wizards!"

"U-uhm... perhaps in some aspects."

"That's good enough."

Not that the conversation would go exactly according to plan. As if Ian Maris would get off so lightly. He had, after all, made his bed. It's only natural that now he'd have to sleep in it.