~

At the head of her entourage, right after the furthest wagon, there were four on the road. She recognized them as soldiers, two wore the standard uniform, while one was coloured with trinkets and decorations. The black mane on his helmet and the less than battle-ready belly confirmed as such. She'd met him a few times, he was after all the captain of the guard. Whatever was his name. Galus? Gerry? Or was it Guludia? No no no, that doesn't sound right at all. I know it starts with a G. How embarrassing.

Three faced one. A figure hunched over. Suppose that must be the old woman. Elisia could only assume, a dark cloak draped over her features completely, hinting only at a large, irregular bulge on her bent back, that looked like a second head. The first head spoke, hidden to Elisia by the cowl of the cloak.

"I wish." The figure in black croaked. "To see the Duchess."

Elisia, who'd been in an unsociable mood, had rather childishly sneaked around to the front. Most days she enjoyed the attention of the people, the fake smiles and salutes. Today she had no time for it.

On a whim, she'd kept her distance when she arrived and had hid behind a stopped wagon ever since. I mean it was only a commoner Surely they could handle it on their own.

Still unnoticed, Elisia watched from afar. Something was off. Evidently Elisia had missed something.

The captain's hardened voice spoke up, age thick in his voice. "I wish you were gone. You're as mad as they tell me if you think you'll be seeing her."

"Oh I'll be seeing her alright." She responded, and then continued with a great deal more venom. "And you must be as dumb as you look if you think I won't."

"Not even we see her, what makes you think-" A suggestive pause. "You- will see her?"

"Why because I'm blocking the road of course." She chuckled, and it sounded like the chuckle of any old lady. But a certain tenderness was missing. "Now go on, fetch your master boy."

Her words hung in the air. The soldiers tensed, their hands hovered by their hilts. Their eyes narrowed, glimpsing from the old woman and then to their captain. Unsure of how to proceed. Evidently they weren't trained for dealing with snappy pensioners.

Gerry, Galus or Geludia clasped his hilt. Drawing the sword that rested by his prominent waistline, the steel emerged slow. So slow it hissed, filling the nerve-racking silence. It stopped half-way, enough to show some skin, and that he was serious.

"Come again?"

"You heard me, I'm in no mood to trifle with a servant."

"Servant?" He growled, tightening the grip on his hilt. "Watch yourself, I am no mere servant. I am Sir Derick, a knight, high captain of his majesties forces and royal protector."

Derick? You must be joking? I wasn't even close.

"Knight, watchmen, squire, peasant. All just noise. All just rungs in a ladder. At the end of the day blubber boy, you're still an underling, so if you'd be so kind to run along and summon the Duchess."

The captain, understandably taken aback, scoffed loudly and pursed his lips in an attempt to speak, but seemingly haven forgotten the words; no noise came. His face flushed a bright hue of red, and then, the words flooded out of him like rolling thunder.

"Watch your tongue wretch!" He boomed. "It's Sir to you. You will address me accordingly."

"My humblest apologies, O'Sir blubber boy." The already bent figure bowed slightly lower.

"Blubber boy." He shouted. Now the captain withdrew his sword in its entirety. Dramatically raising it overhead for all to see, brandishing it in a wide arc until eventually stopping it a breath short of her head (the first one). It caught the afternoon light and the metal sheened. In a low voice he continued. "That's it. You will show me respect, or I will cut you where you stand."

Then suddenly, the cloak swelled for a beat, looking like the very cloth was reaching for the captain with a giant boney black hand. Reaching – reaching and then suddenly it deflated when something shot out of the seams.

A bright flash of grey. A loud ring. The pale hand of the gypsy shoot out. Where there had been one sword, now there were two against each other forming an X in the air.

"Why don't we just skip the formalities?" said the old woman. "And just get to the good bit?"

Elisia gaped. This woman's out of her mind. What does she think she's doing? Even the captain seemed taken aback by the audacious stunt. The swords grinded against each other, making a horrible scratching sound. In turn, the two watchmen drew forth their own swords, keeping them low.

"You seem awfully impatient." The captain started firmly. "Considering you'll soon be in chains."

"It's a symptom of age I'm afraid, don't have time to waste." She chuckled coldly, even sadly. "I assure you, at the end of this it won't be me chained. No, I'll finally be free."

A soft breeze passed through, the cloak of the woman billowed in the wind and the mane on the captain's helmet ruffled.

"Well then, you're in a rush. It'd be rude to keep you waiting."

With that, the slightly stubbled face of the captain turned into a leer. In one fluid motion he turned, side-stepped her sword and ran to her. His boots slapped the earth, his burly build shockingly fast as it rushed the figure. All the while, his sword cut the air, honing in on the figure like a loosed arrow.

It looked ready to cleave her in half. Although it never would, Elisia knew. She'd seen the captain handle himself in earlier fights, she knew he favoured ending battles before they started. Using the surprise to get his sword near the neck or heart, then once it was there, they'd concede. Elisia watched as the sword tip was about her, at the very last minute, the figure pulled away.

Twang!

In an instant, she had not only evaded , but managed to block it with her own strike, but how? From a glance at his shocked face, the captain seemed to be wondering the very same thing.

"Is that the best you got?" retorted the woman. He merely growled back, before weaving past her sword again and thrusting, aiming for her heart.

Elisia watched, as the tip of the sword yet again neared and neared. Surely he had her now?

Twang!

Murmers of disbelief amongst the onlookers. She'd parried it away. There was no way anyone, let alone an old woman could have escaped that blow, at that distance, and yet she had. Only in the very last moment had she pulled away, and parried the piercing thrust, making a horrible screeching sound as steel slid against steel. The captain looked at her with wide eyes.

"My turn." She replied coolly.

The movements and strikes were so fast, so much happened, so fast it was hard for Elisia to keep up, it was all a blur.

A violent flurry of blows rained down on the captain. First a sidesweep, then an overhead strike followed by a lunge. Fiercely he batted them all away, but as soon as he parried one, the second was already in motion. They were quick, each and every one aiming true. Only the captain's fast feet and metallic replies kept the deadly strikes at bay.

Again and again, the two blades kissed in the crisp afternoon air. Each time sparks sprayed forth, each time they kissed they rang like bells. Elisia was amazed, she'd never seen a fight of such skill before. It seemed like a battle of titans. One thing was for sure, the little old harmless lady was anything but.

Out of nowhere they stopped, their blades entangled. Sir. Derrick breathed heavy. Noticing this his soldiers spoke up.

"Captain?" They stood with their swords at the ready. "Do you need us?"

"Stay out of this." He spat, still looking at the figure. "She's mine."

"You sure?"

"I said stay out of this." He shouted in between pants.

"I'd listen to your men Cap'n. You look a little worse for wear."

He grunted, his bulk rising and falling slightly.

"I'd be too...if I had to lug around that barrel of a gut."

Baring his teeth, he let out a roar of frustration and with a grand swing of his sword, the fight continued.

For a while, Elisia couldn't tell who was winning. The captain would press her, viciously attacking and greedily winning ground but the old woman would simply defend, waiting for an opening, where eventually she'd go on an offensive push and put him on the backfoot. The dual dragged on, ebbing and flowing.

It appeared a match of equals, rotating back and forth, seemingly never-ending.

So it went, till the captains back pooled with sweat and his breathing grew hard. His movements became slower, his reactions sluggish. Comparatively the figure didn't show the faintest sign of fatigue, or slowing down. The old woman seemed to avoid every strike and thrust of his, always just narrowly avoiding his attacks but they never left a mark.

More and more of her attacks began slipping through and making slight, inconsequential cuts. It nipped at his armor, tore at his clothing. Surely the tide began turning in the old woman's favour, and as she got him on the back foot, with a ferocity unseen by Elisia, the old woman let loose a fresh burst of powerful strikes. Strikes unlike any so far, Elisia barely tracked them as they flew through the air.

Clearly exhausted, he slowly batted them away, but there were too many. He seemed to be struggling to keep his sword lifted, let alone avoid her sweeping strikes. Even he had his limits. Stumbling back fast, doing anything he could to get away from the barrage of steel, and howling painfully as the nipping of her sword's edge had turned into ravenous bites, the exhausted captain tripped back.

With a shuddering of the earth, he fell on the hard path. Crying out, something Elisia didn't catch, the soldier sprang into action, flying quick towards the hunchback.

Ah, but the old lady was quicker. Before the captain could understand what had happened, she already slithered close and like a viper, bared her sword at his exposed neck.

"Hold it." She cried, a note of urgency in her voice as she turned to the soldiers flanking her.

They skidded to a stop, inches away, swords poised at her.

"Drop your weapons."

Uncertain, they held onto them. They looked to the disheveled man on the floor.

"Tell them to drop it."

He merely tilted his head, and looked at her.

"I said, tell them to drop it."

She pressed the edge of the sword into his neck, he angled his head away. Then, far weaker and wearier than Elisia had ever seen him, he mouthed.

"Never."

"Last chance, tell them to drop their weapons."

"I'd rather die."

"So be it. I don't care if I have to kill everyone in this convoy, I'm seeing the Duchess with or without your help."

He let out a defeated chuckle.

In a flash she brought her sword high, like the executioner's axe. There was little blood smeared on the steel, but no scratches. Meanwhile, the captain merely took off his battered helmet and let his eyes roll to the blue sky above. His face, often torn up in wrath now seemed to adopt a new look. Peace. With the weight of the world, the sword came down.

"Wait"

That was when three things happened at once.

First, the soldiers yelped in surprise. Their weapons clattered against the hard earth and rocks on the path.

Second, the sword stopped mid-descent, and both the figure and captain turned to the source of the voice.

Lastly, leaping out from her cover Elisia shouted. "Get your sword away from him, I beg you!"

The old lady turned slowly, from the soldiers to Elisia. Meeting her gaze, her eyes widened when she recognized who was interrupting the proceedings. Elisia caught a glimpse of her face, and a thin-lipped mouth smiled.

"Finally." and then turning back to the captain. "I told you I'd see her, didn't I?"