Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 7 - Chapter SS1

Fair and Square

“How about this?!”

Her late father had taught her that children of Faerzen were fierce.

“Too slow.”

Even as the boy’s voice reached her ears, their wooden swords thwacked together. Unable to take the impact, Scáthach’s weapon broke before its counterpart.

“Curses!”

Her eyes burned with defiance, looking around for a way to regain the advantage. They found a spare wooden sword lying nearby. Her body sprang into action. She kept her opponent pinned down with her bare hands as she made her way over to the weapon before snatching it up and turning round to swing.

“I’m not done yet!”

Her late brother had taught her that children of Faerzen were bold.

She saw her opponent’s strikes coming but forged forward fearlessly. A blow struck her shoulder. She grimaced but didn’t slow, focusing on opening him up.

“Your movements are too obvious.”

“You needn’t remind me!”

Scáthach’s bladework was well honed, but very much by the book. Such predictable technique was unlikely to turn the tables in her favor. It might win her thunderous applause on the stage, but she would struggle to hold her own on the battlefield against an opponent of equal skill.

Again, the boy’s strike broke her wooden sword in two. She picked up a longstaff and continued her assault, wielding it so deftly, it moved like an extension of her arm.

“Your spearwork is versatile, but you’re too orthodox in how you use it.”

Her thrusts missed the mark. Her downward swipes cracked the earth, but nothing more. Her upward swings all fell short of clipping his chin. She tried a sideways swipe, aiming for his torso, but it didn’t quite reach, like she had misjudged the distance by just a fraction. She tsked in annoyance. Haste bred errors, and errors were fatal.

“The people of Faerzen are like that, I hear. Maybe that goes for their princesses in particular.”

He was right. In a word, the people of Faerzen liked to fight fair and square. They eschewed subtleties and roundabout means, invariably taking the most direct route to their goal. As a member of the royal family, she was intensely proud of those values and sought to uphold them, even if they might someday mean her death.

“Maybe so. But I will fight as I was taught, no matter what.”

Her martial skills were one of her few remaining ties to her family. Developed over grueling hours of training, they were the product of the kindness of her father, the sternness of her brother, the warmth of her mother and younger siblings that had inspired her to protect the ones she loved. When she took up her spear, she could feel their presence still.

“I am of royal blood, the last of my line. I will not forsake my knighthood.”

Those were stubborn, almost childish words. Many would have scoffed at her for them, but her practice partner was not one of them.

“So you’d rather be true than wise. Well, then. You should hold those feelings close.” The boy smiled back, looking almost envious.

“I’m pleased you approve. Then this time, I shall get the better of you!”

“That’s not what I said.”

She thrust the longstaff toward him. The air swirled around the end, howling like a gale as she swept it sideways. He dodged, but she had expected as much, drawing herself in with the staff to counterbalance and striking with the heel of her palm. The blow caught him so hard in the chest that his feet left the ground.

“Ngh!”

“Gah!”

Even as her attack landed, however, the boy’s kick struck her in the shoulder. Neither could allay their momentum, and both went flying.

Scáthach hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from her lungs. She ignored the pain through sheer force of will and pressed her fist into the ground, forcing herself to her feet.

“Raaagh!”

She lashed out to the right with an overhead swing, relying more on instinct than sight. A savage crack echoed through the courtyard.

“I suppose we should call this a draw.”

Her eyes caught up to her longstaff, drawn by the boy’s voice. He had blocked the blow, his weapon raised in a high guard.

“A battle with no victor... There is little so vexing.” Both of their weapons were beaten and splintered. Scáthach gulped down a lungful of air, exhaled again, and tossed her longstaff away. “Well, now that we’ve worked up a sweat, what say you to hand-to-hand combat in the baths?”

“Wait, what?”

“I promised you that I would win today. One way or another, I will make good on my word.”

“Now, hold on a second. Let’s think about this...”

“What is there to think about? I used to do much the same with my little brother. We shall emerge with bodies clean and scores settled. Can you say fairer?” The boy tried to back away, but she seized his hand and began marching toward the baths. “We shall have no arms or armor to lean on, only our bodies and the skills they have learned!”

“I get what you’re saying, I do, but you haven’t considered—”

“No more tricks. I shall defeat you fair and square!”