Oderan did not bother with a prayer to Szaresh. The Godking would not help him now. With his stomach in knots, the tall drake allowed his armourmen to dress him. They slid his studded overcoat on over the chest armour, his feet in leather boots and his arms in tight wraps beneath steel gauntlets. He had his customary coloured ribbons tied to his left horn, helmet secured over the top. His Greatspear, a weapon two thirds as tall as he was, sat to the side held in a small frame, just waiting for him to collect it.

            A servant came running into the room, slightly out of breath, eyes fixing on Oderan. He approached quickly and bowed respectfully.

            “Lord Oderan!" He exclaimed. “The final pre-fight has begun now, and you shall be announced to the crowd shortly. I was told to ensure you're prepared."

            “Thank you. I am." Oderan replied, swallowing. His mouth was so dry; his claws were trembling. He wasn't ready.

            I can't do this. He thought. I can't fight a master duel swordsman, especially not when Albion's life hangs in the balance of what I do. I have to cancel, forfeit…but then what? Destroy my house's reputation without gaining any kind of victory? Keep Albion safe but leave us trapped in our old lives? I can't do that. This is worth fighting for. This is worth doing, more worthy than anything I've ever done.

            He sighed, closing his eyes and flexing his body, trying to get comfortable in the armour.

            “Albion. I love you." He whispered. They'd spent the previous night together, a beautiful moment Oderan could never forget. Forgetting the sex even, good as it had been, the best part had been just laying with his panther in the bed, both naked, scale to fur, falling asleep slowly in one another's arms.

            It's all I want. Just to have him, and be left alone. He thought. It's not so much. Why do I have to fight with everything I am for just that small happiness?

            Oderan opened his eyes, trying to clear his mind. He walked to his spear, armoured claw closing slowly around the shaft as he lifted it, hefting the weight. He began to do a slowed-down version of a kata, going through the motions, putting himself in the headspace to fight. The ornate, simple yet elegant spearhead Albion had made for him shone brilliantly as he twirled, catching the light of the surrounding torches on the wall, sparkling. His mind filled with memories of the two of them, and the hope he held for the future. Godking Szaresh wouldn't dare deny his boon, it had never been done, it would break so many generations of tradition, it was nearly unthinkable.

Wasn't it?

            I have to be free of doubts. Just me and Ferei. That's all that exists now. All that matters now.

            Outside he heard a primal scream and the crowd erupted yet again, applauding like a pack of wild beasts, screaming always for more. While it was not exactly illegal to kill your opponent in the arena, it was generally frowned upon by polite society. The audience came by all accounts to enjoy the fight, but they all secretly attended to watch people die, and they were always teased with it, that tantalising flash of gore held just out of reach. Oderan had a mind that if they ever saw what they truly wanted, they would be horrified by the reality.

He stopped his kata, standing still in the small room.

            “My Lord?" A servant asked, approaching slowly.

            “They're ready then?" He asked, glancing over as the servant nodded hastily.

            “Y-yes. You'll be announced in a moment."

            “Well then." Oderan said softly. “Here we are."

            Bailey grabbed Garrett's paw, squeezing. They were standing behind Lorric and Aileen, and only Albion saw their transgression, a slight smile on his face. Below in the arena, a bloodied opponent had been dragged away and an orange flag brought out waving. It had a small white pattern on the front Bailey couldn't quite make out, but it obviously signalled something important, for the entire arena suddenly hushed, watching intently. He saw a blue scaled Akkedisian walk out in ornate robes, arms held wide. His first few words were lost, but Bailey managed to catch him saying Oderan Sarrosum and Ferei Daiyakis. He slowly let go of Garrett's paw.

            “It's about to start." Lorric muttered. From one side of the arena, a tall Akkedisian in lightweight leather armour walked out. His scales were vibrant, a patterned mix of orange and black, a short straight-sword held in each of his claws. The crowd exploded at the sight of Ferei, waving and cheering as he held his swords high above his head. He met the announcer in the centre of the arena, bowing to him respectfully.

            “There he is!" Exclaimed Aileen, pointing. Oderan had walked out of his section, receiving an equally excited reaction from the crowd. They cheered and howled, waving at him and crying for the fight to start. He too met the announcer in the centre, standing only a few feet from Ferei. He bowed first to the announcer, and then he and Ferei bowed to one another.

            The crowd's roaring died as trumpets sounded from the north side. Murmurs rippled over the ocean of Akkedisians and visiting Tevarians as the doors on the Godking's platform slid open silently. A small blue drake ran out to the lip of the platform, screaming loud enough so all could hear.

            “ANNOUNCING THE ARRIVAL!" He bellowed, pausing for a breath. “OF HIS IMMORTAL MAGESTY OF DIVINE RIGHT, GODKING SZARESH ODIRIUM!" The drake quickly bowed at an almost ninety-degree angle, flitting off the side as the largest being Bailey had ever seen stepped out onto the platform. The Godking wore ceremonial silver armour, a dazzling sight in the sun. At nearly nine feet tall Szaresh was a giant, four twisting horns curling up from the top of his head and jutting out away from his skull. His face was not like that of a typical Akkedisian, but instead long and angular, his eyes large and sunken.

            “He looks like a monster." Bailey whispered, and Garrett hushed him with a kick. Behind the Godking, resplendent crimson wings spayed out dramatically, earning a gasp from the crowd. His legs bent backwards at the knees, and his claws seemed large enough to crush a normal person's skull. When he spoke, his voice was that of a normal speaking temperament, and yet it was clearly audible throughout the arena, as if amplified tenfold.  

            “Lord Oderan Sarrosum." He said with a respectful nod. “Lord Ferei Daiyakis. The Divine Right witnesses your pledge of honour to the Akkedis Imperium. May fate smile down on you both today."

            Oderan and Ferei both bowed deeply to the Godking, holding their position until he commanded they rise. As they did so, they once again bowed to each other, before turning and each walking ten paces. The announcer quickly removed himself from the field. They stood in silence, staring at each other. Marron had explained to Bailey before how High Rank matches worked. The two fought with undulled weapons, and the match was won when either one duellist had surrendered three times, or was otherwise incapacitated.

            The silence was heavy, and Bailey could hear even his breath.

Then a great bell was struck, and the fight began.

            Oderan held his spear point-first, slowly approaching Ferei. The orange half-dragon kept his stance loose and free, swords by his side, eyes locked to his opponent. They met in the middle, slowly circling one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Some duellists would try to play strictly defensive, waiting out their opponent and reacting to their movements and attack patterns. Oderan was a much more active combatant, he always figured if you struck first you could enact a modicum of control onto the fight by setting it somewhat on your terms.

            So he attacked.

He skipped forward, poking out with the spear in a blow that Ferei easily battered aside. He was only testing the drake, seeing how attentive he was to certain moves and tactics. He followed up with a series of quick, progressive feints and strikes, alternating between high and low, left and right. Ferei met each one with ease, his eyes always locked on Oderan, body following through with motions naturally. He looked consistently graceful as he moved, and Oderan finally understood why he wasn't mocked for using such short swords. In Akkedisian culture, the weapon of highest nobility was a Greatsword or Greatspear, huge sweeping weapons that kept an enemy away. Swords and shields, while useful and admittedly common, were far less prevalent than they might be in the Tevarian Empire, especially in the duelling ranks.

            Oderan danced with Ferei, parrying the drake's own attacks, ducking and weaving as they fought. Ferei rolled to the side, shocking Oderan but not catching him off guard. Oderan spun, sweeping the spear around and having his spearhead glance off the side of Ferei's gauntlet. The drake was up and in close after that, and Oderan was forced to use the shaft of his spear to try and block the relentless series of strikes. The two swords flowed like some kind of clockwork mechanism, striking again and again, giving him no room to think, no room to even breathe. Panicking, he managed to get a blow in edgeways, cracking Ferei in the knee with the butt of the spear, but as a result his throat was caught in a tight grip between the two blades, and he was forced to concede.

            They reluctantly broke apart, each returning to the twenty pace distance, quickly re-engaging as the bell was struck. This time Oderan played more defensively, backing off and keeping his distance, refusing to let Ferei get inside his guard. Still, he was only just managing to fend off the orange drake, just barely keeping up.

            I'm better than this. I know I am. He thought, infuriated at himself. Don't get caught up in the emotions.

            “What?!" Cried Ferei, performing a flamboyant spin as he leapt and struck, before pulling back. “You're trying to seduce me into thinking yourself weak?" Oderan's eyes went wide, talking during a duel was…unorthodox. It simply wasn't done, the fighters focused on themselves, not on taunting their opponent. “I've seen you fight before, Oderan. I know you're better than this!" He laughed, coming in again.

Oderan parried his onslaught, quickly backing up as he did so. Ferei got cocky despite his words, pushing in with a particularly aggressive rhythm, swinging his swords wildly as he came for Oderan's throat. He refused to allow Ferei so close, and began pushing him away with great sweeping strikes, switching to powerful blows that Ferei was forced to avoid lest he break bones. Oderan pushed him back farther and farther, slowly regaining his ground. He used the butt of his spear to crush Ferei's block, exalting at the slight victory, going for the blow that would knock him down.

I've got you now, you bastard. Oderan thought, whirling forwards and leaping into the air, driving the Greatspear down and straight into the ground. Ferei had dodged expertly and Oderan had slammed his blade straight into the dust, and in a flash Ferei was at his throat.

“Fuck." Oderan grunted, pulling his spear free as he conceded the round. The crowd was whooping, and he felt the cold fingers of shame crawl over his face. His sister would be watching, wondering why he was fighting so badly, why he was so sloppy. He glanced up at the Godking, who watched impassively, his face unreadable. Finally, he looked to Albion, his fur merely a dark spot in his family's shaded room, like a hole in the world.

I need you. He thought. His memory went to the blissful calm he felt when Albion held him. The joy he felt when they kissed, the freedom he would feel when he won. That's right. When I win. Think about Albion, picture him in your mind. Ferei has nothing like this, none of them do. The nobles have lost something, and you're lucky enough to have it. Don't spoil your only chance at finally having what you both deserve. He looked to Ferei, resolve compounded.

And he assumed his stance.

“Thank the immortal!" Aileen exclaimed, as Ferei was finally knocked down, surrendering the round to the tip of Oderan's spear. She was on her feet, one claw clenched in a fist, the other held to her chest dramatically, looking almost as panicked as Albion probably felt. The panther was perched on the edge of his seat, barely moving, chewing furiously at his nails.

“Maybe he needed a piss or something." Lorric added, earning a glare from Aileen as she sat.

“I don't know what he was doing, but at least he didn't lose to nil, I can't imagine the embarrassment." She said, gesturing for Bailey to bring her another goblet of wine. “I actually didn't expect Ferei to be this good, Odirium above he looks like a dancer." She ran a claw over her head, and Bailey glanced past her, looking to where Odirium was literally above.

“Oderan is better still. Especially now that he's found his footing." Lorric said, as the two duellists circled each other slowly, each wary now of the other's tricks. “He just needed to get warmed up…. Gah, I almost don't want to watch." He said, covering his eyes. Clangs rang out, echoing as steel met steel, the two duellists a perfect match for one another.

“He'll win." Albion said softly, eyes never leaving the sight of his battling lover. “He has to."

“And you?" Aileen asked, leaning back and looking at the two slaves. “What do you two think? Go on, speak your mind truthfully, I swear no repercussions on you."

“Ah, my Lady…I don't know much of duels…" Bailey stammered, rubbing at his neck.

“And yet I ask for your opinion anyways. What do you think? I really despise repeating myself mutt." She snapped.

“Your brother…that is, Lord Oderan…he seems like a very competent fighter." He finally answered, to which Aileen raised an eyebrow.

“And so Lord Ferei isn't?" She asked, a slight smile on her lips.

“No, no of course not…but Oderan seems the stronger of the two. Lord Oderan." He finally said, almost looking out of breath.

“I agree with my friend, my Lady, but we shall see." Garrett added eloquently, bowing.

“Mm, indeed we shall." Aileen replied, looking back and apparently now speaking to Lorric. “I just want this idiotic fight to be done with. Oderan's duelling has been quaint, and he is good at it, but it will be nice for him to do something proper, don't you agree Uncle?" Lorric nodded.

“Of course darling. See him married within the year and I'll be the happiest drake this side of the sun."

“Naturally." Aileen said, as Oderan swept Ferei off his feet.

Oderan was panting, breath coming in great gasps as he walked back to his starting position. He'd only just had the upper hand on Ferei then, and his heart was still racing. Two to two, whoever took the next match would be declared the victor. Their encounters were short but brutal, and Oderan had several places on his body that he could feel smarting from the blows, leather ties sliced by the blade edge. As he stood waiting for the bell to ring, he saw a servant run out of Ferei's waiting room, passing a cup of water to the duellist. A moment later someone appeared at his own side, and he graciously accepted the water, downing it instantly. As the servant scurried off, he resecured his helmet and adopted a defensive stance.

The bell rang.

They approached one another slowly, each cautious. Ferei had been cocky from his first two consecutive victories, and that had allowed Oderan to get into his head. But he wouldn't be fooled now. They knew each other well enough from the dance they'd just done.

Ferei got close, nearly in reach, his right sword raised defensively, his left held low and ready.

“Everyone can see what you're doing, Lord Oderan!" Ferei called, striking out. Oderan blocked his blows, steel screeching as it met opposing steel. “We all know you're just a pawn for your sister! Too much of a child for a real wife, thank goodness you have that little slut!" He cried, leaping forward. Oderan dodged his assault, dancing backward.

“Ferei, you'd seem a much smarter person if you stopped opening that mouth of yours so often." Oderan called. “You have no idea what you're talking about." He feinted right, but Ferei was too quick, not falling for the jab and parrying the follow up easily.

“Have you even felt the touch of a real woman, just once?" Ferei cried, circling. “We all know you have that disgusting fur fetish, so do you fuck them too?" Oderan pranced about, sweeping his spear forward, dealing attacks that Ferei easily side-stepped.

How can he keep his voice so level? Oderan wondered as he was forced backward yet again, feinting and stepping, pirouetting and riposting the strikes as they came.

“You probably like the touch of your sister's scales!" Ferei cried. “Yes, I bet your little spine creeps right out of your slit at just the thought of dear Aileen stripped down. Those gorgeous scales, I suppose how could you not want her?" Oderan felt a current of revulsion run through him. He'd never bothered much with noble gossip, and he realised at that moment he knew almost nothing about Ferei.

“Are you so unable to fight with honour, Lord Ferei? Just shut your maw and duel me, damn you!" He growled, tearing forward and delivering his own series of relentless attacks. Ferei switched his stances faster than he moved, swinging both swords in an arcing strike towards Oderan's head. Oderan ducked, sliding to the left as the swords caught the top of his helm, yanking it free. It bounced in the dust, and he didn't stop to consider it, bringing the spear up and aiming the blade towards Ferei's stomach.

Just give in. He plead, as the half-dragon parried him yet again.

“You don't understand." He grunted, pushing forward with sharp, striking blows. They were strong, sapping Ferei's strength as they continually shattered his guard.

“You're right!" The duellist cried, ducking backwards to avoid getting caught in the face with Oderan's blade. “I don't understand incest or the furs; I have plenty of scaled females just waiting on me. I've taken your sister before too, back before she played with--" He cut off as Oderan's elbow caught him in the chest. Ferei fell backwards, losing a sword and rolling backwards. He caught his balance before Oderan could seize the advantage however, and to the roaring dismay of the crowd he was up on his feet in seconds.

How does he do that? Oderan exclaimed silently.

“You're just making an idiot of yourself." Oderan warned, keeping the orange drake away from his second sword, left in the dust.

“As I was saying!" Ferei screamed, smashing down a sharp two-handed blow that narrowly missed Oderan's claw. “I've taken your Aileen, several times! Before you sold her off to that fucking brute Urie Khasteer, can't believe you'd stoop so low Oderan! Such a poor brother you are to whore your sister like that!" He continued, ducking beneath a horizontal slash.

“You really have no idea what you're talking about." Oderan grunted through clenched teeth. “I hate my sister, and I prefer males." He stabbed forward and Ferei twisted away, the shock written on his face. He was totally floored by the open admission. Oderan then released his spear, dropping it into the dirt and punching Ferei in the face. The blow caught him totally off-guard and he stumbled, leaving himself open for Oderan to kick his wrist and send the last sword flying. Ferei whipped his head back up in time for Oderan to give him an armoured backhand, following through with a savage kick to his leg, sending him down to one knee.

“Filthy bastard!" Ferei spat, claws going up. Oderan battered them aside and punched him again straight in the face, sending him crashing him to the ground. Oderan was on top of him in a second, his fist smashing into the duellist's face, blood spraying.

“You. Idiot!" Oderan snapped. His claws tightened around Ferei's throat and he squeezed. “None of you understand! You could never understand! You've taken everything right in the world and perverted it for your fucking games!" He hissed. Ferei's claws scrambled at him, trying desperately to free his neck, but Oderan had the weight advantage. He pressed down, waiting as Ferei kicked madly.

Above him, trumpets sounded again.

“ENOUGH!" Boomed the Godking's ethereal voice. Oderan couldn't let up, he was so angry there were tears in his eyes. Several servants ran up to him, putting their claws on his shoulders and pulling him back. He finally released Ferei, cursing as he let himself be torn off, quickly shaking free of the servants. On the ground the losing duellist clutched at his throat, wheezing painfully.

“And I have no honour." Ferei snapped hoarsely, spitting on the ground as he climbed to his feet. Oderan stood, panting in the middle of the arena. The crowd was silent, whispering amongst themselves at what they'd just seen.

The closest thing to real violence they've seen here in years. Oderan thought. This is it. This is what you wanted. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them he looked to his family's viewing room. Albion stood at the edge, waving. Oderan nodded.

“I love you, so much." He whispered.

Up on the podium, the Godking was silent. Contemplating. Oderan looked to him, bowing.

“I fight for your honour!" He cried. Not everyone in the arena would be able to hear, but Szaresh certainly would.

“Indeed." Came the response. Again the words surrounded him, loud enough to be easily clear yet still spoken at a normal cadence. “The High Rank duel is over, let the winner be declared as Lord Oderan, of the great line Sarrosum. You have my respect."

“Thank you, your Immortal Divinity." Oderan replied. “I have a boon to request of you!" The Godking waved his claw, as if asking for Oderan to hurry up with the petition.

“Very well. Ask of me what you will." Oderan swallowed, feeling sick. He glanced over to Ferei, who was limping away, a servant carrying his swords for him. He looked up to the viewing room again, at the form of his sister, of Lorric…. Albion, Bailey, and Garrett. He'd only known the two slaves for a short while, and he already wanted to be like them. How could Bailey smile like that, after everything?

He sucked in a breath.

It's not too late. He thought. Albion would understand if you did what your sister wanted. You could avoid any trouble. He recalled Jaro's promise that the others would be safe. He had to do this. He'd worked so hard for the last few years to achieve it, it was all that mattered now.

“Godking Szaresh!" He exclaimed loudly. The arena fell quiet. “I would ask of you one thing: to be granted the right of marriage to a male Tevarian! I will then leave this city with only my name and inheritance, and I shall not be pursued!" He froze as soon as he said it.

Did I really just do that? He thought. The crowd gasped loudly, all talking over one another hurriedly. To the side, Ferei stared blankly, mouth agape. Oderan struggled to breathe, he felt hot and cold, terrified, small, alone, desperate. He also felt love, incredible love. He knew it was worth it. Even if he was scared out of his mind.