"-and that's a win for me." Trebar scooped the pile of coins that represented the winner's pool and began the meticulous process of stacking them.
"So you have, so you have." Prince Merndil placed yet another coin in the center of the table. Cholst, Gawan, Rashtvice, and Trebar followed suit. Len also placed a coin on the table, his fingers trembling as he did so.
"Will you not be participating this round?" Trebar asked Zhoie, noticing that she had not placed a coin on the line.
"No, I think I've had enough of this for the night." Zhoie frowned and leaned back in her chair. "I'm not a big fan."
Merndil clasped his hands with his elbows on the table. "Why is that?"
It wasn't a malicious question, he was just trying to learn more about this group of mysterious strangers. Even if Zhoie did not hold the same level of status and authority as Gawan or Trebar, she could still provide some insight into the workings of the Holifanian Theocracy. This was a rare opportunity, one he wished to capitalize on.
"It's just a bit boring, that's all. If you want to talk, then you should just talk. Personally-""She's a sore loser." Cholst interrupted her with a smile on his face.
The two of them were rivals of sorts, that much was clear to anybody who was with them for a small amount of time, but it appeared that their rivalry was not really one of hatred. That relationship seemed to be reserved for the pair that came to blows, though Trebar insisted that it was the girl who hated the boy, and not the other way around.
"Look at her hiding her chips! She's got, what, four left? Five left?"
"Shut up!"
"Ahahaha." Cholst slapped his knees. He had only guessed that she was running low on wager funds. "You really are terrible at this!"
"It's a dice game Cholst, there isn't much skill involved." Gawan flatly denied Cholst's claims to Zhoie's incompetence, but he wasn't going to let up.
"Luck is a skill Gawan, one you're born with."
"Would you like to make that argument to Donovan?" Trebar shot back at Cholst with a threatening suggestion. "I seem to recall his stance on luck stands in stark contrast to what you believe it to be, less an innate quality of a person and more of a resource."
"Geh." Cholst backed down at Trebar's reminder of Donovan. If this party had been at someone else's place he could have brushed it off, but Donovan was a very real threat to him here. "D-don't bring him into this!"
"Heh, coward."
"Idiot."
"Sleazebag."
"Fatass."
"MAN-SLUT!"
"WHORE!!!"
The room went silent, leaving Trebar pinching the bridge of his nose in shame. Perhaps he could have ignored this exchange of insults had the setting been more private, it was a grace he bestowed upon them quite frequently, but in the presence of foreign nobility that just wasn't an option. Sighing, he stood up from his chair holding a knife in his hand. Trebar's intentions weren't hostile, but an exchange of glances with Cholst suggested that both parties understood what had to come next. Standing up to face him Cholst had a reluctant look on his face, clearly he dreaded what was to come.
"Cholst Ilfalia, you have slandered my fiance's name and reputation." Trebar grasped his right hand around the blade of the knife gently, drawing it with his left in order to make a cut. Now bleeding, he closed his fist and spread the blood around until it covered most of his fingers and palm. Content, he then proceeded to slap Cholst across the cheek. "I challenge you to a duel of first blood for her honor, dare you accept?"
Cholst picked up a napkin from the table with a hint of aggression, his once cheery mood was long gone. Angrily, he wiped the blood off of his face. This was not the first time he and Trebar had come to blows over this, several times already he had been slapped with a bloody palm.
"I hate this stupid custom of yours."
"Accept my challenge or run away, those are your options."
Cholst's eyes drifted around the room. Everybody, every single person, was staring at with an expectant gaze. They weren't chastising him, they weren't holding him to account for his outburst against Zhoie, they were waiting for him to provide them entertainment.
"Fine! I accept." Cholst threw the fabric square on the ground. "Fuck!"
"You had it coming!"
"Zhoie." Trebar was not happy with her either. Faced with a stern stare, she could only turn her head and pout. Trebar had taken her side out of social obligation, not because he thought she was in the right. "I apologize for the racket ladies and gentlemen, it would appear I need to correct my subordinate in regard to his behavior."
- - - - -
"Disgraceful!"
He could not believe that such people would be invited to this party. His hopes that those individuals from the Holifanian Theocracy were cut of a different cloth had been dashed. They had started not one but two fights now. Worse still was that it was nobody other than their leader, Lord Trebar, who was to be participating in the second.
There was some recompense in the fact that he was defending the honor of his woman, but given that woman's behavior he didn't see much honor to defend. Just as he had thought, any woman who devoted their life to combat could not be graceful. A graceful woman would be well versed in the arts, reserved, and distinctly aware of her position in the room. This Zhoie character was nothing like that, and neither was that woman clad in black off to the side.
She might be reserved, but the fact she hid her face could only mean she was ashamed of it. To him that could only mean one thing, she was hideous to the point of disgrace.
"Interesting party, no?" The man who approached him with a glass of wine in hand was, perhaps, the person he wished to interact with the least tonight.
"Interesting is one way to put it. I believe that 'an utter disgrace to the Bulsa name' is a better fit." He downed yet another glass of wine, the taste growing less and less appealing as it saturated his taste buds. "What do you want Hlapven? Have you finally gotten bored of counting coins and decided to cling to Merndil's boots?"
Hlapven sighed before responding. "You know I was trying to start a friendly conversation."
"And I am not in a particularly friendly mood. Do try to keep your sentences brief and your news pleasant. I'm already starting to grow dizzy from your stench."
"I think that might be the barrel of wine you've imbibed tonight speaking."
"It is certainly more pleasant to listen to than the grating you call a voice." He rested the wine glass on yet another passing server's platter. There was nothing on his plate to replace it, which had the potential to make him incredibly cranky. "Need I remind you to keep it brief."
"Whatever. I only thought I should be giving you a warning, not as an enemy, not as a lord, but as a fellow nobleman. Don't fuck with the Terrans."
"The Terrans? You mean that skank running this circus and the sorry waste of a man she considers to be a husband? I think I'll treat them the way they deserve to be treated thank you very much. Was that all?"
"You really don't get it do you?"
"There is nothing to 'get'. They are drivel, disgraceful dregs of high society that should be grateful our Crown Prince is as generous and gullible as his mother." He scoffed, shooting daggers at the person in question.
"You would do well to keep such talk of the late Empress Consort to yourself, Rishtahn." Hlapven shot a deadly glance in his neighbor's direction. "And those Terrans have far more influence and power than you might think."
"I doubt it."
"Do you think the Emperor could have gotten the Holifanians to make an appearance?"
"I am certain that his majesty would only have to ask." Rishtahn rolled his eyes. Who would decline the call of the Bulsarzian Emperor? Who could decline one of his invitations?
"Don't lie to me Rishtahn. You and I both know they don't view our empire as their equal."
"Then they are fools."
"You are the fool here."
Rishtahn narrowed his eyes in Hlapven's direction. "Am I to take your words as treason?"
Hlapven raised an eyebrow, wondering if Rishtahn was drunk. "It is not treasonous to recognize that there exist powers as strong as or stronger than our own Empire. The Sanctum alone is proof enough of that." Hlapven caught a glimpse of Diana's golden blonde hair, momentarily drawing his attention away from the conversation as he checked to see what she was doing. "I would argue that it is our duty as advisors of the Emperor to make him aware of the real situation, not shower him in false assurances and platitudes."
Rishtahn rolled his eyes again. Anybody with half a working brain would know that much, but only the best understood that a little bit of embellishment and goading was necessary to make the most out of a situation. The Emperor, the Royal Family, was a lineage of truly fantastic individuals. So long as they believed something to be true, they could make it so with enough effort.
"It is also our duty to push our dearest leader to greatness. Cynicism breeds cynicism, cowardice begets cowardice. So long as we don't go too far it is not inexcusable."
"The Holifanians are too far." Rishtahn knew Hlapven to be a relatively serious fellow, but he also had that characteristic aloofness and arrogance that came with the territory of nobility. Neither of those 'noble' traits were present in his voice or eyes.
Rishtahn did not believe Hlapven to be a particularly reliable or 'noble' noble, but he was smart enough to figure out Hlapven knew something he didn't.
"Fine then. The Holifanians stand as the sole representation of superiority over our Emperor. I don't see how that applies to that yellow haired whore."
Hlapven bit his lip. Had this been any other noble in the Empire he would not have hesitated to punch him in defense of her honor, but Rishtahn was a special case. "Have you taken a good look at those coins they handed out?"
"Hm?"
"Did you look at the coins, the little metal tokens everyone is using?"
"Oh those pieces of junk? I didn't accept them."
"Okay, what about the boards?"
"They did not seem particularly appealing to the eye."
Hlapven was seriously contemplating giving his father a headache just to teach this arrogant prick a lesson.
"You know what? Fuck it. I'll just show you myself." He fished out four or five coins from his pocket. "Here, take a good look at them. I want you to try and find a difference between them. Anything, anything."
Rishtahn accepted them and gave them a quick once over. He wasn't really paying attention, he just wanted to get this over with.
"I don't see anything particularly distinctive."
"That's exactly the problem. Each and every one of these tokens is identical. The cuts, the placement, the shape, the weight, the smoothness, every quality of these tokens is identical." He put them back in his pocket, bringing out one of his Seahrdrin daggers. "I can say with an extreme degree of confidence that they are all made of steel as well, sword's metal, one of the hardest metals. No technique I know of can replicate what they have done with these."
"Hmph. I am sure it is nothing more than a failing on your end. Surely you've missed something."
"I would have agreed with you if they didn't tell me how they did it. Apparently, even Seahrdrin won't be a problem."
"A bluff.'
"They said they use light, Rishtahn, and I am inclined to believe them."
"Light? Preposterous!" Rishtahn threw his head back and laughed. "Hlapven, you are either an idiot or have plans to be a jester."
Hlapven returned his dagger to it's sheath and started to walk away. "You are just insufferable!"
- - - - -
"I really don't want you two duking it out at my party you know." Diana had her arms crossed in front of the table the guilty group were seated at. "You've already caused one incident, so I would like to avoid another."
"I'm sorry. . ." Zhoie didn't really intend for things to turn out this way.
"Do you have to do it now?" Diana ignored her apologies. Zhoie might have been one of the people involved with provoking this duel, but her primary concern was with the duelists themselves.
"I am afraid that stopping them at this point would be viewed as a discourtesy." Surprisingly, it was Merndil who shot down her pleas for peace. "Matters regarding a lady's reputation are to be handled as quickly as possible so that the word does not spread, though I do wonder if challenging him with the bloodied palm was necessary."
"You are familiar with it?" Gawan seemed a little surprised by this.
"Yes. My father witnessed such a challenge when he attended the academy, though it didn't seem like he actually learned the significance." Merndil put his drink down and sat forward, intrigued. "Is it something I shouldn't know about?"
"No. It's more that we are surprised someone would care." Trebar put his hand out, palm up, for everyone to see. "It is a religious custom that dictates the rules behind duels. The founder of our religion had a track record of using them as a pretext for murder before his journey towards repentance, and so he suggested measures that people should take to remind themselves that a duel's purpose is not to kill your opponent except in the most extreme of scenarios."
"What does a bleeding hand have to do with that?" Donovan put a cloth under his hand, his way of saying 'don't bleed on the table'.
"We call it this specific challenge Promise of the Bleeding Palm." Gawan picked up a slice of fruit from his plate. "It signifies that you are challenging your opponent to a duel where the first one to bleed has been defeated. The palm is cut as a challenge because it is unlikely to be cut during battle, and so that you can mark your opponent with ease. The marking signifies that your feud, your blood, is only intended for your opponent and that the conclusion of your battle will signify the end of your conflict."
"I follow a more extreme version. Given my status and prowess, it would be easy for me to kill my opponent and not suffer the consequences. As such, any wound I inflict upon my opponent while under the promise must also be applied to myself. It keeps you from striking the vitals unless you are willing to die alongside your foe, which would put an end to any cycle of revenge that could spawn from it before it started."
"That sounds . . . reasonable?" Merndil didn't know how to feel about it, he didn't have enough information.
"He's actually gotten into a bit of trouble with it in the past." Gawan swallowed the fruit before continuing. "I seem to recall a time where he challenged someone to a duel for my honor, and almost died because of the wound he had to inflict upon yourself."
"Your brother, right?" Zhoie had heard this story before. "Are you still on bad terms?"
"We were never on good terms. He still resents me for accepting this appointment."
Merndil held his hands up. "I'm sorry, but could we back up for a moment? What happened exactly that got him into trouble?"
"Oh, my older brother fell on his blade like the buffoon that he is. That idiot believed it to be his own fault, and impaled himself in turn."
"Should my opponent die, willing or unwilling, I must follow. That is the rule."
Donovan raised an eyebrow. "That's a stupid rule."
"Donovan!"
"What? It is! It's a stupid fucking rule! If you fight someone with the intent to defend another's honor, why the hell should you have to hurt yourself if they do something stupid?" Donovan looked back to Trebar, a semi-apologetic look on his face, before he continued. "It's a really stupid rule."
"Ha." Trebar rubbed his eyes. "Of course your would say that. Alright then, what would you suggest I do instead?"
"Not that?" Donovan shrugged. "I wouldn't even duel in the first place. It's just stupid all around."
"You believe duels to be stupid?" Now Merndil was curious about Donovan. "In all my life I have never met someone who thinks the practice of an honor duel is stupid. Why do think so?"
"I mean, the whole concept of honor is a pretty dumb idea overall."
"You think honor is dumb?"
"Yeah, it's useless in the real world. You can't eat it, wear it, or kill with it, so it holds no place in the field of battle." Donovan was getting weird looks from all of those at the table besides and incredibly interested Gawan. "Look, I don't know if any of you have ever been on a real battlefield, but the more honorable a person fights, the more likely they are to die. If you want to win, if you want to survive, you have to fight dirty. You have to take every advantage you can, even if most would scoff at it and call you a coward. If feigning death will let you live to fight another day, play dead. If making a trap will buy you the time and create the casualties you need to achieve victory, make the fucking trap. War isn't some fantastical place of dreams, it's a place people go to kill and be killed for their nation's interests."
Looking at the faces around the table, it seems his words weren't getting much traction.
"My people have a saying, a live coward is better than a dead hero. A dead hero has achieved something great, sure, but they cannot do anything more. The coward may not have had much of an impact, but they are still around to have an impact." Still no response besides Gawan. "Alright, maybe I should put it this way. Let's say, hypothetically, you go into a battle. In that battle you kill 100 enemy soldiers. That's great! You've just made a casualty impact on the ratio of 100 to 1, 100 kills for your life. But that is not the extent of what you could do.
Let's say that instead you only killed ten people before realizing going further would ultimately result in your death and you remove yourself from the danger. You've only killed a tenth of the amount you could have, but you aren't dead. Now your casualty impact ratio is 10 to 0. Now let's say that having lived through that battle, cowardly though you may have been, you use the experience you learned to kill 11 soldiers in the next battle before realizing the danger and retreating.
You might think that your impact has lessened, you still only killed eleven, but that isn't true. You have actually killed 21 enemies, not eleven, you just haven't done it all at the same time. Now your effective casualty impact ratio is 21 to 0, and you are still around to increase it. At that rate, you would only need to fight in about ten battles before you have not only had the same impact on the war as the dead hero, but you have actually surpassed him. Your casualty impact ratio is 100 to 0, but you are still around to increase it. Your tally hasn't been finalized."
Donovan noticed Trebar raising an inquisitive eyebrow, while Merndil's head tilted to the side in thought.
"If that doesn't convince you, I don't think I can come up with a better argument."
"No, no, it was informative about how you think, I only wonder what my stance on it should be." Merndil brought a hand up and started stroking his chin. He had to seriously consider his response to this stance to the future, it was important to his station.
"I for one think it's a pretty nifty way to think about it." Rashtvice found the time to speak between mouthfuls of food, his lack of manners signaling the end of that particular topic.
cakeonfrosting YO! I do love myself some conservation of power theory. Gotta consider the cost and effect of losing a certain unit to a certain action. Sometimes its necessary, sometimes its beneficial, sometimes you should probably just give up or run away. Don't worry though, everybody else is not coming from a position of stupidity. In a world where the balance of combat is dominated by top-tier combat units, it can be difficult to run away. If you are fast enough to get away, you probably aren't losing in the first place. (also, 3.5k words, yowzers!!!)
"-and that's a win for me." Trebar scooped the pile of coins that represented the winner's pool and began the meticulous process of stacking them.
"So you have, so you have." Prince Merndil placed yet another coin in the center of the table. Cholst, Gawan, Rashtvice, and Trebar followed suit. Len also placed a coin on the table, his fingers trembling as he did so.
"Will you not be participating this round?" Trebar asked Zhoie, noticing that she had not placed a coin on the line.
"No, I think I've had enough of this for the night." Zhoie frowned and leaned back in her chair. "I'm not a big fan."
Merndil clasped his hands with his elbows on the table. "Why is that?"
It wasn't a malicious question, he was just trying to learn more about this group of mysterious strangers. Even if Zhoie did not hold the same level of status and authority as Gawan or Trebar, she could still provide some insight into the workings of the Holifanian Theocracy. This was a rare opportunity, one he wished to capitalize on.
"It's just a bit boring, that's all. If you want to talk, then you should just talk. Personally-""She's a sore loser." Cholst interrupted her with a smile on his face.
The two of them were rivals of sorts, that much was clear to anybody who was with them for a small amount of time, but it appeared that their rivalry was not really one of hatred. That relationship seemed to be reserved for the pair that came to blows, though Trebar insisted that it was the girl who hated the boy, and not the other way around.
"Look at her hiding her chips! She's got, what, four left? Five left?"
"Shut up!"
"Ahahaha." Cholst slapped his knees. He had only guessed that she was running low on wager funds. "You really are terrible at this!"
"It's a dice game Cholst, there isn't much skill involved." Gawan flatly denied Cholst's claims to Zhoie's incompetence, but he wasn't going to let up.
"Luck is a skill Gawan, one you're born with."
"Would you like to make that argument to Donovan?" Trebar shot back at Cholst with a threatening suggestion. "I seem to recall his stance on luck stands in stark contrast to what you believe it to be, less an innate quality of a person and more of a resource."
"Geh." Cholst backed down at Trebar's reminder of Donovan. If this party had been at someone else's place he could have brushed it off, but Donovan was a very real threat to him here. "D-don't bring him into this!"
"Heh, coward."
"Idiot."
"Sleazebag."
"Fatass."
"MAN-SLUT!"
"WHORE!!!"
The room went silent, leaving Trebar pinching the bridge of his nose in shame. Perhaps he could have ignored this exchange of insults had the setting been more private, it was a grace he bestowed upon them quite frequently, but in the presence of foreign nobility that just wasn't an option. Sighing, he stood up from his chair holding a knife in his hand. Trebar's intentions weren't hostile, but an exchange of glances with Cholst suggested that both parties understood what had to come next. Standing up to face him Cholst had a reluctant look on his face, clearly he dreaded what was to come.
"Cholst Ilfalia, you have slandered my fiance's name and reputation." Trebar grasped his right hand around the blade of the knife gently, drawing it with his left in order to make a cut. Now bleeding, he closed his fist and spread the blood around until it covered most of his fingers and palm. Content, he then proceeded to slap Cholst across the cheek. "I challenge you to a duel of first blood for her honor, dare you accept?"
Cholst picked up a napkin from the table with a hint of aggression, his once cheery mood was long gone. Angrily, he wiped the blood off of his face. This was not the first time he and Trebar had come to blows over this, several times already he had been slapped with a bloody palm.
"I hate this stupid custom of yours."
"Accept my challenge or run away, those are your options."
Cholst's eyes drifted around the room. Everybody, every single person, was staring at with an expectant gaze. They weren't chastising him, they weren't holding him to account for his outburst against Zhoie, they were waiting for him to provide them entertainment.
"Fine! I accept." Cholst threw the fabric square on the ground. "Fuck!"
"You had it coming!"
"Zhoie." Trebar was not happy with her either. Faced with a stern stare, she could only turn her head and pout. Trebar had taken her side out of social obligation, not because he thought she was in the right. "I apologize for the racket ladies and gentlemen, it would appear I need to correct my subordinate in regard to his behavior."
- - - - -
"Disgraceful!"
He could not believe that such people would be invited to this party. His hopes that those individuals from the Holifanian Theocracy were cut of a different cloth had been dashed. They had started not one but two fights now. Worse still was that it was nobody other than their leader, Lord Trebar, who was to be participating in the second.
There was some recompense in the fact that he was defending the honor of his woman, but given that woman's behavior he didn't see much honor to defend. Just as he had thought, any woman who devoted their life to combat could not be graceful. A graceful woman would be well versed in the arts, reserved, and distinctly aware of her position in the room. This Zhoie character was nothing like that, and neither was that woman clad in black off to the side.
She might be reserved, but the fact she hid her face could only mean she was ashamed of it. To him that could only mean one thing, she was hideous to the point of disgrace.
"Interesting party, no?" The man who approached him with a glass of wine in hand was, perhaps, the person he wished to interact with the least tonight.
"Interesting is one way to put it. I believe that 'an utter disgrace to the Bulsa name' is a better fit." He downed yet another glass of wine, the taste growing less and less appealing as it saturated his taste buds. "What do you want Hlapven? Have you finally gotten bored of counting coins and decided to cling to Merndil's boots?"
Hlapven sighed before responding. "You know I was trying to start a friendly conversation."
"And I am not in a particularly friendly mood. Do try to keep your sentences brief and your news pleasant. I'm already starting to grow dizzy from your stench."
"I think that might be the barrel of wine you've imbibed tonight speaking."
"It is certainly more pleasant to listen to than the grating you call a voice." He rested the wine glass on yet another passing server's platter. There was nothing on his plate to replace it, which had the potential to make him incredibly cranky. "Need I remind you to keep it brief."
"Whatever. I only thought I should be giving you a warning, not as an enemy, not as a lord, but as a fellow nobleman. Don't fuck with the Terrans."
"The Terrans? You mean that skank running this circus and the sorry waste of a man she considers to be a husband? I think I'll treat them the way they deserve to be treated thank you very much. Was that all?"
"You really don't get it do you?"
"There is nothing to 'get'. They are drivel, disgraceful dregs of high society that should be grateful our Crown Prince is as generous and gullible as his mother." He scoffed, shooting daggers at the person in question.
"You would do well to keep such talk of the late Empress Consort to yourself, Rishtahn." Hlapven shot a deadly glance in his neighbor's direction. "And those Terrans have far more influence and power than you might think."
"I doubt it."
"Do you think the Emperor could have gotten the Holifanians to make an appearance?"
"I am certain that his majesty would only have to ask." Rishtahn rolled his eyes. Who would decline the call of the Bulsarzian Emperor? Who could decline one of his invitations?
"Don't lie to me Rishtahn. You and I both know they don't view our empire as their equal."
"Then they are fools."
"You are the fool here."
Rishtahn narrowed his eyes in Hlapven's direction. "Am I to take your words as treason?"
Hlapven raised an eyebrow, wondering if Rishtahn was drunk. "It is not treasonous to recognize that there exist powers as strong as or stronger than our own Empire. The Sanctum alone is proof enough of that." Hlapven caught a glimpse of Diana's golden blonde hair, momentarily drawing his attention away from the conversation as he checked to see what she was doing. "I would argue that it is our duty as advisors of the Emperor to make him aware of the real situation, not shower him in false assurances and platitudes."
Rishtahn rolled his eyes again. Anybody with half a working brain would know that much, but only the best understood that a little bit of embellishment and goading was necessary to make the most out of a situation. The Emperor, the Royal Family, was a lineage of truly fantastic individuals. So long as they believed something to be true, they could make it so with enough effort.
"It is also our duty to push our dearest leader to greatness. Cynicism breeds cynicism, cowardice begets cowardice. So long as we don't go too far it is not inexcusable."
"The Holifanians are too far." Rishtahn knew Hlapven to be a relatively serious fellow, but he also had that characteristic aloofness and arrogance that came with the territory of nobility. Neither of those 'noble' traits were present in his voice or eyes.
Rishtahn did not believe Hlapven to be a particularly reliable or 'noble' noble, but he was smart enough to figure out Hlapven knew something he didn't.
"Fine then. The Holifanians stand as the sole representation of superiority over our Emperor. I don't see how that applies to that yellow haired whore."
Hlapven bit his lip. Had this been any other noble in the Empire he would not have hesitated to punch him in defense of her honor, but Rishtahn was a special case. "Have you taken a good look at those coins they handed out?"
"Hm?"
"Did you look at the coins, the little metal tokens everyone is using?"
"Oh those pieces of junk? I didn't accept them."
"Okay, what about the boards?"
"They did not seem particularly appealing to the eye."
Hlapven was seriously contemplating giving his father a headache just to teach this arrogant prick a lesson.
"You know what? Fuck it. I'll just show you myself." He fished out four or five coins from his pocket. "Here, take a good look at them. I want you to try and find a difference between them. Anything, anything."
Rishtahn accepted them and gave them a quick once over. He wasn't really paying attention, he just wanted to get this over with.
"I don't see anything particularly distinctive."
"That's exactly the problem. Each and every one of these tokens is identical. The cuts, the placement, the shape, the weight, the smoothness, every quality of these tokens is identical." He put them back in his pocket, bringing out one of his Seahrdrin daggers. "I can say with an extreme degree of confidence that they are all made of steel as well, sword's metal, one of the hardest metals. No technique I know of can replicate what they have done with these."
"Hmph. I am sure it is nothing more than a failing on your end. Surely you've missed something."
"I would have agreed with you if they didn't tell me how they did it. Apparently, even Seahrdrin won't be a problem."
"A bluff.'
"They said they use light, Rishtahn, and I am inclined to believe them."
"Light? Preposterous!" Rishtahn threw his head back and laughed. "Hlapven, you are either an idiot or have plans to be a jester."
Hlapven returned his dagger to it's sheath and started to walk away. "You are just insufferable!"
- - - - -
"I really don't want you two duking it out at my party you know." Diana had her arms crossed in front of the table the guilty group were seated at. "You've already caused one incident, so I would like to avoid another."
"I'm sorry. . ." Zhoie didn't really intend for things to turn out this way.
"Do you have to do it now?" Diana ignored her apologies. Zhoie might have been one of the people involved with provoking this duel, but her primary concern was with the duelists themselves.
"I am afraid that stopping them at this point would be viewed as a discourtesy." Surprisingly, it was Merndil who shot down her pleas for peace. "Matters regarding a lady's reputation are to be handled as quickly as possible so that the word does not spread, though I do wonder if challenging him with the bloodied palm was necessary."
"You are familiar with it?" Gawan seemed a little surprised by this.
"Yes. My father witnessed such a challenge when he attended the academy, though it didn't seem like he actually learned the significance." Merndil put his drink down and sat forward, intrigued. "Is it something I shouldn't know about?"
"No. It's more that we are surprised someone would care." Trebar put his hand out, palm up, for everyone to see. "It is a religious custom that dictates the rules behind duels. The founder of our religion had a track record of using them as a pretext for murder before his journey towards repentance, and so he suggested measures that people should take to remind themselves that a duel's purpose is not to kill your opponent except in the most extreme of scenarios."
"What does a bleeding hand have to do with that?" Donovan put a cloth under his hand, his way of saying 'don't bleed on the table'.
"We call it this specific challenge Promise of the Bleeding Palm." Gawan picked up a slice of fruit from his plate. "It signifies that you are challenging your opponent to a duel where the first one to bleed has been defeated. The palm is cut as a challenge because it is unlikely to be cut during battle, and so that you can mark your opponent with ease. The marking signifies that your feud, your blood, is only intended for your opponent and that the conclusion of your battle will signify the end of your conflict."
"I follow a more extreme version. Given my status and prowess, it would be easy for me to kill my opponent and not suffer the consequences. As such, any wound I inflict upon my opponent while under the promise must also be applied to myself. It keeps you from striking the vitals unless you are willing to die alongside your foe, which would put an end to any cycle of revenge that could spawn from it before it started."
"That sounds . . . reasonable?" Merndil didn't know how to feel about it, he didn't have enough information.
"He's actually gotten into a bit of trouble with it in the past." Gawan swallowed the fruit before continuing. "I seem to recall a time where he challenged someone to a duel for my honor, and almost died because of the wound he had to inflict upon yourself."
"Your brother, right?" Zhoie had heard this story before. "Are you still on bad terms?"
"We were never on good terms. He still resents me for accepting this appointment."
Merndil held his hands up. "I'm sorry, but could we back up for a moment? What happened exactly that got him into trouble?"
"Oh, my older brother fell on his blade like the buffoon that he is. That idiot believed it to be his own fault, and impaled himself in turn."
"Should my opponent die, willing or unwilling, I must follow. That is the rule."
Donovan raised an eyebrow. "That's a stupid rule."
"Donovan!"
"What? It is! It's a stupid fucking rule! If you fight someone with the intent to defend another's honor, why the hell should you have to hurt yourself if they do something stupid?" Donovan looked back to Trebar, a semi-apologetic look on his face, before he continued. "It's a really stupid rule."
"Ha." Trebar rubbed his eyes. "Of course your would say that. Alright then, what would you suggest I do instead?"
"Not that?" Donovan shrugged. "I wouldn't even duel in the first place. It's just stupid all around."
"You believe duels to be stupid?" Now Merndil was curious about Donovan. "In all my life I have never met someone who thinks the practice of an honor duel is stupid. Why do think so?"
"I mean, the whole concept of honor is a pretty dumb idea overall."
"You think honor is dumb?"
"Yeah, it's useless in the real world. You can't eat it, wear it, or kill with it, so it holds no place in the field of battle." Donovan was getting weird looks from all of those at the table besides and incredibly interested Gawan. "Look, I don't know if any of you have ever been on a real battlefield, but the more honorable a person fights, the more likely they are to die. If you want to win, if you want to survive, you have to fight dirty. You have to take every advantage you can, even if most would scoff at it and call you a coward. If feigning death will let you live to fight another day, play dead. If making a trap will buy you the time and create the casualties you need to achieve victory, make the fucking trap. War isn't some fantastical place of dreams, it's a place people go to kill and be killed for their nation's interests."
Looking at the faces around the table, it seems his words weren't getting much traction.
"My people have a saying, a live coward is better than a dead hero. A dead hero has achieved something great, sure, but they cannot do anything more. The coward may not have had much of an impact, but they are still around to have an impact." Still no response besides Gawan. "Alright, maybe I should put it this way. Let's say, hypothetically, you go into a battle. In that battle you kill 100 enemy soldiers. That's great! You've just made a casualty impact on the ratio of 100 to 1, 100 kills for your life. But that is not the extent of what you could do.
Let's say that instead you only killed ten people before realizing going further would ultimately result in your death and you remove yourself from the danger. You've only killed a tenth of the amount you could have, but you aren't dead. Now your casualty impact ratio is 10 to 0. Now let's say that having lived through that battle, cowardly though you may have been, you use the experience you learned to kill 11 soldiers in the next battle before realizing the danger and retreating.
You might think that your impact has lessened, you still only killed eleven, but that isn't true. You have actually killed 21 enemies, not eleven, you just haven't done it all at the same time. Now your effective casualty impact ratio is 21 to 0, and you are still around to increase it. At that rate, you would only need to fight in about ten battles before you have not only had the same impact on the war as the dead hero, but you have actually surpassed him. Your casualty impact ratio is 100 to 0, but you are still around to increase it. Your tally hasn't been finalized."
Donovan noticed Trebar raising an inquisitive eyebrow, while Merndil's head tilted to the side in thought.
"If that doesn't convince you, I don't think I can come up with a better argument."
"No, no, it was informative about how you think, I only wonder what my stance on it should be." Merndil brought a hand up and started stroking his chin. He had to seriously consider his response to this stance to the future, it was important to his station.
"I for one think it's a pretty nifty way to think about it." Rashtvice found the time to speak between mouthfuls of food, his lack of manners signaling the end of that particular topic.
cakeonfrosting YO! I do love myself some conservation of power theory. Gotta consider the cost and effect of losing a certain unit to a certain action. Sometimes its necessary, sometimes its beneficial, sometimes you should probably just give up or run away. Don't worry though, everybody else is not coming from a position of stupidity. In a world where the balance of combat is dominated by top-tier combat units, it can be difficult to run away. If you are fast enough to get away, you probably aren't losing in the first place. (also, 3.5k words, yowzers!!!)
