Walking back toward Zaenith’s house, I cut across the courtyard and pause as I see the fighting pit, already set up for the coming tournament. It's a simple construction, little more than a square ring of wooden stakes, driven deep and lashed together with thick hemp rope. The snow has been cleared at least, revealing the dirt ground.

  Several fighters are already inside, clad in mismatched armor, chainmail over padded cloth, dented helms strapped on with leather cords. Others linger at the edge, stretching or preparing their weapons. I recognize none of them, though I've heard many came from other towns. They risked the brigand-infested roads just to compete.

  The prize must be worth a fair bit. Makes me wonder what it might be.

  Of course, beyond the fighters, the brigands were hurting the festival turnout. Who'd risk getting robbed and killed for a mere festival? Even if there's money to be made, I doubt I'd risk it. I wonder if the mayor's planning on doing anything about that.

  I look back to the pit, watching the fighters. One is tall and lean, wielding a longsword casually. The other shorter, stockier, shield and mace in hand. They move fast, surprisingly fast for men weighed down in steel. The swordsman darts in first, blade flashing, only for the mace-wielder to catch the strike on his shield with a clang. He retaliates with a brutal swing that barely misses the swordsman's ribs.

  Back and forth they go. The swordsman uses reach and speed, his blade sweeping wide, aiming to wear his opponent down. The shieldbearer counters with tight, crushing strikes, relentless and heavy. One misstep and either could end up in the dirt.

  I linger to watch. The fights are crude, but there's an honesty to them I appreciate. No magic, no monsters, not tricks, just a straightforward battle with fair odds, man to man.

  I don't think I've ever been in a fight like that, now that I think of it... I wonder what it'd be like.

  "Seven." A voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance to the side and see a short, cloaked figure standing beside me. Luna.

  "Luna," I say giving her a nod, before turning back to the fighting pit. "Come to watch the fighters? They're pretty good."

  She scoffs. "Hmph, watch a bunch of puffed-up brutes bash each other’s brains out with sticks? I don't think so. What a ridiculous tradition."

  I shake my head. "No. It's good. I like it. A nice and honest fight. I'd like to try it one day."

  She watches me for a long moment, saying nothing. It's... awkward. And difficult to ignore.

  Why is she looking at me? Does she expect me to say more?

  "What? Stop looking at me."

  She shakes her head slowly. "You've gotten bigger."

  A flicker of warmth stirs in my chest, pride, maybe. I've noticed the changes in passing: my body a little more toned, my tunic a little more snug around the shoulders and arms. I've put on some muscle. But when it's your own body, it’s easy to overlook. Hearing it from someone else, especially a beautiful woman... feels nice.

  "Yeah," I reply, scratching the back of my neck. "Been training a lot. Probably filled out a little."

  She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. "No. Not just broader. You’re taller."

  I blink. "Taller? You sure? I'm a little old for that."

  Luna shrugs, her expression unreadable. "Just a little."

  Taller... it must be Zaenith's potions.

  Luna doesn't follow up on her observation. Her eyes drift away, as she changes the topic entirely.

  "I returned to Vael’s house," she says quietly.

  A cold knot coils in my stomach. Just the name alone makes my blood chill.

  I hesitate, then ask. "Was he... was he there?"

  She shakes her head. "I don’t know. Neither I nor Ren could get inside. The place is sealed."

  She leans in, her tone dropping low enough that no one but I could hear. "Magically."

  Nervous, I glance at her. "What does that mean?"

  She shakes her head, frustration flickering in her golden eyes. "If we're going to figure out how to kill him, we need to get inside that house."

  I nod slowly. It makes sense, though I’m not in any rush to step foot in that place again. Still, if Luna and Ren want to take the lead, I won't argue. I’d be happy to stay well outside while they poke around. But something gnaws at me.

  "Why are you so interested in Vael’s house anyway? You never told me what you were doing there that night."

  She gives me a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable at first. "I did tell you, I’m looking for something."

  "The book?" I ask.

  She nods. "Yes."

  "What’s in it that’s so important?"

  "None of your business!!" She snaps. But then after a moment, she sighs and her voice softens just a fraction. "I've.... heard, that there's a recipe in one of its pages. I need it. To help someone."

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  She doesn’t elaborate, her gaze drifting away. After a moment, her eyes return to me. “The book should be here, somewhere near Ravencroft. If I’m to find it, that demon will surely be the key….”

  I'm not sure how to respond, though, she doesn't seem to expect me to, her gaze distant, drifting over the fighting pit.

  My gaze returns to it too, a sudden change capturing my attention, the fighters are clearing out.

  The crowd stirs, murmuring with sudden excitement as a new figure vaults over the fence. He’s clad in gleaming plate, polished to a mirror shine, with a fine crested helm. He moves with easy confidence, head high, shoulders squared.

  He raises a hand and points to one of the lingering fighters, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and old scars crisscrossing his bare arms. The man blinks in surprise but nods, grabbing his iron skullcap and his axe.

  "Nice armor," I murmur.

  Luna crosses her arms and nods. "Mmm, very nice. Likely cost him a fortune."

  The two men take their positions. The bearded man tightens his grip on the axe, while the shining swordsman draws a longsword with a slow, deliberate motion. A hush falls. Then, with a sharp word from one of the onlookers, the bout begins.

  The axe-man rushes first, his blows wide and heavy, but the swordsman dances around him, footwork sharp and precise. Every time the axe falls, he’s already gone, sidestepping with agile movements, unbothered by his armor.

  Then he strikes, a quick blow to the ribs, then another toward the shoulder. The axe-wielder grunts, twisting, trying to land a blow, but he’s too slow. The shining swordsman’s blade flickers like lightning, blunted but still devistating.

  "He's skilled." Luna says, impressed.

  I nod in agreement. Not someone I'd like to fight.

  A minute in, the bearded man is bleeding and panting heavily. The swordsman hasn’t even broken a sweat.

  Finally, the axe-wielder staggers, dropping to one knee. Bowing his head in surrender.

  The crowd erupts with cheers. The swordsman steps back, salutes with his blade, and removes his helmet with a single smooth motion.

  Daniel Stont.

  His golden hair spills free, tousled but immaculate. He’s flushed from exertion, but even so, the female onlookers can't get enough.

  Luna too hums appreciatively. "Hmm. He's handsome."

  Handsome, huh?

  He scans the crowd, a faint smirk curling his lips as he drinks in the admiration. Then his eyes shift in my direction, and stop. I brace, expecting a confrontation. But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at Luna.

  He strides toward us with theatrical elegance, waving away the staring crowd. He comes to a halt before Luna and offers a shallow bow. Then, with deliberate slowness, he takes her hand in his gloved fingers and lifts it to his lips.

  "My lady," he says smoothly, voice oozing with courtly pride. "Your presence here graces this pit with far more beauty than it deserves."

  Luna doesn't yank her hand away, to my surprise. Though she does roll her eyes.

  She didn't slap him? Would she let me do that?

  She cocks her head, voice cool but curious. "And you are?"

  He smiles, unbothered by the chill in her tone. "Daniel Stont, son of Mayor Edwin Stont, and captain of the town guard, at your service."

  At the mention of his father, her eyes widen slightly, just a flicker of surprise before her expression steels again.

  "Ah," he says. "So you have heard of me. My father spoke of you, Lady Luna. A shame you declined his invitation to stay at our estate. We would have been honored to host someone of your caliber."

  So she is a noble then. Thought as much. Just makes her all the more suspicious really.

  Daniel notices me behind Luna, just a couple feet away and his expression turns sour.

  "Eavesdropping on nobility, are we?" he says, voice low and cold.

  I fold my arms. "I was talking to her first."

  His brow rises slightly, caught between disbelief and offense. He glances to Luna for confirmation.

  She shrugs. "He's an acquaintance."

  She means friend, really.

  His eyebrow twitches. For a heartbeat, anger flickers across his face, but then it vanishes beneath a smile just a little too sharp.

  "Ah, I see. Of course your company is your own to keep." he says with false warmth. "Tell me, Brigand Killer. Have you come to join the tournament? I assume that's why you're here."

  "Not exactly.... was just curious, that's all."

  He presses on, lips curling. "A man of your talents should consider it."

  His tone is courteous, surprising considering our past. No doubt he's trying to avoid coming off petty in front of Luna.

  That smugness is still there though.

  He continues. "In truth, I'd like to test myself against you. To see the skills that killed the brigand filth. The townsfolk would love it, I’m sure. The killer of highwaymen against the captain of the guard. An intruiging show to be sure."

  Hmm... might be as good a time as any to test what I’ve learned. If I can’t best a few ordinary folk, what hope’ve I got standing against Vael??

  Daniel’s eyes gleam as an idea seems to come to him. “Tell you what,” he says smoothly. “Let’s make it interesting. A wager on which of us will win. Thirty silvers.”

  My eyebrows rise, the promise of coin always gets my attention. But... having to bet some myself? That's a steep ask. I don't even have thirty silver, unless I were to leverage my gold coin.

  He chuckles, brushing imaginary dust from his armor. “Naturally, I don’t expect you to have that kind of money. I’m not cruel.”

  Then his gaze shifts to Luna. "Instead," he says, voice smooth as silk, "if I win, I’d ask only for the pleasure of Lady Luna’s company over a shared meal. A modest reward for a worthy duel, wouldn’t you say?"

  I glance at her, startled.

  Luna doesn’t answer. But her eyes settle on me, waiting for my response.

  Gambling with Luna's time? Can I do that? She hasn't objected... but this is probably a test. She expects me to say no.

  Then again... thirty silvers is a lot of coin.

  The proper, knightly thing would be to deny him outright. Reckon that’s what Luna is expecting.

  But I’m not a knight.

  And if Luna’s highborn, what chance’ve I got with her anyhow? Am I even interested? She's not the nicest girl I've met. She's kind of mean actually...

  Though… gotta admit, she’s a real beauty.

  Then again... thirty silvers is a lot of coin.

  ....Assuming I win.

  "Well? Do you accept?" Daniel asks, his voice tight with irritation, impatience slipping through the cracks of his polished tone. Luna beside him looks irritated too, or maybe just bored. It's hard to tell.

  "Fine," I say, nodding. "You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll enter your tournament."

  Sorry Luna. Our romance was never meant to be.

  Daniel claps his hands together with a joyous laugh. "Excellent! I look forward to it," he says, flashing me a bright, almost boyish grin before turning to Luna. "And you, Lady Luna, does this arrangement meet your approval?"

  Her golden eyes linger on him a moment longer than usual, tracing his chiseled features. He offers her a charming smile, enjoying the attention.

  Her eyes close as she opens her mouth to speak. "Of course not, fool. What delusion made you think that overgrown oaf could wager my time? Or that I'd be interested in eating with a slack-jawed dullard like you?"

  Who could have seen that coming?

  Daniel’s eyes go wide as Luna storms away. I don’t blame him, can’t say I’ve ever met a woman so vulgar. And she’s apparently a noble too…

  Though to my surprise, Daniel's shocked expression quickly twists into a smirk as he watches her walk away. He turns to me, still grinning.

  "The wager's still on, brigand killer," he says, voice low and pointed. "If I win, for the rest of the festival you don’t talk to her. Don’t approach her. Don’t even look at her. I don't want you interfering with my courtship in the slightest. Understood?"

  I shrug. "Fine. But I’m going to win."

  Daniel chuckles, turning away. "Hilarious."