Tor held back and waited for whatever else the Count would pull out. The armor was pretty, but in a fight to the death, or in his case to a horrible beating that could at least lead to death, it wasn't enough. He probably had a shield on under it and wore it only for effect. Same with the sword. It looked cool, sure, but as a Count he'd probably have military grade weapons on his person at all times anyway just as a matter of course. Rolph did, and wore a shield around too, even if he didn't turn it on most of the time. So the other stuff was just to throw David off?
Or maybe make him look good while he tried to kill a fourteen year old boy just to spite a third party? That… made some sense. After all, what kind of an ass set up a little kid for murder like this?
A royal one, obviously.
After half an hour a man checked a pocket watch openly, using large and obvious gestures that got everyone's attention easily. This gentleman wore red from head to foot, except for the gold buttons on his jacket. Even the leather shoes were a bright and matching color. He yelled loudly, his voice carrying over the whole field.
“The Count William Cordes Smythe Rodriguez gives greeting to all present, and states that the folly of offense given him is too great to let lay. He asks that all present know that this boy, Countier third, David Edmund Derring, has offended the Counts sensibilities… by daring to exist.” The man cleared his throat and looked embarrassed to be there suddenly. Tor didn't blame him. Calling a boy out to his death because you decided he shouldn't exist? It was about the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Rolph winced.
“He's compounding the insult so that Davie can't pull out without being dishonored. It's a setup, obviously. What kind of a monster kills a kid because he's mad over some vote that the father made?”
Tor reeled physically, actually taking three full steps back before he caught himself and stopped. This was over a vote? He'd thought that the Count was at least angry over something somewhat reasonable, a border skirmish or maybe sleeping with someone’s wife, or daughter maybe. Tor had kicked a Duke in the groin and the guy hadn't challenged him to a freaking duel. A flash of anger took Tor then, acid started eating at his stomach and Rolph's eyes went wide and he hit his shield.
“Um, Tor? I… just remember your shield this time…” His large friend whispered. Tor shook and ground his teeth a little.
This was… ridiculous didn't cover it. He was of half a mind to go and give the guy a piece of his mind right here and now. Before he could, a man dressed in all green except for the silver buttons on his coat stepped forward and addressed everyone present.
“The Countier third, David Derring gives greetings to all and offers full apology without reservation for his trespass of “existing”.” The crowed actually chuckled. “Further, out of great kindness and compassion, he offers the Count his life. Do you yield sir?”
Laughing the man started to wave this away. Before he got his hand half raised Davie shot up in the air to about a hundred feet pointed one of the weapons at the ground a good ways away and triggered a full minute of explosions. Then he landed and bowed towards the Count.
The man in green nodded to the boy once, and turned, yelling again.
“Again, the Count is offered his life. Do you wish to yield sir?” Yelling or not the man was a pro and kept the tone bored and bland.
Tor felt like wetting himself from all the noise personally, but thankfully didn't really have to go.
Instead of yielding, like a sane person, the Count demanded that the boy be stripped of all weapons and shields, so that they may meet on a “fair” footing. After all, borrowed or stolen weapons didn't count, only those owned by the combatant outright. Rolph patted him on the shoulder.
“You're up Tor.”
Right. He walked to the center of the field, near but behind David.
“These weapons, shields and flying gear belong to Countier David Derring, given by me personally, without reservation or outstanding debt of any kind, which I believe makes it legal for him to have?” He looked around to find that most of the crowd was nodding. Good.
“Further, if you want to demand a fair fight, how about you don't pick on a boy you've never even met? What the heck is with that anyway? Are you just a bully or are you actually insane? If you want a fair fight maybe you should kneel down so that you're at least close to the same height you over grown moron! What, are you afraid that if you faced someone not still in their first year of school it would be too much for you? Even making this challenge marks you as a coward, doesn't it? How about you withdraw now and save everyone here a lot of grief and heartache later instead of trying to act like this is anything but you having an ego issue and taking it out on an innocent person? Are you really so vain and… and evil that you'd attack a little boy because your angry at his da? If you want to fight so bad, why don't you try me instead? At least I'm old enough to need to shave each morning. No, wait, that would be too much for you wouldn't it? I'm sure we can scrounge up some six year olds for you to choose from if you don't mind waiting a minute. Perhaps my little sister, since you seem to like making sure the fight can't possibly be fair at all.” Tor shook a little in rage. Not combat rage, just the real kind for once.
OK, so it was a bad plan to taunt a man in armor who was holding a sword, Count or not, but the idiot was threatening the life of one of his friends. The laughing crowd seemed to be in support of his words. At least they were for the first ten seconds until the man in red withdrew the first challenge and threw down a second.
The Count challenged Tor.
He laughed.
Tor couldn't help it. Was the guy really that stupid? Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe he was just too pissed from the fight the night before to think straight, but either way he'd had about enough of this guy.
“Alright. Let's do this then. At least this time he has a reason to feel insulted. Moron.” Tor didn't wait for any fancy calling out by nicely suited gentlemen with loud voices. Instead he turned to the man in green and spoke softly, feeling like killing someone for the first time in his life.
“Clear the field please.” Tor growled, a low tone that most of the people around him probably couldn't hear. The loud guy near him swallowed and stepped back suddenly for some reason. Remembering not to turn his shield off this time Tor let his face pull into a grin.
“Clear the field!” The deep voice of the man in green rumbled so loudly that Tor could feel it in his chest standing over ten feet away. Did the man practice yelling then? It was impressive.
He couldn't take the shining giant in a fair fight, of course, and running away wasn't an option, not now. Instead Tor just walked towards the man, who dropped the sword and pulled an energy weapon of some kind, just like he figured would be the plan earlier. It didn't do anything to him, which caused the man to panic a little and scramble for his sword. Right, because the military grade weapon not working meant a sword would? Brilliant. The man should have run away right then if he couldn't bring anything more to the fight. Tor kept walking.
At about fifteen feet away the man charged. Tor just reached into his pants, understanding it probably looked a little rude when he stopped to think about it, which made him smile for a few moments and blush. Tor pulled weapons from the pocket as the man hacked at him vigorously. And uselessly. The ground popped and even rumbled a little under his feet. Tor largely ignored the other man all together while he worked. The guy had power behind the blows it seemed, but it didn't concern him overly. That could happen when you were eight foot tall and probably weighed close to four hundred pounds, most of it muscle. Tor sorted the weapons in his hand carefully and put the explosive one away again. No need to murder the guy, even if he was a bit cheesed at him. Not yet. Tor had all day if needed.
The force lance hurled the man back and then to the ground. Tor held him there for a while, then used the device in his left hand to make the air too hard to breath. The man gasped and choked on the ground, then flopped a little as he did. When it looked like he was about to lose consciousness Tor let him have a little air.
“Hey, would you like to yield? No real percentage for either of us if you die here today. I can’t say that I care overly right now myself, but it’s your call.”
“Never!” The man gasped.
“Really? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Here, why don’t you take a few minutes to think about it? I’ll even add a “pretty please” to sweeten the deal.” Tor knew he must look and sound insane, but really just couldn’t care.
“Yield, pretty please?” The crowd chuckled again.
Tor held him in place and then took his air away again. The man struggled and his mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. Really it was pitiful enough that Tor felt bad for the Count. He didn’t want Davie to get hurt, but
