The initial meeting went almost entirely against Brandt’s expectations. Regar’s escape from Falar was a tale Weylen knew, and one Brandt now desperately wanted to hear. The Falari warleader almost seemed pleased to meet the imperial prince, and it didn’t take long for Regar to sort out the details of their onward journey.
Weylen led the combined parties into Falar. Brandt remained wary, though no one gave him the slightest cause for worry. By the end of the day they were deeper into Falar than Brandt had ever been. Imperial forces never reached this far.
If anyone had made it so far from friendly borders, they had never returned.
The terrain awed him with every vista. Snow-capped peaks loomed overhead as they made their way through evergreen forests. They walked past small glacial lakes and crystal-clear streams. They saw few people, and Brandt wondered just how populated Falar was. He hadn’t seen a single house or farm yet, though he supposed the terrain made farming difficult.
Two days later they reached an idyllic town nestled deep in a valley. When Brandt first saw it, he paused to study it more carefully. Never before had he seen a town that appeared so vertical. Everything from the homes to the streets were built from stone, and from a distance, buildings appeared to be stacked on top of one another. Ladders and the occasional rope bridge connected homes and shops, creating a confusing maze of options.
Beyond the construction, though, the town seemed much the same as any imperial village. Children ran in the streets while adults went about daily chores. The familiarity of it unsettled him. In his mind the Falari were different on some fundamental level. But the scene before him made him question that belief.
Weylen paused soon after and addressed the group. “Your prince has earned your welcome, at least for a time. But if any one of you so much as draw a sword within the village, all will be executed.”
Weylen ran his eyes over the group, making sure they understood. Then he turned and continued down the path.
Ana stepped close to Brandt and spoke softly, her voice barely carrying to his ears. “Does this seem too easy to you?”
Brandt nodded. He didn’t suspect duplicity, though. He believed the Falari would have just killed them if that had been their plan.
Brandt gestured toward Regar. “I suspect there is more happening here than we understand.”
Weylen stopped the group again at the boundary of the village. Faces poked out of windows, curious about the strangers. A lone man stepped from the assembling crowds, his expression eager. The man spoke with Weylen in Falari, a quick exchange that ended with both men smiling.
Weylen turned to the group. “This is Ren. He is the best sword in the village. He meets your prince’s challenge.”
Regar nodded, as though he’d expected this. The prince turned to his entourage. “No interference.” He didn’t even wait for acknowledgment, and just turned and faced this new enemy.
Brandt tensed when Regar drew his sword. Ren did the same, and the two men faced each other, six paces apart. The Falari noncombatants backed away, an action mirrored by the imperial contingent.
Brandt was the only one who stepped forward. He couldn’t let his prince duel with live steel. Not if he could help it.
“Brandt.” Ana’s voice froze him.
He hesitated, torn between Regar’s command and his desire to protect his prince, to do something helpful.
Ana tipped the scale. He respected her calm in these situations. Gritting his teeth, he stepped back and joined the others.
The Falari favored swords that were slightly shorter than the imperial standard, and had a slight curve. Traditionally, imperial sword schools taught fighters to use the greater length of the imperial sword to its full advantage against a Falari warrior. Unfortunately, the Falari expertise with and reliance on bows made the advice largely useless. Few imperial warriors ever got close enough to cross swords with the mountain warriors.
As before, the duel started without a formal announcement. Regar struck first, leading with the point of his sword. Ren swiped the blade away, and for a moment Brandt expected to endure a prolonged duel.
The next heartbeat proved him wrong.
Regar moved with a speed and strength Brandt hadn’t seen before. Instead of a technical match, Regar simply overpowered his opponent.
Regar attacked again, and Brandt’s practiced eye saw Ren unbalanced by the strength of the blow.
The shift was slight, but it meant Ren couldn’t get in position to defend against Regar’s next strike, which flashed out, fast and precise.
The two combatants froze. Regar’s sword hovered a hair away from Ren’s chest. They stood like that for a moment, then Ren stepped away and put his right fist to his chest. Regar mirrored the movement and sheathed his blade. Brandt let out a long breath.
“You’ve improved,” Ren said.
“Thank you,” Regar replied.
Brandt and Ana’s eyes met. The two had met before?
When Brandt had the opportunity, he expected Regar to tell him a very long and detailed story.
Weylen welcomed them all to the village, reminding them once again never to draw a sword. He announced that beds would be made available. The town had no inn, so the imperial contingent would be welcomed into homes as guests.
Brandt stepped up to Regar. “Is this wise? Separated, we are far easier to ambush.”
Regar shook his head. “There is no need to worry. So long as no sword is drawn, you are safe in the village until tomorrow.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“You also said until tomorrow. What happens then?”
“The contest of the boards. The most serious of the three, I suspect.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not particularly helpful.”
Regar smiled. “There’s nothing you can do to change the outcome,
