Two Cats

Chapter 17

Yeah, I was expecting that.

I made as if perplexed to see the rotund form of Lord Greybridge pushing his way past the indignant spectators in an effort to get to the arena floor and stalk to the center. His face was nearly as red as Redforne's had been, and he was spluttering with rage as he stomped his way to the main dueling circle, stopping a few feet away from me.

“Lord Greybridge,” I began. “Are you alright? What could possibly be the-”

“You, Tucat,” he said accusingly, pointing a chubby finger directly at my nose, “told me – assured me – that you would be dueling on my behalf this day. I will not accept anything less! You came within a hairs breadth of insulting my honor yourself, and fighting this duel for me is compensation for that! We agreed on that!”

“Did we?” I asked, a sardonic eyebrow raised.

“Yes!” he spat, “We did!”

I tried again.

“Did we, Lord Greybridge? Is that exactly what we had agreed to?” I raised my eyebrow again and gave him a dubious 'I think not' sort of look.

“Why,” he asked through clenched teeth, “do you insist on asking the same question over and over? Yes! That's precisely what we agreed to!”

Okay, maybe he missed the whole point with the eyebrow thing. Perhaps I'd been giving him entirely too much credit over the years.

“What I recall of our conversation, Lord Greybridge, is that I agreed to take over all responsibility for the duel on your behalf. Surely one can do that without fighting the duel themselves, wouldn't you agree?”

“I-” Greybridge paused, as if attempting to recall that conversation.

“I mean, what if I had suffered some sort of injury right after you had accepted my offer? Surely you would not expect me to shuffle lamely into the arena to fight for your honor with the outcome uncertain, possibly affected by my injury? Certainly not! And, of all the cursed bad luck, I've got this terribly wicked pain in my shoulder. Damnably difficult to hold a sword at the moment, or do artful things such as whisk it back and forth in a terrifying manner. No,” I shook my head, “I'm afraid that I could not in good conscience step into that ring without being at my absolute best. Your very reputation demands that I sit this one out!”

There were a few moments of stunned silence, during which it was very hard not to chuckle.

“Your reputation as a swordsman,” he said, still attempting to maintain a certain level of outrage, “was the very thing that caused me to accept your proposal in the first place! You were to fight the duel, personally guaranteeing that my reputation was ... was-”

“And I agree!” I interjected, not allowing him time to pick out his next word, though I may have in fact been saving him from an awkwardly long pause. “My reputation as a swordsman and duelist is not a small one, I will admit. Fie, I was vexed when I realized that I would not be able to personally defend your reputation against this arrogant young whelp here.” I flicked my head at Redforne, who had not moved an inch from his original position since this whole charade had begun. “However, knowing that an illustrious Lord such as yourself would settle for nothing less than the best, I took myself out of contention in order to let someone more qualified than I, in my feeble and injured state, take over for me.”

I motioned to Ismir, who took that as his cue to step forward and nod at Lord Greybridge, who looked terribly uncertain and frustrated.

“The duelist for this contest shall be Ismir Hantaan, a swordsman of renown from Vereet. No estate, or title,” I said, waving towards him and bowing my head after finishing my formal introduction.