Persuasion in the Pantry [Maid for More #1]

Chapter 28- Part 2: Tea and Brawls

Marco was a typical brawler, a slugger in the ring, he stood for everything that was brutal about the sport. Jay noted wryly that while Marco lacked finesse he made up for it in raw power. Where he planned his strikes and manoeuvres, the Captain countered with dangerous unpredictability.

"So, what's got you all riled up today, Your Grace? I almost saw a full expression on your face. Lady problems?" Marco needled the Duke between blows.

Jay grimaced slightly but said nothing.

"Woah," Marco exhaled. "Easy there, that was almost another one. We can't have you turning into a bleeding heart. I mean, who would mop up?"

Jay frowned. "Do shut up."

"So it is lady problems." Marco smirked and lunged forward once more.

Duck. Weave. Strike. The fight progressed until Jay found himself crowded into a corner and Marco's fists descended with an avalanche's might striking the duke's torso without cessation. Jay leaned back into the ropes letting the thick twisted coils absorb the pressure instead of his own body. He waited for Marco to tire while he reserved his energy and when the opportune moment arrived, he struck a swift blow to his temple and slipped out of range again.

The metallic tang of blood slowly permeated the humid air, made heavy with the weight of masculine sweat. Onlookers breathed it in shallow rasps, bated before a blow, drawn to the scent like voyeuristic sharks. Light shone beyond the walls but within its centrum a dark den prevailed cloistered with the grunts of battle.

Jay danced on the balls of his feet just out of range of his opponents slow, sluggish, yet powerful jabs. He bounced and hopped from one foot to the other delivering sharp, long range punches with his left arm. He made up for his lack of aggression with his speed, as he calculated force per pounds of pressure to his tactical advantage.

"H'alf a shillin on the Duke?" One unsavoury patron offered another.

For the audience it was easy to see that the duke was clearly faster on his feet as the Captain struggled to pursue him around the perimeter. He fought with class and skill, bringing everything that was strategic and precise to his battle. He was the Commander, the General and Dictator in the ring, but even Caesar was overthrown by Brutus. Whereas the Spaniard attacked with volatile ferocity and all the subtlety of a stone wall as every eye in the bar clung to the war within the ropes.

"What's the matter, Captain?" Jay inquired, "Would you like to forfeit?"

Marco let loose a deep rumble from his throat in answer, "You wish, Wyvernstone."

Marco had to hand it Jay, he was a worthy fighter who knew his trade well. Momentarily ceasing the complimentary thoughts, he dodged another lightening quick straight and let it glance off his neck.

"No deal," came the hushed reply of patron two.

The Captain knew his own punches were predictable with obvious leads but he had always found that he need land only one, or at very best two, for a knockout. Jay tried to outbox him with stratagems that were always so essential to the weaker army but, it was only a matter of time until he fell like all the other men that Marco had fought since sun up when dukes and dandy's still lay abed taking tea.

Suddenly, Marco saw the opening that Jay had left clearly to his right and swung a meaty paw with the force of a boulder to his jaw.

The punch never landed and the Duke faked left to deliver a shocking right hook and left cross. Marco saw the deception too late as Jay switched from a standard fighter to a left handed southpaw in the time it took to swing an axe. The result was a blow that reverberated across the left side of his face and threatened to shatter his cheek bone.