Bruce_Sentar
patreon
RD 4 Ch 52
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 06:00:05 +0000 UTCI drew a sword from my spatial ring and tossed it over to Circe. The woman snatched it out of the air with a small gust of wind, holding the blade and turning it over in her hands.
"I must say, Bran, this is exactly what I thought a date with you would look like," she said, striking a pose that told me it wasn’t her first time with a sword.
I chuckled in response. "You told me I got to pick the date. You know, in many cultures, they say you don't really understand another warrior until you fight them," I offered.
Circe smirked. "And here, I thought you had given up much of your Borrson likeness."
"Well, I wasn't talking about the Borrsons. I was talking about the Orak. Unfortunately for you, one of them taught me swordsmanship, and to a certain degree, I must agree with his sensibilities. You learn a lot about someone by the way they fight."
Circe swished the blade back and forth in front of her. "Just swords?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Just swords," I assured her. "Though, of course, you're more than welcome to use any of your passives. I know it's hard…"
Her sword flicked out in a perfect thrust to shut me up.
I caught her blade on my own, using my weight and shoving her to the side.
Circe quickly recovered back into a fighting stance and circled me. "Do you know how many men back in Ancient Greece thought to draw a sword on me? I can tell you that the best way to cripple their spirit and make them leave me alone was to beat them at their own game. Often times I put a hand behind my back even to make sure they knew that I was out of their league.” She folded her other arm behind her back.
“Do you think it's in your best interest to give yourself a handicap against me?" I asked with a low chuckle. It was insulting, but that was precisely what she wanted.
She came at me again, her technique incredibly simple, yet she had perfected the few moves that she used. Her skill was clear as I exchanged a handful of blows with her before backing off.
The swords we were using were blunted and B-Rank. If we started using skills, we could certainly chip them, but this was about non-skilled abilities.
I came at her again, not giving her a break for rest. My sword came in heavy, two-handed swings, each one threatening to crush her if she caught it even an inch off the mark.
Circe fought light and quick, much like the wind she often controlled. Her blue hair danced behind her, and there was a gleam in her eyes. She was enjoying our fight.
I may not have picked it up before, but Circe had quite the competitive spirit inside of her. This fight ignited that spirit beyond my expectations.
Seeing that she could handle what I had done so far, I pushed harder. The best aspect of my sword style was that it was an application of brutal raw strength.
As I began using more, Circe's parries had to be even more precise. If she was off by even an inch, I would have enough force to overwhelm and disarm her.
I continued upping my intensity, a grin splitting across my face as Circe was just a fraction off on her parry, her blade not turned entirely from the previous blow.
Some of my force was carried directly to the pommel of the blade in her hand. Her knuckles went white as she struggled to keep hold of her sword, and her eyes narrowed.
When her parry turned more into me knocking her blade aside, Circe came back around, her toga twirling as she redirected that force and spun low, sweeping for my legs.
I stepped into her, playing a dangerous form of hopscotch. Once I got close enough, I barreled into her with my shoulder, knocking her to the side.
She stumbled but was light enough on her feet that she didn't go all the way down. It almost looked like she had slightly misstepped in a dance. She quickly got her footing and regained her fighting stance. "So, is that all you can do? I was expecting more," she taunted as she twirled back around.
I matched her strike only for her to give way and try to spin again, catching me on my other side. My blade wasn't quite back up yet, and I was forced to dodge, taking a small cut across my shoulder.
"I win," she said when I paused.
I raised an eyebrow at her. "First blood? Really? Are those the rules of the game?" I asked. The scratch that she had cut me with was so small that it had already healed back over, not even shedding a drop of blood.
"Well, it's not like I'm going to let you break me, not on a date." She crossed her arms and dared me to challenge that statement.
"Well, for fighting to first blood, my sword style is certainly not suited to that," I chuckled. "Then again, perhaps you could use the advantage."
Her ruby-red eyes turned ferocious at the notion of me giving her an advantage. "You're right. That was far too soon to end the date," she said, playing with her sword. "But at least I know if it ever came down to it, I could certainly beat you in a duel."
I let her think that. It seemed important enough to her. I wasn't going to rob her of the small victories.
"Just surprised you actually have so much combat experience." I lifted my sword again. "Allow me to experience it a little more."
I rushed at her again, though this time I altered my style. She was forced to twirl away from me.
"You're really entirely brute force, aren't you?" she said, switching her sword to her other hand and shaking the other one out when she got into her stance.
"Comes with the territory, I'm afraid," I said, smacking her blade aside and coming in close, my sword brought in against my chest, almost like I was going to use it as a bladed pauldron.
Circe danced out of the way, refusing to meet my challenge of strength. Which, in fairness, was a wise decision.
"If I am all brute force, then you're all flight. Your style lacks substance," I said, the words harsher than I had intended but too late to take back.
A sudden flash of anger crossed her face. "It's not a lack of substance," she shot back, her sword suddenly faster than before. A small glow of wind, a faint breeze of magic, carried behind her every action. It was some passive allowing her to move with the wind.
"You know, usually when someone gets offended by something, it's because it's a little too true." I chuckled, moving quickly to avoid losing a few inches of my hair. She harrumphed as I managed to dodge her again.
"My style doesn't commit, so I can be light on my feet, agile, and swift in changing directions when needed," she clarified through gritted teeth.
"Ah, the fear of commitment. That makes sense," I teased and earned myself a hole in my side as she came at me again, this time refusing to match my strength. Instead, she used her speed to the utmost in trying to find the chink in my guard.
"Perhaps you overcommit." Circe growled, fighting me in a short flurry.
I could tell that her strikes were meant to force me forward, to overcommit myself. "And what makes you think that?" I chuckled, keeping my blade close to my chest. Even without the proper leverage, I had enough strength to deal with her sword.
"Three women already, Bran. You're spreading yourself far too thin," she tsked, her blade crossing mine.
I saw the setup for me to exert my full strength on her, and I did so even though I knew it was a trap.
The second I stepped into the attack, she shifted her weight and twirled around. Her sword raced at my cheek.
Grinning, I turned and snapped my mouth shut, only to bite down on her blade. The metal scraped against my teeth, but I managed to stop it in time before it cut through the edges of my lip. My own sword swung back around, the flat of the blade slapping against her hip, making her stumble to the side when I let go of her sword and stepped back.
"Careful now. You could get a little too overconfident, thinking you can escape from every situation and control the fight. Now, you said you used to use duels as a way to scare suitors away," I prompted, wanting to hear more.
"I did." She laughed, and it was a light, heartfelt laugh. There was no trace of the mocking in it that she'd used when she'd first described those fights.
"Careful now. It seems this is quite the opposite. Really, I think getting to fight you has only made you more transparent, more interesting," I offered.
"Oh, you have a thing for women who are flighty, lacking commitment, and overconfident?" She squared back up and pointed her blade at me. "As of right now, the score is just one-to-one. I'm not sure you get to call me overconfident when you're the one already celebrating your victory," she told me.
I grinned at her, and she matched the grin with her own. We were enjoying this as our blades clashed back together in the dance of a duel. I was understanding her more deeply each time our blades connected.
Circe was capricious, confident, and unused to losing in the same breath. That confidence, and her lack of experience in losses, was also one of her greatest weaknesses. For at this point, she had gone so long without losing, that to lose was tantamount to losing everything.
A person could only climb so high before the fall would kill them. Circe was at the top of the tallest cliff I had ever seen. A rigid pecking order amongst the clans had been established over thousands of years, and she had her spot ironed out, likely even written tediously into contracts.
Where she stood in the world was entirely known to her, and it was near the peak.
But that was all changing. I had appeared. People like those I described going to the Trial of Kings had appeared. As I crossed blades with her, I could see the fear in her eyes.
Circe was afraid of the change that was coming, and in so many ways, I had become the very embodiment of the change she feared. Thus, I became the metric used to measure said change. If she could remain constant, at least in relation to me, then she could convince herself that nothing had changed.
And if I went into the Trial of Kings, then she would have to go through as well. Circe still needed to face the fact that she may not be at the top of the ladder for much longer.
That realization made me pause in the middle of our fight, and Circe spun, taking advantage of my hesitation, only for her blade to stop a hair's breadth from my nose.
"It's no fun when you're distracted." She frowned.
"Oh, I'm not distracted. I'm focusing exactly on what I'm supposed to." I chuckled and slapped my blade against her hip. "Let's call that one a draw."
She glanced down, not realizing how close my blade had been to cutting her apart at the waist if this had been a real fight. She clicked her tongue and backed up. "I see, I see," she muttered to herself.
"Do you really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I think this date has certainly helped me get to know you better."
"Oh, me as well," Circe purred. She looked over the edge of her blade at me as she drew it back for a thrust.
I had to admit, bedroom eyes were not common amongst my previous duels. But apparently, I had a preference that I had not realized before because I started getting aroused. It was hard to even know the difference between the tension from the fight and the sexual chemistry when I looked at Circe.
Suddenly, the door to the room we'd been staying in burst open.
I frowned but stepped out of my stance, turning immediately to the new entrance. Simone came streaking in, her face lined with worry.
"Bran!" she shouted, and I saw Merlin rushing in just behind her.
"What is it?" I asked, immediately knowing that something was very wrong.
"It's the Dutch Fortress. It's under attack," Simone told me.
"Who would be that stupid?" I scoffed.
"The Borrsons. Well, they have a reason, maybe." She hesitated. "Venthra just came asking for shelter, and I gave it to her." Simone gave a tight smile.
"So when you say Borrsons"—I stared at her—"do you mean Vidar?"
She bobbed her head quickly. "The very same. He's come with about a hundred men."
I grunted and stabbed the B-rank sword into the ground hard enough to pierce through solid stone. "What are we waiting for? Merlin, if you would?" I asked.
The wizard was looking back and forth between Circe and me but seemed to snap out of it when I spoke to her. She nodded and focused on her crystalline staff, her eyes closing as she began the teleportation.
I moved to stand next to her, only for Circe to speak out.
"Well, you're certainly not going without me. I just got all warmed up," she said, stepping up to Merlin. Her eyes dared me to try to keep her out of this fight.
AN - Editing is finished and I made some cuts. So it's 59 Chapters and an Epilogue.
Comments
Dave
Ttfc
Daniel Glasson
I wonder how Thorin is going to react when he finds out Venthra was the one that helped poison Bran's mother.
