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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 29: Prove Your Might
🕑 Added 2025-04-19 17:14:12 +0000 UTCLucius had been introduced to a great many individuals ever since his arrival here, but the two holy knights that stepped forth certainly left a lasting impression.
The lady known as Bradamante had long, flowing, and vibrant ginger hair, like the color of a warm sunrise (at least one back at his home dimension), and her facial features carried a rugged honeness hardened after many a battle. She looked similar to the other natives of Francia - save for her skin which was beset with countless little scars and faint wounds.
Sir Ruggiero, on the other hand, was completely different. He looked nothing like the people here. His skin was much darker, comparable to one of Northern African ancestry, and rather than a sharp gaze, he looked more calm - more mellow. The man exuded a welcoming atmosphere: soft eyes, a wide smile, and a humble countenance that saw neither discrimination nor hierarchy.
The two couldn’t be any more dissimilar to the other, appearance-wise at least, but there was a certain harmony in their joint partnership. They complimented for each’s lacking aspects, and they never strayed too far: keeping a close distance and covering for their blind spots as if they were maintaining a tight formation in the midst of war. Lucius wondered if they were doing it unconsciously - they didn’t seem to be aware of this subtle dynamic.
Lady Bradamante stepped forward and patted the Archbishop’s shoulder. “Thank you, Father Turpin. And greetings to you all. I am Bradamante, head instructor for the paladins of the Sacred Order. Our division is responsible for the defense and peacekeeping of the Empire’s capital. It is here by which all aspiring knights first learn to hold a weapon, to master best the art of combat, and most recently the study of the foes we call demons. To my side is your vice instructor, but no less a warrior than me, Sir Ruggiero of the Moors.”
The man nodded and bowed his head. “It is a great honor to be a member of the Twelve Peers.”
The female knight beheld the audience for a moment, examining them with a careful eye. It didn’t take long before she breathed a sigh and spoke again with, noticeably less, caution. “Sir Roland has informed me of your… unfamiliarity with battle. Nonetheless, you have been brought here and granted the blessing of our Lord. I dare not question the reason why, but as such, it is my duty to ensure you leave here at least with enough training to not die a miserable death. I don’t expect you lot to become as proficient as full-fledged knights - there’s not enough time for that.”
Her formal tone quickly changed as if flipping a switch. Lucius was taken aback for a second, but he supposed this felt more natural than the forced courtesy of before.
“Just by looking at the state of your bodies, I can unfortunately say that the knights’ formations will be too great a strain for you. We’ll have to start with basic drills, build up endurance, and mold your physique into one somewhat capable enough to hold a weapon. Ruggiero and I will craft a detailed routine in the morrow, but first… I must evaluate your potential.”
Lady Bradamante strode to the middle of the stadium, cracked her knuckles, and waved out to the audience. “I’ve heard that your ilk wield strange powers. If I am to accurately adjust your training, I need to know what I’m dealing with. So, we’re going to have a spar. Don’t worry, I won’t use a weapon, and Sir Ruggiero will heal any wounds that might arise. I don’t care if one or hundreds come down - prove your strength to me.”
The moment her taunt boldly echoed through the stadium, the system window popped up in front of Lucius—and seemingly everyone else as well.
>[GROUP SUB QUEST]<
Lady Bradamante of the Sacred Order wishes to test your might in a ‘friendly’ spar. Prove to her and the Empire of Francia that you are worth training, and not just leeches draining their nation’s coffers. Only one needs to succeed to complete the group quest; however, the first to receive her acknowledgement will be granted additional spoils.
Reward: 150 Cosmic Coins, and an extra 300 for the first achiever.
Failure: Decreased affinity with the Frankish Paladins
The players whispered amongst each other, hesitant, yet not unwilling to put themselves forth. The allure of material gain had enticed humanity ever since their inception, leading even the cowardly and the reluctant to walk willingly to their doom, but surely this mission wasn’t so dangerous, was it? It was simply a spar - a lighthearted match between fellows. Plus this was also an opportunity to study the prowess of the native knights.
Lucius thought otherwise, however. Whoever stepped foot into that ring would no doubt leave as a bruised and bloodied mess. He chuckled to himself - how humorous! This had to be one of those so-called hazing rituals he heard so much about. Despite the nation referring to them as ‘God’s Chosen’, they weren’t all too unwilling to use force as a means of garnering obedience. Or maybe this was merely Lady Bradamante’s hobby.
After a moment of deliberation, the first contender confidently marched into the arena, Lucius remembered them: it was the female firefighter he had seen the day before. She wore large, baggy gear that protected the entirety of her body and brandished a red fire-axe.
“Oh, that’s a curious outfit,” Lady Bradamante said, tilting her head in curiosity. “I applaud you for being the first to challenge me. What is your name?”
The firefighter took a deep breath and readied her axe. “Harper Brooks, pleasure to meet you. I don’t know about being a knight, but us public safety folk take pride in our bodies. We’re tougher than you think.”
The paladin chuckled and beckoned for her to make the first move. “We shall see, but I like your spirit. Come, Harper - don’t hold back now.”
“Likewise.”
Miss Brooks lunged in and swung straight for the throat. Her movements were quick and precise: a deft athleticism toughened by years of service in the force. Lucius could see all the hours she must have spent honing her body, sweating under grueling exercises of physical labor, but even with such experience she could not lay a finger on her foe.
Lady Bradamante evaded her assault effortlessly, with scarcely a wasted moment. She needed only take a step here, tilt her head there, to briskly weave through Harper’s flurry of strikes. This was not a spar between two equals; rather, a demonstration. The futile plight of a child against a much more seasoned adversary.
“Your physical power is adequate,” the paladin said casually in the middle of their fight. “I can feel the ferocity, but you won’t survive against the demons with mere brute strength. You’ve clearly gone through some training, and yet it’s too clumsy to be considered an art meant for combat. You’ve never fought against another person, have you?”
Harper wheezed and tried her best to catch the paladin, but she swiped at naught but air. It was as if the lady could see her every move far in advance. “I… huff… we never needed to. Worst my brigade ever had to deal with was a fire every now and then - different skill sets.”
“A laborer, then. Let’s see if your grit matches your zeal.”
In an instant, Bradamante took control of the momentum and retaliated with strikes of her own. She pummeled Harper in the stomach, kicked her shin and knee before the firefighter could react, and struck every part of her body with small, swift attacks. The paladin was holding back, though, in her own way. None of the impacts fully went through, bruising the surface at most, but it accumulated bit by bit until the poor Miss Brooks was left as an exhausted, sputtering mess.
“You're quite the study one as well,” Bradamante complimented, and paused her beatdown. “But is this truly all you have to offer? Any common layman could reach your standard with enough conditioning. What about your ability? I’m sure the Lord gave you something.”
Harper gritted her teeth and staggered back up. A mischievous glint passed through her eyes, and with a shout, she raised her finger and pointed at the lady. “You wanna see it? Fine, you asked for it. Get a load of this.”
An object began to shimmer into existence behind her. The light twisted and turned, bent into a colorful array of shapes, before finally collapsing into itself and forming the shape of… a fire hydrant. It was a fire hydrant, with a hose attached to the tap.
“Huh?” Mili said, watching the spectacle with great interest. “That’s just straight up a fire hydrant. How does that even work? There’s no water under it.”
“I wouldn’t bother worryin’ about realism here,” Marco laughed. “Things work because they do.”
Harper grabbed the hose, aimed the nozzle, and blasted a condensed jet of water directly at the baffled Bradamante. The stream had enough pressure to slam the air out of an ordinary person, but the lady didn’t try to avoid it and simply allowed the liquid to drench her hair and armor. It didn’t seem to cause any harm. Nonetheless, she wasn’t all too amused.
“How… interesting,” she said, squeezing her hair to get the water out. “That is certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but its destructiveness leaves a bit to be desired.”
Before Harper could respond, Bradamante closed the distance and knocked her out cold - pow! The miss collapsed and fell onto her rear, silent as the dead. But hopefully not actually dead.
Sir Ruggiero ran in to help her, but not before clicking his tongue and sending a disapproving glance toward Bradamante’s way. “Your temper got the best of you, beloved.”
She sheepishly crossed her arms and turned her back. “Whatever do you mean? None of her bones are even broken. The knights-in-training suffer far worse during our sessions.”
“You shy away when you lie, you know.”
She coughed. “Quiet, you. Scold me all you want when we’re alone.”
Ruggiero shook his head, endearingly, and began to mutter what sounded like some sort of spell. Soon, a green glow poured forth from his hands, spreading forth a rustic, earthy fragrance that smelled distinctly of the forests. The light covered the unconscious Harper and brought color back to her complexion, filling her with life anew.
“Ahem,” Bradamante said, donning a stony guise once more. “I do see promise in you lot, but this isn’t enough to satisfy me. Let the next challenger come down. If you can land a hit on my body, then I will personally reward you with an item from my treasury. Surely that will serve as enough motivation, hm?”
So she said, but after what they had just witnessed, the players were understandably nervous.
This quest was much harder than initially thought.
