Dark Chronicles - 92 1v1 Incentivized

“In a duel, man to man, sword against sword, it can be a lack of skill that gets you killed. Often as not, though, it’ll be a matter of luck, or if it goes on too long, then it’ll be the man who tires first that tends to die.”

-Mark Lawrence

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“Having said that. We’re not gonna fight here. This place won’t do. Our incursions would-be disastrous and would deteriorate the Kingdom’s fragile infrastructures. Shall I alter the venue?”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I did not approve yet..”

“Yet? So you’re going to accept it soon right? As expected by Lacrimosa’s chosen one. But, there’s no use wasting our precious time. Let’s just get this over with!” He said while doing some warm-ups tilting his head and his waist. Not 360 degree of course.

Moreover, what a compulsive old man. Does he want to duel that much? I can’t seem to see any benefit in it for him. Well, palpably, my rationale tells me something is off with him right from the start. And his advanced face even contradicts his personality.

“Everyone! I invite you all to see the duel, and bare to be the witnesses yourself.” The patriarch who called himself as Durandal implored the vast majority in front.

“Y-yes! Patriarch Durandal!” Answered the entire congregation, bowing their heads, even the nobles themselves… Just who is this elderly? That even these narcissistic nobles themselves are offering respect to?

“Here goes nothing… ” Whispered the same old geezer in a manner that the closest to him would have to hear.

He then stomped his heavy-looking slippers on the ground, and from the same soles, the background became blurry, almost like a transition of a video documentary…

Then suddenly, we were transported into this gladiator coliseum, which I think is bigger than Earth’s most spacious outdoor sports arenas, with the both of us at the center.

Atop us were the blue cloudless skies which glyphs the place’s non-existence in the real realm, and in the terrain of seats that seemed to surround us, stood countless of audiences, sitting comfortably in their individual chairs… They were from the Kingdom itself, but still divided by social class and hell, the discrepancies of the sitting places are even apparent from my view. The slums were seated on wooded ones, the middle class on stones, and the noble, in Gold with the vast armies left standing on the highest and furthest platforms… The King, however, which is still on his puny cage, was not able to sit in his appointed special place which is by far the grandest of all.

“Welcome to my realm.” He proclaimed as the crowd begins to outroar, with the noble ones clearly cheering for the Patriarch, while the others, shouting in ecstatics, stands too corrected to even implicitly express out of the blue of who they really have bet their hopes on. The humans, however, who are with Celes on the left-most group of seats were silent, as they can’t seem to comprehend the current situation. Well, they are still at that point of getting acquainted with such a life that’s now deprived of common sense and of the mundane, so it should be as expected.

“Are you perhaps a deity?”

“Ahahaha… No. Just a patriarch who likes to sleep all the time.”

“If I may ask, what’s a patriarch?” I asked to somehow ameliorate the queries that I have in accordance with his cameo on running that Kingdom.

“Oh right. A patriarch, to be specific, is a Kingdom’s main archpriest and is close to being a spirit, and are far more superiors than Animas. Work includes taking care of the Kingdom’s academy, the development of mages and as well as establishing the King chosen by the people themselves.” he answered.

So they also do it by majority choosing here huh…

“Hmmm. Thank you for that brief response… By the way, the Kingdom sure do like having their superiority complex to be well-maintained huh.”

“Yes, I will have to agree with that one… The nobles in particular. Seeing them makes me sick, so I want to sleep all the time and rest my antediluvian bones… It’s just sad to say that I can’t afford to. Responsibility calls.”

“Responsibility? What a strong word to use, when in fact the Kingdom you’re in, is in a steep cliff ready to fall at any given moment.”

“Oy oy… That’s not my problem. I am just asked to be the Kingdom’s last line of defense and to develop mages of fearful paradigms. That’s all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing more and nothing less. By the way, I did not invite all of you here so that you can have a decent chat with me. First, let me get things straight. If you win, you’ll take the position as King of this kingdom of Tarragons, and you can do whatever it is that you want with us, you can even exploit us as proxy chess pieces for your personal purposes… but first, you must defeat me. How I miss being bedazzled by Requiem Aranea’s chains once again.”

“I appreciate the incentives, but please do stop assuming that I’m an evil Feudal Overlord or something, aiming to take hold of the dominion’s tenants to become my pawn”

“Wait, you’re not?”

“Yes…”

“Oy oy! I just assumed right away because of what you’re wearing… Do condone.”

“Uh yeah… But, first I just want to make it clear that I really don’t have the motive to take over your Kingdom and neither to use it as proxy pieces for my race’s war as you exclaimed… I am just here to get the humans who were tormented a while ago, make your Kingdom promise that they never again would seek the Kurenai, and possibly, let the King have his own verdict for his autocratic and biased reign… That’s all. I have no intention of being King. I’m sent here for a different purpose.”

“Well, ain’t that, right? Well, it’s still a good negotiation. Upon hearing that, I, now of all time, basically want to lose hehe. But that would be an insult. Fine…First. If you will triumph over me in this showdown, I will make the Kingdom promise to never once again lay a hand on the Kurenai… which I think is inside that little human girl over there, am I right?”

“Hmmm… How did you know?”

“Pure instinct… Second. I will even make the Kingdom pay for there rude foolishness through helping you with some of your goals in your little race’s warfare. Third. I will force exile the king. Sounds good?”

“Exile? That’s too light. Judging by the majority’s demeanor, I can somehow tell that they want to do something more atrociously just.”

“Well. if the people wish to make the punishment to be of a higher extent then let it be, it’s not entirely in my hands anyway.”

“Now that’s an authentic incentive method there, Patriarch Sir.”

“Oy oy, but you better not assume that you’re sure to win. This old geezer still has a few party tricks under his sleeves.”

“Very well then.”

“In a duel, man to man, sword against sword, it can be a lack of skill that gets you killed. Often as not, though, it’ll be a matter of luck, or if it goes on too long, then it’ll be the man who tires first that tends to die. So, shall we end it early before it gets to that point?” He said..

He then made a martial artist’s stance while the crowds’ outroar grew, even more, seeing him in his battle array. And there’s this unique transparent pressure coming from him…

The main archpriest, a martial artist? Well, that’s a new twist. I expect a wand or a scepter or something.

“If you’re wondering why I don’t have a scepter, and why this proclaimed Patriarch is in this stance, then do understand that I hate cliches. What’s wrong on changing typical stigmas that priests are qualified to using martial arts and are not limited to those kiddy magical scepters?” He said, with an undaunted and proud look.

“There’s nothing wrong with that…” I extrapolated the fact all because, I, too feel exactly the same.

Hmmm… I feel that we will get along just fine. But for now, I have to cope with the incentives.

The Patriarch then seizes the first vigor of offense…

“Let me make the first move!!! WALTZ! DANCE OF THE WINDS!”