In Another World With Just Monika - Chapter 128 A Beast Kings Combat Record
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Behind the palace was a massive arena that looked like the great Roman Colosseum. Arabic looking palace, Roman backyard. This country was just all over the place aesthetically.
Though I supposed if Regulus was fantasy Rome and there used to be a Regulanen colony here, then that made sense. It also made sense why the capital of this country faced the inland lake rather than the ocean, across that lake was the northern half of the continent. It was, unsurprisingly, known as the Great Gao Lake.
Before facing the King Jamukha however, we were led to a dressing room for gladiators. Mannequins wore all sorts of gladiatorial garb and weapons, as might be expected from such a fabulous heritage. I poked one which had an ornate basket helmet, metal wraps around the arms, silver greaves and boots, a chain-covered kilt to protect the groin and thigh area, and a round shield for the left arm – basically an outfit that protected everything except the chest and stomach of the wearer.
“Are we expected to wear these?” I asked.
“Oh, no. In a simple spar with His Beastliness, there is no need for such outlandish accouterments.”
Behind me was Chancellor Glatz, the avian beastkin from earlier. His wings were as gray as his hair, and his robes were a shade of off-white only slightly darker than the rest of him. He had a thick and prominent mustache that reached down past his chin. He pointed to another manikin with a decent-looking padded jack (1).
“Though for your protection, I recommend you wear some padding. A shield might be useful too.” Then he muttered under his breath “Like everyone knows the King isn’t going to wear any of that.”
Uh, having a bunch of old guys in my dressing room is kinda making me uncomfortable. “Uh. Right. Thanks.” I made a small shrug and asked “What was that some other business you wanted to discuss with me before the fighting?”
“Ah, my apologies. Please forgive us, goodman Zah. His Beastliness is the person who cannot resist fighting anyone who he thinks is strong. In truth, we are all quite bothered by it too.”
“It’s fine. It’s somewhat refreshing to me, in Belfast there’s only a few people who would be fortright enough to forego the rules of courtesy to challenge directly. People who seek strength only for strength, rather than power or status.”
I thought about them. There’s the Viscount Sordrick. And I supposed Zorah.
They were also quite annoying people.
Huh.
One of the other ministers presented to me a wooden sword. It looked somewhat like the Roman spatha(2), but with a longer two-handed grip. It came with a thicker blade obviously due to wood not having the same structural strength as steel. I tested its grip, balance, and swing.
Whoosh. Whoosh. The sword cut a good draft in the air. The sword blade was dull but the wood it was made of was dark and hard, almost copper-red in color. It was very rigid, and somewhat heavier than a real sword. The two-handed grip with a heavy metal pommel was necessary to put balance back towards the wrist. Was this ironwood?
“A good sword. Heck, if the edge was sharpened, this could do some real damage. As it is, if the King’s sword is like this I’m going to have to fear some broken bones.”
“Oh no! No, you need not fear for that!” spoke the minister who handed me the sword. “His Beastliness will be using a softer wood sword, as usual. The sword must be easy to break in case he fails to control his strength.”
“I see. That’s not encouraging…”
“We are here to tell you that you need not hold back!” Chancellor Glatz added. “Fight your hardest! Don’t worry about hurting His Beastliness! In fact we would be truly grateful if you caused him some serious pain!”
Wait, what. “Wait, hang on. Isn’t he your liege? Is it okay to be telling things like that to some random stranger from outside the kingdom?”
“It would be okay to tell it to some random citizens living inside the kingdom!” someone immediately backed up Glatz. “No one minds it! Everyone knows his Beastliness always looks down on the importance of state affairs!”
Another spoke up: “There are times when he just disappears and we find him training with the soldiers, overpowering every single one of them!”
“There was a time when he got an idea for a new weapon and just walked out of the room while someone was talking and went straight to the blacksmith. We had to apologize to the visitor and our schedule for the rest of the day was just ruined!”
“Don’t forget what he said about starting a grand tournament… did he even consider the budget?! We have no budget for grand displays just giving money away! If he wants to have strong fighters, then just pay the army more to train soldiers the regular way!”
The ministers then all huddled together in a circle with arms on each other’s shoulders. I think I could almost hear a sob.
Chancellor Glatz looked up with a strange look on his face. “Help us, Sir Playa! You are our only hope.”
Nope I am completely compartmentalizing this type of behavior.
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I went out to the bright morning light of the arena to a dull roar. The audience was made of my friends and colleagues, all the ministers of Mismede, and many soldiers of their army ranked Captain and above. Rather than clapping, it seemed they expressed appreciation by stomping feet.
The King was already at the center of the arena with both muscled arms raised high, hamming it up and building hype for his challenger. He had a regular sword that looked that looked like a one-handed cutlass with a basket hilt in his big beefy hands and a round shield that was more proportionally a buckler strapped onto his left arm.
I chose to forego a shield because I had no training in using them anyway. I’d have to rely on my advantage in speed.
“Good, you didn’t back out! I’m really happy about that!” King Jamukha greeted me, rubbing at his nose like some schoolboy. “Let’s have a good fight!”
The referee began to start the bout. “The fight will last until one side receives a hit or an injury that would be fatal with real swords or if one side admits defeat. The use of magic is permitted for both sides.”
I raised an eyebrow. Then again, comparing how big the King was, a purely physical fight just looked so dashed unfair.
“However, offensive magic aimed directly at your opponent is forbidden. Do both parties agree to follow these rules?”
No offensive magic? That’s… fine. I glanced aside to see that among the girls, Yae and Yumina had the most intense looks trying to commit this spectacle of swordery to memory. Linze yelled down “Good luck, Mister Zah! Fight-o!”
And Elze “Get your ass beat, Playa!”
Elze why.
I turned back towards the King and asked “You sure about this?”
“Heheheh. Of course! Don’t you dare hold back!” He was a snow leopard beastkin with a large white brush mustache. He looked a bit old, with a lined face, but I wondered how much of that was really age and not laugh lines and skin wear and tear under the sun. The white hair threw off real estimates of his age.
He was so huge, it would be stupid to underestimate him. Those damn hard muscles might as well be natural armor. “Use all you have an’ try to win! I’d be insulted if you try to hold back just because of my crown, and you won’t like that!”
The referee with the tall goat horns raised his hand high, looked at both fighters, then chopped his hand down. “Ready… BEGIN!”
Paf. Paf.
Two small craters appeared on the sand floor of the arena.
Next thing everyone realized was a crash as the two fighters were abruptly in the middle of the arena, the King with his sword pointed down, blocking a strike towards his right side hip.
His eyes glittered and his face opened up in delight, with a big wide grin showing all of his teeth. “You’re fast! No feelin’ out the enemy, you go full speed for the kill at the start!” he said with a full belly laugh. “I LIKE IT!”
I grinned back. “Red wunz go fasta.”
“Heh heh he. Not bad. Not bad at all!” Then he forced me off the blade lock with his superior natural strength and swung again in a stab-cut.
I disengaged to avoid, and then he surged forward in a barrel rush. “Faster! Faster! You have to do better than that!” He swung his sword at such speed and power I couldn’t hope to block them. With our difference in height, he had the advantage in reach.
I stepped back again and again, having to give way.
King Jamukha roared out “Don’t just dodge! Fight!”
The King made a big heavy overhead chop with his sword that I side-stepped easily. But then abruptly with great effort on his part it abruptly changed directions 90-degrees like an L into a horizontal slash. I leaned backwards Matrix-style and watched the swing pass over me.
But that took my eye off him and left me open for a follow-through punch, the momentum of his right arm swinging the sword pulling the other side of his body.
That is, if I hadn’t raised my right leg – and as his left fist made contact with the sole of my boot, that was enough to fling me up and away. I flipped smoothly in the air, and with a soft puff on the sands landed cleanly on both feet some distance away. Still facing my opponent.
The King stopped and stood straight up. His spotted white tail made small confused side to side motions as if trying to seek a counter-balance. “Swooping Swallow style…” he mumbled with raised eyebrows. “How ever did a human manage to learn that?”
I see. I guess with the differences in actual physical abilities between the beastkin it also made sense they also had distinct fighting styles. Kind of like the Animal Forms of Kung Fu. (3) Tiger, Snake, Dragon, Crane, Monkey, etc.
“I am a leaf in the wind!” I replied.
“Good for you! But trying to tire me out? That won’t work.” He grinned again and bent down. He muttered something under his breath and then shouted “EVEN LEAVES CAN BE CUT!”
Paf.
With another crater in the sand, the king disappeared.
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Paf.
And me too.
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Faster than anyone could see, we screamed and leaped at each other.
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AN:
