At the start of each battle, after they announced the grievance and the parties involved, they would announce who the champions of this just cause were. It was a script as full of theatre as any movie he’d ever seen. That pattern changed when they announced him only as ‘Simon, a clanless outlander.’

That brought a number of boos from the normally quiet crowd, but it made him grin. His challenger had been addressed as ‘Himar Rolven, Axe Champion, and troll slayer,’ and previous announcements had been similarly illustrious. He was just an outlander, which amused him more than it should have.

While it hadn’t been the case for everyone, this warrior looked nearly as impressive as his name. He was a large man in a chainmail hauberk that nearly concealed his muscular nature, and he wielded a large, two-handed, single-headed axe casually in one hand. It was long enough that it almost entirely canceled out Simon’s reach advantage. Swung with both hands, it might even be strong enough to shatter a normal shield or sword. Simon’s weapons, though, wouldn’t have those difficulties.

When the pronouncements ended, the two of them strode toward each other toward the center of the large stone circle that had been made with white cobblestones amidst a sea of black and gray stones. The circle was uneven and stained with the blood of the previous matches, but it was still well-delineated. It was only about twenty feet across, and until this was over, it was their whole world.

The axe man didn’t salute him or offer him any words as most of the other combatants exchanged. Given that this was as much ceremony as it was bloodshed, it was important all the appropriate steps be taken. One of the two men would almost certainly die, after all.

That apparently didn’t matter where outlanders were concerned, though, and Himar approached Simon stone-faced before lashing out with a lightning-quick swipe of his weapon. It was done at maximum reach, and there was very little power behind it. It was a pretty dishonorable tactic, but the moment Simon had seen his opponent's dead eyes, he’d been expecting something like it, and he smoothly ducked it, even as he charged forward underneath the weapon and slammed the bigger man back with his shield.

His opponent was staggered, but only for a moment. Then he brought the haft of his axe down in time to block the blow. Simon made no effort to activate the runes that would cut through it with his thumb. That would stand out too much this soon. Instead, he stepped back and raised his shield and his sword and adjusted his grip so that his pointer finger activated the lesser strength runes hidden in the weapon.

This time, the runes were slender and well-made. This fight would probably only shave a few months off his life, but it would be worth it because until he switched his grip, he’d have two or even three times the strength that he usually did, which made it impossible for the axe wielder’s fiercest attacks to do much more than make his blade waver as he parried them.

While his first blow had been quick and showy, the ones that followed were savage. At first, they were one-handed, but when he found he couldn’t get inside Simon’s guard, he switched to two-handed. No matter how much the warrior’s biceps swelled, though, or how hard their weapons clashed, Simon’s defense held.

“I’ll bet you weren’t expecting that were you?” Simon growled through clenched teeth as he acted like this was hard for him. “I bet you just power right through on the battlefield.”

His opponent didn’t answer him. He continued his assault as Simon peppered him with more taunts than counterstrikes. It was only after almost two minutes of that before Simon began to lash out in a serious way.

This was a more complicated dance because Simon wanted to make him bleed but not cut him down, and chainmail made that much more difficult. As Simon alternated between attack and defense, he had to not only time his strikes but change his grip constantly.

If he activated the force runes when he parried, he’d slice his opponent's axe in two in a way that everyone would notice, and if he struck the man’s chainmail with strength, he’d break bones instead of slice through, which wasn’t what he wanted. Simon wanted to make this look like a hard-fought match, which meant that half the time when he lashed out at the man’s chainmail, he did not damage at all, and half the time he sliced right through a few rings, scoring a shallow blow that would heal well.

Simon did his best to avoid the man’s vitals as the crowd cheered, and both fighters began to tire. The axe wielder still hadn’t scored a blow against Simon, thanks to his magical defenses, but there was always a chance he would, and any one of them would be fatal.

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Simon was more afraid of the onlookers than the man facing him, though. He was basically cheating, and he didn’t feel especially good about that. While he didn’t think that anyone would know unless he screwed up, he had no idea if anyone here had a way of detecting magic. If they could, he was basically signing his own death warrant with the way he was using runes so flagrantly.

He certainly couldn’t with his sight. He could see someone’s aura and make guesses about who they were and what they’d done, but objects weren’t people, and they didn’t have intentions. They only connected to those who did.

While he could have killed Himar any time he wanted, he waited. That wasn’t because he wanted to shame or embarrass the man, though; he just wanted to find the right moment to counterattack in a way that would bring victory without killing him in the process. In the end, he waited for the bloody man to swing and whiff empty air after blood loss had exhausted him. Then, Simon charged under the wild swing and hammered his shield against the man’s face before putting his shoulder into it and driving him from the circle.

Simon’s opponent saw what he was trying to do, and at the last moment, he tried to cling on to Simon to avoid being driven out. Grappling would have been a fine idea, and Simon didn’t blame him for trying. It probably still would have gotten him gutted, but it wasn’t a bad choice. Unfortunately, given that he held onto a shield and not a limb, it was the easiest thing in the world for Simon to drop his shield and let him fall away onto the dark cobbles, out of bounds.

Himar protested that. “Treachery! Coward!” he cried out, but the fact that he was too weak to rise again said it all as far as Simon was concerned. He’d been bled to the point that he’d be bed-bound for days, but eventually, he’d make a full recovery, which would neatly avoid any generational grudges from taking hold. Besides, he was fairly certain that all the hate would be directed at him because he was an outlander.

In that final moment, the crowd should have roared at the upset in triumph or outrage, but he was met with only silence. No one was happy to see him win. While he understood that, it still annoyed him. “My cause is just!” Simon yelled, raising his sword high as if that somehow proved he was in the right.

The arbiter that ran the proceedings nodded but wasted little time between pronouncing Simons's victory and announcing the next trial by arms. Still, the crowd’s dismissal meant nothing. By the terms of the complaint, Karl Himar now owed Eddek a public apology for failing to raise his son right. Such an act would have been shameful enough that part of him was tempted to force the man to do exactly that, but he knew that was not the right answer here. All he’d won today was a bargaining chip, and he would trade that in for something more valuable when he next met the man.

That was born out a few days later when he met with the Karl in his own hall for a simple dinner, and the man glowered at him from across the table. “I can’t believe a stripling like you bested an oak like Himar Rolven!” the man roared. “His arms are twice as thick as yours! And his weapon—”

“Now, now, insult me all you like, but leave my sword out of it,” Simon said with a smile. “Now that your strongest champion is recuperating, who knows what other grudges could come to light.”

“I need no champion,” the Karl remarked, taking a large swig from his drinking horn. “I merely need to mount the head of the man who’s heaped this indignity onto my plate on the wall, right there. You see it? After I’ve apologized to your master, that’s where I shall put your severed head, and I promise you, he will enjoy it far more than Erben Eddek shall enjoy my words.”

“Well, now that I’ve won my justice for all to see, I was considering amending the terms of my victory slightly, in your favor, of course,” Simon added, pretending to be slightly cowed by the man’s threat. Once the, Karl had probably been a great warrior, but he was at least ten years past his prime.

“I’m listening,” the man rumbled.

“My concern here is not shame or honor. It’s like you said, I’m an outsider and a sellsword,” Simon explained. “My priority is my master’s safety for the duration of my employment. Perhaps you can help me with that, and we can put aside the public apology.”

The Karl had been prepared to be outraged, but the reasonableness of Simon’s proposal gave him pause, and after a moment of silence to contemplate it, they began to discuss it in earnest. Eventually, Simon agreed to forgo the apology or any other compensation entirely for a single concession: that the bully himself would be Eddek’s bodyguard during school hours. Not only was the Karl’s son not to lay a finger on him, but he was to protect the boy from others.

“You didn’t have to nearly kill a man to get me to do that much,” the Karl protested, but Simon disagreed.

“If I would have demanded this of you as an outlander, it might have helped for a day or two, but it would have made it worse in the long run,” Simon answered with a shake of his head. “Now your son defends not just my charge but your clan's honor, and I expect he cares about the latter much more than the former.”

The Karl considered those words and then nodded slowly. “Aye, I suppose that might be true. Even if he doesn’t, though, his fear of me will keep him in line.”

Simon nodded at that. The man still might try to have him killed one day, but for now, this was enough.