Page 29 of The Ballad of a Bard

“You think that you’re better than I?” War raged, fury brighter than any newborn star that could be conjured. “Then let’s see how you can handle this!”

He should have seen it coming.

Years of staying with the Saint, of learning his very moves and power, the way he jumped and fought, yet he hadn’t. The burning sting of steel, the flash of agony and a warm trickle began down his neck.

“I never said that.” West gasped, clapping his hand over the wound before it could temporarily immobilise him as he succumbed to thenormally mortal shell of death that the humans gave over too quickly. It wouldn’t kill him, but render him unconscious for a few hours whilst his immortal body knit itself back together and everything processed correctly.

But the blood still ran.

As did the tensions that pricked the air.

West gritted his teeth and found the nearest weapon, dragging it down diagonally towards the towering male before him. The smell of salt and power burst into the arena as War started to bleed as well.

Fair was fair.

But War wouldn’t see it that way.

He lifted his monstrous blade once more and the battle began, one that was pointless thanks to the misunderstanding of cheap ale and bloodlust that the Saint was constantly high off of like expensive opium.

West was the one that walked away in the end, panting and sweating like a dog as he chucked the sword aside and left his fellow Saint in the sandy area. His own sword protruded from his center, one that he’d wake to remove, only to pass out once more and awaken as good as new.

By that point in time, West would be far away.

He curled his fingers into a tight fist at his thigh, out of Warrior’s sight. “That serves my memory correct as well.”

“Then why in the Saint’s name,ourname, are you here, in my fighting pits of all places?” War snarled with the ferocity of a rampant beast, dripping from the maw, “Looking for all the world and beyond like you have a favour to ask from me.”

“It seems your perception hasn’t altered over the years either.” West commented in a bored tone, refusing to back down from his stance before the gate. “You are correct, however. I do have a favour to ask of you.”

“Tell me quickly, before I decide to lop your head off. Or try to, again. I may have failed the first time, but trust me when I say that I’m aching for a second chance.” He pulled a lever within, the gate shuddering violently before grinding and cracking upwards into a slit in the stone ceiling where it would remain until forced back down.

“It’s not an easy manner of conversation. It concerns Red Lyric.” He poured the sentence from his mouth like freshly collected honey, almost singing her name.

“What about him?”

Her,West mentally corrected him but didn’t dare to speak it. He knew that War wasn’t blind, but perhaps he truly didn’t know what lay underneath the red fighting leathers. Where Crimson managed to learn his moves became another delectable mystery to West. One to figure out later, as she was most likely waiting for him outside the tavern by now.

“I need to break his contract with you.”

The vicious Saint scoffed, a hacking chuckle following. “He’s signed on for another year and a half. He’s not breaking it any time soon if I have anything to say about it. As you’ve clearly been sulking around my lovely establishment the last few days, I know you’ve seen him fight. I would be beyond idiodic to let him go after the amount of money his rounds bring into the Pits.”

“Tell me what it’ll take to break it. This isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate on.” West put all of his weight on his back foot, crossing one arm over the other in front of his muscular chest. He wasn’t anywhere near as large as the seven foot male before him, but he wasn’t lacking either. “It’s for the good of the Empire so itwillbe happening. Now, tell me your price, otherwise I’ll get Muse involved.”

“You always did like to hide behind her pretty skirts whenthings become too complex and hard to reach for you.” He complained and strode out of the tunnels below the arena. “Fine. You want Red Lyric?”

“I do.” West confirmed.

War motioned towards the circular field where the competition took place. “Then fight me for him. Win, and I’ll let you leave without any repercussions. It’s not like we cankilleach other.”

Because unless they had one of the few, rare Saint made weapons, any mortal looking blow would not kill them in the end. They might be temporarily disposed of for a good few hours, but they would return eventually.

“If I lose,” He began to counter his offer, “Then I’ll take up his fights in his place. But after tonight, Lyric isdonehere.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because War madly grinned and made for the empty arena. “I see nothing wrong with this arrangement. I hope you’ve dusted off that sword you carry,North.You’ll be needing it after tonight.”

“If you dig into your vast expansion of memory,Grimm,you’ll recall that it wasyouwho taught me how to use a sword in the first place.” West pulled it free of his waist, letting the candlelight hit it just right in certain spots. “I assure you that I’ve continuously practised every day since our departure, and have only gotten better.”

“Then this should be a fair fight.” He thumbed free the two savage knives at his sides, jagged and serrated edges gleaming in what seemed to be excitement. As if the blades themselves carried a seed of a Saint’s soul and were alive.

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