Simon hadn’t been quite sure of what to make of the man’s words. He thought that maybe he’d e bad spar with a couple of the Baron’s guard’s tomorrow or something. Instead, ohey’d all finished eating dihe servants moved the trestle tables aside to clear spa the rge room. The way that they did so with such practiced ease made Simon think this was not the first time this sort of after-dinertai had been arranged, either.

  “What… Here? Now?” Simon asked, suddenly regretting his third gss of wine.

  “Why not?” the Baron asked with a smile. “I could do with some eai. Now would you like to do the honors, Varten, or should I pie of the guards to test his mettle?”

  Simohed a sigh of relief when the Baron turo his eldest son. He was a slender man who’d been somewhat reserved all night. Not only would he not be much of a challenge pared to some of the burly men Simon had seen around the sprawling home, but Simon was certain the Baron wouldn’t endanger his own heir with some kind of blood sport.

  He was pletely surprised when the boy drew a heavy saber already on his hip and held it up dramatically, letting the light dance along its razor’s edge before he poi at Simon. That was the moment he khey’d pnned all of this from the start. Of all the men at the table, Varten was the only one wearing a on and the only oh the look of a killer in his eye.

  “As if I would ever turn down a challenge, Father,” he answered with a sneer before walking toward Simon.

  “But my on and armor are at the inn, my lord,” Simon said, trying to think of a way out of this.

  “Nonsehis is just a quick exhibition, so to speak. To the blood or the yield, as it were. You may pick from any bde in the room,” the Baron said, gesturing widely to the trophies dispyed on the south wall.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Simon said, quickly expining what was going to happen to Freya as he rose from his seat. There was worry in her eyes and a quick shake of her head. She khat he shouldn’t do this, and he agreed with her, but there was no way out of this short of preparing to leave the city now, and he wasn’t willing to do that.

  The man might be perverse, but he valued the life of his heir, so he was sure that he wouldn’t let things get too out of hand with Simon.

  Simon’s first instinct had been that the ons on the wall had been nothing but dispy ons, and he’d been right. Most of them were pretty decrepit. The shields were sundered, and the bdes were chipped or worse. Simon picked up several before deg they might not st for even one good parry before putting them back. Eventually, he selected a small steel shield that was much smaller than what he was used to fighting with, but he could find no on to pair with it. That’s wheiced that the long swords the guards carried were just about twins of his own.

  Simon walked to the guard with a nasty scar across his forehead at the door and said, “Your bde, sir?”

  The guard looked to the Baron for approval, but after a quiod, he ha to Simon Hilt first. The long straight bde would do nicely, he decided as he turo face his foe.

  Simon had never fought a saber before, or aaller than him, and Varten’s reach was nullified by Simon’s longer bde, so he could be fine, but he felt like there was something here he still wasn’t getting as he walked toward the ter of the room to face off against the other man.

  “So how do you want to—” Simon had barely opened his mouth to speak when his oppo shed out with his bde.

  The maainly didn’t seem to be pulling any punches and almost put out his eye before he mao step back. He shed out with a wide swing of his sword just to force the other man back, though he easily avoided it. After that, the battle was joined.

  Over the space of the several seds, they exged half a dozen blows. Steel cshed with steel, and though Simon was on the defehe whole time, he didn’t have another near miss, at least. His oppo was faster and less ed about hurting a stranger, whereas Simon had a shield but was worried he might actally strike the young man fatally if he went all out. He had very little experience fighting people for sport pared to the amount of time he’d spent killing monsters, while the other man had obviously spent all of his time in duels.

  “You’re not so bad for a fat man,” Varten said softly as he moved close to Simon for another exge. “Your footwork is abysmal, though. You ’t expect to beat me like that.”

  Simon tried to sm his shield into the other man to make him pay for the insult, but obviously, his oppo had been expeg that, so the blow never ected. Instead, Simon found himself being shoved, and then he was falling backward, though he wasn’t quite sure how. It was only whe the ground that he realized that Varten had slipped his foot behind Simon’s, tripping him even as he toppled him.

  “Where to leave you the mark of my favor, hmmm…” Varten said, standing over his defeated enemy. Simon had been worried the man might actually try to kill him, but he could see his game now. He’d noticed that almost every guard in the pce had some kind of obvious scar, but in his mind, that just meant that Lord Raithewait had a pent for blooded veterans. He had no idea that it was some sick game that this family liked to py where they marked their territory.

  Even with that revetion, Simon stayed perfectly still, waiting for just the right moment as the fingers of his shield hand grabbed a handful of the thr that his oppo was standing on. It was only when Varten drew back his sword to strike that Simon put all of his strength into it and yahe rug hard, momentarily throwing the other man off band giving Simon a ce to kick the legs out from uhe cocky duelist.

  After that, they both struggled to their feet, but Simon had tossed his bde aside, and instead to match him with bdes, he was going to put his weight to better use and pin the mah him. Varten tried to pull a dagger with his offhand, but Simon grabbed his wrist and twisted hard enough to make him drop it.

  “Do you yield?” Simon gasped, half out of breath. Vatren ighe request and tile fruitlessly t his bde around and run Simon through.

  Simon ighat and released the other man’s left hand long enough to pick up the dropped knife and bring it to Varden’s throat. “I said, do you y—”

  “That will be quite enough of that, I think,” Lord Raithewait called from the far end of the hall. “You will have tive my son. He is not used to losing. You may be able to do this family good service, yet, I think.”

  Simon was a little surprised that he’d won, but even more than that, he was wary of letting go of the other man since he hadn’t actually yielded, but in the end, when Simon stood and backed away quickly, his oppo didn’t try to run him through a sed time, and only looked at Simon sourly, as he returhe dagger.

  As they sat down to a desert of brandy and walnut-encrusted sweet bread, the duke plimented him on both his choice of ons and on his unorthodox finale. “Never accept the obvious, aainly never fight your enemy where they are stro. These are the exact behaviors I look for in my men,” he said with a smile.

  They left with the promise that in the m, Varden would show them to their new home, where they could stay as long as they were in the Raithewait family’s service. That night Freya alternated between being angry at him for doing such a foolish thing and being proud of him for winning so decisively. They got very little sleep as a result.

  In the m, the Vardehem as promised, and though he gratuted Simon on his victory and suggested they should spar more often, he was sure that the ill bore a grudge. The cottage he took them to was he north wall, down a crowded, dingy street that stank of chamber pots. It had obviously been abandoned for some time, and part of the roof had given way pletely.

  Simon wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an insult, but he thanked Varden just the same.

  “It’s not much,” Simon said, holding Freya ohey were alone, “but it’s home.”

  “It will be lovely,” she said, “It’s the men that you’ve sworn yourself to serve that I’m less happy with. We fio fix the roof in a few days, but you ever fix that hole in that man’s heart.”

  Simon agreed with her, of course, but there was little he could do. Even the zombie threat wasn’t as bad as he’d first feared; apparently, the world was getting to be a dangerous pce. taur attacks from the east, and goblin raids in the south. Uhe world he’d e from, this ce of chaos, and Freya didn’t uand why a cruel man like Baron Raithewait was needed in pces like this; Simon did, even if he didn’t like it.

  Ohey were done, and he and his wife decided what o be done, Simon sought out some craftsmen to help him resolve the most pressing work. They’d o repce several of the timbers, repce the rotten shutters ahe tile roof, but the walls were sturdy, the firepce worked, and it would even have space for a small garden in time.

  For now, they tinued sleeping at the inn. Simon was in danger of running out of money any time soon, and it wasn’t like he could just pop down to Ikea to hahe whole no furniture problem. Eventually, though, he had to leave these things in his wife’s capable hands because his end of the deal was ing due: some of the farms uhe Baron’s trol had been burned out by goblins, and since he was su expert ohings, the man had decided to give him a few men, so he could go ha for him.

  Freya was hardly happy about this, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about the arra. “First, y me into this straown with these awful people, and then you just, what? Leave me here?” she demanded.

  “You know I don’t want to, but Mr. and Mrs. Stravsen will take good care of you while I’m away, and by the time I get back, maybe we’ll finally be able to move into our pce together.”

  “I don’t want our pce,” she said. “I want you!”

  There was a lot of hugging and g after that, but nothing could ge the fact that the m he still saddled up and took five men with him to go see how bad these goblins really were.