A Hell Made Fair

Time flew, and the day of the duel dawned. From early morning the arena was packed shoulder to shoulder with spectators. Ilya sat in the seat of honor, his face cold and remote. At the sight of the woman beside the Archduke, her face hidden behind a veil, the crowd began to whisper.

"It's the witch of Mardus! I wanted a look at her face, and she's gone and put a veil on."

"They say this duel is because of that woman too, don't they?"

Behind the veil, Evelynn had her hands clasped tight and was praying. Please... let him be safe... She prayed and prayed until the nape of her neck and her shoulders had gone stiff and begun to ache. A sudden roar surged from the crowd, and her head snapped up.

Arthurs was walking out into the arena with his sword slung at an angle across his shoulder. With every step, the ornament on his scabbard—a golden skein of thread, braided and bright—swayed. Ilya glared at that golden ornament, dazzling in the sunlight, then reached toward the seat beside him. A hand slipped in beneath the veil and swept through long blonde hair.

When the cleanly severed strands wound around his fingers, his brow furrowed.

A horn blared, low and long, announcing the start of the match. The two who would fight took their places side by side, and a taut tension settled over the arena. Arthurs was enormous, true to the nickname Fire Bear, but his opponent was worse. The crowd hurled jeers at the man who stood a full head taller than him.

"Cowardly Mardus! Tucking your tail because you're scared of a mere apprentice knight!"

"What's size got to do with a sword fight? Kill him!"

The two men, who had been glaring at each other as if they meant to kill, brought their blades together. Steel met steel with a terrible clang that rang through the arena.

"You haven't even been properly knighted, and you dare!"

"A dog of a man who only knows how to raise his hand against women!"

Arthurs kicked off the ground and launched himself upward, and sword met sword again. The giant turned aside attacks that came at the speed of lightning. In the brief moment Arthurs paused to catch his breath, the giant's blade slid down along his edge. With tremendous force the man wrenched the hilt upward, and the locked blades sprang apart.

The giant bared his teeth in a wide grin.

Steel shrieked against steel, and through the blue sparks that burst between them, some unidentified powder scattered on the air.

A moment later, Arthurs's movements—until then tracking every line of the sword without pause—grew visibly sluggish.

Naz went rigid at the sight of Arthurs slashing at empty air. The senior knights beside him let out shouts like screams.

"Arthurs! Get a hold of yourself!"

"Hey, Fire Bear! Youngest! Open your eyes!"

Ilya spat a vicious curse and started to rise. From behind him a white hand reached out and pressed down on his shoulder. The eyes that had wavered found their composure again in an instant. With a cold gaze, he watched what was unfolding in the arena.

The giant smiled a vile smile and circled around behind Arthurs. He hauled him up and drove him straight down into the ground. With a heavy thud, Arthurs rolled across the floor.

"So a knight of the Black Forest isn't much after all."

The arrogant shout froze the arena. He cast aside the sword in his hand and picked up an axe that lay on the ground. Spectators screamed and squeezed their eyes shut.

"Arthurs, no!"

Behind her veil, Evelynn kept her eyes wide open and watched every moment of it. From the instant Arthurs hit the ground and rolled, her insides twisted and throbbed as if they were being wrung. Cold sweat streamed down her face, and the roar of the crowd grew steadily more distant.

Through her blurring sight, the ever-cheerful boy knight's smiling face appeared, and vanished.

I may not be able to kill that monster... but so my knight can fight fairly... I will make a hell meant for the giant alone.

Heat rose from her heart and wrapped her whole body. A voice like something desperately boiling spilled from her lips.

As if in answer to her will, the dirt floor began to heave. The ground beneath the huge man's feet split in two and gaped wide, like the mouth of some living thing.

A chill ran through the giant at the hellscape opening before his eyes. The nightmare did not end there. From within the split earth, something writhed without cease and crawled its way out.

They were human hands. A knight's rough, callused hands; hands as finely kept as white jade; a child's hands, thin as leaves. In an instant the hands climbed the giant's body and dug into his wrists and ankles. His face gone corpse-white, the giant screamed.

"Aaaah! Get off! Get off me, I said!"

Behind him a cold stone wall surged upward. With a crash, that enormous body was shoved straight back and slammed into it. The hands that had followed hauled his arms and legs out in every direction and bound them fast. Last of all, a small hand covered both his eyes.

Darkness. He had been reduced to the same state as Arthurs.

"Aaaaah, let go! I said let go!"

Evelynn looked at the giant, helpless as a butterfly caught in a web, and smiled coldly.

Now it's a little fairer. My knight, the rest is yours... Get up.

A moment later, the spectators gently opened the eyes they had squeezed shut. What met them was the giant who had been about to bring his axe down on Arthurs's wrist, thrashing all by himself.

"What's that bastard doing?"

"Did he suddenly lose his mind?"

The knights who had been holding their breath began to speak, one after another. Naz, once he had confirmed that Arthurs was unharmed, leaned far out over the railing and bellowed.

"Arthurs! Get up, now! You brat—after everything I went through raising you!"

"Youngest! You big bear! Get up!"

A twitch. The finger of Arthurs, sprawled on the ground, moved ever so slightly. Blood running from his forehead blurred his sight. He blinked with painful effort.

"Get off! Get off me!"

The enemy's shout, far away. Every other sound dropped away until only that voice remained. The boy's hearing, several times keener than most, tracked where the enemy stood. From here: one step, two... thirty.

Arthurs barely managed to close his hand around the hilt of the sword lying on the ground. Bracing his weight on the blade, he struggled upright. The arm that held it shook uncontrollably.

He turned. One step, two... thirty. Here.

Arthurs stopped, cast aside the sword in his grip, and lifted his leg. A heavy blow aimed at the knee, and the giant collapsed where he stood.

In that instant the hands that had held the giant vanished swiftly back into the earth. The dirt that had gaped open closed and was as it had been. What filled the giant's sight was not a tangle of blood-soaked hands, but a roaring boy knight.

"Come on! You vile bastard!"

The fight began again. This time it was not swordplay, but a brawl. A melee broke out in which every filthy trick a man might use to stay alive came spilling forth.

"Graaaah!"

Arthurs drove in at the giant's lower body and, using the rebound of the force, slammed him down into the ground. With a short scream, that huge frame flew through the air. Arthurs dragged in rough breaths as he looked at the giant lying there, eyes rolled back.

At a match overturned in the blink of an eye, the crowd erupted in a cheer like thunder. Blood still streaming from his forehead, Arthurs swept the stands with his blurred sight, as if he were searching for someone.

"Evelynn, go down. The knight who won is looking for his lady."

Ilya gave his wife's shoulder a gentle push. Evelynn shot to her feet and ran down the stairs as if she were gliding. She leaned against the arena railing and waved. Hair the same color as the ornament bound to Arthurs's scabbard streamed on the wind. Recognizing the veiled Evelynn, Arthurs struck his chest twice with his fist, then threw both arms high.

"Arthurs won!"

"The youngest did it!"

"Long live the Black Forest Knights!"

At the sight of a knight and his lady who might have stepped out of a fairy tale, the crowd went wild. For that moment alone, they seemed to have forgotten that the noblewoman the boy knight served was a daughter of Mardus.

Knights led by Naz—his face a mess of tears and a running nose—came pouring into the arena in a rush. One after another they piled themselves onto the sprawled Arthurs and reveled in the victory.

"What a relief."

A rare smile touched Ilya's face. The woman in a robe standing behind him nodded. Her eyes, fixed on the back of Evelynn's head, curved into a thin line.

That evening, Ilya invited Evelynn to dinner. In the carriage on the way to the appointed place, she awkwardly worried at nothing but the hem of her dress. They had said a formal banquet was being held to celebrate young Arthurs's victory... so why was he not going there, and choosing to dine with her instead?

Before long the carriage stopped at the entrance of the main building. The head steward came out to meet her.

"My lady, His Highness has already arrived. Please make haste."

She followed the steward at a brisk pace down the corridor of the main building. When she reached the dining room door, Evelynn paused and hesitated.

The times husband and wife had taken a meal together could be counted on one hand. This would be the first since he had returned. Why was she so nervous over something that was hardly so grand...? She steeled herself and was just about to step inside.

"What are you doing out there? Come in."

A cool voice settled over her head.

Ilya led Evelynn to the place of honor at the great table.

"Sit here."

Why, of all places, the seat right beside him... She was certain she would choke on her food. Evelynn's face crumpled. Ilya drew the chair out himself. She sat with a reluctant look. While the maids set the dishes before her, Ilya poured wine into his wife's glass with his own hand.

"We'll start with a glass of wine."

The maids attending them stared in open surprise. Ilya gave the order with a perfectly calm face.

"Bring the food in. Quickly."

Servants carried in dishes still sending up curls of steam. This one looked like roast turkey; that hideous thing was a whole roast boar; and the winged one—surely that wasn't pigeon... Evelynn stared, sickened, at every manner of meat crowding the great table. Ilya carved the roast boar himself and laid it on her plate.

"Eat this first."

The sight of the boar meat on the silver plate unsettled her. Juice ran from it in streams; it looked greasy enough to turn her stomach just to look at.

"What, afraid I've poisoned it?"

At the words Ilya tossed out so bluntly, Evelynn startled and even waved her hands.

"Of course not! I just don't have any appetite."

"Eat it even if you don't want to. I hear you've hardly eaten a meal since... then."