ADAM NIGHTINGALE: A SWEET REVENGE

The table is ladened with pastries of all types, their aroma fills the air creating a miasma of sweet scents mixed with freshly baked bread. Croissants oozing with Strawberry jam sit next to piping hot pain au chocolate, freshly baked apple latices sit steaming, and pretzel style twists coated with cinnamon all rest amongst the mound of pastry delights. Adam stands before them, examining the crop of sweet treats ready to be savoured. The smell tickles against his nose making his stomach rumble in anticipation. Gingerly he reaches out, gripping a croissant daintily between his fingers. He lifts it from the pile and places it on his plate. A huge smile spreads across his face as he turns his back on the table to survey the rest of the room.

The huge ballroom spreads out before him, carved from a rich white marble. Two galleries overlook the dance floor with long sweeping staircases that meet against the far wall creating a dramatic main stair, mirrors line two entire walls of the dance floor, causing the illusion of the dancers spreading into infinity. Watching from the food tables, Adam thinks he could easily lose himself looking into the eternal reflections of those mirrors and is more then thankful the room is alive with bodies. Nobility enjoying the party with their suits and dresses cut to the latest fashions, plunging neck lines and shapely calves are on show throughout the ballroom. Laughter and music fills the air as the betters of society plan and scheme together. Servants duck and weave amongst the crowd carrying trays overloaded with glasses and sweet meats with an almost inhuman grace. Any time a noble steps into their path, the servants glide past not spilling a single drop. Hands dart out to grab glass and yet the balance never changes.

Smiling to himself, Adam lifts the pastry to his mouth and gently takes a bite, savouring the new flavours that swirl in his mouth. He sighs with delight. While this pastry may not be his favourite of the 10 he has already sampled it is still a delight. Truly pastries with their ability to be sweat or savoury, soft or firm, a breakfast or a main are the true peak of culinary mastery.

It’s while he muses on the delights of pastry cuisine, he sees her. Slowly moving down the staircase from the gallery is a woman whose beauty snaps him from his reverie. Her long black hair spills down around her shoulders in a loose wave, her emerald dress is cut in the latest fashion with a plunging neckline, but where most people show their bare flesh, she reveals very little, a panel of shimmering material fills he gap. From the distance he can’t tell what it is, but it sparkles in the light and teases more then all the exposes flesh could. The suit he had borrowed from a classmate suddenly feels very inadequate. He can feel how it strains against his body. The buttons of the waist coat feel tighter than they did and he fidgets trying to reorganise it into a presentable manor. As he fidgets, he loses sight of her for an instant as she enters the crowd. Then after an agonising moment that must have been mere seconds but felt like an eternity, he finds her again, weaving amongst crowd.

As he watches he realises she is making her way towards him. Suddenly the room feels too bright and his back feels sweaty. So sweaty- surely someone can cool the room down? Adam considers summoning an ice shard just to help bring the temperature down. Why have they suddenly made it so much warmer?!

Looking into the crowd again Adam finds himself gazing into the piercing blue eyes of the woman. Not only is she walking his way… She is looking right at him, moving like water through the crowd. He realises that what he thought was mesh turns out to be an incredibly fine layers of woven chain, as she moves it moves with her, teases flashes of her cleavage and the skin barely hidden beneath it.

Adam’s hands feel sweaty. Blinking, he tries to think of a time his hands have ever sweat before. What sort of stupid evolution is it that our bodies will sweat through our hands? The part of us that needs to grip things, to hold things or people close… to touch skin... Adam blushes softy, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Quickly he drains his flute of wine, placing it back onto the table. He takes a deep breath and turns back to the crowd to find the raven-haired beauty standing before him.

“I… I ermm Hi.. I, Adam am meet.. wow. I mean, pleasure to meet me. No, you! I mean… ermm I’m Adam, pleased to meet you” Adam stumbles through maybe the most fumbled introduction in the history of these events.

With a smile that wouldn’t look out of place on an angel she speaks, with a voice like music “Hello, Adam was it? Sorry would you mind just moving to the side, I was hoping to get a pastry?”

Adams world crumbles in around him as she speaks, he mumbles an apology and steps to the side, ‘stupid’ he thinks, ‘Why would she be coming to speak to you?! You’re not a noble, you’re lucky to even be here. Why would you be so arrogant to think she made her way all the way over here just for you?’

“Ermm excuse me, Adam? I can see you have a pastry there. I was wondering, do you have any advice? which ones are good? I’ve never had one before…” A soft smile plays over her full lips as she looks slightly embarrassed at her confession.

“Wait, you have never had a pastry before? Wow. I’d have thought some one as beautiful as you should have a pastry every day.” Adam smiles, shocked at the bravery of the words that escaped his lips, before his brain had the chance to stop him.

A small blush teases over the woman’s cheeks as se she laughs softly, shyly turning so a piece of hair falls covering part of her face. Hiding the smile tugging at her lips “Wow, do you use that line on every lady waiting for a pastry?”

Feeling like he is already in the deep end, Adam takes the plunge. He would rather drown in his attempts of flirtation than safely swim to shore and never take the risk.

“No, because no one as lovely as you has come over to the pastry table. The closest was the mayor of Sandpoint and I just don’t think he lives up to you.” With a wink Adam points to a walrus of a man across the dance floor, his moustache sprouting wildly from his face under thick eyebrows and an unfortunately aggressively receding hair line.

Her laughter washes over Adam like a calming wave, soothing and relaxing away tensions he didn’t even know he was struggling with. “Well, I’m glad I could still impress with such stiff competition, although I don’t think my moustache holds a candle to his.”

Adam spurred on by her laughter continues to barrel into the depths “Well I wouldn’t hold a candle to his with the amount of wax in it- you could burn down the entire estate! So about these pastries. What are you looking for? Something light and fluffy? Something savoury that will quench your hunger? Or maybe for you something as sweet as your laughter?”

Reaching out she playfully swats his arm, laughing as she does it, “My my, you are a bold one, what happened to the stuttering man who couldn’t even introduce himself?”

“Ohh he was just holding my plate while I picked my jaw from the ground and regathered my wits that you so effortlessly scattered around the dance floor.”

Laying her hand so gently on his forearm she smiles again even brighter then before. “Well as you think my laughter is so sweet why don’t we start there?”

Nodding to himself Adam takes on a very serious face as he studies the table to treat before them. “Hmmmm. Ahhhh,” he mumbles as if pondering the questions of the universe itself, stroking his short blonde beard in contemplation until suddenly he yells “Eureka, I have it!,” before gently reaching out past her to select an especially full looking apple lattice. Powdered sugar coats the pastry and cream spills from its sides. Smiling he drops down onto one knee and presents the pastry like it is the richest of rewards. “M’lady, I have pondered, and after a long series of meditations I present to you the delight you palette deserves.”

Taking a napkin from the table, she covers her mouth like a lady in court would with a fan “why brave Sir, you have honoured me to take on such a long and arduous challenge.” Then reaching forward she delicately plucks the pastry from Adam’s outstretched hand and takes a small bite. Adam waits, surprisingly nervously to see if she likes his choice. He doesn’t have to wait long as her eyes light up in delight. Taking a second and far less delicate bite she sighs with pleasure as Adam sighs with relief. “Wow… This… Wow”

Grinning Adam bouncing back up to his feet “I know! Aren’t they amazing?! Honestly I feel pastries maybe the highest level of culinary delights! They can be everything you desire, and something for every mood!”

Her laugher ripples out again “You truly are passionate about this aren’t you? Sir Adam the Pastry Knight.”

“I’d say they are more magical… my official title is Sir Adam the Pastry Magician.”

“Well perhaps Sir Adam you would accompany me this evening and introduce me to more of the magic of Pastries?” Offering he hand out like the noble ladies of the dance floor, Adam reaches out bending low in and bow to bring his lips to the back of her hand playfully

“M’lady it would be an honour to share them with you” Adam’s eyes twinkle as he looks up over her hand he gently turns her back to the table and begins to point out other treats he thinks she would enjoy.

Hours past in each other’s company, filled with laughter, flirtations and pastries. Both enjoying more then a little wine as the time flies. Until all to soon a bell rings, signalling the end of the party and that the guests must leave.

Smiling they both make elaborate drawn out goodbyes, neither one wanting this night to end. A servant coughs hinting with the subtlety of a pit fighter it was time to go. Glaring daggers at the servant, they make their goodbyes in earnest this time, releasing each other’s hands to go their separate ways.

Adam spins back and yells, “wait I never got your name!?”

Smiling as the servant’s usher her as politely yet forcefully as they can to a different exit, “It’s Clara!” She calls back, “Save a pastry for the next time we meet!”

Adam laughing joyously “I will save you all the pasties you could ever want!” Then to the delight of the irate servers he makes his way to the exit an idiotic grin plastered across his face.

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The grin still firmly in place Adam returns to his rooms in the estate and collapses down on his bed. The sound of her voice fills his ears, her scent richer than that of the pastries fills his senses. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her and believe she is still there with him. The sound of the door opening drags him back to reality from his half-asleep thoughts of Clara.

Adam’s friend and dueling partner Martin enters the room, standing over six foot, his muscular frame barely contained by the ill-fitting suit he managed to squeeze into. Dark hair shaved down to stubble and a trimmed beard frame a forlorn look that is plastered across his face as he skulks across their room to slump down onto the other bed.

Playfully Adam pokes at his friend, “What happened? Struck out with the milk maid? Did they confuse you for one of the cows again?”

Martin glares at his friend between his fingers. “We are fucked… its simple as that we are royal, ass-rippingly fucked. They are going in dry and fucking us.”

Adam rolls onto his side, even the melancholy of his friend isn’t bringing down the high he is riding. “Mmmhmmmm and why are we fucked this time? Did you see a black cat walking backwards? Or ohhh wait did an old hag with one tooth suggest the way you fart in your sleep is an omen of impending doom? Or perhaps you had a movement that resembled a sword?!”

“No you bulbous smart-ass. They’ve hired the fucking Iron Maiden as our opponent” Martin growled from the other side of the room before groaning and collapsing back onto the bed.

Adam snaps to full wakefulness, sitting bolt upright in the bed. He stares over at his roommate, his pleasurable night completely forgotten. “The Iron Maiden? You are sure it’s THE Iron Maiden?”

Martin slowly rolls to his side, his anger calmed, “I’m sure, I got it off one of the guards who overheard discussions about the duel yesterday. He said she has been brought in as this is such a high-status dispute.”

“Shit. She won 15 duels in the last year alone. Why did the academy send us? They had to know we wouldn’t stand a chance against her?”

Martin shakes his head “Actually she won 18 duels last year, three were out of the city. News only came back about them in the last week. I heard the final duel she cut her opponents testicles off and forced him to eat them right there in the dueling arena.”

Adam sighs flinging himself back down onto the bed again “We are so fucked… and on the night I met Clara, way to dampen that.”

Martin laughs “Oh is Adam in love again? Who is it this time, let me guess… The young innocent daughter or a tyrannical duke who you have promised we would duel for her freedom? Or maybe a beautiful mysterious woman who’s husband has died and her vile step mother is trying to steal her wealth? Or maybe the barmaid who pulled you the best pint you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.”

Laughing he rests his forearm above his head on the pillow and sighs “No, she is a beautiful woman who I shared a pastry with.”

Martin frowns over to his friend “Wait, this is serious isn’t it? No overblown declarations. No grandiose descriptions. You mean it? Well come on then tell me about her, I need to know about the woman that has calmed your wandering heart and eyes.”

Adams smile slowly creeps back onto his face, “I don’t honestly think I have the words to talk about her. But I’m happy to try… Allow me to tell you the story of Sir Adam the Pastry Magician and M’Lady Clara”

The two friends settle into a night of laughter and gentle teasing, but under it all lay the tension of what they’d learnt and the fear of the duel to come.

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The next morning came unreasonably quickly. It felt to Adam he had just closed his eyes when the sun started shining through the windows and the sounds of the house filled the air. Grumbling, he rolls to his side and attempts to hide under his pillow, for a short time it felt like he would succeed as sleep begins to wrap him in its tender caress. That is, until a hand grabs onto the back of his undergarments and yank him unceremoniously from the bed.

“Get up you lazy bastard, its already mid-day and we have training to do!” Martin grunts as he empties a cup of water over his sleeping friend’s head.

“Ohh you shit!” Spluttering Adam rolls across the floor and under his bed, casting a small ball of grease and hurling it to splash under Martin feet and send him tumbling to the floor with him. With a roar of frustration Martin leaps back to his feet and grabs the bed, hurling it onto its side, Adam lies there unguarded by the bed a smile on his face, he winks playfully at his friend. “I thought you wanted to train?”

“You smug annoying playful git! Gah you are so infuriating,” laughing Martin offers his hand to the prone Adam. “Come on, we have the dueling grounds booked for us to train in private for half the day, and I think we might need to make use of that time after last night’s discovery.”

Adam’s smile withers and sobers up at the mention of last night and the discovery that the Iron Maiden is their opponent. “Yes, you’re right. Forgive me. Ok.. let’s get going!”

Within the hour the duelist found themselves dwarfed in the centre of an impressive dueling arena. The grounds themselves span the size of a large theatre stage. Easily enough space to have eight duelists competing at once, to each side of the arena are four rooms. It’s from here the magic users can buff their fighters and cast spells to cause their opponents to falter. Each room is walled from the other but with a clear view of the battle grounds. They are also hidden underneath the seating area for the guests here to view the duels. In the early duels the magic users were hit with counter spells or distractions from the stands or from the other mages. With each mage hidden away and secured with just a view of the battlefield it made the fights a lot more about skill and cunning than about raw magical power, and stopped fight-fixing from other grieved parties.

“Ok so we know they will change the arena as the battle goes on, I believe they prefer walkways and low walls here, something that is dramatic but isn’t going to get in the way of the spectators. So I would suggest we run plays 15 through 27. We can keep play number 8 and 45 in case of emergencies. You remember the signals?” Adam sits in one of the recessed rooms with a small black book in one hand and a much larger older book spread on a table in front of him is deep in thought as his attention darts between them both.

Martin, stripped of his ill-fitting suit now topless stretches his muscular frame, running through some very simple drills with a broad double headed axe to loosen his shoulders, “Of course I remember… 8 is flap my arms like a bird then do a cartwheel right?”

Adam glares at him, launching a small globe of water spinning his way. Martin dodges swiftly and the water splashes harmlessly to the floor. “I’m serious, this is important, I need to know if you want something specific as the duel goes on.”

“I know... I’m sorry, I’m just taking the piss… I’m a little on edge, I mean shit The Iron Maiden. We’ve been hearing stories of her for a few years now and none of them are good.” Martin seems to shrink as he speaks, already folding in on himself nervously.

Adam nods “I know, it’s terrifying but that’s why it’s important we take the codes seriously. They’ve helped us win before. Remember the duel between those two inn keepers? Must have been our third duel…”

Martin nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Yes hard to forget, you thought I signaled for you to ice the railings on the stair case, When I was trying to say mirror image.”

“Yes but it worked didn’t it? You slided down the ice rail and kicked him in the face, knocked him out cold! The Inn keeper said he had never seen anything like it,” Adam says with a warm chuckle in his voice.

“I don’t think I ever told you… I never meant to do that, I slipped on some of the ice and fell onto the banister… gravity just did the rest,” Martin confessed to his mistake with a sheepish tone.

The books clatter from Adam’s hands as he laughs uproariously “that is gold! Why did you never tell me?!”

“Coz, you’d take the piss for it… and it was embarrassin… and it hurt my bum.” A smile warms Martin words.

Stooping to pick up his books Adam looks across the battlefield with a mischievous grin, “That is VERY fair, I would have mercilessly taken the piss out of you. Ok come on let’s do this.”

The hours pass quickly as the pair practice, running through their routines, hidden signals, and battle plans for the up coming duel. If anyone had been allowed in to watch the practice they would see that the friendship of these two is as important as their plans. They know each other so well and can predict their movements; complimenting each other’s skill sets. Two separate people moving in unison to create more then the sum of their parts.

Shadows fill the dueling court as time marches on and the sun sets on their time. Both drenched in sweat, muscles straining in fatigue, their laughter rings through the air as they playfully tease each other.

“Ok Ok, that’s enough practice, I think we are as sharp as we could ever be, I think we should go wash up then meet for dinner in our rooms?” Adam say’s breathlessly.

“Pah, ohh Im sorry I didn’t realise saying some words and wiggling your fingers could actually work up a sweat…,” Martin teases as he gentle pushes his friend, not knowing his own strength the gentle push sends Adam stumbling

Laughing he retorts, “I was being polite; I didn’t want to call you out for the stench you have worked up! I’ve been around better smelling pig styes!”

“You git! This is the odour of a real man!” Martin lifts his arm striking a muscular pose with his biceps curled, taking a deep breath, he gags loudly, “Ohhh gods... ok… maybe you’re right,” a large joyous belly laugh erupting from him. “Fine, showers then dinner! Sounds like a perfect end to an evening”

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Adam returns to their quarters after a most satisfying wash. Stretching like a cat he opens the door to find a table laden with food. Plates of freshly cooked meat steam invitingly, with vegetables heaped into dishes scattered amongst them. Much to Adam’s delight their gracious hosts have even supplied a small plate of pastries. He smiles brightly remembering the raven haired beauty of the night before. Sitting down he reaches first for a pastry, sinking his teeth into is soft fluffy body, savouring its taste as his mind plays over the flirtations of the night before. Nodding to himself he makes the decision that once this job is over he will hunt her down and take her out for a meal. Maybe go wild, this job is very well paying maybe he can book a table at one of the fancy restaurants.

As he dreams of flirtations to come, he notices a small letter tucked in amongst the food, reaching out he picks up the thin piece of paper, unfolding it caught with intrigue and a tiny bit of hope, his heart quickens. Could this be from Clara?

Much to his disappointment, but also amusement, the first line stops any thoughts it could be from her.

Dear Martin, Last night was so magical, I know you will be leaving the house once your business is finished so please let me make this evening as magical for you as you did for me. Join me after the fires have been set and the house is asleep in my quarters. I promise to make this night one you will never forget. Yours lustfully, Amanda.

Chuckling to himself, Adam tucks the letter under his plate. “You sly dog, you.” Then begins loading his plate with food as he waits for the return of his friend.

His wait isn’t a long one as soon the door opens and Martin ducks under the frame and into the room, his head freshly shaved and his beard dripping with water. A huge grin splits his face at the sight of all the food.

“Now this is what I’m talking about! Look at the food! We are so lucky to have been chosen for this job.” Martin grabs a leg of chicken and bites into the steaming meat with vigor.

“Pfft luck had nothing to do with it. They sent for the best of the best… And when they were already booked they settled for us,” Adam jokes with a knowing wink. “Also... its not only the food that was left for you.” Handing the letter across the table, he watches his friends face seeing the joy and excitement in his eyes. Martin lowers himself to sit at the table nodding thoughtfully.

“Well as much as this invite is very exciting I probably shouldn’t…We have the duel tomorrow, and, I mean, I should get an early night...”

Nodding Adam smiles solemnly, “I mean that is very true, so after the meal lets go straight to bed and get a good night’s rest.” Martins shoulders slump slightly crestfallen at those words but nods with him.

Sighingly loudly “Yea… I guess, it is such a shame, she was such a lovely thing. You should see the size of her…,” his hands gesture, “pitchers she was pouring last night… and her lips are so soft and plump. She even complimented you”

Adam’s mouth drops open in mock surprise, “Ohh well if she complimented me, that changes everything. Run to her, go to her tonight and make it a night neither of you will forget!”

“Are you taking the piss out of me?!” Martin glowers over another chicken leg.

“Yes, a little bit, but also I’m serious. I don’t need you distracted tomorrow thinking about Amanda’s decolletage. It’ll be a good thing for you to be spoiled for a night. The duel isn’t till the early evening any way. You know the nobles would be nursing far too many hanger overs for an early duel.”

Martin’s smile returns tenfold. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, lets enjoy a nice meal together and then I will see you tomorrow when you come back, and you can thank me for being such a kind and loving friend.”

Grabbing a flagon Martin raises to the air in salute of his friend, “I will drink to that!”

A good-natured silence falls over the two men as they tuck into the feast before them, savouring their thoughts and the food until the table is cleared of almost everything but the wreckage of a good meal. Leaning back Martin lets out a rippling burp that reverberates around the room. Adam, stifling a laugh, attempts to compete with a belch of his own. But his just doesn’t have the power behind it.

Martin with a look of contemplation of his face leans forward, “You know.. I’ve been thinking.”

“Ohh don’t strain too hard, that’s a muscle you barely work out.”

Martin playfully flings a chicken bone at his friend “Fuck you, but seriously. This duel could be a really good thing for us. I know we don’t stand a chance of really winning this thing, but the duel is only to first blood not to the death. And with the amount of nobility watching, if we put on a good show and do something to make an impression- think about all the potential clients we could get off the back of this.”

Adam leans forward, his playful nature quelled by the serious topic “I agree, I was thinking the same thing. I couldn’t figure out why the Academy would send us. But it makes sense if a new team could come and put on a good performance, to push back against the Maiden and maybe even score an upset. Imagine how many clients would then flock to the Academy. They would become the seat of magic and duelists. But if we were to lose? Well we aren’t any of their star’s so it doesn’t cost them a thing. We aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. It really is a win-win for them.”

“Exactly!” Martin exclaims excitedly. “But if it is win-win for them. Then it is even more so for us. Our stock could raise exponentially from this one fight. If we lose… well you have met the love of your life and I’m going to get a wild night out of it, so still nothing to complain about.” A jaunty smile spreads over Martins lips as he speaks, “Speaking of which, I should get moving, I don’t want to leave the fair Amanda waiting for me too long…”

“Of course my dear sir, you cant leave a lady wanting. Go to her arms, I will see you tomorrow, just make sure you are in time for the duel and not caught up in her embrace.” Adam’s smile matches Martin’s, “Be safe my friend and I will see you soon.” His gaze follows Martin as he strides from the room, then Adam moves to his bed, settling down lost in his own thoughts of love and lust. Between the warmth of the room and the fullness of his stomach sleep slowly steals upon him, dragging him down in its soothing embrace.

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The sound of the crowds fills the dueling grounds, the stomping of feet as people move around the stands, the conversations and the shouts for food and drink fill the air as the nobles settle in for what they have been told will be a duel for the ages.

Adam paces back and forth in their battle pen, wringing his hands together. He checks the time candle again and curses under his breath. Martin’s axe and armour rests against the wall polished and ready for use for him, yet there is no sign of Martin himself and the duel is set to begin within half an hour. ‘It’s not like Martin to be this late,’ Adam thinks to himself with such a groan, ‘He isn’t going to be stretched out or anything! God last night better have been amazing to cause me all this stress.’

The door opens pulling Adam from his fuming frustrations he turns ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at this friend, only to find his employer and three body guards enter the room. The shock is obvious on Adam’s face. He has never in any of the duels been introduced to his employers, as it was always felt it was best to keep a degree of separation, so no personal biases could effect the duel.

Smiling the small slimy looking noble steps forward and offers a hand covered in rings.

“Ahh you must be Adam, The Academy has spoken highly of your talents. They said you are very adaptable to every situation with a strong grasp in the foundation of magic and dueling. Allow me to introduce my associates, This is Baki,” He points to a scarred thug with shockingly red hair. “This powerful specimen is Oliva,” standing at least a head above every one else a muscular black man raises his head in greeting, “and finally this vicious creature and my personal duelist is named Pickle.” The final man looks like a savage from the past, his body made of a mass of scars and taught muscle, his long hair hangs lank around his face, he carries no blade but his gauntlets are covered in vicious spikes like the head of a mace. Pickle barely registers Adam striding to one side of the room he begins to strip his top and work through a series of stretches

The duelist pit feels much smaller now that its filled with so many bodies. Adam’s eyes glance between each of them before falling back onto that of his employer “I am honoured you came down to speak to me. But please forgive me, have you seen my fight partner around the grounds? He is probably lost again, he would loose his head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

A look of pure sympathy falls onto the face of the noble “ohh dear boy, did he not speak to you? I saw your friend earlier today. He said that there was to much risk in this duel, he took his severance package and exited my employ early.”

Bewilderment passes over Adam’s face, “No… I’m sure there must be a misunderstanding, He wouldn’t…”

“No my boy, it was very clear, his contract was ended early I’m afraid, that is why I am here and why I have brought Pickle. He will be your fighter, help him as you would have ermmm what’s his name… Mathew was it?”

“Martin.”

The noble waves the name away like it was nothing, “Yes him, now stop thinking about that and please focus on the duel ahead. I’d hate to have to server OUR contract early. We need to send a message to the Maiden. She cant be allowed to win. Help Pickle and you will be considerably rewarded.”

Turning he signals the other two men to follow, “I will be in stands, watching and cheering for your victory, come boys”

Adam watches in total confusion as his employer strides from the room, leaving him alone with Pickle, who now stands armoured ready for a duel with a beautifully grafted chain shirt clinging tightly to his body. As Adam stands dumbfounded, the chain shirt shimmers, changing shape until it appears like a bare chest. “What never seen a topless man before?” Pickle growls.

Turmoil of emotions rage inside Adam, fear confusion and frustration cloud his mind making him stumble over his words and thoughts, “oh er no its not that, Its just.. well Martin and I have all these plays.. Maybe I can teach you some of the signals for the duel. To make things eas…”

“A pox on your shitty signals. No one gives two flying fucks about em. All I need for you is for you to give me an opening so I can ram these spikes through the Maidens pretty little face. So I can smash ‘er brains out on the fucking floor.” Pickle advances menacingly his fists held mere inches from Adam’s face.

“Wait, but this is just a duel to first blood, its not a death duel?”

A vicious and sickening grin fills Pickles face, “you dumb shit. That’s what she thinks, The Maiden has pissed off the wrong people too many times, so we are going to make an example of her and kill the bitch. The only nobles out there invited to witness this fight are those she costs with ‘er duels. This aint gonna be a fight.. its gonna be a fucking execution.”

Adam’s mind reels in horror at the information. He knows Martin would never go along with this, they would need to replace Martin to make sure the kill happened, an icey ball of fear settles into his stomach, licking his lips, “Surely we should just check that…”

Pickle whirls on him a sadist rage filling his eyes, he lunges forward slamming Adam back against the wall and pinning in there. “Look you be a good little bitch and do what you’re told, then you might come out of it better then everyone else. But you keep running your mouth and you will just be another body in the river… you got that?”

Whimpering softly Adam nods in fear, the stench of Pickles breath filling his nostrils. Suddenly a horn fills the air and Pickle smiles, his first cracking open to gentle pat Adam on the cheek.

“That’s a good lad, fight’s about to start so pull yourself together and don’t fucking piss yourself.”

Turning Pickle strides out onto the fighting grounds, his arms raised to the audience in salute, his armour hidden by the glamour, the only metal glinting on him is the spiked gloves that cover his hands.

Adam watches in despair as a woman marches onto the battle field, her body covered by a form fitting emerald green duelist uniform. A red heart upon her left breasts draws the eye as an obvious target, and her black hair is tied back in a low pony tail. A steel mask carved in the likeness of Lomedae covers her features. But something about the way she moves, like the air is sliding around her, strikes a note with Adam. He can’t place it, but he is sure he has seen those movements before. Shaking his head to try and clear it he takes his place, He begins weaving his spells, ones to help protect his duelist and most likely his own life.

Above the herald announces the reasons for the duel, the slights and insults that led here. Adam so lost in his casting pays no attention, just wanting this to be over. He prays to gods he never believed in for a quick, painless, victory.

The heralds voice carries over the hush crowd, “As the offended party they have chosen the battle grounds, the grounds are to depict the Battle of The Wall where Captain Merick returned to heroically face the forces of evil.” The herald claps his hands and the sands of the battle ground swirl and change, at the far end of the fighting pit an impressive castle wall and portcullis raises from the nothingness of the dirt. Fire pits spring to life and mounds of bodies and wrecked siege material fill the empty spaces around the grounds, creating obstacles and opportunities for the coming battle. Before long the once empty grounds now look like a painting straight from the history books, the air is even filled with the smell of smoke, but none of the stench of a real battle. Nothing that could actually offend the nobles viewing from above.

“Combatants take your positions and may the God’s guide the victor!”

Stepping forward into the center of the battle field, the Iron Maiden salutes her thug-like competitor. Pickle returns the salute with a middle finger and a sneer.

“Fight!”

The word hangs in the air for a second and the combatants erupt into action, a blur of steal and flesh as they launch a series of attacks, probing each other’s defences and skill.

The Maiden’s blade lances forward, sliding past one glove only to be turned aside by the flat palm of the other hand. Pickle grabs the blade in an attempt to drag it from his opponent’s grip, who in turn uses that moment to deliver a vicious kick, sending Pickle sprawling back into a pile of bodies. He rolls to the side as her blade flicks out, piercing the corpse where he once lay. Quickly back on his feet, he unleashes a barrage of quick punches and kicks forcing the Maiden on to the back foot, her blade dancing from side to side, sparks fill the air.

Adam stands agape at the skill displayed by both these fighters; he knows then that he and Martin truly didn’t stand a chance. As skilful as Martin is with his axe, he looks like a bumbling newborn when compared to these two masters of their arts. It’s while he stands watching in awe that he notices movement on the other side of the field. Scrambling out of the Iron Maiden’s fighting pit is another person. From a quick glance Adam realises it must be her mage, but why on earth is he coming onto the grounds? If he goes much further he would be seen by all the nobles. The point of the mage was to be hidden. Adam didn’t have to wait long for his answers as darting out of the room he sees the two guards he was earlier introduced two, Baki and Oliva, who rush to the mage. Grabbing him viciously they slam him into the far wall, their blades punching in and out of the poor mans body. They step apart letting him tumble lifelessly into one of the piles of corpses that litter the battlefield, the only evidence of their struggle is a smear of crimson that coats the wall.

He swallows, his mouth feeling incredibly dry as the icy feeling in his stomach spreads through out his entire body. They killed an innocent man, Adam looks over to Martin’s axe realising his worst fears are probably true and why Martin hasn’t shown for the duel.

The sound of metal scraping against metal followed by the roar of the crowd, drags Adam’s attention back to the fight. With her mage dead the spells cast on the Maiden began to fade, leaving her more vulnerable than her magically enhanced opponent. Pickle, sensing the time had come, smashes her sword to the side and drives a savage blow to the head, ripping the mask from her face and sending it spinning across the arena.

Her hair tumbling free of the pony tail The Iron Maiden stands tall, wiping a line of blood from her lip, she smiles mirthlessly and spits a glob of blood into the sand.

Adam’s heart hammers in his chest. His clothes suddenly feel inadequate, the buttons of the waist coat feel tighter than they did, and he fidgets trying to reorganise it into a presentable manor before the armoured beauty. The room feels too bright and his back feels sweaty. Adam’s hands also feel sweaty, and he blushes softy, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

Standing in all her glory The Iron Maiden is revealed in all her radiant beauty to be Clara, the woman who stole his heart just two nights ago. Then it hits him like a physical blow, he watches her body relax, she thinks its over. She still doesn’t know this isn’t to first blood, that they aim to kill her. Adam watches the leer spread over Pickles face and makes his choice. Casting before he can second guess himself, he hurls the spell at Pickle, causing all his motions to slow down, the killing punch that was hurtling towards an unsuspecting Clara, slows, from that of a loosed arrow to the speed of a crawling slug. Still Adam worries he won’t be in time, charging onto the battle field, he slides into the space between the two combatants, one arm flung out fingers spread towards the slowed Pickle. The other in offering to Clara.

“Clara, they are trying to kill you! Trust me, take my hand,” As the words tumble from his mouth a jarring impact rocks up his arm as Pickle’s slowed fist slams into the shield of pure magical will Adam holds between them. Balling up his fist, he hurls all the stored power of the attack back into Pickle, sending him tumbling away from them in slow motion.

“Please. Trust me.”

Clara looks around in bewilderment, then noticing the crimson smear on the wall and the other two thugs stalking towards the battlefield, she nods, scooping up her sword and then grabbing Adam’s hand in hers. “Ok my Pastry Knight,” smiling coyly, “Get us the hell out of here.”

Despite himself Adam finds him smiling back at her. He reaches his hand up into the air and them slams it into the dirt, sending a storm of sand whipping around them, hiding them from their attackers, the audience and almost from each other. He drags her towards his side of the fighting ring. Not to his room but to the one next to it, as they run dragging each other from the whipping sand filled winds Adam begins casting his next spell, concentrating he brings spell to a close, wrapping them in it until they are invisible to the naked eye. Together they move slowly and quietly slipping out of the battle preparation room and out into the corridors beyond. Time stretches into an eternity made of terror and paranoia as they sneak through the nobles complex, dodging between groups armed men searching the building and servants attempting to go about their normal days work. Until finally, following closely behind a servant who has been muttering darkly about the entire event, they find their way to the servants quarters and out into the streets of Korvosa.

The invisibility spell fades as their headlong dash continues until they are streets away from the nobles home. Clara drags Adam from the streets and into a near-by alley. Pulling his body close to hers, she kisses him deeply, her hands in his hair, pulling him further into the kiss. He gasps in shock and then in pure pleasure as their kiss intensifies. He gently pushes her back to the wall. Pinning her to his body as the heat builds inside him, breaking away for just a second to gasp her name, before leaning back in to continue the kiss. But before their lips can meet, she pushes him gently away from her.

“It’s ok, I think they’ve gone past. I saw a group of them following close behind us, I thought that was the best way to loose them,” Clara says matter-of-factly. A small blush playing over her cheeks.

Adam stumbles over his words trying to find any rational thought in his brain and finding it very empty. He finds himself nodding “oh. Ermm Yes that makes sense…”

Grinning Clara still blushing leans in and whispers, “You are a VERY good kisser though, so that was a nice surprise.” Smiling she kisses his cheek, “Till the next time My Pastry Magician.” Turning she strides off deeper into the alley to loose herself in the crowd, leaving Adam looking after her dumbfounded. Shaking his head clear he steels himself know where he has to go and begins the long walk back to the Academy.

..................................................................................................

Professor Underwood, the Head teacher of his department’s office is a lavish affair. Tables covered in books, leather bound chairs, and other objects that Adam couldn’t even begin to guess their use lay around the room. But the thing that is taking his focus is Underwood himself, a kindly looking old man with a long flowing beard and grey hair, stands in the centre of the room screaming abuse at Adam, his normally calm and caring voice is raised in a screech of anger.

“Do you have any idea what you have done!? You stupid inane useless piece of shit! We sent you, a student of this acclaimed academy, because we trusted you would do what was best for the school, instead you took what I offered and shit into my outstretched hands! You ungrateful little welp. The Noble families will never trust us now, you’ve thrown away all our work!”

Adam launches from his chair, his body vibrating with anger, “Your work? YOUR FUCKING WORK! My friend is dead because of you! You self-righteous pompous arse hole. You don’t care about your students; you use us for your own means!”

Underwoods body goes taut with shock and anger, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! I am your better! Your superior!”

“You are nothing, you are not better than anyone. If you are willing to throw away a life so recklessly you are nothing more than trash and don’t deserve to be here!”

“Guards!” Underwood screams, and the doors are flung open by two guardsmen, a slightly bashful look on their faces from having to hear the raging argument. “Take this useless talentless attempt of a wizard and throw him out. He is NEVER allowed to enter the Academy grounds again, if he returns his punishment will be one that will be spoken about for the ages. Now get him ou..” The final words never manage to leave professor Underwoods lips as they are replaced by Adam’s fist being driven forcefully into his jaw, sending the older Wizard tumbling onto his desk.

“I wouldn’t stay here if you begged me!” Adam spits. Spinning on his heel he storms past the guards and down the winding corridors, out through the great library and the famous entrance hall, passed students gathered at their classroom doors as word of his assault spreads faster than a wild fire.

Adam storms out of the Academy and back into the streets, his anger carrying him on, until the burning rage subsides to an emptiness. All his life he wanted nothing more than to be a magician, to learn a magic to help the people around him and in just two days all his dreams have been torn down around him, crushed into nothingness. Despair takes hold as he continues his aimless journey through the streets.

He takes a big breath in to release a massive sigh, only to stop as a smell fills his nostrils, one of sweet treats and joyful promises. He raises his head to find himself standing outside a small bakery, a few tables scattered out front with customers drinking and laughing over pastries, and there hidden in the corner of the window a small sign says. ‘Help wanted.’ Adam stops for only a moment before walking to the bakery and opening the door to a new dream.