Lay the Dragon v2 (18+ NSFW)

Arland and Leera walked under the archway of Hatford. It had been years since they'd left, to travel the world together. In that time, Arland had grown from a young boy with raw talent into a handsome young man whose talent had been refined into a fine edge, much like the raw iron of his sword becoming the razor-sharp, edged steel he now wore on his hip.

He looked around, surprised by how little everything had changed. The only real change of note here was the Gate Captain - formerly an old man by the name of Gerard, it was now a much younger man.

"Halt, travelers!" He called out, walking up to them as they approached the bridge, "What business do you have in Hatford?!"

Leera looked at Arland, who nodded. He stepped ahead of Leera, "Stand down, Captain. Guild business." He held up his license, proving he was indeed a member. Leera did likewise.

The captain took them and looked them over before his face turned white, "Oh! My apologies! Please, continue!"

As Leera and Arland continued walking, she couldn't resist a jab, "Newbie captain didn't recognize us."

"It has been, what, seven years? While it's rare, it's technically possible he joined the guard after we left," Arland replied.

They felt the captain bristle slightly at their banter as they made their way into the town and to the guild hall.

***

Inside the guild hall, Leera approached the counter while Arland split off to the bar section, anxious to grab a bite of warm food after their travels from Daltonce had seen them only eat sea rations - hard tack and cold, salted meats.

Leera leaned against the counter, "Is the master in? We got business with him."

The Cat-woman behind the counter sighed, "He is, but the meow-ster is a busy man. I doubt he'll be able to meet with a pair of random adventurers."

Leera pulled out her license again, presenting the silvery plate. "I'm an S-class. I'm sure he can find the time for me."

The cat-woman's eyes grew wide, "Oh! Forgive me, I didn't mean to be so rude. Please, wait a moment, and I'll let him know you're here."

Leera nodded and made her way to the bar, sitting next to Arland, who was already nose-deep in a leg of roasted quail. She ordered her own food and ale, before turning to watch the young man, a slight smile on her face.

"Y'know, today is a special day, Arland."

He met her gaze over the food he was chowing through. After a moment, he swallowed and set the food down, grabbing a cloth to wipe his face, "I know. Today's the day I attain the rank of Swordmaster."

Leera shrugged, "That's one reason. Have you forgotten? Today's your birthday, Arland. Today, you're eighteen. So... Happy birthday."

Arland blinked, "Wait... Really? Damn, I guess I lost track."

"Well, it's been a year. For an elf like me, a year is nothing. Barely a noticeable passage of time. But it's a big deal for you. Today, you're officially a man. At least, legally. Maybe not mentally. And definitely not in manners."

He followed her gaze down to the mess of food he had been devouring, "Hey, I wiped my mouth before I spoke."

"Yeah, you did, huh? So there's something important we need to discuss. There's... A caveat I didn't mention before to your becoming a swordmaster. If you win in our duel, you'll be required to complete an S-rank test. That's why the duel must be overseen by a guildmaster. They know of all S-rank quests throughout the world. Even bypassing national borders. And what's more, you'll be required to do it solo."

Arland's eyes widened, "Solo? What sort of S-rank quest would require me to do it alone? We always worked together. We'd take on a dragon, or a swarm of undead, or an army. But we always fought as a team."

Leera nodded, "Together, we could. You're strong enough, and you're considerably less reckless than you were before. You can handle it. But that means we'll need to split up. So you're going to need to be mature beyond your years. Most swordmasters don't attain the rank until their mid- to late-twenties."

Arland took a deep breath and nodded. Leera saw the guildmaster approaching behind Arland. She stood and greeted him, "Hello, Guildmaster."

"Leera! And this must be young Arland! Boy, you've grown! I bet you could beat me in a duel now, huh?"

Arland stood and smiled, "Greetings, Guildmaster."

"Please, call me Valden. We're all friends here, right?"

Leera nodded, "I was just letting Arland here know the details for after our overseen duel."

Valden sat down, "And do you know the details of the duel itself, Arland? The price of failure?"

Arland and Leera sat before he replied, "I do. If you're unable to make a judgment call, we go to the death."

Valden nodded, "Indeed, but there's more. If I suspect either of you of not going all out, I'll call it a cheat. Whoever cheated will be killed."

Arland swallowed hard, "Understood. Let's get this done."

Leera glanced over to find her food not quite ready yet. She sighed and stood, "Yeah, let's."

***

The trio made their way to the town arena. It had been reserved ahead of time for just such a purpose. The floor had been leveled and all obstacles removed. Valden stood on a shaded overlook to watch, while the stands had been filled. Few knew the details of a swordmaster's training, but it was common knowledge that watching an apprentice/master duel was a sight to behold, and a once in a lifetime event.

"PEOPLE!" Valden began, shouting and addressing the crowd, "TODAY WE WITNESS THE ASCENDANCE OF A NEW SWORDMASTER!"

He held out his hand to his right, "On the west end, Leera! An elf of over 150 years, and a swordmaster to best all masters! And on the right!" He held out his left hand, "Arland! A human of eighteen and her apprentice!"

The crowd roared. Valden waited for the noise to die down before continuing, "Arland, Send your ready!"

He drew his sword, the sound ringing around the arena. He looked up at Valden and nodded.

"Leera, send your ready!"

She drew her blade and held it up before lowering the point towards the sandy ground.

"Then... FIGHT!"

Both opponents rushed in. They met, blades crashing together, the clang of steel filling the air. The two traded blows, each with a look of pure focus on their faces.

Arland felt his vision swim as he entered a battle trance - a state where the mind and body react purely on instinct. He saw everything. Every twist and turn of her ankles, every facade, every feint. Every strike.

He turned and dropped, a swipe from Leera went harmlessly overhead. He trailed his foot out. She hopped over it, landing in her own spin, and sending her boot towards his stomach.

Arland blocked with the flat of his blade, braced against his forearm. Before he could fully recover, she pulled a dagger and struck out, scoring a hit on his abdomen, the small blade finding flesh between the boiled plates of his armor.

Arland didn't miss a beat, his body blocking the pain. He thrust in twice, following Leera's backpedaling. As she went off balance, he quickly struck out, his sword finding the belt lashing the front and back plates of her breastplate. The armor hung limply as Leera dove back, rolling away and putting some space between them.

She looked down at the severed belt, grunted, and removed it, "Fine. You want me to disrobe, so be it, boy!" She tossed her armor at him before rushing in right behind it.

Valden watched in awe as the two traded hit for hit, neither able to find a solid foot up on the other. For each hit either struck, the other gained two. "A flawless match-up..." He said to himself.

"That's good, yes?" A voice said behind him. Valden turned to find Exanther, the city's resident nobleman.

"No. If I can't judge that one of them has bested the other, they go to the death. Neither has won."

Exanther stepped up and looked down at the pair. "It's obvious he's her equal, Valden. Call it. He's passed."

Valden shook his head, "No. The purpose of this isn't to see the apprentice match the master. the apprentice must surpass the master, or the master must kill the apprentice. Why do you think so few people become swordmasters."

Exanther nodded, "They are people of legends... But to think the training was so die-hard..."

Valden sighed, "They're people of legend BECAUSE every day of their training is life or death. Walking that line is nerve-wracking for us. But for them... It's daily life. Leera has lived it longer than we've been alive, but Arland... for eight years now, he hasn't had a day when his life wasn't in the balance."

Exanther balked, "He started as a fucking child?!"

Valden nodded, "Most do. Usually, orphans or unwanted children that show an aptitude. Leera's had to kill her last three apprentices. So I was surprised when she accepted Arland."

They turned their attention back to the pair in the arena.

Leera rushed in. She thrust, then backswung. Arland's blade met hers, but she kept the pressure, swinging her sword overhead and pushing his into the air. She stepped in and swung horizontally. He caught her wrist, pulling the blade wide. He stepped forward as he pulled her towards him. He brought his sword down, the pommel striking between her unguarded shoulders. He heard her gasp. She twisted free of his grip and stumbled away.

She reached into a satchel at her hip and pulled out a small, round bag. She threw it at him before rushing in. The small bag hit and exploded in a harmless but obscuring cloud.

Exanther opened his mouth to call out, but Valden's hand on his shoulder silenced it before it began, "It's not. A swordmaster is expected to be able to adapt and overcome. She couldn't beat him fairly. She's allowed to level the playing field. But... there's something about Arland that tells me this might just be her end."

Arland closed his eyes and held his breath. He focused as he had a year ago, against that kobold. He grinned grimly as he realized he had never told her the details of that dungeon. If he had, she likely wouldn't have deprived herself of sight.

Leera stopped in the middle of the cloud. She heard a ringing sound to the left. Then the right. Then ahead. Her heart beat faster in her chest as fear gripped her. She realized the error she had made as she heard the sound behind her. She felt her legs get swept out from under her. She hit the ground hard with a grunt.

Valden jumped down into the Arena, "STOP!"

The crowd stood silent as Valden summoned up his magic, creating a gust of wind and clearing the cloud from the arena, revealing the scene.

Leera lay flat on her back, bleeding from a dozen superficial wounds, and one gash on the side of her neck. Arland stood, his boot on her chest, sword point planted in the ground, the blade still separating her flesh. His own wounds testament to how close the match had actually been.

Valden could tell by the fogging on the blade that Leera was still breathing.

Arland moved his foot and pulled his sword free, placing it in his sheathe, before offering his hand to Leera. She took it and stood, her free hand going to her neck to try and slow the bleeding.

Valden sighed a breath of relief, "There you have it, folks! A new swordmaster is born! ARLAND OF HATFORD GUILD!"

The crowd roared in approval.

Leera glanced up at him, "How the fuck did you see through my cloud?"

Arland grinned, "I didn't. I learned to use echolocation."

"Bullshit. Elves have better hearing and even we can't do that."

"How else did I beat you?"

Leera thought for a moment, "That ringing... That was the sound you used... Holy shit, Arland, you're fucking amazing!"

Arland grinned, "How about a bath? We're both dusty. And in need of first aid."

"A bath sounds amazing," Leera said with a grin and nod.