"And here we go, Lord Edward, playing the hero in front of a weak, powerless girl. And I thought you had no interest in women," Jim said, laughing.
"I just did what had to be done to make this operation work," Edward answered, his gaze fixed on the sprawling camp from atop the walls. "And I never said I wasn't interested in women."
"Well, whatever. If we're going to that fortress, we have to be quick, before the snow falls upon us. Winter is a worse enemy than any army," Jim said, drinking from his cup.
A week had already passed since the gathering began. Lords, mayors, sellswords, and hunters had all converged here, with more still arriving. An army of 900 strong men was now preparing—forging siege equipment, with ladders and mangonels being the priority. Supplies trickled in with the help of merchants, and the young, beautiful Duchess moved through the camp, inspecting every detail. Edward watched it all.
"At this speed, we need another week before we can march," Jim commented.
Edward looked at him and nodded in agreement. "We'll discuss the attack plan tonight. The timing as well."
"Yeah, I know," Jim muttered, leaning back against the wall. "But you know, laying a siege takes time. With an army this size, it'll take at least a full day or two just to reach the place." Jim complained.
"Stop whining," Edward said coldly.
As they walked down the stairs from the wall, Regis spotted them.
"You two! Come here," he shouted, grabbing their attention.
Jim and Edward walked over to him.
"What do you want, old man?" Jim said, staring at Regis.
"From your arrogant ass? Nothing. But this snowy-haired dude here…" He looked at Edward with a strange, calculating expression. "Oh, I have plans for him." He raised his voice, addressing the soldiers nearby. "Everyone! We're going to see a fight!"
He strode to the center of the yard.
"The second most arrogant person here. Snow Beauty," he said, looking at Edward with a smirk. "Against me."
Edward turned pale, stunned. "What the fuck?" he said.
Jim was laughing his head off.
"Now, now, surely you're not scared of an old man like me, are you? It's just a practice match."
Edward finally relented. "Fine," he said in a tired voice.
"Good, good! Prepare the arena!" Regis shouted.
The training field was a square, twenty-five meters wide on each side. Soldiers formed a ring around it, with lords and the Duchess watching with keen interest. Jim was busy betting on the winner.
"Ed! I bet on you! Please prove me right, please! It's all our money!" Jim begged.
"Our money?" Edward said with a confused look.
"Now, boy, grab a wooden sword. Let's see how tough you are," Regis said, looking at Edward.
"I haven't used a wooden sword since I was ten."
They both took their positions on opposite sides of the field. As the wind whistled through the trees, Regis moved first—a fast, precise attack aimed straight at Edward's neck. Edward took a quick backstep, finding his footing, and used the flat of his sword to block the strike. Seizing the opening, Regis drove his right knee into Edward's belly, forcing him to the ground. In the last second before Regis could land a finishing blow, Edward rolled to the right, dodging it by inches. He used his momentum to spring back to his feet.
"I told you, Edward. Don't underestimate me."
Edward stood firm, his breathing steady. He raised his sword with both hands, holding it in front of his chest, and dashed forward. He delivered a swing from the right, followed immediately by a thrust with the back of his sword. Regis blocked both attacks with a single fluid motion to the right, then grabbed Edward's arm and landed a blow on his back. But just before the hit connected, Edward hooked his left foot behind Regis's heel, unbalancing him. As Regis stumbled, Edward swung his sword from above with both hands. Regis dodged, countering with a carved swing at Edward's arm, which Edward evaded with a swift backstep.
Edward pressed forward again, launching an attack from the lower left that struck Regis squarely on the lower arm, forcing the commander back several meters.
The crowd surrounding the field roared; it had truly become an arena.
Regis smiled again, not in anger, but in genuine joy, as he paced across the ground. Edward mirrored his movements, his eyes locked on his opponent.
This time, Edward was the first to attack. As Regis moved to meet him, Edward dropped into a slide through the dirt, positioning himself behind the commander. He swung his sword down from above, but Regis, twisting his blade behind his back with incredible flexibility, blocked the attack. In the same motion, he swept Edward's feet from under him, sending him to the ground, and placed his sword at Edward's throat.
"Guess you lost," Regis smiled.
Edward, lying on his back, raised an eyebrow and glanced to his right. His own wooden sword was pointed directly at Regis's side just below the arm.
"If this were real, the blade would have gone up into your lungs. You'd be suffocating by now."
Regis looked momentarily surprised, then chuckled. "Well then. Shall we call it a tie?"
Edward gave a single nod. The crowd continued to cheer, and even the Duchess was applauding.
Edward stood up.
"Good fight, kid. Not bad at all for someone your age," Regis said.
Edward looked at him and offered a slight, rare smile.
"Ed! You were supposed to win, you know?" Jim shouted from the sidelines.