Chapter 115: Daven

Chapter 115: Daven

115:

Even Tom, for all his bravado, was surprised to see what to be over fifty Royal Knights that were armored to the teeth waiting for them just behind the gates of the Nezaria family estate.

They had expected them to unleash a slew of attacks the moment they revealed themselves, but not a single flicker of energy hurled towards them.

Gasps and whispers ran across the Royal Knights contingent, a sense of unease flickering in their gazes that focused on neither Zirel nor Tom. No, their pensive eyes were locked on to Aleph’s.

To a ghost’s.

“That’s quite the army you’ve got there,” Tom drawled. “So, what are you waiting for?” Tom rhetorically asked, as he stretched his arms outwards in a welcoming embrace, not intimidated in the slightest.

He was unarmed, but the moment he noticed even a slightest flicker of movement, a mimicked blade would appear in his right hand.

“Step outside of the Nezaria Estate, Synrak Veralis of unknown origins, Zirel Covan Nottrakon of the House Nottrakon and... you, Longstradia, whoever you are. Surrender peacefully and no harm shall befall you,” One of the Royal Knights, a seven foot tall man that stood a few steps ahead of the rest of his contingent, bellowed out.

The Knight was clad in a golden armor that had wisps of similar colored energy roiling off it, a gray lance that was easily as tall as his him held in his right hand, pressed against his chest for support. His eyes peeked out from behind two slits in his great helm and Tom didn’t need his augmented eyesight to tell that there was little more than malice within them.

The so-called knight was lying to their faces.

“It’s quite rude to make demands without introducing yourself, don’t you think so?” Zirel asked, managing to sound bored even though there was no way they could fight the force gathered before them.

And even if they did, how far would they get?

They couldn’t fight an entire city.

“You know who I am, Zirel,” The knight replied with a snarl, dropping the honorifics he normally would’ve addressed Zirel with— which made sense, since he wasn’t a prince anymore. “For the rest of the unsavory company of traitors that you keep, I am Daven Bancroft, Head of the Royal Knights. Surrender or perish.”

“Then why don’t you come and do just that,” Tom retorted, his gaze sharpening as he took Daven in.

“I-,” Daven began, before catching himself.

Even though Tom could not see his expression, he was certain that the man was hesitating.

“You cannot take a step into Nezaria territory, can you?” Tom asked, a smile playing upon his lips.

He unfurled the scroll and then spoke.

“Lord Ramav Nezaria grants permission to Daven Bancroft, allowing him to enter his estate for the purpose and duration of the duel between him and Synrak Veralis,” He decreed and then he turned around and began walking to his estate without another word.

Tom whistled in appreciation.

“Well then,” Tom began. “How are you going to avoid the duel next? Are you going to call me evil or will you claim that my blood bleeds black poison.”

“Silence yourself, boy,” Daven snarled. “What are the terms of duel? Both of us know that there is no way for you to escape, so do not ask for freedom. I cannot grant it to you.”

“You were avoiding it because of that?” Tom asked, genuinely surprised. “No, I don’t want freedom. You’re just a hound for your masters. No, my terms are simple. You and me, single combat. No interference. If you win, all three of us surrender. If I win, hm, let’s see— I guess I’ll settle for everything you have on you.”

Daven Bancroft stood there, in silence.

Then, he asked, incredulousness tinging his voice, “Is that all?”

“Yep.”

“You are overestimating yourself. The difficulty of the final sector scales according to your strength. You must’ve been incredibly weak, to have conquered it. Let me teach you the difference between us. I accept.”

Tom watched as Daven pushed open and then walked inside, letting the gate slam shut behind him.

Tom cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, not a hint of fear visible on his visage.

Aleph and Zirel retreated to the mansion’s awning.

A coin was flicked in the air by Daven, the intention behind his gesture obvious.

Tom’s eyes narrowed as a blade appeared in his right hand.

Daven pointed his ashen lance towards Tom.

The coin clinked.