“My terms?” Lucas asked, sounding surprised. “I’m just a novice here and not exactly dressed for a fight. Why don’t you tell me? What would show you that I know how to handle myself in these sorts of situations?”

The older knight smirked at him and said, “No offense, but I doubt you could ever handle yourself in this sort of situation. You’d be hard-pressed to land a single blow on a trained warrior as the obvious novice you are.”

Words that started with no offense were always intended to offend in Lucas’s experience, but he ignored that and waited for the wave of chuckles to pass through Sir Tristen’s hangers-on before he continued. 

“Hey, no doubt,” Lucas agreed, “I’m just saying, like - what would it take? Maybe I could get Hura’gh here. He’s my half-orc, and you could—”

“I think not,” the gang leader said coldly. Lucas had expected exactly that response. Not only were orc-blooded people only marginally more popular than elves in this very human city, but he hadn’t seen a single Knight of Brass with even a tinge of green, and that was really all he needed to know. “If we were to test or challenge… well, I’m far more concerned with the leader. How strong and resourceful are they?”

“Well, who said anything about me being the big guy?” Lucas quipped, trying to laugh it off, but it was clear they weren’t buying it. 

“Let’s just say I’m an excellent judge of character,” Sir Tristen smiled coolly, “and though I don’t think you could manage to land a single blow against me, I’m willing to give you a chance. If you prove to be more than meets the eye… well, I think that might prove that your organization is in a lower-risk category. How’s that sound to you?”

“I mean, before I say yes, I’m still waiting to hear the rules,” Lucas said cagily, “I ain’t looking to get stabbed just to make a point here.”

“Oh, there’s no need for stabbing, I think,” the knight answered. “I think simply showing you that you can’t lay so much as a single blow against me will be more than sufficient.”

“So if I hit you, even with the tip, then we’ll go with the lower price? Say two dragons?” Lucas asked, making sure he understood the game. 

For a moment he thought about saying free, because he was pretty sure his idea was going to work, but if he did win, and embarrass the man like that, he’d probably make an enemy for life. It was probably better to split the baby here and improve terms later when he and his boys were in a better position. 

“The tip will be more than sufficient,” and when that proves impossible, well, perhaps you’ll see why five dragons is a price that's more than fair.” 

“No other rules I should know about?” Lucas said, offering his hand. 

“No other rules,” Sir Tristen said, shaking it vigorously. 

With that, they both stood and while the knight began to stretch, Lucas dug through his pouch. “What was that,” his opponent asked as Lucas pulled out a muddy brown strength potion and downed the foul liquid in a single shot. 

Tainted potion of Lesser Strength (1 dose): Strength 4, poison 1, endurance 1. Those who imbibe this potion have a 1% chance to go berserk for up to one hour. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas said. “You said there are no rules. Just think of it as a pick me up.”

The knight’s smile brightened, even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Well then, choose your weapon, and we’ll get started and see just how much protection you and yours need.”

Lucas didn’t respond as he walked to the weapons rack. Instead, he studied the weapons in front of him. All sorts of swords were there: long swords, broad swords, and even a couple of rapiers. 

Lucas looked passed all of those, though, and inspected the practice swords. At the end of the row there were even half a dozen wooden swords. He took his time. It took almost a minute for a boost potion to kick in fully, and even if it was only going to last for twenty or thirty minutes, the fight would be over in five. 

Even though it hadn’t fully kicked in, though, he could feel it coursing through him as a sudden burst of adrenaline that made him more than a little queasy. Well, it was either the potion or the nerves that were doing that, he decided, more than aware that all eyes were on him at this point. 

He returned his attention to the weapon rack. Any one of them would be useless against the man’s armor, especially the wooden ones. However, it wasn’t like he had a prayer of penetrating that well worn plate armor anyway. Not even with the strength potion that he could already feel starting to buzz through him. 

The type of sword didn’t matter for what he was planning. Only the condition. So, he picked up several and gave them an experimental swing before settling on one of the older ones. It wasn’t the most beat up appearance-wise, but it had sort of a hollow sound when he tapped it against the wall, which made him think it was on its last legs. 

So, with a flourish, he chose it and walked into the sand where his opponent was waiting for him with a kite shield and a gleaming long sword. “You can choose steel,” the knight smirked. “I assure you that even if you manage to hurt me, I’ll take no offense.”

“Nah. Those swords you have over there are heavy as shit,” Lucas said with a shake of his head. “I’m more about speed than strength, you know?”

Sir Tristen nodded, answering, “Still, these things are typically settled by—”

“Hey, you said to choose a weapon, and I chose this one,” Lucas called out, knowing that his plan would be useless with a metal sword. “Now, let’s fight already!”

This was obviously the right answer, and the knight gave him a feral grin before saluting him with his sword and dropping into a guard stance. Lucas, for his part, gave the man a mock salute and then tried a few quick feints to get a feel for the man. The first two were parried with his opponent's gleaming sword, the next was blocked by the shield, and the last one he simply stepped out of reach.

“Go on,” the knight goaded. “Let us not be lukewarm about this. Show us all what you’re made of!”

Or the price could be going up next month,  Lucas thought to himself. Looking around the courtyard it was clear they were the center of attention now. Sir Tristin probably always was, but now it was obvious that Lucas needed to show these guys something, even if it hadn’t been before. 

So, he laid into the other man, hammering him with blow after blow. He used only one hand for now, which gave him reach instead of power, and was careful to pull his punches a little bit. He didn’t hold back much, though. He wanted this to look good, after all. 

Despite that, he came up short. Even though he rained down slashes and thrusts on the other man, he barely had to move much quicker than before to keep up. Not only did his plate mail not slow him as much as Lucas had hoped, but even without that, it was hopeless. It was clear to everyone, especially Lucas, that Sir Tristan had spent a good portion of his long life honing his craft; he was a consummate swordsman, and on a level playing field, there was no way that Lucas could hope to win. 

Fortunately, Lucas had never planned to fight fairly. It was just a matter of what strategy would work best in this case. Even if he used the smoke bomb he’d brought with him, he doubted that would be enough to turn the tide, and even if he did manage to hit the man in a choking cloud of white smoke, no one would believe him. That was why he’d gone with the strength potion instead. 

Unfortunately, the knight was managing to fuck even that part up. He was so skilled that he wasn’t just parrying, against each blow he was parrying with the flat of his blade, and doing very little to chip away at Lucas’s flimsy wooden weapon. Still, he wouldn’t be denied, and he pressed harder, at least forcing the older man to take a few steps further back. 

“Come on, show me something!” the knight roared. “You’ll never get there like that!”

“Raaghhhh!” Lucas roared, pretending to get pissed off and caught up in the moment. He switched to a two-handed grip, leveraging more force in every blow.

He didn’t let himself get frustrated, though. Since the knight’s sword wasn’t cutting it, he switched to basing on the top of Sir Tristen’s shield with every third blow. The knight didn’t react so he obviously didn’t notice what it was that Lucas was trying to do. 

It was only when the last six inches of the sword were noticeably damaged that he switched tactics and used his full strength. The potion he’d chugged had been flowing with him for some time now, but now he finally let loose, unleashing a storm of blows. 

Lucas was hardly a strong man, but with the alchemical boost he could fake it pretty well. Each impact of wood on metal rang out loudly enough to echo against the walls of the surrounding buildings. They were also enough to earn the full attention of his opponent for the first time all fight, and Lucas could see the man’s eyes glow with joy. No matter what reason he had to fight, it was obvious he enjoyed it. 

“Had enough?” Sir Tristan said through gritted teeth. “I think we’ve proved that—”

That was when Lucas kicked out with his left leg, pushing against the man’s shield. The blow was both unexpected and powerful, but the goal wasn’t to knock it out of the way. Lucas knew the man wouldn’t let go of the shield; instead, he wanted to use that to twist the knight ever so slightly off balance. 

He succeed in that at least, but only because Sir Tristen lashed out with his blade automatically as he feared the counterstroke. Lucas might have actually hit him in that moment if he’d been aiming for the other man. He wasn’t though. He’d been aiming for his sword, and he struck it with all his might it almost exactly the right spot. 

For a moment he feared that he’d missed, but that was only because where their blades finally met, one sliced clean through the other, sending the tip soaring passed then knight’s guard and clattering hollowly against the man’s breastplate. 

Combat paused there in that confusion as the small courtyard quieted, and everyone tried to determine what had just happened. “We can pause if you’d like to get a new sword,” Sir Tristen said, obviously not sure what just happened. 

“No need,” Lucas smiled, “The blow is struck, the test is passed, and I…”

“A blow?” the knight laughed, “but your sword shattered. Such a strike would never aid you in battle.”

“Ahh… that’s true. In a real fight, you’d slive me into bloody sushi,” Lucas smiled. “But this wasn’t a battle. This was tag, and you said the tip would be more than sufficient, so…”

“The tip?” he said, baffled. “Wait… you did that on purpose? You broke the sword to get past my guard?”

“Guilty,” Lucas nodded. “It’s the first time in my life I told someone I’d just give them the tip, and I followed through.”

For a second, Lucas thought the joke might have gone over the man’s head. In fact, he hoped that's exactly what happened. 

“The first time, huh?” Sir Tristen said as he bent over to pick up the shattered piece of sword that had made contact with him. “Well, it’s not the first time a little bastard like you fucked me out of a few dragons…”

Lucas held his breath, wondering he’d made a mistake, but after a theatrical moment, a grin suddenly sprang to life on the knight’s face, and he continued. “But damn, if it ain’t the first time I enjoyed it! You’re a clever one, Mr Blue. I look forward to our continued relationship.”

He tossed Lucas the broken piece of wood, and he looked at it dumbly. He was as surprised as anyone that his little maneuver had worked out, but still he was glad for it. It would buy them a little breathing room and get them what why needed most: allies.