There was barely time to raise my blade. It was by pure instinct that I managed to block her attack; but block I did as Silva slashed horizontally, aiming for my throat. Our blades clashed and repelled each other, Silva using the change in momentum to spin and step outward and unleash her counterattack.

The conventional choice for a follow-up would be to slash in the opposite direction, but Silva was anything but conventional, instead of slashing, she chose a thrust.

I knew her well enough to predict this and blocked it accordingly, but Silva was relentless and stabbed three more times. All were aimed at my vitals. 

Her eyes were fierce all the while, and as she stepped back and assumed her Foxtail stance once again. They bore into mine as she waited for my next move.

I knew the foundations of Silva’s Rotfuchs style. They were built upon the Wolfskreuz style that we had learned together. But as Silva became more adept with a blade, she began to make adjustments to each stance and sequence until it became something new. Something definitively Silva.

  Silva’s style relied on deception and trickery more than fundamental stances and sequences. 

“Just like a fox!” Silva had once told me, “Nobody fights like the Red Fox does!”

The Foxtail exposed her throat and chest and invited lesser foes to attack her open vitals. What was more, she held the blade in both hands in what one may think as an awkward fashion,  but I knew better. 

She would counter whatever I threw at her with a single-handed attack; the left hand an upward slash, the right, a rising thrust. But which would she go for? 

I assumed my Plow guard and began the sequence for Fang, which would end in a thrust. Silva reacted accordingly, shifting her weight and taking Reynard in her right hand, prepared for her own thrust.

But at the last possible moment, Silva’s hand twitched and sent the blade into her left as she transitioned into a slash. I was not fooled for a moment and adjusted into a slash as well.

Blade met blade, each pushing each other with equal strength. 

“How great would it be if I became an accomplished warrior with such a hated animal as my insignia! They’ll never look down on either of us again!”

I was still reeling from Silva’s confession, but I did not need my full mental faculties to compete with her. While she was more adept with a blade than with a telestone, we had done this dance hundreds of times at this point. And with Silbermond in my hands again, wielding was effortless. 

“You still have not told me why you left in the first place,” I said as we held each other’s attack at bay. 

She smirked at that. “Am I not allowed to go anywhere without my prince’s permission?”

“Being my retainer? Yes. That would be the entire point!” Our lock broke as we leapt back simultaneously, renewing our stances and beginning to circle each other. “But I’m not just talking about that, Silva. You are my friend! So why? Why did you leave?”

“You’re annoying!” Silva rose onto her toes and began shifting her weight from one foot to another followed by a series of omnidirectional slashes, which I deflected. I could not help but shoot her a smile.

“Do you mean in general? Or is that the reason you left?”

I found myself easing back into our usual banter, I thought it may soothe my churning mind, but this familiarity was something I found more disturbing. I was talking to Silva, not a psychotic clown like Gertrude, or a serpent like Heide. This was the Silva I remembered.

  “Like I’d tell you!” she said as she pressed her gloved palm into the dull side of her sword and pushed against my slashes. Her stance tightened as Silva began to maneuver through my attacks, pressing her sword against other parts of her torso to reinforce her defenses as she caught everyone of them. 

My blade was always so close to cutting into her flesh, but it never did. Not once had I marked her body with anything beyond welts. While this maneuver that she called Paw into Foxtrot was extremely risky, her approach was so deft that I could not use a full swing without creating openings for a counterattack. 

I still was not sure why Silva had chosen to center Rotfuchs around such risky plays. Nor did I fully know why she had named it after the mythical fox. Unlike more noble beasts of legend like the wolf, the bear, or the falcon, foxes were filthy creatures whose sole purpose was to deceive others. The most famous of these was Reynard, the rival of the wolf, Isen, who more often than not, tricked him for the fun of it. 

Her reasoning never made much sense to me. 

“I think the foxes are misunderstood.” She smiled at my skeptical expression. “The only reason they like to play tricks is because others tend to look down on them.”

Of course others looked down on foxes, they had chosen to make an enemy of all other creatures with its love for mischief and trickery. This was something my father made me study ad nauseam. But when I tried to explain to her the history of foxes' various deceptions throughout mythology, she only shook her head.

“It’s the other way around. Everyone else chose to make an enemy of foxes. The fox pretends that it’s not bothered by it, but I’m sure it’s lonely being seen as filthy. So, they join in the only way they know how, by playing tricks.”

“You’re holding back, Anno!” Silva’s sudden shout refocused my thoughts  just in time for me to realize that I was now on the defensive with Silva’s Foxtrot having transitioned into her version of Fang with thrusts in all directions mixed with the occasional feint. “Take me seriously!”

“You’re the one who needs to get serious!” I retorted, “This is nothing compared to your usual speed.” I was barely breaking a sweat.

“That’s because I’m not in a hurry,” she replied with a mischievous smile, her eyes twitching leftward to look past me. “Everything I came here for is about to come to me.”

What did she mean by that?

The answer was immediately apparent when I heard a gruff yell. “What in tarnation is goin’ on here? I’ll not have fightin’ in my streets!” The sound of hooves rang through the streets, each sound pierced my eardrums.

My blood ran cold. Beneath the hooves was the sound of many boots. I did not need to look behind me to know that Ulrich and his guards were marching down the street; with Heide in tow. 

Ulrich gave a bellow of rage, “It’s you! Back fer more trouble, I see!”

Silva’s smile widened as she sheathed her sword, “Looks like we’ll have to put our duel on hold. Thank you, Anno. You made my wait a little less boring.” And with that, she vanished once again. 

Another poor escape attempt!

I whirled around to find her, and saw Ulrich running towards me. The guards behind him formed a circle around Heide, who was bound in chains, but wearing that serene smile of hers.

  Then I found Silva, who reappeared a foot away from me. And then she vanished again, and again, and again, building momentum and quickly closing the gap between her and the soldiers surrounding Heide. With each reappearance, I could see Silva winding up to redraw her blade. I recognized the stance she was taking: Fox in its Hole.

With the next teleport, Silva was no longer facing the guards. Her target was Ulrich.

I charged at full speed, trailing Silbermond behind me, preparing a counterattack as I cried out. “Sheriff, behind you!”

In response to my warning, Ulrich kicked out with his back legs, only to be met with nothing. Silva had teleported again, and when she reappeared, she was in mid-motion, crouching beneath the horse. Her hand was on the handle of Reynard. 

For a moment, the world was in slow motion as I watched Silva prepare for her finishing move.

Emerge.

Out slashed Silva’s blade, faster than my eye could detect, which cut across the back of Ulrich’s front legs. Ulrich gave a cry of pain as his muscular frame crumpled, his hooves no longer able to carry his weight. 

“Sheriff!”

I thought at first he had fallen atop Silva, but then she reappeared in front of him as Ulrich lay on his side, thrashing in an attempt to right himself, but she stood at the poor horse’s back, where none of his attacks would land. Silva turned and pointed Reynard at Ulrich’s neck. At the sight of her blade tip, he froze and let his limbs fall limp.

I was in a state of fear in awe at the sight of her. What did I just witness?! I thought she did not know how to teleport properly? And yet, she had moved in a way which even I could not keep track of.

Guards and citizens alike gave cries of anguish at the sight of their sheriff defeated. Some of the soldiers even began to draw their blades, but Silva stopped them in their tracks by bringing the blade closer to Ulrich’s neck. 

That made me stop as well. Ulrich and Silva were several feet from me, out of reach.

“It’s good to see you again, Sheriff Ulrich,” she said, tossing her bangs from her eyes. “Sorry our second meeting had to be like this.”

“Yeah, that’s dern shame.” Ulrich looked remarkably calm for someone who just had his legs slashed, “ I see you’ve picked up a few tricks in the meantime.”

“It’s just a little something I’ve been working on.” She turned her head and gave me a cold smile. “I’m thinking of calling it Fox Flash. What’d you think, Anno? Pretty strong, right?”

I was speechless. She must have used a telestone, but my eyes found no traces of the large blue gem in her hand. Then how? How had she moved like that?

Whatever the answer was, I was faced with a grim reality. I hated to even think it, but I was outclassed. Had Silva used that technique on me, our tie would have been broken, with me as the loser. 

Silva’s eyes returned to Ulrich, “Anyway, I’m here for Heide. So, set her free, or I might have to kill the horse. Don’t make me kill the horse.”

There was silence. The guards looked conflicted. Ulrich raised his head with a grunt, “How dare y’all hesitate! My life ain’t important enough to give into her demands!” 

One of the guards gave a swallow, then said, “The sheriff’s right! You’ll have to free her from our cold, dead hands!” The other guards erupted into cheers and drew their swords.

Silva looked unimpressed. “Suit yourself.” 

She shot forward like a lightning bolt, strobing in and out of existence. Before I knew it, Silva was amongst the guards weaving between them with precision, slashing at each of them, until the last of them fell to the ground.

The only ones left standing were Silva and Heide, the latter of whom was wearing a serene smile with a touch of sinister glee. She held out her hands, bound in chains. And allowed Silva, with a swift swing of her sword, to slash the steel into bits. 

Heide daintily felt her wrists and began to walk just as Silva sliced away the chains on her ankles. Her gait was not disrupted as Silva fell into step beside her. 

“One down,” said Silva, sheathing her sword again, “One to go.”

“I believe our dear Lina is currently residing in an inn called Soldier’s Haven. Do you know it?”

“Yeah, it took me a bit to remember the layout of this place. It’s been a while, but I did a little surveying before I was caught.”

Heide chuckled as the two began to walk toward me. “Well, isn’t that nice. I do wonder, however, why it took you so long to rescue me. I was rotting away in that prison cell, you know.”  

Her smile remained intact, but I could see that vein rising on her temple again. 

Silva rolled her eyes. “Sorry. It took a little time to prepare.”

Heide’s voice quivered slightly, but managed to retain her composure. “Prepare?! When the prince could have left at any point in the last few days? And, if I may repeat myself, when I was imprisoned?! And my flute was in the prince’s grubby hands?!”

Silva looked sheepishly offended, “Well, you’re free now, aren’t you?”

“And my flute?”

Silva rolled her eyes, “Fiiiine. I’ll get your flute back,” Then I heard her grumble, “But if you bothered to take some singing lessons, you wouldn’t need that creepy thing in the first place!”

The other woman’s face blanched, all serenity forgotten. She sputtered out an incomprehensible response, though I did manage to catch the word “mother” somewhere amongst the babbling, but Silva ignored her and grinned at me.

“Heide here can bring anyone to tears with her flute playing. But tell her to sing, and suddenly, she can’t carry a tune to save her life! Isn’t that weird?”

“Don’t tell him that!” Heide scrunched her nose so that the freckles disappeared inside the wrinkles. “And I can too ‘carry a tune,’ you ignominious brute!”

To my surprise, Silva laughed and tousled Heide’s head, making her hair even more unkempt. “You and I both know that isn’t true. I’ve heard you humming to yourself when you think you’re alone!”

Heide ducked out from under her companion’s hand and attempted to fix the damage Silva had done. She shot Silva a dirty look as she did so.

Again, Silva laughed, “She’s fun to tease. It’s pretty cute when she gets flustered like that, don’t you think, Anno?”

I had no opinion on the matter whatsoever. There was a far more pressing issue before me. While the two women had been arguing, I found my eyes staring at Ulrich. 

At first, it had been in concern as the horse had not tried to stand since Silva held him at sword point. Ulrich was completely still, and I feared the worst. But then he raised his head slightly to look at me. The eye I could see rolled toward me as he gave a slight wicker. 

I felt relief and opened my mouth to express such, but Ulrich gave a twitch of his head, which I understood was meant to cull me into silence. Ulrich’s eye centered, then moved back in my direction. Even the horse’s ears moved strangely, twitching back and forth. 

It took Ulrich swishing his tail continuously across the stone ground for me to realize that the horse was trying to direct my attention toward his large shoulders, specifically something strapped around it. My eyes fell to the ground where they found the handle of a sword which was mostly hidden by his bulk. 

All I could see of it was the pommel, which was set with a palest of pink opals. My pulse quickened. I looked between it and Ulrich’s face. He gave a slight nod. 

So, my initial speculation was correct. Ulrich’s gift was not the wagon, but the sword wielded by his master. The Holy Sword lay only a few feet from me. If I could get my hands on that, it might grant me the power I needed to defeat Heide and Silva.

I began to creep closer to the horse, barely lifting my feet while minimizing any noise. I focused my attention on the girls, ignoring a twinge of jealousy as I watched Silva continue to make jests at Heide’s expense.

“One day, Anno, I’m going to become the greatest swordswoman in the world! Just watch me!” 

It was difficult to reconcile my feelings at this moment. To see her have the same dynamic as she had with me was difficult to watch. She had gone and made other friends without me.

 So, did I, for that matter. But where did that leave us? Years of being looked down upon by others forging an unbreakable bond. Or so I thought.  Maybe Silva did not see it that way. 

Silva sighed, “Alright, you win.” She looked at me, with cold eyes. I stopped where I was, meer inches to the hilt of the sword. I could see Ulrich’s body tense, but Silva seemed not to notice as she said, “Looks like we’ll be finishing our duel after all, Anno. Unless you’re so in awe of my Flash Fox that you’ll just give the flute?”

I took Silbermond into both hands as my answer.

Her face darkened, “Fine.” Silva put a hand to Reynard and began to walk toward me. “I would get out of the way if I were you, Sheriff. This’ll get ugly.”

“Can’t. Too injured,” said Ulrich, “You’ve done knocked an old man off his feet, the least you can do is give him time to stand back up.” The horse shifted about for a few seconds in a vain attempt to lift himself off the ground, but gave up. “Seems, I’m havin’ a bit of trouble. Mr. Prince, if you could–”

He did not need to say anything more, I nodded and began to approach, sheathing my sword and doing my best to not look at the hilt or at Silva, who had stopped. Ulrich was clever. In his attempt to rise, he had loosened the buckle that held the strap in place with his chin. It was quite a feat, but I tried not to look impressed. The sheriff had given me the perfect opportunity to retrieve the Holy Sword, I would not waste it. 

I was in front of Ulrich, about to crouch, but then Heide spoke. “Don’t be fooled, Silva. The horse guards a treasure belonging to a Sainted Seven. If the prince gets his hands on that, it may spell disaster for us.”

Curse you, Heide! She was as shrewd as ever. 

Silva pointed her sword at me, “Stay where you are!”

I was tempted to obey, but one look at Ulrich told me he wanted me to retrieve the blade no matter the cost. I hesitated a moment longer as I considered the danger Ulrich was putting himself in. There was blood staining his legs, though not as much as I expected. I still froze at the sight. However, the horse made the decision for me as he rolled and launched himself onto his hooves in an attempt to tackle Silva.

The belt fell from his body, leaving the sword behind for me to take.

I dropped to my knees, my fingers closing around the grip of the blade and stood triumphantly holding the Holy Sword of Gerhard Schultz in my hand. 

Silva had managed to dodge Ulrich’s attack with a teleport. She looked annoyed and a tad wary as she thumbed the handle of Reynard. I risked a glance at the Holy Sword.

The sword was surprisingly light and looked less “Holy” than I expected. The blade was sheathed, but the steel guard was a dull gray, almost the color of unpolished tin. Not something that was said to contain immeasurable power, but I was not about to complain. Silva assumed Foxtail and readied her next attack.

“Behold, "said I, taking the grip in one hand and the sheath in the other. “Witness the might of the Goddess-Kissed Blade!”

“–Rudolf!” added Ulrich, who was inexplicably standing at my side.

“Yes! Witness the might of Ru-R-Ru–R-R-Rud-Rudolf?! Really?! That’s its name?” The world felt as if it had paused as I shot the horse an incredulous glance. He stared back at me.

“That’s its name. Sheriff Silver called it that. Don’t ask me why.”

I…did not know how to feel about that. One of the most sacred items known to mankind and its name was something as odd as Rudolf! Never before had I heard such lunacy. This couldn’t be true!

But, oh well, I did not have time to dwell on such trivial matters. If what I held in my hands was truly the Holy Sword, then the name did not matter–as ridiculous as it was. I would use its divine power to purge Silva of the Hero’s corruption myself!

The world seemed to start up again as I faced her, Heide watching with graceful anticipation from a safe distance. 

There was a hunger in Silva’s eyes. “So, that’s the Holy Sword of Gerhard Schultz, huh? What’s it doing in a place like this?”

“Long story,” said I, “But, prepare yourself, Silva, for you face the chosen inheritor of…erm…Rudolf.” I tried not to let my distaste for its name deter my dignity. Without further word, I unsheathed the blade from its seal.

I expected the Holy Light of Iliana’s blessing to wash over me, but the blade had no such sheen. In fact, the blade had little shine to it at all, what little of it there was left. 

To my utter bewilderment, the sword was broken.