Jurgen smirked at my confidence, “Don’t be so quick to dismiss me, Wolfskreuz. I’m quite familiar with your skills.” 

I became wary of his words. I had never seen Jurgen before, and yet he knew my surname. This was not quite the recognition I wanted. I was a prince, yes, but the way Jurgen was staring at me made him feel like a hunting hound observing his prey.

The man continued, “I’ve heard you managed to defeat many of my guards.” Jurgen raised his sword to take an Ox guard, though it differed slightly from mine. It was parallel to his chin rather than above his head. “Sounds impressive enough, but I’m afraid you’ve only been dealing with mere pups thus far. Let’s see how you fare against a real dog!”

The taller man shifted his grip, his sword becoming vertical in the briefest of Vom Tags before slashing downward. 

I had managed to anticipate this and reacted accordingly, shifting my Plow guard to my Ox guard and catching his blade as it came close to splitting my skull. I smiled, “Dog you may be. But what is a dog when compared to a wolf?”

I repelled his sword with an upward slash and tried to close the gap between us. He stepped back as I assumed the Plow guard and thrust forward. Jurgen turned sideways, which caused my Wolfszahn to miss his torso, and countered with a diagonal slash.

My eyes darted about the courtyard. Jurgen certainly had skill but was not the most essential player in this arena. I found Heide backing away further and further from our clash, working to steady her breath before pressing her flute to her lips. 

“Ulrich!” I called, “Stop Heide!” If she started playing her song, this battle would be over before it started. 

The horse grunted in response and charged past the two of us. I heard Heide shriek.

Jurgen gasped, “Madame! I’ll save you!” He tried to turn, but I kept him where he was with several thrusts, some of which he dodged, most of which he parried.

“Pesky prince!” 

Blade met blade three more times. I did not concede an inch. That was until the mighty third slash from Jurgen caused both our blades to crack at the point of contact. That sent both of us stumbling back. 

Seriously, whoever created these swords should never work as a smith again.

Jurgen must have thought this battle won as he sneered at me and turned away to run at Ulrich, who was occupied with running down Heide. She looked terrified but managed to blow a  single clear note that sent pleasant shockwaves echoing through the courtyard. 

My body seized. Ulrich lowered his head and charged at her even faster. “Oh, no, you don’t.” 

Jurgen, who had not faltered, threw his ruined sword at Ulrich. The horse had no choice but to halt, the blade whizzing past him and shattering against a back wall. This gave Heide enough time to blow a second note, this one sharp and high. Ulrich reared up just as the ground where his front hooves had been exploded like the brick earlier. 

My body was my own again. I dropped my sword and ran forward, searching the ground. In one motion, I bent down and snatched up one of the swords discarded by the guards in my right hand and another in my left. As I ran toward Jurgen, I crossed the flat of the two blades together, preparing for the Wolfstanz. I needed to end this quickly.

Jurgen whirled around, another sword in his hand. It seemed as though he had the same plan I did. His eye regarded my crossed blades before smirking and pulling back his sword into the Ox guard; only this one was angled toward the ground. 

“Houndstooth!” 

I knew what Jurgen was about to do. However, it was too late to respond. Jurgen thrust downward and stabbed into my blades at the intersection. I tried to push back against him, but Jurgen proved too strong. Nor was the brittle steel a match for such a perfectly timed thrust. 

The metal cracked as it was forced down to the ground. My blades rang against the stone street as the cobblestone finished the job of breaking both swords in half. The useless tips skittered across the ground. 

I clenched my teeth and cursed myself. In my haste to end this fight, I had made a critical error. Jurgen was skilled with a sword; I acknowledged that, but he was not at my level. 

Stay focused, Anno, I told myself as I dropped the broken swords. Three usable swords were still scattered across the courtyard. Two would be ideal to finish Jurgen, but one was all I needed.

The closest sword was only about six feet away, followed by one two feet after that. I could not find the third one. Jurgen was bearing down upon me, sword raised. “Looks like this wolf has no bite! ‘Course, no one’s been able to withstand my Hundsturm style, not even the Sheriff. But I thought a wielder of the Wolfskreuz style would be made of tougher stuff!”

The Hundsturm style? Now, his familiarity with my style made sense. It was an imitation. Some of the wealthier families in Cross could afford to train in combat, and many tried to unpack the secrets of the royal sword. Jurgens must be one of them, as the attacks I’d seen from him mirrored mine in some capacity, even down to the name. No wonder Ulrich had been powerless against him in a duel. 

I glanced at the horse, who had Heide pressed against a wall. She took several swipes at him with her flute, none connected. A fighter she was not—at least, not a physical one. 

My eyes returned to Jurgen, “What’s your obsession with Ulrich anyway?” 

I needed time to think of what I could do next, and Jurgen seemed like one who enjoyed talking about himself even more than I did. I was correct as the man sneered, “He and I trained under Silver together. I was set to become the next Sheriff until the steed got in my way!” 

Ulrich snorted, “You mean Sliver saw you fer the opportunistic rat you really are.”

“I prefer to call myself strategically self-interested, “smirked Jurgen, “When I see my chance to gain power, I seize it, same as anyone. The same way you did when you stole the job I rightfully deserved.”

Good. His attention was now on Ulrich as I had hoped. This was my chance to be strategically self-interested myself as I crept as silently as possible toward the discarded sword. 

The horse rounded on Jurgen, ears pinned and eyes rolling, “I’ve seen how you’ve been runnin’ my city into the ground! Silver chose the Sheriff who would do his best to uphold the name of Justice, and you ain’t the one! Yer scum! Shoulda gotten rid of you long ago.”

I was getting closer, watching the two arguing with bated breath. Almost there. 

But then a beautiful song cut through the voices: Watch yourself, Jurgen dear. The prince is about to slip from your grasp.

I cursed myself again. I had forgotten Heide still possessed her flute. My improvised plan had backfired completely as her soundwaves bound my body. I was so close!

Jurgen rounded on me, sword raised to strike at my exposed head, when Ulrich’s tail whipped out behind him and smacked Heide in the face. The woman looked more shocked than hurt as the flute flew from her grasp and landed on the ground.

The waves dispersed as Heide lunged at the fallen instrument with a desperate cry of “Mother!” only to be stopped by one of Ulrich’s back legs connecting with her stomach. 

It did not look like a hard kick, but it was enough to wind the woman, who clutched at her sides and sank to her knees, gasping for air. 

I chose that moment to dive at the swords lying ready on the ground. The fingers of my right hand closed around the grip of one blade while I tucked in my chin and let my momentum carry me into a somersault that I controlled with my left arm. I was taken past the second sword, though I twisted my body as I sprang out of my tumble in a way that I was able to catch it before I landed in a crouch. 

I stood, both swords held triumphantly in my hands. I could not laude over my victory as I whirled around to find Jurgen rushing at me. He was also armed with two swords. I guess I knew where the third one was now. 

Jurgen’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, the swords intersecting right under his chin. Such a risky stance meant that something big was coming. 

I prepared myself as I crossed the flat side of the two blades. 

For a moment, the world became still. The only thing that mattered was the man running toward me as if in slow motion. Jurgen shifted his swords to point toward himself so the blades rested on his shoulders. The intersection pointed at his throat—the inverse of my Wolf Dance. 

I found myself eager to meet his blades. Wolf to hound. 

Jurgen lashed out with horizontal slashes, crying, “Hundsturm!”

“Wolfstanz!” I could not help but cry out the name of the sequence as I shifted my swords and met his blades with twin upward slashes. Jurgen’s swords were knocked toward the heavens, but he was not deterred as he shifted his momentum to strike down at me.

What happened next was a blur as we slashed at each other from every direction rapidly; each attack met with an equally quick block. Our clash of metal on metal was so fast that the sound of each blow blended into the next and rang out across the courtyard like a bell. 

With each strike that connected, shards of steel flew as our blades dulled and chipped. All four swords held as we continued our dance. I prayed that the integrity of my blades would remain as I put all my strength into this attack. 

I had to say, I was impressed by Jurgen’s prowess as a swordsman. His movements were deft and controlled without a wasted moment. But this fight was mine. Jurgen had played his hand by calling out the name of his attack. 

It was well known that the most potent attack in one’s repertoire was named after the style of swordplay or, instead, the family name. Jurgen, a user of the Hundsturm style, was now using his ultimate technique, while I, a user of the Wolfskreuz style, had yet to use mine. There was no imitation of it as it was a closely guarded secret. Even Silva was not privy to its true nature.

Jurgen had more than earned the right to see it. 

Parrying the next several blows from the man, I backed away and, when I saw an opening, dropped to one knee and tucked my blades at my side as if to sheathe them. My hands remained on both hilts as I watched Jurgen’s eyes pop in surprise, then he grinned triumphantly.

“It’s over, Wolfskreuz!”

“Yes, it is.”

Jurgen swung his blades down, aiming for my shoulders, but I was too quick.

Wolfskreuz: Doppelkreuz.

I sprang forward. By the time I stopped beside him, Jurgen was already falling forward. My right sword was already in its sheath, while the left one I let drop from my fingers. Both blades were broken.

I doubted Jurgen knew what I had done—of the Cross mark I had imprinted upon his body. It was engraved in his breastplate and even divided his face in half with an angry red welt.

Jurgen’s eyes rolled back in his skull, and he fell face down, landing with a satisfying thunk on the cobblestone, and did not move.

There was stunned silence as I became aware of Ulrich and Heide staring at me in awe. The horse had the woman pinned beneath a hoof while her flute lay several feet away from her reach.

I grinned at Ulrich and winked, running a finger through my hair as I walked up to the pale instrument and picked it up, much to Heide’s horror. “Give her back! Please!” she cried. 

As if I would! I ignored her and looked at Ulrich, “Well, that’s that, isn’t it?” 

The Sheriff’s ears twitched before he responded flatly, “Yep, that’s that.”

“Good.”

 I crumpled to my knees and fell backward. Though Dietrich had taken much of my exhaustion away, It hit me like a hammer.

 All I could see was the blue afternoon sky as I lay there, arms splayed, trying to catch my breath. 

Sweat ran down my face as my limbs became more numb with each passing second, though I kept a tight hold on Heide’s flute.

All I could focus on was the happiness that burned intensely in my bosom. 

We had done it. We had won!