The old and crowded hall of the restaurant didn't appear inviting to outsiders. Long wooden tables, worn and aged, showed signs of countless revelries, and the quality of the food remained questionable at best. Yet, a single reason lured local youth from respectable households to this establishment-the promise of the town's strongest alcohol. The owner claimed these beverages were imported from distant lands, and given the prices, it might not be a lie. Dan, however, doubted this assertion. Regardless, no other inn in town served anything of comparable quality, and that's what mattered.

          Dan, an aging warehouse manager, sat at a corner table with the cheapest drink on the menu, contemplating his disappointingly mundane life. How had he ended up like this, sipping cheap wine alone, with no prospects? As an orphan, his early years were spent in obscurity. He had harbored dreams of becoming a taxation officer, a noble ambition for one with a natural affinity for numbers, instilled in him during his formative years. However, he soon realized the harsh reality of a stratified society. Without a prominent name or family connections, his hopes of becoming an Imperial Official were mere fantasies.

          In hindsight, he pondered the choice between following in his teacher's footsteps in the priesthood or venturing into the private sector. He had opted for the latter, driven by ambition and an illusion of greater opportunity. It wasn't long before he realized the limits of his ascent without wealth or influential connections. And, regrettably, he had none. A brush with illness had wiped out his meager savings, leaving him with little more than a handful of coins, barely enough to afford the cheapest drink in the restaurant.

          Jealousy brewed within Dan as he observed the privileged youth surrounding him. They reveled without care, indulging in mead, red wine, and high-quality spirits, their laughter resonating with the ignorance of their good fortune.

          That was when a woman entered the room. No one except Dan appeared to notice her, but the warehouse manager watched with curiosity. The restaurant primarily catered to the locals, and outsiders rarely visited. The woman was clearly not a local; that much was immediately evident. She was dressed in military boots and a leather jacket paired with a long skirt that had a noticeable cut on one side. The fabric revealed trousers underneath, giving her the appearance of wearing a full army uniform. Dan concluded that she was a female soldier. It wasn't very common for women to be warriors, although it was not unheard of either. The Empire didn't prohibit women from practicing martial arts, although they often focused on Arts of swiftness, leaving Arts of strength to men. Nonetheless, women warriors could be just as deadly as men.

          She had short hair, with colorful braids hanging on both sides of her face, each of varying lengths. These braids were badges of honor, Dan recalled, with one braid symbolizing one achievement. Considering the number of braids, she was likely an officer and certainly a Martial artist. But what was she doing there? The nearest garrison was located in Trakos, days on a horseback from here. Soldiers were a rare sight on the streets of the city.

          Meanwhile, the woman found a chair in the corner and exchanged a few words with a waiter. The server gestured towards something in the middle of the room in response. Then, she simply sat there, fixated on who knows what. She didn't touch the jug on her table; she just observed. And Dan watched her.

          After a while, Dan began to grow bored. The woman remained seated, unmovable, and rather uninteresting. He was about to return to drowning his sorrows in cheap wine when, in one fluid motion, she got up and strode toward the center of the room. She seamlessly inserted herself into a group of young men. He almost overlooked the moment when she started to move, as everything happened in the blink of an eye.

          "You! You stepped on my foot!" the woman cried out angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at a bewildered young man. Dan found himself equally flabbergasted. What was she doing? "How dare you! You rude boar! Disrespecting me? Hah!"

          Suddenly, the central part of the room cleared, with people hurriedly making way for the unfolding drama. The woman continued to berate the confused young man. He stood there, blinking in confusion, unable to grasp that this was some kind of provocation. Dan realized it had to be a provocation. The woman's actions were too deliberate for it to be mere coincidence. She was a skilled actress. Perhaps, her intention was to pretend to be inebriated. Only Dan recognized that she hadn't consumed any alcohol. Her aim was likely to provoke a conflict with the man, who was genuinely drunk and unable to judge how unwise it was to challenge someone with so many braids. With numerous witnesses present, if she played her cards right, she could eliminate, hurt, even kill, her opponent legally.

          Dan felt his heart rate quicken in excitement. He had read about such incidents in which noble Lords hired professional duelists to challenge their adversaries to duels, discreetly eliminating them under the guise of honor. But why would someone employ such methods in their provincial city?

          "But I..." the man began to defend himself, "how could I have stepped on your foot when I was standing ten meters from you?"

          "Hah? So you're saying you didn't do it? Are you calling me a liar then?!" She countered seamlessly, her theatrical rage so convincing that Dan almost choked trying not to laugh too loudly.

          "But miss..." The man attempted to defend himself.

          "Trying to deny it, coward?! Hah! Not only a coward but also a liar!" She turned to the crowd. "People, you've witnessed this little coward disrespecting me, haven't you?"

          The mostly intoxicated audience had seen nothing but confirmations. "We have!" and "Coward!" echoed from the crowd. Either she had a hidden helper among the onlookers, or people were truly that stupid. Or perhaps just that drunk.

          Then the woman turned back to her victim and stated, "I'm challenging you to a duel."

          This provocation proved too much for the intoxicated man. He had a boyish face, untouched by the hardships of life, and hands more suited for holding an inkbrush than a sword. He likely received fencing lessons, a common privilege among gentry children. Yet, he had likely never been wronged before, and without such a previous experience, he was quick to taken the bait.

          "You're challenging me? I am challenging you!" He bellowed, indignant. "Here and now!"

          Dan felt a wave of uneasiness. He realized they were about to witness a brutal confrontation right in the middle of the inn. The man was clearly outmatched. Others would soon notice the same, as soon as they sobered up enough to think logically. Dan quickly rose from his seat and made his way towards the exit. It was better to leave before things spiraled out of control.

          "Do not involve me in your dishonorable ways, coward." Dan paused mid-step. The woman's voice carried a poisonous undertone. "There is no 'here and now' in the code of honor. We'll duel tomorrow at noon, in the public arena, with a judge present."

          Dan turned and watched the scene unfold once more. He suddenly felt a chilling sensation as he contemplated the cruelty and the grim rationale behind her proposal. She was right. By tomorrow, the young man would fully grasp the gravity of the situation, but it would be far too late to change anything. The poor fool had fallen into a trap. What terrible misdeed had he committed to deserve this? What sin?

          The woman's words had hit the bullseye. Whispers and murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd. Heads nodded in unison, and some shrewder individuals had already begun collecting bets. The young man remained oblivious to his dire fate, but the decision had been sealed. There was no way to withdraw now. Too many witness, too high stakes.

          "Alright, then!" The doomed man happily agreed to his own death sentence. "We'll fight with swords, following the standard rules!"

          A predatory smile bloomed on the female warrior's face. Her opponent offered little resistance. She probably didn't care much about the choice of weapon, but "the standard rules" was something she had anticipated and wanted to confirm. The term referred to dueling until one participant was incapacitated or an opponent made a dishonorable withdrawal. The latter option would lead to social ostracism, while the former could result in serious injury, disability, or even death. All according to the law.

          "Swords it is, the standard rules. We shall meet tomorrow at noon, coward. Farewell," she declared with a nod. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned on her heel and made her way to the exit.

          "Running away! Stupid wench!" the inebriated man called after her, but she didn't deign to respond. The click of the closing door resonated clearly in the ensuing silence.

          As soon as the woman disappeared, excited voices filled the room. A wave of questions fell on the remaining duelist. People were eager to learn about his plans for the upcoming fight and whether he intended to participate in the arena the next day.

          "Of course, I'll be there!" he proclaimed confidently, followed by an arrogant boasting of his swordsmanship skills. He talked about his past mentors and the high praise he had received upon graduation. "Drinks for everyone! On me!" he generously declared, intoxicated with alcohol and newfound fame. The room echoed with joyful praise and celebration.

          Dan hastily made his way to the door, feeling that it would be immoral to drink the wine of the man who was now essentially dead. As he exited the inn, he almost collided with the female warrior who was still standing in front of the establishment, her gaze locked on the door, a satisfied expression adorning her face.

          Startled, Dan jumped back as if he'd encountered a predator. "I didn't step on your foot, I'm sorry!" he babbled, realizing that he might be a bit tipsy. His words made little sense.

          The woman cocked her head slightly. "Oh, no need to apologize for something you didn't do, sir," she replied calmly. "I'm not in the habit of making false accusations." She nodded toward the inn's door. "You were there, weren't you?"

          Dan swallowed audibly. "Yes."

          "Don't worry, he did step on my foot. Really. You didn't. So, don't worry."

          Dan knew that wasn't the case, but he had no intention of making the same mistake as the man in the inn. "I believe you, miss. I'm sorry for the offense you've suffered," he mumbled instead.

          The woman chuckled. "Good. Do you think he'll come tomorrow?"

          Understanding her motive now, Dan replied, "Yes, he will." He added, "Good luck, miss."

          She smiled once again, a contented expression on her face. Dan took his chance and walked away, now knowing how he wanted to spend the rest of his meager savings. He had just enough to purchase a seat in the public arena.