Rumours.

An Iron Age Media Prompt - The Duel

A red sun sets over the estate of Alvaro de Bazan, the Marquis of Santa Cruz, of the House of Ventimiglia. Lush landscape gives home to a vast mansion, where lichen and vine crawl up the marble walls of a home where opulence is plentiful.

Standing opposite one another in the fading light. Alvaro and Juan Lopez Pacheco, the Duke of Escalona, who defends the House of Trastamara against accusations of Piracy and murder. Juan stands firm in his defence of House Trastamara, though if he were being honest, such accusations only stung because they were made so publicly and that each noble in their own time dabbled in such trifles.

Each man is tended to by their servants in preparation for the imminent duel. Juan is equipped by a single saber, sharp enough to behead a man with a single blow, and indeed that was his intent as reparations of slander. Alvaro discusses with his servant appropriate counter measures and finally settle on dual blades. But there is fear in Alvaro, for his rival Juan, who is adamant in the innocence of House Trastamara, has the bearing of a man who is in the right and will not be disposed of so easy.

With hushed voices Alvaro accepts the dual blades from his servant, and he and Juan square off. The duel has begun.

Alvaro thrusts his twin blades with the panache and skill of a true swordsman. Juan parries, casting aside Alvaro’s advance with no less skill. As if insulted at having his swordsmanship contested, Alvaro redoubles his advance, slashing mercilessly. With masterful footwork, Juan is able to avoid any attack that Alvaro is able to deal.

Both Servants watch nervously, sweat beading on each mans face. In the reprieve of Alvaro’s advances, Juan gives a nod to his servant, who runs out of the estate, hat in hand.

Alvaro smirks. “It seems that you have been abandoned.”

Juan plays dumb. “Is that so, then I say that the odds have become even.”

Alvaro continues his aggressiveness, attempting multiple slashes to Juans body and head, each time they are met with denial of Juan’s steel.

At the dismissal of his precise attacks, Alvaro’s eyes widen in shock and frustration. “I say to the thee, abandon hope.”

As if in answer to such hubris, Juan counters the last of a flurry of blows, then, with a skill that Alvaro has rarely seen, mounts his own offence. Juan thrusts with precision multiplying his attacks as his footwork advances him towards a flustered Alvaro, who’s clumsy feet shuffle awkwardly in response to the attacks.

But Juans offense isn’t long lived, as Alvaro finds his footing, the two men stall, mid strike, in stalemate. Fatigue has come over both men, and the two breathe heavy, almost thankful for the pause in action.

Juan, who has the conviction of a man on the side of justice looks Alvaro in the eye. “Recant your accusations, let it be known the innocence of the House of Trastamara.”

Juan’s words sting Alvaro, who face changes to that of pain, as if his foe had dealt him a crippling blow. “Admit, fiend, and maybe your death will come quick.”

In receipt of such a notion, Juan spits on the ground and with uncanny strength, pushes Alvaro, casting his blades to one side, ending the stalemate.

Each man is exhausted, yet still hold their sabers, pointed at their foe in anticipation.

Juan looks at the sun which has broken over the mountains, staining the remaining clouds, settling in dusk.

Alvaro takes this momentary lapse in concentration of the duel as weakness. A second wind wells within him, and he begins his attacks anew. With ferocity he begins a flurry of attacks, the first two strikes aimed at Juan’s body, the next at his head. Juan, who has no wind left in him, trips, falling on his back. Alvaro doesn’t waste any time or movement, instantly bounding on his fallen man.

Casting aside one of his blades, Alvaro leans on Juan with all his weight, razor sharp steel pointed directly at the desperate man’s chest. “Time to meet your end.”

Juan struggles to hold off his enemy, when, over the hills, his servant runs back to the estate, whistling, waving his arms, saying something neither opponent can hear.

This lapse in concentration was exactly what Alvaro needed. Juans grip on the piercing saber slips, and Alvaro is set free. Without hesitation Alvaro stabs Juan through his heart, putting an end to all hostilities, just as night approaches.

Juan’s servant stands horrified over the corpse of his master, as Alvaro gingerly gets to his feet, victorious. For a moment the servant is deadly afraid that he might share his master’s fate, but to his surprise, Alvaro asks.

“Why, why did you leave your master.”

Weeping, the servant wrings his sweat laden hat in his hand and stutters pathetically.

“I…I…It was the H…House of Alba, they falsely accused the House of T…Trastamara of p…piracy with the hopes of starting a war between the House of Ventimiglia and ours.”

Stunned, Alvaro drops his blade. “So, this was all for nothing… Bugger.”

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