Valiki sat inside his command quarters with his second in rank, Ezran. His second looked upon him, concern forming in his face, and crows feet embedding deep at the corners of his eyes.

  “Sire?” he asked.

  “Sorry,” said Valiki, snapping out of his thousand yard gaze. “I was deep in thought.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this duel?”

  “It will be good for the troops to see the Dancing Devil sword form in action.”

  “They have seen you in action, sir. Many times. They all know of your caliber.”

  “And what of two Devils crossing blades? Have they seen that?”

  “Regardless, sire: the boy you are to fight is… well a boy. No one really expects any outcome other than your victory.”

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “Is he someone of note?”

  “I don’t know. We will see. He was in the fighting pits. I heard that much. He broke out. That takes skill and courage, and he had help.”

  “Help? How is that anything of note?”

  “Means he was part of something, Ezran. And the way they spoke of it, he was at the forefront of that effort.”

  “Many leaders pop up from the most bizarre places, but I hardly think that boy is one. Not to mention, his skills in that department hardly proves he could beat you. Why even bother?”

  “That boy spoke of our Path with more conviction than I have ever seen.”

  “The naivety and arrogance of youth.”

  “And something that is stomped out soon after youth.”

  “Rightfully so. The world is not suited for such idealism. We have both seen that.”

  “We have both seen to that, Ezran. Never blur your actions with your motives.”

  “Fair enough: but our actions are the actions of millions across the world. This boy will die to someone else’s hands if not yours. It is inevitable.”

  “He seems to believe otherwise.”

  “As I said, sir. Youths can be-”

  “Enough of youth. You pin more things on the youth, and eventually the youth will grow old and cynical as we.”

  “That is the flow of life,” said Ezra, a hint of satire in his voice.

  “That is, yes, but it’s only so due to our choices. He has made his. I have made mine.”

  “So you think it changes anything? You said don’t blur actions. You are going to defeat that boy.”

  “And in doing so, he is going to suffer the wrath of Lord Torvic.”

  “The wrath meant for thousands upon one young soul.”

  “We call our punishment, purification,” said Valiki wryly.

  “Nomenclature can be deceiving. The intent is clear.”

  “Perhaps. His intent is also clear. He means to save lives.”

  “I said it twice already, but it is his arrogance, if not his age. His personality. And it will be stomped out before the end.”

  “But what if it wasn’t?”

  “Real life is hardly like that, sir. You think you’d be alive if you defied Lord Torvic due to your ideals.”

  Valiki could tell his second was mocking his subservience. The Devil’s Path in the face of Lord Torvic was like an ant standing up to a looming boot. What was his arrogance, and stubbornness in the face of the likes of Lord Torvic. Yet that is what set Devils apart, no? The human spirit and will to defy the wrath of gods and demons alike. To shatter the shackles that bound them as a species of free folk. To do it to the last dying breath.

  Yet no one did, and they were all humans.

  “Every copper counts,” said Valiki. “That is what he’d said.”

  “If so, beggars would be kings,” laughed Ezran. “And kings would be gods.”

  “And kings step on beggars just as well gods step on kings. How does it matter?”

  “Beggars don’t get many coppers, you know.”

  “Humor me on this. What if the boy’s stubbornness was not stomped out? What if he lived today, and went off to never abandon the Devil’s Path.”

  “Unlikely, but sure, sire. I believe one day, he will find his end, and that’s that.”

  “So he will die a Devil.”

  “You either die on the Path or you stray off it.”

  “Then I am not a Devil.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Then you may disregard his Devil’s Honor, and this duel entirely.”

  “Come on Ezran, once you stray off the Path, you can always find your way back.”

  “You’re speaking like those White Jewel zealots now.”

  “It’s called redemption. In fact, as far as I know, the White Jewels hate the Devils and have killed many of them in history.”

  “Why name yourself a Devil then? Aren’t they supposed to be evil?”

  “I believe the White Jewels gave them that name long ago. But history lessons later, Ezran. For now, just keep humoring me.”

  “Fine. As I said, the boy will meet his end if he ventures down this Path. Or he could be wise and stray off it and live a little longer.”

  “He touched me with his words. Reminded me of a past where I stuck to the Path. Where children dying meant action on my part to save them.”

  “These heroic tendencies vanish by the age of twenty-five. Or you die before them. That is my experience. As it seems it is yours.”

  “Yes, but what if you keep living.”

  “I really dislike the circular nature of this.”

  “He’s connected with me. His words. His defiance. I am over sixty years of age, and that Vrodian, Vorza, is probably quadruple that.”

  “And?”

  “If one sticks to the Path, he may invite others. He may die, but more might venture on that Path. If they die, they shall have invited more. The Devils grow, and they die, like any other faction. This one happens to strike at the root of all evil, and that is why the powers that be have us stray from it. Fear. And spite.”

  A deep silence loomed in the room. Valiki felt like he’d felt the cold of clouds shrouding the sun.

  “General Valiki,” said Ezra, donning a professional tone now. “I would advise never to repeat these words again. It borders on treason to us, but to other soldiers under the upper command of Lord Torvic… It is heresy.”

  Valiki shut his eyes, and sighed. “Of course. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Do not doubt your lord. Stomp this boy. Crush him and his Devilish spirit. Then purify him. He will learn the reality of life in his divine death. I hope you will too and stray off this fanciful Path.”

  Valiki felt the burden of leadership replaced by the burden of an order. From his second, no less. His position was a meritorious position, forged of loyalty and results. The second he replaced his loyalty with his Path’s, his own men would demote him. Or worse…

  Even this duel was pushing his privileges.

  Valiki wondered if after the duel, he would be demoted. He wondered if his future as a general was worth the lives of the enemy village resisting his conquest. Why could they not yield?

  The same reason that boy won’t. Oh, if Valiki only had a spine to stand up like them. Some of the villages were also old. Some of them had been jaded, by different paths. The stakes were the same. No, it was not cynicism that disallowed men and women to abandon their chosen Paths. It was cowardice. Why else could the greatest general and blade master in one of the strongest nations not choose his own path. In some ways, the stupid boy and his ideals showed more will and courage that he ever had.

  In some ways, that boy was freer than Valiki could ever be.

  Valiki stood up and nodded to Ezra. “I understand what I must do, Ezra. Thank you for hearing me out.”

  Ezra smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “Of course, sire.”

  Kasar and Vorza stood before each other, sabers drawn, stanced formed, and eyes peeled upon each other. They circled, to warm themselves up.

  “He is experienced,” said Vorza. “Likely one of the best blade masters in the world. Better than me.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Vorza lunged forward, and the two fell into the second phase of their warm up: a light series of strokes, back and forth to loosen up their strikes and stances. After the initial burst of motion, they parted.

  “He is much older than you. He is a general. That armor isn’t for show: he fights with his men. They respect him.”

  Kasar nodded, launching his own series of blows, practicing offense.

  When they parted, beads of sweat began to run down Kasar’s brow. The heat had begun to swelter today, and the land had turned into a marshy mess of jungle hacked away for the farmlands of the village. They had moved elsewhere to maintain a sense of privacy.

  Kasar waited for his mentor to continue.

  Thoughts seemed to storm in the old Devil’s face. Lines formed on his cheeks. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in this position. Do you understand flaying? Do you understand that this is more serious than even the pits?”

  Kasar gulped, and decided to answer on the side of honesty. “I’m terrified.”

  “Good, so you understand what you stand to suffer.”

  “I would choose to say what I did all over again, if I was given the chance,” snapped Kasar suddenly. His voice cracked on the last word. His eyes dropped low at his mentor’s feet.

  “Eyes up!” roared Vorza, rushing forward, faster than a tidal wave, saber whistling downward.

  Kasar heard the footsteps, he felt the burst of motion, the sound of steel slicing through the sweltering air. Devils honed all their senses, and the best of their guild could even fight blind. Kasar always prided his own senses far more than his swordplay. They came into use as his poised feet sent his body to the side to avoid the blade by a hair’s breadth. This difference from being unscathed rather than scarred was intentional. The energy from his dodge allowed his sword to swipe up, perfectly placed to strike at Vorza’s waist.

  He knew where his mentor would land before he did. Senses other than hearing were in play here. Relative positioning, smell, and that shady sixth sense; awareness of free moving bodies in relation to your own. They all allowed him to execute what would be a killing blow upon his mentor.

  He was deceived.

  Vorza pivoted, swirled, throwing Kasar’s balance off, his sense off, his awareness off, and the blade arced around to nearly lop off Kasar’s neck.

  Kasar tucked into a roll, but knew if this was a real fight, Vorza would have hounded him down to death.

  Kasar and Vorza parted steels and glared.

  “Eyes up,” growled Vorza. “Your senses worked for folk that have used their eyes all their lives. Now you face one who could end up fighting blind and still win. You must play to your strengths. To your youth. Your size. You are shorter. Use that! Be where he cannot generate power.”

  Kasar’s heart thundered as the advice ebbed into his mind. Slowly he unpacked the spar in his mind. What had gone wrong. What he could have done better.

  “You would choose this path again, I know,” said Vorza. “You will not live long.” He sighed and looked away. “Lad, I… I don’t want to see you die.”

  Kasar gulped, his own gullet forming a large lump. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to. His cheeks ached now from the welling sorrow.

  The two grabbed each other and pulled into an embrace.

  “You stupid, boy,” growled Vorza. “You stupid, brave, stubborn boy.”

  “It’s the right thing. The villagers live either way.”

  Vorza suddenly felt the urge to rush in and kill them himself. He knew in his heart suddenly, if Kasar lost, and they tied him to the post, he would draw his blade and kill Valiki. He would kill him, and anyone in his way to save the boy. He wouldn’t win that fight, but if Kasar could put his life on the line for strangers, Vorza could die fighting some Valks for his boy.

  “Win for me, lad. Win for me.” So I don’t go and do something crazy like you.