Dread Mage

"Care for a friendly duel, Dread Mage?" Inure proposed.

"A duel? I'm neither knight nor swordsman, Inure. You're well aware of that."

Inure's mouth twisted into a sly grin. "Come now, Dread Mage; don't downplay your abilities. It's common knowledge that you're adept in both the mystical and the mundane. And I, too, am reputed to be a formidable swordsman. Wouldn't such a challenge pique the interest of even the Dread Mage?"

Sonder could sense the underlying challenge in Inure's words, and she wondered what he hoped to gain from this confrontation. Pride, or maybe hatred?

Vell's gaze shifted to Sonder, "What do you think, Sonder?" he asked, his voice smooth and measured. "Shall I indulge Inure's request or should I simply laugh it off?"

"I..." she started, mulling it over.

There was no possibility of them fatally wounding each other. Perhaps not even inflicting any wounds. So, why not?

Inure could vent some of his pent-up frustration against the mage, and Vell could find some amusement in dueling with Inure.

"I guess it would be alright," she said.

Vell smiled, and he nodded in agreement. "Very well. Let's see how the 'Dread Mage' fares against your sword, Inure."

Without a moment's hesitation, Inure tossed a sword to Vell.

He drew his own blade, the metal gleaming in the dimming light. "Then let us begin, Dread Mage. Show me what you're truly capable of."

"As you wish."

The two men began to circle each other, their movements calculated and deliberate.

Inure made the first move, his sword cutting through the air expertly and with trained precision.

Sonder knew that Vell could have retaliated and even noticed his wrist flick to parry the attack, but he chose not to.

Naturally, Inure noticed this too and merely tapped his sword against Vell's shoulder instead of attempting to slice him in two.

"Oh, you've bested me!" Vell feigned distress.

Inure's eyebrows knitted together, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the Dread Mage's reaction. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

Vell laughed, spinning the sword in his hand with a grace that contradicted his earlier denial of being a swordsman. "I've been defeated, haven't I? In a true battle, I wouldn’t be standing now."

Sonder felt a sense of unease wash over her.

"This is a farce. I insist you take this seriously," Inure pressed, his grip on his sword tightening.

Vell's face softened, and he placed a hand on Inure's shoulder. "My friend, I have no interest in a clash of steel. We both know it would only drive a wedge between us, which is the last thing I want."

With that, he started to walk away.

Inure was seething with anger.

He resented the way this man was pretending they were friends and how he was strolling the streets as if he were just another townsfolk. He was a villain, nothing more.

In a fit of rage, he raised his sword and struck the back of the Dread Mage with all his strength.

The resounding clang of steel against steel echoed as Vell swiftly swung the sword over his back in a remarkable display of speed and strength to shield himself.

“Now, now. Don’t lose your head.”