[Sinterbourne]

Damion Sinterbourne peered over the sharp tip of his rapier at his opponent. Sweat rolled

off of his brow into his left eye; Damion blinked it away and maintained his battle-face.

The spacious room was bare except for a small wooden bench along the left wall. Light beamed in through several large windows which stood open to allow fresh air in.

Fletcher stood not eight feet away, his lithe body glistening with sweat. The man was crouched in a tight stance, rapier extended, waiting for Damion to make a move. He was naked from the waist up, of course. Fletcher simply refused to ruin a perfectly good shirt.

Both men were bleeding; each had about a half-dozen shallow cuts, mostly concentrated along the arms and chest. Healing potions would take care of those wounds later on.

Fletcher stared back at Damion, his face was a blank mask of sharp concentration. Damion wore a slight smile... he was winning.

Damion attacked. He leaned his bulk into a forward lunge, but Fletcher skillfully danced away from it and struck at Damion's sword-arm. He opened another small gash on Damion's forearm, but Damion took the wound in stride. He leapt, spun and made a wicked slash that missed Fletcher's neck by mere inches.

"Good one, sir." said Fletcher as the men squared off against each other again. "A bit unorthodox..."

"That's the point." Damion launched another attack... a series of strikes which Fletcher easily parried.

"See where that got me?" continued Damion. "Nowhere. When you're facing someone whose skill is the equal of your own, you've got to venture into the unorthodox... the unexpected."

"I see..." Fletcher attacked. Damion parried, and the two faced each other again. "Speaking of unexpected..."

"Yes?"

"Ivar is leaving."

"Oh really?" Damion started to make another lunge, but unexpectedly went low to strike at Fletcher's legs. Fletcher jumped and Damion's rapier passed harmlessly under his feet.

"It appears he's being driven off by our competition."

"What competition?"

Fletcher lunged, Damion parried and made a counterstroke.

"New players in town." Fletcher blocked the strike and made a lunge of his own.

"Who?" Damion jumped to the side and swatted at Fletcher's rapier, attempting to disarm him.

"Eric Hood." Metal slid against metal as Fletcher reversed the tactic, nearly disarming Damion.

"Never heard of him." Damion jumped back, placing several feet between himself and Fletcher.

"He's just the front-man. I don't know who's behind him."

"Perhaps no one." said Damion, "Maybe he's just some punk."

"I doubt it, sir." Fletcher made a series of attacks, all were blocked or parried by Damion.

"Oh?"

"He's hit too many places. Several of our merchants have contacted me. Someone's trying

to move in."

"Oh well.... won't be the first time." Damion made three heavy strikes, using his stronger muscles to his advantage in an attempt to break through Fletcher's blocks. The attempts failed. "It's a shame about Ivar, though. That sloppy junk-dealer was a cash cow. I suppose we'll have to replace him. Maybe use

this as an opportunity to expand."

"Expand, sir? Should we expand when we are already under attack?"

"Certainly, Fletcher." Damion repeated his tactic, and still failed to break Fletcher's skillful blocks and parries. "What would you have us do... circle the caravan and hide under our cots? No! We move boldly

forward!"

"Whatever you say, sir."

"Unorthodox, Fletcher. The Unexpected!" Damion made another attack, but instead of carrying through, he lowered his sword, danced in close and smacked Fletcher lightly across the right cheek with the back of his hand. Then he jumped back and squared off against his opponent. "See?"


"I suppose."

"Now, who haven't we hit yet? Who's new in town?"

"The PanDemonica." said Eric.

"Leave them alone. Too much of an enigma. Too many secrets hidden in that place. Who else?"

Damion and Fletcher began to circle each other... looking for opportunities....

"New jeweler in town... 'December's Jewels', or something. Just opened recently."

"Hit 'em. Who else?"

"Inbreedie Brewery."

"What? We haven't he the Brewery yet?"

"No, sir."

"Well, why the hell not?!?"

"Well, I..." Fletcher paused, and then got a puzzled look on his face. "I really don't know, sir. I always assumed there was a reason... but now that I think about it, I don't think there ever really was one. Just their luck, I suppose."

"Hit 'em. Hard. Sottie Briatinebridee's luck just ran out."

"Yes, sir..." Fletcher took that moment to attack. He rushed in fast and furious with jabs and slashes that Damion was hard-pressed to keep up with. Damion backed away, blocking and parrying as many strikes as he could until Fletcher broke off the attack.

Damion wiped his brow as the men squared off again.

"Rest," said Damion. Both men lowered their weapons for a moment to catch their breaths.

"Inbreedie should put some money in our coffers, eh Fletcher?"

Fletcher nodded silently.

"Not that we need it. The arena has them filled to overflowing, almost."

Fletcher frowned slightly.

"Your face betrays you, Fletcher. You don't like this arena business, eh?"

"Not really, sir."

"Oh, don't tell me you have a heart for dumb animals and street trash?"

"On the contrary, sir. In fact, I don't make any distinction between the two. Both are... unsanitary."

"Well... what is it, then?"

"I think you're spreading yourself too thin, sir... Doing too much."

"Nonsense. I'm performing a public service... helping to solve Montfort's homeless problem."

Fletcher's face cracked into a smile.

"Besides there's too much money in it. I'd give up fleecing the merchants before I'd give up the arena. Let's start again..."

The men squared off, raised their weapons, and continued to converse as they began to circle each other.

"But with the arena there are too many factors that are beyond your control," said Fletcher "Vendredi. Aeragar. The animals."

"Who cares? The money's all that matters... and I can control THAT well enough. That reminds me... How is our alchemist friend downstairs?"

"Still locked up, if that's what you mean."

"And the potion?"

"Enough for now. We're running low on Foosh; we'll need to get more after the next...event."

"I'll meet with Aeragar. What about the animals?"

"Running short on them, too."

Damion attacked, Fletcher parried and then gave Damion a nasty scratch on his upper arm.

"What do we have left?"

"The gorilla and the snake-thing... whatever it is."

"That's IT?"

"Yes sir."

"What about the lions?"

"Killed last week, sir. Remember?"

Damion sighed.

"It'll be a poor show then."

"I don't know sir... If we have the men fight without weapons again..." Fletcher attacked once more, but this time Damion defended himself successfully.

"Too bad we can't give the ANIMALS weapons." said Damion.

"There's a thought."

"I was kidding, Fletcher."

"Unorthodox, sir. Unexpected."

"Can it be done?"

"I don't know. The only other alternative for a fair fight is to cut back on the potion."

"I don't care about fair."

"But the patrons want to see crazed maniacs fighting wild animals. Can't have crazed maniacs without a full dose of the potion."

"Indeed. You think the weapons thing can be done?"

"I'll look into it."

"Do so. After this fight we'll have a fresh crop of beasts. Vendredi's coming to town in two days. I want you to meet with him. He says he has something special for us."

The men exchanged blows for several seconds, with neither of them making contact with the other.

"How many men do we have, Fletcher?"

"Just three for tomorrow night."

"The flow of contestants is on the decline I see."

"We've already killed off the more adventurous souls among the homeless. Nothing but slackers and cowards left. They choose not to participate."

"I see. We'll have to come up with another way to procure combatants... something that doesn't rely on their sense of adventure... or greed."

"Why give them a choice in the matter at all?"

"My thoughts exactly, Fletcher. My thoughts exactly."

Without warning, Fletcher launched a viscous attack at Damion. Damion attempted to parry, but

Fletcher suddenly turned to the side and made a hard kick to Damion's shin. At the same time, he whipped his rapier around and sent Damion's weapon flying into the air. As the sword clattered on the floor, Fletcher swept Damion's legs out from under him and the large man went down. Damion found himself lying prone of the floor with Fletcher's sword pressed against his throat. He frowned up at his assistant.

"I though you were supposed to let me win this one, Fletcher?"

"But you were expecting that, sir. Just thought I'd be a little unorthodox."

[To Be Continued]