Farelen slowly opened the door to find four men standing there. They were wearing cloaks to hide their identities, but none in the room were alert by their sudden appearance.

  The reason was that two of these were Viyetral and Kraft. They also had few bags in hand. The former signalled something, and the other two men left after a quick nod.

  After letting their two companions in, Farelen closed the door again.

  Viyetral did not waste any time, and begin explaining what he had found:

  “We have secured food, and a few items necessary for the next few days. As for the information, I was able to talk to a few people in the back-alleys. They led me to their leader, an outlaw, who was the student of Neilzen, Celeborn." Viyetral sat down as he had been out all-night without any sleep, or even break. He then continued:

  "Neilzen had ordered Celeborn to escape when his time of arrest came. His master was executed before his eyes, so naturally he wants revenge.”

  “What did this Celeborn fellow tell you? Anything that may benefit us?” Farelen asked.

  “Yes, I was able to get the location of the prison where many of our friends are held. It is inside the central building. There are cells in the basement of it, so if we can make our way there then we might be able to free them. The outlaw leader even gave me a map of the entire building.”

  “What about the defenses?” Harwin asked.

  “The entire building is well-guarded. The council does not trust anyone associated with the sword-saint, so there is no-one from our generation there except, of-course, the two craven captains. Now, there is something even more interesting as well..."

  Viyetral grinned as if a predator had found its prey:

  "A small yet resilient group is present in the town. They are not directly associated with the student of Neilzen, but they were members of the old council. These old council-folk were more conservative, they were outcasted as their loyalty lied with the sword-saint. They remain hidden in different parts of the town, but their main headquarters lies outside it. If we can convince them to join our cause, we can install a council of our own that will be loyal to our cause.”

  “All of these things require great man power. Even if we were to trust these men, that you have mentioned, we can not be sure of their competence.” Farelen added.

  “That is why we must first secure our old comrades rotting away in the prison. With five more captains, we can turn this whole town upside down.” Viyeteral argued.

  “That is a perilous task. The men guarding the council building are inexperienced in battle, but their total numbers remain dubious at best.” Harwin stated.

  “We need a distraction, and I have got just the idea for that as well, but it will require extreme caution and determination. Do I have your full attention?”

  Viyetral annouced, as to draw the attention of everyone in the room to himself especially Landel who was more concerned with constantly checking outside.

  Viyetral came out with the perfect plan, or at-least his theory was full-proof. The success of it would only be determined once it was executed.

  All of them rested for sometime, and then changed into battle gear. They still wore cloaks to conceal their weapons and armor.

  They then took some quick breakfast from the inn before heading to the central building.

  As they were on their way, a strange man approached their group which made everyone except Viyetral anxious. He handed the man a small letter without stopping, and just kept on walking as if there was no exchange between them to begin with.

  No one questioned this strange act as they were instructed by Viyetral to just observe, and not question as it could foil his planning.

  They soon reached the central building. They were not stopped by anyone as the guards had already recognized their ranks and authorities yesterday.

  The group made their way to the council hall without any invite or prior announcement. The gate-keepers tried to stop them, but soon were ordered, from the inside, to let these men pass.

  “Captain Viyetral and Farelen, we have been waiting for you. It would have been most unfortunate if the loyal men of the sword-saint did not show up to face the challenge.” The old man, Quitel, of the council mocked.

  “We do not cower behind guarded doors old man. Let us not waste time in idle banter, and begin the duel immediately.” Farelen replied.

  “Certainly, but before that please meet the challenger. He is the descendant of the legendary hero of this town. He goes-by the name Arlone, but I am sure Thrandul would have already told you all about him.” The old-man replied.

  A man not younger than Landel stepped forward. He had short golden-blonde hair. He was not as handsome as Landel, and his features were more of a half-elf than a full blooded one. The way he carried himself reeked of arrogance.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Thrandol told us nothing except the youngling’s name. We are warriors, and do not like to play underhandedly.” Viyetral added

  “Fine. Now, Let us move to a place more appropriate for the challenge.” Quintel stood up.

  “And where would that be?” Viyetral asked.

  “Not very far. There is a colosseum near this building. We can not afford to damage this beautiful place with barbaric fighting. I am sure that you agree.” The old man replied with a sarcastic tone.

  Viyetral agreed. All of the council-men, and Harwin's party made their way to the colosseum. It was a huge structure — similar to the ones that could have been found in the history of Harwin's older world, though there were some disparities. It was a surprise for Harwin.

  They found a massive crowd gathered there — waiting for the duel. It was just as Viyetral had expected.

  There were several spectating towers around the colosseum. This was from where the council-men, or men of high standing usually spectated the fights. The council-men occupied one tower whilst Harwin's party occupied the one on the opposite end.

  Landel, of-course, headed down to the arena. He was offered a weapon, but he preferred his own sword. There was a small alley leading upto the the arena itself.

  Soon, when both the fighters were ready, and the council-men signaled, they traversed through it — coming face to face.

  A person other than Arlone was standing in the middle of it all. He was an announcer, of-course.

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE GATHER HERE TO WITNESS THE FIGHT BETWEEN THE CHAMPION ARLONE AGAINST A WARRIOR FROM THE NORTHERN GREAT-FOREST. HIS NAME IS LANDEL. WE CAN ONLY PRAY THAT THE POOR LAD WILL LIVE THROUGH THIS CHALLENGE AGAINST THE CHAMPION OF THIS TOWN! LET US NOT WASTE ANY MORE TIME, AND BEGIN THE BATTLE WITH THE BLESSING OF THE GREAT COUNCIL-MEN!”

  The announcer looked at the tower where the old man of the council resided. After a small signal, the announcer continued:

  “CHALLENGERS READY YOURSELF…”

  He waited for a few seconds to give them time for preparation:

  “AND LET THE FIGHT BEGIN.” The announcer ran back to one of the many alley ways after officially beginning the fight.

  Arlone’s choice of weapon was a mace and a shield. It was a strange combination for an elf, but it was more common in this part of the continent especially since this place was mostly populated by humans before so there were still some of their culture and traditions intact.

  Arlone, infact, had not even learned the elfin style of combat at all. He had studied a blend of dwarven, and human style of fighting which was more focused on aggressive attacks.

  Landel just stood there with his sword drawn out, playing defensive. Arlone mocked:

  “Scared already. Is that how the so called sword-saint has trained you to be — a coward?”

  Landel did not speak or react. He was not a novice soldier to attack on petty mocking. He knew full well of how to control his emotions.

  Witnessing that his opponent maintained his defensive stance, Arlone made the first move.

  He lunged forward with his shield. It almost covered his entire body, but was also light enough that he could carry it with one hand — an artifact.

  He tried to push down his opponent, but to his surprise, Landel just leaped high enough to go over his him entirely — safely landing to the other side.

  Arlone quickly turned around only to find out that a sword was pointed directly at his face, but Landel did not finish the fight just yet.

  Arlone quickly took back a few steps. He now undersood that the person infront of him was unlike anyother he had dueled against before.

  Arlone lunged forward again, but this time attacking with his mace. He also blocked any incoming attacks with his mighty shield.

  After few strikes, it seemed like his push was working. Landel was being pushed back to the edge of the arena. Arlone smirked at this sight—

  Landel, once cornered, used the wall as a base to leap even higher than before. He was now almost near the middle of the arena. It was a scene that baffled his opponent.

  Landel even smirked back to provoke his opponent.

  Arlone was now furious. He felt his opponent was toying with him, but he still had a trick up his sleeve.

  He threw away his shield, which earned him a gasp from the audience as if they knew what was coming.

  Arlone took out a dagger, and then charged forward once again. His attacks were now much more swift and precise.

  Instead of letting Landel dodge as usual, he was able to force the prodigy to deflect. He was better than ever, and with each strike, his slashes became faster and faster.

  The dagger, itself, was strange. The weapon had a strange liquid oozing off its edge. Landel was barely able to see it, and concluded that it was poisionous. A single graze could have ended the match all-together.

  Landel kept on deflecting with little to no room for counter. His opponent was not getting tired at all. Landel did try to leap over him twice, but failed as Arlone easily outmaneuvered him.

  It was the first time Landel fought with someone who was almost as fast as himself or was this really the case?

  The council-men appeared to be quite pleased with performance of their chosen warrior, but most importantly they had let their guards down. They were carelessly enjoying drinks — intoxicated, they had no idea what was happening in their surroundings.

  Harwin's party appeared to be abit worried, but there was nothing on the arena that was troubling their minds and hearts, rather the source lied somewhere else entirely.

  With each passing second, Landel was being pushed around. After each strike, it felt like he would be wounded at the next, but he was able to escape narrowly each-time, which was out of ordinary.

  Arlone had never been stalled for so long after wielding his trusty dagger. Even if his opponent were the best of the fighters, he was at-least able to graze them , yet this man standing before him not only escaped each strike, but also appeared to be holding back — delaying the fight on purpose. Atleast, that is what Arlone thought amist the continous strikes.

  Eventually sensing that there was no progress, Arlone finally decided to step back again. He created distance between himself, and his opponent to play out his next move.

  This time, he took out a potion from his waist-belt. It had a dark-lime colour, and an ominous look to it. Arlone drank it without even the slightest of hesitation.

  Landel was aware that something was coming so he prepared himself accordingly, yet it was nothing the young prodigy could have even imagined.

  Arlone, who stood at-least a few yards away from him, vanished from sight, and came face to face with Landel in the blink of an eye.

  The prodigy just stood there — wide-eyed.

  This speed, this control and this swiftness was out of the world. Landel had only seen the sword-saint achieve this level, but his opponent was now showing the same feat as the legendary warrior himself.

  In a split-second, Arlone threw his opponent away with a roundhouse-kick which packed enough force to thrown Landel against the wall of the colosseum — almost breaking it in the process.

  Harwin's party looked with anxious looks. Was this the end of the young prodigy?