Dustin slowed as he approached the pile of rubble where the magical artifact had fallen, and hence where Nathan stood and conversed with two would-be attackers. The area couldn't be more difficult to navigate, littered with massive shards of stone from the former wall, many of which could easily kill a man if he fell wrong. A few of the rock segments had even settled precariously atop one another, poised to fall at any moment and crush any hapless soul beneath.

So after carefully maneuvering his way through much of the maze of rubble, Dustin concealed himself behind a particularly jagged spire of stone to listen in on Nathan's conversation with the two figures, occasionally peeking out as well to get a glimpse of them. The sorcerer in the burgundy cloak had reddish-brown hair descending almost to his shoulders, with a subtle beard to match, and a narrow, angular face befitting a man of villainy. Accurately so, if the rebels' many stories were to be believed.

The sorcerer's partner stood significantly shorter, and sported a robust figure as opposed to the other's longer form. His hair was far longer, black in color. In every way, his appearance fit the description of a typical member of the Marcocian ethnicity—tanned skin, dark hair, and a certain strong facial structure. One exception to the stereotype popped out, however. The man sported brilliant blue eyes like someone from much farther north.

"The years have treated you well, Sir Korynn." the sorcerer said in a silky tone, "You have aged with distinction."

Nathan frowned. "How would you know that? Have I ever known you?"

"Of course you have! I am Tanuk, former student of the great Andre Feliz! You and I battled together in youth!"

"Oh, you're that boy. I must say the years have treated you well too."

Tanuk gracefully bowed. "Exceptional flattery, coming from such a man as yourself. And do you know who stands beside me now?"

"Who?"

"My very own student, Sir Korynn! His name is Paulo Feliz."

Dustin found himself as intrigued as Nathan appeared to be. Monterayne had long known that the legendary Lord Andre Feliz had begotten a son, and King Manfred had attempted everything in his power to find the child and show him compassion. Allegedly, Andre's dying words had been for there to be no feud between the Felizes and Ricklands, and that Andre's son should be given the opportunity to live the life in Monterayne he had left behind. But he hadn't succeeded, and given Tanuk had found him first, it appeared the lines had already been drawn.

"No relation, I assume." Nathan said in a jesting tone, taking Dustin back to the matter at hand.

"Oh no, Sir Korynn, he is in every way a son of his father, poised to partake of similar glory and possibly higher esteem."

"Thanks to your masterful teaching, no doubt."

"I admit I play no small part in his successes, but—" Tanuk paused. "We are getting off topic. I know very well you stand there, keeping me from that which is rightfully mine."

Nathan quirked a brow. "And what might that be?"

"The olive branch of Dove, god of war!"

"Are Innutuk's countless gods not enough for you? Perhaps the god of elegance could give you a smokin' haircut."

"Alconte was once home to powerful gods, Sir Korynn. I would be foolish to deprive myself of their aid."

"Tell me this, then." Nathan scratched his beard thoughtfully. "If Alconte's gods are so powerful, then why did the Republic fall?"

"To that, I have a ready answer. Too many of the people forsook the old gods, much to their shame. The populace became diluted, religiously speaking, and since so many had turned their backs on the gods, so also did the gods turn away from them. Now they call for new followers; faithful souls such as mine may become beloved by deities."

"These gods sound terribly desperate."

"On the contrary!" Tanuk snapped, clearly pricked, "They seek devotees, not for the sake of some pitiable desperation on their own part, but that they may bless and empower mankind as in the days of old."

"I see. I can't help but wonder what Innutuk's gods have to say about all this."

"Innutuk's gods are fickle, useful only in times of war and bloodshed. When the land has peace, the gods of the north grow hungry; they feast on their own followers that they may survive the cold of winter. Alconte's gods are not so."

Nathan hummed in thought as he nodded his head. His grip tightened on the pommel of his sheathed sword. "Much as I understand your goals, I can't allow you to achieve them. The power you seek will only spread chaos and destruction. Who knows? You yourself might perish in the process."

"I find that doubtful." Tanuk nodded at Paulo, and in a coordinated movement, both unsheathed their swords. "Step away from the artifact, Sir Korynn."

Nathan slid his own blade from its scabbard. "No."

"Then I will force your hand!"

Tanuk and Paulo lunged to attack Nathan together, but Dustin would have none of it. With a war cry, he erupted from his hiding place, sword poised to eat into the aggressors' flesh. His shout had disrupted Tanuk and Paulo's focus, however, bringing their own charge to a halt. Nathan took advantage of their momentary pause, dashing forward to trip Paulo and cross blades with Tanuk.

Nathan attacked Tanuk with such ferocity that the sorcerer was forced to take several backward steps to gain good footing. Meanwhile, Dustin reached Paulo just as he had begun to rise from the ground. Dustin planted himself between Paulo and Nathan, in order to prevent the tanned youth from backstabbing his teacher.

Paulo flew into action without warning, throwing countless cuts and swipes Dustin's way. The sheer power of his attacks were astonishing; he seemed to treat his sword less like the sophisticated weapon it was, and more like a heavy club or a weighty hammer. Even with a shield to absorb the incoming assault, Dustin could hardly keep up with the sheer ferocity of Paulo's advance.

Dustin ducked underneath one of Paulo's wild swings, rising up to kick him in the calf. This buckled Paulo's stance, and in the second it took to recover, Dustin moved in to slice his ribs. But instead of twisting awkwardly to block, Paulo simply submitted himself to his unstable posture and fell to the ground beneath the arc of Dustin's sword. With a roll, Paulo rose up elsewhere.

While Dustin poised himself to engage anew upon Paulo's return, he cast glances at Nathan and Tanuk's ongoing struggle. And in those moments, he could very well see why Tanuk had been branded a sorcerer. In some way, it appeared he had animated his burgundy cloak, such that Nathan battled the garment as much as he did Tanuk himself. In any other situation, Dustin would find the spectacle laughable, but here, it was disturbingly unnatural.

Dustin's attention returned to his own affairs. Paulo stood a few paces off from him, his posture like a cat preparing to pounce. His fierce blue eyes conveyed an intense determination Dustin couldn't help but respect.

Then Paulo was upon him. The wild and powerful attacks continued, driving Dustin back one or two paces every time sword connected with shield. He rarely found opportunity to fight back, so all-consuming was the need to brace his wrist for continued impacts. But as he remained on the defensive, mind racing for ideas to alter the balance of power, Dustin hit on an idea—distraction.

"Your approach is rather clumsy." Dustin blurted out. He ducked his head. "I believe your teacher lied."

Paulo froze in his tracks, just what Dustin wanted. His dark brows furrowed, and his lips parted. "About what?"

"Your heritage. No Feliz would fight so crudely...like any other Innutukian dog."

"You...you must retract! I won't have such insults stand."

Dustin smirked, much as the expression failed to match what he felt inside. "Then prove me wrong. Fight like the Feliz you are."

"I have nothing to prove to you, nameless wretch."

"Oh, I have a name you doubtless know very well. Prince Dustin Rickland."

Clearly, Dustin had miscalculated. At these words, Paulo grew all the more enraged, and with a ferocious roar, he engaged again. He attacked with such power that Dustin tumbled onto his back and nearly dashed his head against a sharp stone. The impact of his hard landing had dazed him, but he couldn't afford to spend vital seconds to recover. Dustin blindly rolled to his left to evade a downward slash from Paulo, and in the process, he crushed his forearm against a jagged rock.

Hissing in pain, Dustin leapt back to his feet. His sword arm now throbbed, pulsating with almost debilitating sensations that gave him no shortage of regret. And of course, Paulo renewed his attack before Dustin could fully recenter his mind.

At first, Dustin's defense was purely instinct working to keep him alive. He caught the incoming blade with his shield. But then he regained more focus, and he used the friction to push Paulo's sword up and over, leaving his entire body exposed. Dustin swiftly swiped at Paulo's belly with his own blade.

Paulo leapt back, widened eyes staring down at the tattered cloth where Dustin had sliced. Dustin considered following up with a second attack, but honor and virtue won out, so he opted not to attack his defenseless opponent.

Pulling his shirt up momentarily, Paulo and Dustin both observed the cut on his skin was no more than a thin sliver of a cut, barely anything more than a glorified scratch. Clearly, Dustin hadn't committed to his strike quite as much as he'd thought. And worse yet, Paulo had none of the honor Dustin had shown him. He lunged to attack anew before Dustin had even looked back up.

Dustin only survived by tumbling aside. He caught himself by leaning against an oblong boulder standing at about a man's height. Then he spun around the rocky barrier to evade Paulo's next strike. The screech of metal on stone pierced Dustin's ears as he readied himself around the corner.

Predictably, Paulo rounded the corner with a sweeping attack of his sword. Dustin had been prepared, and with a determined motion of his own, he knocked the weapon out of Paulo's hand. Now Paulo had nothing to attack or defend with besides his fists. To Dustin's mind, he had defeated Paulo already.

Just when that thought crossed Dustin's mind, contradiction came swiftly. A length of fabric snaked around his wrist, and before he could even process that, Tanuk's cloak had yanked him off balance. Dustin struggled to pry the burgundy sleeve from his arm, but it only cleaved all the more. All the while, Paulo retrieved his fallen sword in Dustin's peripheral vision, and after rolling his shoulders, he appeared ready to strike. With the cloak still jerking him about, Dustin could only fear the worst.

Then Nathan came to Dustin's rescue. With a powerful slam to Tanuk's chin a few yards away, he incapacitated the sorcerer long enough to deal with Paulo. Nathan charged in, smacked Paulo's sword from his hands once again, and swept his leg out from under him. He watched the long-haired youth fall with a grunt before turning back to Tanuk, who now dove for Dustin. Nathan intercepted with a flying kick to his shoulder.

With Tanuk so distracted, Dustin finally managed to rip the cloak from his arm and stand at Nathan's side. The two of them stared coldly at Paulo and Tanuk as they rose from their Nathan-induced falls. While Tanuk's cloak flew back to him and settled over his shoulders, Paulo threw his head back to let his dark locks straighten behind his back. The two pairs of swordsmen stared one another down in utter silence.

A dagger erupted from the folds of Tanuk's cloak. It flew for Dustin's chest, but he and Nathan pinned the blade between their two shields, all while swinging decisive cuts at their respective foes. Paulo leapt back to evade Dustin's sword, while Tanuk let his cloak take the cut from Nathan's sword. Then it appeared to mend itself as its master fought back with greater ferocity than ever.

Dustin and Nathan stepped apart, and the dagger fell between them. Paulo once again began to batter Dustin with endless attacks likely to shatter his sword from the sheer power. Each one, Dustin deflected with his shield or parried with his sword. His confidence grew as he clearly spotted signs Paulo wearied of fighting. Throwing so much energy into every strike clearly wasted one's strength early. A more conservative approach would have helped him endure longer.

At the end of one of Paulo's tired swings, Dustin took his chance to score a long cut along his torso. This time, he could tell immediately that he'd dealt a debilitating blow. Paulo's shirt ripped to shreds from the left side of his chest to the right side of his abdomen, and crimson blood beaded up at the site, only to cascade quickly down. Paulo made a move to retaliate, but then with a wince, he himself looked down, and the sight of his wound stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Teacher," he called out, "I've been wounded."

Dustin watched as Tanuk's attention flitted from Nathan to Paulo. His eyes widened upon spotting the copious blood smeared on Paulo's hands, and abruptly, his own movements became frantic. Tanuk's dagger unnaturally flew at Dustin again, which he batted aside with his shield. Then the cloak tackled Nathan long enough for Tanuk to extricate himself and tend to Paulo.

After looking over the cut for a few seconds, Tanuk's venomous gaze fixated on Dustin. "I must leave to have my student mended. But mark my words, I shall return, and that artifact shall be mine!"

Neither Dustin nor Nathan answered Tanuk a word. They silently watched as he scooped Paulo's robust form into his sinewy arms. His cloak and dagger both returned to him as he trudged out of the rubble and into the brush, having failed to obtain the artifact he sought or even injure just one of his opponents.

Then Dustin glanced at Nathan, and his lips parted. Nathan's hand rested cupped against his ribs, and like Paulo, blood trickled into his palm. Dustin raced to Nathan's side and assisted him in sitting down on a flat stone.

"What happened to you?" Dustin asked with worry written all over his brow.

Nathan shook his head. "That smokin' dagger of his caught me off guard right at the start. The moment I engaged him, he pulled that trick out. Never seen sorcery like that before, and frankly, I don't want to see it again."

"I can't blame you in the slightest. I can't help but marvel that you fought that whole time with a wound in your side, though."

"When you've endured the things I have, pain starts to become more of an inconvenience than anything else."

Dustin smirked. "No wonder you've attained such renown."

Nathan's head bobbed up and down for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. Then he pointed into the distance, and Dustin cast his gaze that way. A battle still raged between the Innutukians and Forbache's rebels, the fighting having doubled in intensity since he had last looked.

"Looks like they need your help over there." Nathan said, "We'll want this battle to end before the smokin' sorcerer makes his return."

Dustin nodded. "I shall fight valiantly."

"You'd better. You have a name to live up to, Rickland."

Dustin gave Nathan an amused grin at those words. Then he jogged toward the battle with his shield raised and sword at his side, more than ready to slay some Innutukians and bring freedom to Forbache.