“By the Right of Might, by the Law of Sheer Power, I challenge you, Panolionos, to a duel, a battle of blades, for political control of the Torr.”
Panos struggled to his feet, then turned to face the person who had led a small military force into the main chamber of parliament, was forcing everyone to lay down on the ground and had just punched Panos in the gut, blatantly winding him and sending him falling to his knees.
Really, Panos had no idea what was going on. Wasn’t he supposed to have a security team, a TFU-sponsored regiment of soldiers and his own private mini militia to stop this from happening? As Panos’s vision cleared though, he realized what was going on. That very own mini militia had abruptly turned on him.
“Uh…”
“Do you accept my challenge, Panolionos?”
More worryingly, Panos didn’t recognize the person standing before him, pointing a scimitar in his direction. He was wearing militia uniform, and had a myriad of weapons strapped to him, but Panos had no idea who this person was.
“I… I don’t know who you are, and I… I am kinda unarmed… I’m not… I’m not accepting anything…”
The Torr soldier tutted. “I’m using ancient Torr laws of power and dominion and asserting my right. These are laws that are on the books but have never been removed, just forgotten. I am bringing these laws back, and using them to tear apart the two-party system and reinstate a new system of law and order.”
“With you… whoever you are… at the top, I assume?”
“Of course!”
“I still don’t know who you are.”
The Torr stared at Panos. “I’m Fasterus Barbarus!”
“Who?”
“The leader of the Torrian Might Syndicate! I represent the forgotten of the Torr! And I want the power that you have! I want to tip the scales, change the balance around here, make everyone else equal below me, and myself at the top!”
“Who?” Panos knew he was pissing this bastard off, but he was stalling for time. He was well aware that, in a duel, he had absolutely no chance. Sure, Panos did spend time in a militia himself when he was young, but he’d used guns, not curved swords. Also, Panos was somewhat old. He hadn’t seen combat in over 50 years.
“No, seriously, I don’t know who you are. Are you from one of those shitty third party options we keep around for laughs? I assume you’re some billionaire’s stupidly spoilt kid, spending all their money bribing folks because you’re too pathetic to be able to get political power legitimately.”
Fasterus sneered, then kicked Panos over, causing him to fall backwards. “I clawed my way to the top on my own! By tearing apart those who are below me! While you had help from family, I had help from my supporters, the forgotten, who demand a change of power! And now, I am clawing through you as well. Do you accept my damn challenge, Panolionos? Or do you surrender and submit, conceding power to me?”
“The-”
“They won’t do anything. If they do, I blow the place up. You should have paid your private security firm and your personal militia better.”
Panos picked himself up, then paused. “But… I pay them very well…”
“Not well enough. Do you accept my damn duel, Panos? Or will I have to start killing people and just have a normal coup here?”
“Before I answer…” Panos hesitated. “What happens if I beat you in this duel?”
Fasterus laughed. “HAH! You won’t win. But if you do, I concede and I leave, peacefully.”
“Ugh… Fine. But I want a weapon. I’m unarmed. You want a duel of blades, give me a blade.”
With another cruel laugh, Fasterus threw his scimitar at Panos, then drew a new blade, a more traditional sword. Panos sighed, picked up the scimitar, then took a defensive stance, doing his best to remember what he had seen in his history lessons and from watching old gladiator battles.
“May the strongest be victorious!” Fasterus suddenly snarled as he threw himself at Panos.
Thankfully, Panos was always somewhat fast on his feet, and he did manage to keep Fasterus out of reach. But Panos quickly realized he had a problem as there was nowhere he could really stab or slice at Fasterus, and he wasn’t even really sure how to use a scimitar. The first clash of blades was particularly harsh and sudden, and Panos only just managed to block a strike that would have hit him in the shoulder.
“Hm. You are ever so slightly better than expected, you old coward. Not that it matters.”
Panos wasn’t listening, he was busy trying not to die. But as Panos ducked underneath a particularly heavy downward swing, Fasterus’s sword found itself embedded in a wooden table. And before Fasterus could dislodge his sword, Panos landed a lucky swing of his own, somehow managing to disarm Fasterus.
“Huh.”
Feeling somewhat triumphant, Panos pointed his blade at Fasterus. “Do you submit?”
“No, of course not.”
Panos blinked. In that split second, Fasterus drew a bladed pistol and shot Panos in the leg. The Prime Minister of the Torr stuttered, then fell backwards, the strength leaving his body.
“It… it’s… a battle of… blades…”
“My gun has a blade on it. We didn’t specify what blades we had to use, if any.”
Fasterus aimed his gun at Panos’s head. Utterly terrified, Panos closed his eyes and put his hands in front of his face.
A gun shot echoed through the chamber. But Panos opened his eyes again and found he was still alive. And someone had taken that bullet for him.
“By the Right of Might, by the Law of Sheer Power, I challenge you, Fasterus, to a duel, a battle of blades, for political control of the Torr!” Aesop snarled, as Fasterus fired four more shots into the Glimmer of Charity. When those bullets did nothing, Fasterus snarled back and grabbed another weapon.
“Oh, so you are accepting my victory over Panolionos? Seems a bit unfair that a damned deity decides to step in!” Fasterus growled, now aiming an automatic rifle at the former Vice Minister.
“Do you accept my challenge?” Aesop hissed back. “I am playing by the same rules you are.”
Fasterus hesitated, then nodded. Aesop was unarmed. Gods still bled. There was blood pouring from the wounds in Aesop’s chest. And unlike Panos, Fasterus knew Aesop had little combat expertise.
“Fine. May the strongest win.”
Fasterus went to fire his gun, but Aesop darted forward, grabbed hold of Fasterus’s arms and pointed the gun at Fasterus’s head, then pulled the trigger. A spray of bullets pierced Fasterus’s head, coating most of the immediate area with skull fragments and brain matter. With their leader dead, every single militia member dropped their weapons and attempted to flee, only to be rounded up by the TFU’s paramilitary security force.
A telepathic whisper in Aesop’s head told him that his fellow Twelve Anew had disarmed the bombs beneath the building. Aesop didn’t know which of the Twelve Anew were around, apart from Kohra, Nanik and Litvir, who had gotten Aesop here, just in time.
Aesop paused, then let Fasterus’s body fall to the ground. He then turned around to face Panos.
“Are you alright?”
“Are… are you alright?” Panos stuttered.
Aesop glanced down at himself. Already, the bullet wounds had healed, but his pristine white shirt was soaked with blood. “No, not really…”
Several medics rushed to Panos’s side, to check him over. His injuries weren’t too severe, he’d survive, but Panos would need crutches for a bit. Really, it was a small miracle that the major artery in his thigh hadn’t been hit.
“Thank you.”
“Just doing what’s right… I think…” Aesop sighed, then wandered off, making his way outside, so he could get some fresh air. Something was bothering Aesop, and he didn’t know what. But at least he’d done some good today. Although, right now, looking back at the parliamentary halls behind him, Aesop wasn’t completely sure.