The next day began with a noticeable shift in the group's dynamics. Selene and her men, who had led the journey so far, decided to fall back this time, leaving Edmund and his soldiers to take the lead. It was a calculated move by Selene, who had noticed the growing tension between the two factions. By staying behind, she hoped to avoid further provocations and calm the waters.
However, Astor, from his position at the rear of the march, was not disappointed. He knew his brother Edmund too well. He understood that this change in leadership would not be seen as a tactical decision but as a personal victory. To Edmund, Selene had relinquished the lead because he was superior, and that belief would only feed his already enormous ego.
Astor couldn't help but smile. The subtle gesture didn't escape Selene's notice as she observed him from a distance. Although she didn't understand the reason behind his smile, she chose not to ask. She knew that any unnecessary interaction with Astor would only complicate things, especially under Edmund's watchful eye.
The day's journey unfolded without incident. Edmund's men seemed more relaxed, comfortable with the idea that their leader was now at the front, while Selene's men maintained their usual composure, following orders without question.
Astor remained silent, observing how everything played out. He knew that the real tension didn't lie in the daytime marches but in the nighttime interactions when the masks fell, and fatigue brought out the worst in everyone.
When night fell and the group stopped to set up camp, Astor sensed the show he had been anticipating was finally about to begin. As the soldiers raised their tents and organized their spaces, Edmund, brimming with confidence, strode over to Selene with an expression that mixed arrogance and condescension.
"Lady Selene," Edmund began, in a tone that aimed to be charming but only exuded superiority, "there's no need for you to bother setting up your tent tonight. You can share mine."
The air seemed to freeze for a moment. Selene looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and detachment, as though she wasn't sure how to interpret such a statement. Before she could respond, her men, who knew her all too well, burst into laughter.
"Is this guy serious?" one of them said, doubling over with laughter.
"Boy, you're not man enough for the Lady of the Swamp," added another, provoking more chuckles.
The humiliation was immediate. Edmund, his face red with anger, drew his sword and pointed it at the soldier who had made the comment.
"Silence, or I'll cut out your tongue!" he roared, his voice full of rage.
The sound of steel being unsheathed put everyone on edge. Selene's men straightened, ready to act if necessary, while Edmund's soldiers also placed their hands on their weapons, preparing to defend their leader.
Astor, from his position, savored every second of the spectacle. He could feel the tightrope holding the group together beginning to unravel.
Selene, however, showed no visible emotion. She merely let out a quiet sigh, as if exhausted by Edmund's lack of tact.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself before stepping forward, directly facing Edmund.
"Edmund Valenford," she said in a clear, authoritative voice that commanded everyone's attention, "if you're so eager to prove yourself worthy of my company, then I offer you a deal."
Edmund frowned, intrigued but still furious.
"What deal?"
Selene let a small glint of defiance spark in her eyes.
"A duel. Here and now. If you manage to defeat me, I will agree to share your tent."
The camp fell into complete silence. Selene's declaration was so unexpected that even Edmund's men seemed to hesitate for a moment.
"A duel?" Edmund repeated, his tone full of disbelief.
"Are you afraid?" Selene asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were the leader of the Valenfords, the future duke, a man who fears nothing."
The mockery in her tone was enough to make Edmund grit his teeth.
"I accept your challenge," he finally said, with a smile that barely concealed his arrogance. "But don't blame me if you regret underestimating me."
The men from both factions immediately began to move, forming an improvised circle around the two combatants. Torches illuminated the area, casting long shadows on the ground.
Astor, who had stayed on the sidelines, approached calmly, taking advantage of the confusion to position himself near Selene. As she passed him, adjusting her sword at her belt, Astor murmured in a low voice:
"Don't underestimate him. Edmund isn't just empty words. The Valenford head might be arrogant, but he's not incompetent with a sword."
Selene glanced at him, noticing the hint of warning in his tone.
"Thanks for the advice," she replied, with a slight touch of irony in her voice. "But I don't need reminders on how to handle a child."
Astor shrugged, his expression relaxed, but inside, he was eager for what was about to unfold. This was the perfect opportunity to observe both of them in action and recalibrate his own plans.
Silence fell over the camp as Edmund and Selene positioned themselves within the makeshift circle. The torches cast long, wavering shadows on the ground, illuminating the expectant faces of the soldiers.
Edmund swung his sword from side to side in a fluid motion, letting the steel gleam under the firelight. His stance was impeccable—the posture of a swordsman trained for years under the best combat techniques. There was a confidence in his gaze that required no words to be understood.
Selene, on her part, drew her sword with an almost unsettling calm. Her stance wasn't as refined or formal as Edmund's, but there was something about it—a mix of experience and ferocity—that made it clear she was not someone to underestimate.
"When you're ready, Lady Selene," Edmund said with an arrogant smile, slightly inclining his head as a gesture of courtesy.
"I always am," Selene replied coldly, adopting a defensive position.
The fight began without further ceremony.
Edmund was the first to strike, moving with a speed that surprised many. His sword cut through the air with lethal precision, forcing Selene to step back as she blocked his blows. The sound of steel clashing rang out, each impact sparking under the torchlight.
The initial exchanges seemed evenly matched. Selene responded with quick, measured movements; her blocks and counterattacks clearly reflected her considerable skill. Yet Edmund, despite his arrogance, proved that his confidence was well-founded.
"Impressive," Selene said after deflecting a particularly powerful strike, her eyes keenly assessing every move Edmund made. "You're not all talk after all."
Edmund smirked as he stepped forward, forcing her to maintain her guard.
"Did you expect anything less from me? It's clear you weren't paying much attention to what I told you earlier, but don't worry—after tonight, you'll be begging for time to listen."
With every passing second, Edmund's advantage became more apparent. His style was flawless, almost artistic. He wielded his sword with precision and speed few could match, controlling the rhythm of the fight and keeping Selene on the defensive.
The men around the circle watched in silence, aware they were witnessing something extraordinary. Even Selene's own soldiers, who deeply admired her, began exchanging worried glances.
Selene, however, knew that Edmund was taking control of the duel. While she managed to block most of his strikes, each movement wore her down further. She couldn't afford to keep fighting on his terms.
So, she changed her strategy.
Instead of maintaining the stance she'd started with, Selene began fighting as she would on a battlefield. Her movements became less predictable, more aggressive, and she started using the environment to her advantage.
At one point, she kicked dirt into Edmund's eyes, forcing him to retreat momentarily to wipe his face. While it wasn't a direct strike, the maneuver caught Edmund off guard, unaccustomed as he was to facing such "dirty" tactics.
"What are you doing?" Edmund growled, readjusting his stance as he cleared the dust from his eyes. "This isn't a brawl; it's an honorable duel."
Selene didn't answer. Her gaze was cold and calculating, entirely focused on the fight.
Taking advantage of his brief disorientation, Selene launched a series of rapid, precise attacks aimed at Edmund's less-protected areas. A strike to the side of his armor, another to his thigh. While she didn't inflict serious injuries, each hit forced Edmund to adjust, breaking his rhythm and control of the fight.
Edmund tried to regain the upper hand, but Selene's unpredictable style kept him constantly on the defensive. For Edmund, combat had always been about technique and skill—a precise dance between two opponents. But Selene wasn't measuring technique; she was fighting to win, no matter the method.
Frustration began to show on Edmund's face. Every time he attempted to take back control, Selene found a way to unsettle him—an unexpected strike, a seemingly erratic yet calculated move.
At a critical moment, Selene used the hilt of her sword to strike Edmund's wrist, causing him to drop his weapon briefly. Although he quickly recovered it, the blow was a reminder that Selene didn't play by the rules he expected.
"You're dishonorable," Edmund spat, slightly out of breath as he adjusted his stance.
"I'm a survivor," Selene replied impassively, launching herself into another attack.
The men around the circle watched intently, none of them able to predict the outcome. What had initially seemed like a fight leaning in Edmund's favor now looked far more balanced, and every move could prove decisive.
Astor, standing at the edge of the circle, couldn't help but feel captivated. He knew Edmund was incredibly talented, but this fight confirmed something he had always suspected: his brother's arrogance was also his greatest weakness.
Selene, by contrast, was pure experience. She wasn't fighting for honor or pride but to win, and that difference was defining the course of the battle.