Chapter 43: Trial By Combat

Sam

March 21, 1787, Realm Time, The Outworlder Base

"This is preposterous," the General said. "C'mon, Sam! You know me, you know my principles and what I stand for. You'll be my prime minister. No offense, Thomas, but Sam would do a better job."

"But you promised—"

"You know me too, General. You know my record, and my standards," Sam interjected over the Council's President. "Yield, and you'll be my prime minister." There was no way he'd allow a murderer in that sort of position, but he could always reveal the man's crimes after he became a duke.

"Sam, Sam, Sam…" Georgescu sighed. "If only you would not be so lazy, I'd change places with you in a second. "Remember how you refused to go campaigning for me?"

So he's holding me responsible for his loss…

"You're military. This smells of dictatorship," Sam argued.

"You're an Awakened. You could rule for centuries. This is not healthy."

"Anyway, duels are not a thing anymore," the President said. "Take a deep breath, Sam, cool d—"

"On the contrary, duels are the proper way to settle things in a civilized polity," the elf interjected. "All that's needed is His Majesty's approval."

"You can't be serious," Georgescu said. "This is not the movies."

"Joseph, listen to me," Sam pleaded, turning toward the Emperor. "You know me. I saved your life. I like you. You're a nice person, considering how stu— gullible you can be at times. Please try to be smart for once. Georgescu in the driving spot is sure to take over Austria. You will be powerless to stop him."

Like Napoleon offered me to, but I'm not going too… Sam completed the phrase in thought.

Georgescu let out a burst of laughter, while the Confederation of the Rhine representatives widened their eyes, hearing the all but overt insult. The Emperor, on the other hand, shrugged, frowning at the general.

"Samuel is right. I know him. He helped me, directly and indirectly, and he's always honest with me. I know well how hard it is to deal with stubborn nobles. My throne is consolidated through his actions. And yes, Samuel, I know about my nephew. Your solution was kind and elegant. My decision is that the duel stands. And I think you delayed Sam from arriving on purpose, General, because if he were here, I would have had exactly this idea: he'll make a perfect Duke."

For a second, Georgescu tensed, and Sam feared he would give his people the signal to attack.

"A refusal means losing your title," the Elf said. "Magic favors the bold."

The general's body relaxed, leaning back in the chair. For a second, Sam thought he had intimidated the man into submission.

"I name The Juggernaut as my champion," Georgescu said. "I do have the right to name a champion, don't I?"

"It is correct," the elf said. "The fight is to the death or until one of the combatants yields. The loser's life will be in the winner's hands to be taken or spared."

"Very well," Georgescu said, rising and advancing into the reception room before anyone could make any other comment. "Hear me out, folks. There is a challenge for the duke title from Samuel the Samurai. I appoint the Juggernaut as my champion. Please make a bit of space for the two gentlemen to cross swords."

A rumor erupted all over the ballroom, and the music suddenly stopped.

"It's your champion's right to choose the weapons," the elf said. "Swords, pistols, or fists."

The Juggernaut advanced in the middle of the space, rotating his shoulders. He was a stocky man, with broad shoulders and short hair, but otherwise unremarkable. The resemblance to the Smiths was striking. The latter were his cousins; the Chief of Security had hired and brought them to the Realm because of that.

"He can use his mother, for what I care," the man sneered. "I need only my fists."

"Please evacuate the center of the room and draw a circle," the elf said. "Thirty… no, make it fifty feet wide."

"Draw a circle with what?" a servant asked.

"I have chalk with me!" Mozart yelled. "We use it to fix violin pegs."

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In a moment, the man jumped down from the scene and started drawing a shape that was so wrong that the elf snatched the chalk out of his hands, doing the job himself. Amadeus went to the side, next to Sam.

"Kaunitz sent me to keep an eye on the negotiations," he whispered. "I heard them talk. This was a well-executed plot. They have two of your Awakened teams in their pocket. A moment ago, the general asked your opponent to kill you. The Juggernaut replied that you will kill yourself through the reflected damage."

"Thanks," Sam said. His Samurai attire was modern, with boots instead of sandals, and more in the direction of comfortable ninja attire than traditional. As weapons, besides the katana tucked into his belt, Sam also had the magical rope looted from the French mage.

I have one hit… If I miss, I lose…

"The fight is about to begin," the elf bellowed. "I'll be the arbiter. Don't interfere, or I will be forced to interfere with the interference. Contendants! Take a position in the middle of the circle, ten paces apart. Ready?"

Sam walked forward and nodded. The Juggernaut mirrored him. Many people were scared, some exiting the premises. Still, half of the audience was glued to the wall, curious about the fight. The guards from the first lobby, the awakened, were the loudest. All were saying things like 'the boss will show him', and laughed. Then, focusing on maintaining a relaxed stance to avoid telegraphing his first move became all that mattered. The rumor around him faded from his ears.

"Fight!" the elf yelled.

Sam didn't move a muscle, channeling his Warp Dash. Everything slowed down ten times. There was an infinitesimal pattern crispation in The Juggernaut's body, the moment his thumb moved toward the switch hidden in his palm to activate the electric shock destined to mark him in combat.

Slow… Much too slow, buddy…

Space warped around Sam, and he unsheathed his katana. The hit missed, blocked by an energy field.

Shit…

It was one of his own inventions, activating automatically when the force of an incoming bullet or blade exceeded a certain force.

I'm stupid… Jug knows his own weakness; why wouldn't he take extra precautions?

As a satisfied rictus spread on his foe's face. Sam jumped back in time by three seconds. Many plan Bs flashed through his mind, but only one seemed the right one.

At the second Warp Dash activation, Sam threw his rope forward, ordering it to wrap itself around his rival. A millisecond before the rope touched the Juggernaut's body, he delivered a small cut on the man's hand. Not enough to activate the defense, but enough to draw blood. And before the electric shock.

Time Dilation Plus is applied. The target's timeline is accelerated by a factor of 1000 for five minutes, or until they yield or die.

Shitty luck!

Ten percent chance it went wrong, and there he was. Instead of becoming frozen in time, his adversary had just become a Speedster. Instinctively, Sam took a step back, raising his sword in front of him as protection. Futile, yet…

The Juggernaut fell on the floor, his image vibrating in place like a plucked guitar string. He was probably screaming, but only high-pitched noises, akin to bird chirping, were all Sam heard. The rope was restraining the Juggernaut, and like him, it was indestructible.

I retract it! Not shitty luck at all…

Sam stood firm, sword pointed forward, waiting. One of the Awakened yelled something, trying to get inside the circle. The elf made a short gesture, and the man was teleported into the ceiling, the ensuing free fall rendering him unconscious or dead. The rest of the magic users raised their hands, signaling they'd behave.

A second was the same as sixteen minutes. After twelve, the Juggernaut activated his electric device repeatedly, hoping to enhance his strength enough to break through the rope. It didn't work. Instead, the discharges accumulated, igniting his clothes and hair, which weren't included in the spell, apparently. After two minutes, the Juggernaut vomited, soiling himself at the same time. Thirty-six hours had passed in his timeline.

He'll die of dehydration, Sam realized. Letting the Juggernaut die was a simple and easy solution. However, killing someone who was at his mercy wasn't right. Ignoring the horrid smell, Sam squatted in front of the Juggernaut and wrote a word in the vomit, using his index finger: 'Yield.'

The Juggernaut's image stabilized. He was panting, nude, bald, still restrained by the rope, and visibly emaciated.

"Mercy… Please," he croaked.

There were no more noises around, only silence. Many people didn't understand what happened. They knew the Juggernaut was strong, and Sam was a Bounty Hunter, in broad terms, but not the specifics. Sam sheathed his katana, recalled the rope, took off his overcoat, and threw it to the Juggernaut.

"You're working for me now," Sam said. "Am I clear?"

"Yes," the man whispered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Good. Any of those jokers disagrees, kill them," Sam said, gesturing toward the rest of the Awakened.

He returned to the other room, dismissing his notifications about leveling, thresholds, and whatever. The guests who had come into the ballroom were heading back to their table.

"What the heck was that?" one of the nobles asked, showing a basic knowledge of Ourtworlder expressions.

"The Outworlders have a few superheroes," Joseph explained. He was the only one with his face a normal color.

"But how was that a fair fight?" another guest asked.

"The Juggernaut is all but invulnerable," Sam said deadpan. "The fight was as fair as fair can be. Now, General, there's a small matter to settle."

"What's to settle? You won," the man sneered. "The job is all yours."

"I was talking about the scientists his people murdered in the basement," Sam said coldly, putting his hand on his katana's hilt.

"They did what?" the President screamed, stepping forward.

"All the Interface scientists are dead. The Shadow Shepherd killed them."

"So, one of your people went rogue," Georgescu tried to defend himself. "I don't have anything to do with it."

"Sure you do," Sam said, tightening his grip on the hilt. "We took the Shadow Shepherd prisoner, and she spilled the beans. It was all you."

That was a bluff, but the man's reactions were a confession by themselves. Sam hadn't considered the General worth of a skill, and that was an error. Georgescu widened his eyes, but at the same time produced a small pistol out of his sleeve a split second before Sam could strike. His head got cut nevertheless, but in the process of falling, the hand squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the President between the eyes, killing him on the spot.

"Shit!" Sam exclaimed.

"Free tip," the elf said. "Kill first, talk later."