The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) by Duncan M. Hamilton

the end of his chance at the Academy. Amero would most certainly not want a half trained, crippled retainer, which meant a return to the streets, but as a cripple. He had seen crippled former soldiers begging around the city. They never lasted long. Death would be a better result for him. What made matters worse was the realisation that unless he was careful, in terms of consequences, there would be little difference between defeat or victory.

C h a p t e r   1 3
    THE DUEL

    T he field chosen for the duel was a short distance from the road and was screened from passing traffic by a row of squat trees. Soren and Jost arrived first despite leaving later; dal Dardi had a slightly longer distance to travel. The physician was already there. He had arrived in a small cart and had a medicine chest open at the back, displaying bottles, bandages and a number of metal surgical instruments. The experience felt surreal. Surely giving dal Dardi a few punches at an opportune moment would have been a far better way to deal with this.
    Rapier and dagger were the weapons that had been chosen by dal Dardi. Jost had obtained a reasonable pair from his family’s house in the city, and it occurred to Soren that it was the first time that he had ever held a real, sharpened sword. He disliked waiting but used the time to familiarise himself with the balance of the sword. He had not spent very much time training with a dagger in addition to the rapier, but he thought he might as well have it as not and did not see how it could get in the way.
    The sword felt good and Soren appreciated Jost having lent it to him. The alternative would have been to break into a weapons locker in the Academy to get at one of the sharp rapiers contained within. While perfectly functional, they would have lacked the craftsmanship and attention to detail that Jost’s family would demand from a weapon. He went through a few practice positions to loosen up and develop a feeling for the sword and dagger. While he was doing so, Reitz dal Dardi, his second and a third man arrived on horseback. Dal Dardi’s second was Ranph dal Bragadin. Soren did not recognise the third man, who dismounted first and took the reins from the other two as they also dismounted.
    They stood together and talked as dal Dardi unbuckled his cloak and handed it to the third man who Soren took to be a servant. Dal Dardi was wearing a fitted leather duellist’s doublet, similar to the ones that were worn in the arena. It would provide some protection to the torso, but only against a glancing blow. Nonetheless it would reduce the chance of blood being drawn by a deflected attack. Soren wore only his white cotton shirt; he had nothing else. Jost had made it abundantly clear that he could not wear his blue academy doublet for fear of bringing the Academy into disrepute. The extra protection was certainly an advantage in dal Dardi’s favour, but Soren did not intend for the matter to be decided by a lucky strike.
    Soren and Jost stood together by the rear of the physician’s cart when Ranph approached them. He carried with him a sword and dagger.
    ‘I’d like to inspect your sword and dagger, if I may,’ said Ranph.
    Soren handed him both, and Ranph handed the pair of blades he was carrying to Jost.
    ‘I wanted to let you know that I am here as Reitz’s second purely because no one else would stand with him.’ He gave both weapons a looking over and exchanged them for dal Dardi’s, to which Jost had been doing likewise. ‘Good luck. I’ll signal when we’re ready,’ he said, before returning to dal Dardi.
    ‘Well,’ said Jost, ‘from here it’s just like duelling class. Except the pointy bit will hurt more if he hits you.’ He let out a forced laugh, and handed Soren the blades.
    While Soren appreciated his attempted levity, it was unnecessary. He had felt the tension leading up to this moment; all of the expectation and having his choices dictated to him by a code that he