A Tale of Two Swordsmen

Sebastian stalked the edge of the arena floor, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that glistened under the glare of the lumen clusters high above him. He had eschewed the use of his power armor for this bout, wearing simple tunic and breeches, and likewise set aside his usual blade for a training one of dulled plasteel. What he could not discard was his regal bearing and aura of authority. Opposing the Feldmasrchall of the Obsidian Guard’s 1st Corps was Kresnik Vesely, Velitel of the Godslayers’ 40th Kapitola. Kresnik was equipped in an identical manner to Sebastian, though his clothing was dyed orange where Sebastian’s was black. No words passed between them as they circled one another, nor when they stopped and pointed the tips of their weapons upwards in salute, nor when they broke into full sprint. The speed of the strokes produced a shrill cry as the thick, recycled air fled before the coming of the two swords. Only when the song of steel clashing against steel echoed through the chamber did the audience make their presence heard. The cacophony produced by dozens of Astartes from both the Obsidian Guard and Godslayers stamping their feet and shouting to urge their brother on sounded so very quiet and distant to the duelists.

Their focus remained on one another as flurries of blows were exchanged at speeds that the unaugmented eye would be hard pressed to track. Sebastian laid into Kresnik with a cold fury, his attacks guileless but no less skilled and possessed of devastating power while Kresnik flowed around them then launched his own riposte only to have it turned aside by Sebastian’s backswing. Despite their genhanced, superhuman endurance both began to tire as the fight dragged on first for seconds and then for minutes. Against a typical foe that would have been ample time and then some but opposed by another space marine victory would not come swiftly. Eventually Sebastian’s superior size began to tell, as the toll he inflicted upon Kresnik exceeded that he had taken in turn. The lithe Godslayer’s attacks slowed even as Sebastian’s fell without pause until finally Sebastian caught Kresnik’s sword with the crossguard of his own weapon. Before Kresnik could react to this precarious development Sebastian wrenched the Godslayer’s sword aside and out of position for his follow up draw cut. Though the training sword had an edge a centimeter thick the force with which the Obsidian Guard Astartes pulled it was enough to break skin, crimson oxygenated blood leaking from the small tear on Kresnik’s arm.

At the sight of it Kresnik groaned, though out of irritation rather than pain, and took his sword in his off hand to extend his sword hand to Sebastian. Following suit Sebastian clasped Kresnik’s forearm as the Godslayer clasped his and then thin grins crossed both of their faces. As one they turned to face the stands and raised up their arms, Kresnik’s hand slipping down to wrap around Sebastian’s elbow and hold the whole limb high in admission of defeat. A goodly amount of thrones began to be exchanged as the bets that had inevitably been placed were cashed in. Though both Sebastian and Kresnik kept their gaze centered on the Primarchs’ box, where Lukas Keath and Koschei Kharkovic, Lords of the Obsidian Guard and Godslayers respectively sat. The third occupant, Lady Selene Purechild, leant over and whispered something in Koschei’s ear that caused him to laugh heartily.

While that went on Kresnik turned to Sebastian and bowed his head slightly, “The day is yours, though I hope you will give me the chance to take it back in the future.” Sebastian for his part nodded, then smirked, “A chance you shall have, though the result will be the same.