The Duke's Bride

[Lance Roidmet]

"You mean like a duel," says Lance, his voice controlled, but low. "So I can prove my innocence the old fashioned way: with blade in hand."

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

Harrod sighs deeply. "If you insist on indulging in base violence, then yes, that is one of the options we have for going forward. Very well. Shall I take it then that you are going to insist on your challenging Duke Amell?"

[Lance Roidmet]

Lance glances at the man and sneers. "I'll take his champion if the coward won't face me himself."

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

Harrod arches an eyebrow, face otherwise neutral. "Duke Amell has a childhood injury that prevented him from receiving combat training so, yes, he employs the use of a champion." A thin smile appears briefly as he adds, "in addition to him lacking your... unusual attributes."

[Lance Roidmet]

"What was it, a hangnail?"

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

Harrod's expression remains perfectly neutral and bland as he replies, "he broke his hip and two ribs after pushing his sister out of the way of a merchant's horse that was rampaging. He spent almost an entire year bed-ridden and could barely walk for several years afterwards." A beat of silence, then, "he was seven at the time."

[Lance Roidmet]

Lance rolls his eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say. Who is he naming champion?"

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

Instead of answering, Harrod asks, "will you be fighting yourself?"

[Lance Roidmet]

"I will."

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

"Of course," Harrod says, nodding slightly with a slight smile, as if to apologize for having to ask a question with such an obvious answer for formality's sake. "Then as the challenged party..." He glances at the still unconscious Gamlen and sighs almost invisibly. "Party's proxy, I select the Choice of Means." Which allows Lance to name the time and place, though honor and protocol prevent him from naming say, two decades from now, the outhouse of his manor, five minutes from now or France's anywhere. Similarly, Harrod, as Gamlen's proxy, can't select a means of dueling that Lance could not reasonably be at least passingly familiar with or source; no naval cannons or Buddhist shakujō.

And no magic, of course. At least, no obvious magic.

"And for my choice... Hmm." He studies Lance for a moment, considering the obvious power and dexterity the wild Duke displays merely by walking and breathing. "War-bow." He's young and never trained in the military. He'll have the strength to draw it and steady hands, but skill? Likely not. 

[Lance Roidmet]

Lance tries his best not to smirk, though a small smirk escapes him. Fool. I trained to hunt with a bow most of my childhood. I've taken down deer at 100 paces with a standard longbow, how hard could a war-bow be? And with my strength, I'll be able to draw back some serious force. He's dead and he doesn't even know it. 

"This field, ten minutes from now," he names, giving Harrod enough time to find some bows to present but no longer. 

[Judge Harrod Blacquin]

"Ten minutes?" Harrod shakes his head, an indulgent smile on his lips. "Ah, the impatience of youth. Very well. I shall have a target fetched." Snapping his fingers, he summons a servant. 

"Ask the yard master to send a tourney target to the courtyard, just past the gate. Then have my valet fetch my war bow." His war bow? That makes it sound like he uses one rather regularly...

[Lance Roidmet]

Well, his and one other -- as the person selecting the method he's obligated to offer a weapon to Lance, even if the boy turns it down for his own. And he doens't seem to have a war bow on him. 

He rides back to his men, then, calling out, "Who here is a bow expert? Does anyone have  a war bow, or the next thing would be, could they inspect his to ensure it's not trapped or ensorcelled?"

[Hanza koshack]

"I shall inspect it my friend. I'm to old to draw one well any longer but I can tell if it's safe." I smile wanly

[Lance Roidmet]

"Good. good." A pause. "Any, uh, extra luck your God can provide, I'd appreciate it."