“You never progressed beyond the patterns,” said Wichtig.
Teeth gritted, Kurz stepped toward Wichtig, his remaining sword rising. Wichtig held his ground, praying the man would drop. He lifted an eyebrow in mock curiosity, like the approaching man was a passing interest and nothing more.
“And you rely on skill,” said Wichtig, the last word dripping disgust. He tsked, shaking his head. “I am backed by the faith of the people. I am backed by my faith in myself. I am backed by the very god you worship. What is skill in the face of all this? Fool.”
Kurz coughed a bubbling and bloody sigh and collapsed at Wichtig’s feet. Wichtig withdrew his blades as the body toppled, timing it so it looked as if the dead man simply returned them to their rightful owner.
“I assume we are agreed that I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World?” Wichtig asked the gathered crowd.
They nodded.
“I think some applause is in order,” said Wichtig.
They applauded.
“Good. Spread the word.” He grinned, wiping his blades on Kurz’ corpse and sheathing them with a flourish. “I’m back.”
After searching Kurz for what wealth the man carried Wichtig went in search of better clothes. He wasn’t dead and saw no reason to dress like the dead. Grey was a fine choice when everything looked grey anyway, but now he wanted something bright and colourful. Something highlighting the red in his hair and yet not distracting from his eyes. When he paid the clothier he was surprised to find his money pouch still full of Kurz’s coin.
See what happens when you leave Stehlen behind? It was nice to not be robbed every time he had more than two coppers to rub together.
Next he went looking for a horse. It would wipe out what coin remained, but that was fine. There would be other Swordsmen to kill. And he could always stoop to a little petty theft, should needs demand.
Unwilling to ask for directions, he found the stables by following his nose.
The stable-master paraded horse after horse before Wichtig and nodded in knowledgeable appreciation when the Swordsman selected a white stallion with an angry look in its eyes.
“Strong horse,” said the stable-master. “Can run for hours.”
Wichtig ignored the man. He chose the horse because he knew how good he looked riding the beast.
“I’ll need everything else as well,” said Wichtig. “Saddle, everything. Long journey.”
The stable-master grunted agreement, cast an appraising eye upon Wichtig, noting the new clothes, and disappeared into the stables. He reappeared with a gorgeous saddle and matched saddlebags, swirling designs worked into the black leather. It would look perfect on his white horse. Wichtig nodded and paid without haggling. The stable-master saddled the animal and filled one of the saddlebags with grain.
The horse looked at Wichtig like it wanted to drag his guts free with its teeth and scatter them about the pristine cobbled road.
“Good horsey,” said Wichtig, swinging easily onto the beast’s back.
He rode through Selbsthass toward the southern gate, enjoying the easy roll of the horse’s shoulders beneath him. This, he decided, was a fine creature indeed. Judging from the way men and women watched him pass, he must look stunning.
A breeze caught his hair just so.
Wichtig reached forward to stroke the animal’s ears and snapped his hand back when it tried to remove his fingers.
“Nice horsey,” he repeated. “I like you. You have fire.”
He thought of Bedeckt’s monstrous black destrier. He couldn’t remember its name. The old man showered the horse with more love than he spared for his friends.
Why does Bedeckt name his horses?
It made no sense. Wichtig had owned so many horses he couldn’t possibly remember them all. Half the time they died in battle or fleeing a fight gone sour. Sometimes he lost them in bets, or sold them so he could eat or buy clothes. More than once he left them behind when abandoning one decaying city-state or another because, yet again, one of Bedeckt’s plans went to shite.
It was strange how Bedeckt grew attached to beasts of burden but was an utter shite to his friends.
I wonder what the old goat gets out of it? It must be something. Bedeckt was as mercenary a man as Wichtig ever met.
“I’m going to name you,” Wichtig told his horse, curious to see if he’d get whatever Bedeckt got out of the strange deal. Would he become emotional about the beast, needing to feed it apples at every opportunity? He couldn’t imagine that happening. Maybe the horse would become more agreeable if Wichtig pretended he cared what happened to it.
“I’ll call you ?rgerlich,” Wichtig said, naming the beast after a poet he knew back in Traurig.
?rgerlich ignored him.