With contempt, the prince looked down on the boy who dared to confront him in this filthy alleyway. The alleyway was crowded with drunk commoners and servants. Slimy refuse covered the ground beneath their feet. Light from the orificium posts barely penetrated the smoky darkness, casting an eerie glow on the crowd in the alleyway. The boy appeared oddly unfazed by the stench, as if he had grown accustomed to it. The Green zone couldn’t produce a spawn that could rival me. The name Dufonious Maximus Gandulfton the second shall be renowned as the most honorable of fighters, for I am the son of one of the kings and the nephew of the esteemed emperor.
“Alright let’s settle this,” Bovin Leer was unwilling to let this high and mighty nobleboy think he’s gotten the better of his family. He assumed a low guard position with his hands and a flow stance. If this snot-smoking-lizard-lover says anything about her again… well… he’s getting my fist in his mouth.
Dufonious took off his coat and handed it to one of his underlings, “I shan’t be more than a minute.” Despite the men chuckling, the prince saw this as mere child’s play, or so he thought.
The occasional rat scurried across the ground, as they prepared for their fight, the drunken crowd cheered, anticipation filling the air as the high Prince positioned himself, raising his hands to his temples with clenched fists.
Brovin smirked as he casually lowered his hands, swaying his fingers in a fluid motion focusing on the moment, the light from a distant lantern flickered in his eye.
“No matter how this fight ends, you’ll still be the son of a whore, a whore that…” With determination, Dufonious stepped forward, his knee rising as he prepared to launch his foot forward. “…I…”
Skillfully, Brovin leaned back, dropping to his side. He unleashed his fist forward towards The Prince’s head. The punch, however, connected to his shoulder with a hard thud, reverberating through the ally way. As the punch propelled him backward against the brick wall, the prince could feel the slime beneath his feet slide him into the wall.
Now my foot is going for your gut. Brovin smirked.
Dufonious’ face shifted with frustration as he leaned against the wall, the brick was rough against his hand as he pulled back, touching his head to see blood where his face scraped against the roughness of the wall. Humiliated, he charged forward, his muscles tensing as he clenched around Brovin’s neck tightly. With a swift maneuver, Brovin effortlessly slipped out, retreating backward, slowing his breath. Determined, the arrogant prince charged again, his footsteps echoing the shame he felt deep in his stomach. Brovin swiftly raised his knee, delivering a powerful blow to Dufonious’ gut. Agony washed over the prince as he reeled back. Brovin re-assumed his stance, not a single blow connected to this lowly wart.
The prince leaned against the wall, catching his breath. I can’t let this whoreson wart win. For my honor, I must knock him down! The prince leaned back, his leg extending forcefully towards Brovin’s head. But with a quick motion, the boy shrugged his shoulder, effectively blocking the kick. In a swift countermove, he retaliated, his kick landing squarely on the prince’s mouth.
Dufonious found himself on the ground, his frustration boiling over into a yell. Squeezing the gravel beneath his hands in frustration. Ignoring the pain, he stood up, throwing the dust at Brovin’s eyes. Then he relentlessly kicked at his head. Brovin skillfully leaned back, narrowly evading the kicks, barely able to make out the movement. Years of watching the nobles train from their fences, he knew how the prince moved. Explosively, the boy launched his fist forward. The impact of his fist connecting with the prince’s nose resonated in the air.
Brovin wiped his eyes, “Resorting to cheep tricks? How unnobly of you?”
Frustrated, Dufonious attempted another push, throwing his knee out. But Brovin anticipated the move and swiftly threw his foot out first. This time, however, the prince managed to catch the foot. Pivoting on his foot, Dufonious aimed for a hook kick, his determination palpable. Yet, Brovin leaned back and to the side, effortlessly evading the attack.
As the prince pivoted again, Brovin seized the opportunity. With a swift and precise motion, his fist shot upward, connecting with Dufonious’ chin, pain shooting through the prince’s head as he flew back and fell against the wall.
The prince was out cold.
© Copyright Tailspinners Ink and Dustin Cooley all rights reserved 2024
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