Chapter Ten:

Harry and Garreth

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"I accept your challenge," Harriet said, and as soon as the words passed her lips, a sword was thrusted into her hands by one of the onlookers, but no armor came for her or for Garreth. They would be sparring unprotected by metal or defenses of any sort.

Harriet kept her eyes on Garreth as she tried to prepare herself mentally for the challenge she was about to face but she couldn't ignore the sound of murmuring from the crowd and the clinking of coins. She swallowed, her mouth dry as she realized what they were doing. They were making bets.

Harriet's grey eyes met Garreth's dark ones, and Harriet had never felt so small as she did in that moment. His stature was gigantic compared to hers, even his head was two times the size of hers and unfortunately it had nothing to do with his massive ego, though the ego probably didn't help.

Harriet gripped her sword tightly, taking a small degree of comfort in the cool metal under her fingers. She gnawed on her lower lip before beginning to move her feet, being careful not to cross her steps in such a way that would give Garreth an advantage.

Garreth began to follow her lead, moving in a circular motion across from her. Harriet grit her teeth and watched Garreth's every move, waiting for his muscles to twitch, to signal when he would move.

If there was something she had learned from fighting bigger than her for the past nine years, it was that sometimes a small stature could be used to your advantage, and she intended to use her slight figure for all it was worth. She might not be as strong as Garreth, but she knew she could outlast him by avoiding his swings long enough to tire him out.

She was just contemplating her plan when she saw Garreth make his move. The man lunged forward, his sword going for her neck, but she was quick to bring her sword up to meet it, her ears ringing at the sound of the clang of metal.

Her hands gave a twinge of pain at the feeling of the cold, vibrating metal, but she ignored it in favor of bringing her hand down and pushing his sword away from her. The swords scraped against each other but Garreth soon took a step back, watching her in the way that she had been watching him earlier.

They started to circle each other again, and the next time Garreth striked, Harriet was ready. With a leap she jumped away from his wild swing, landing with her feet facing him just to the left of where his sword was, where she had been a moment ago.

Garreth countered by bringing his sword up and sideways, almost hitting Harriet, but she spun out of the way in time to parry his sword with hers, pushing with all of her might against his sword. He quickly brought his sword back, instead trying to aim for her legs, but by the time his blade got there, Harriet had already darted away.

They continued to move, following the motions of the only dance Harriet had ever liked or understood. This dance didn't include silly gowns or hair pieces, but in this dance, missing a step didn't just mean embarrassment.

As Garreth once again lunged at the spot where one of her major arteries would be, Harriet felt a small spot of worry break into her adrenaline filled mind. He wasn't just fighting to win, he was fighting to seriously harm her. However, his face didn't match his actions. He looked oddly calm, but wild-eyed at the same time.

Harriet felt a sudden need to bring her eyes to the cool pair of blue ones that she knew were watching, but she refrained. It would not do her any good to get herself killed when she wasn't looking.

With her attention completely on Garreth, her heart thumped as he missed her by a hair-width with his next swing. Harriet's breathing sped up as she moved faster, but her mind was moving faster than both her body and her breathing.

Garreth swooped at her again, this time nicking her arm on the inside of her elbow, but Harriet didn't pay it any mind, not even when she saw a small trickle of blood moving down her arm out of the corner of her eye. Garreth's sneer grew wider at the evidence of his mark on her, his eyes glittering in the mid-morning light.

At the sight of what he must have assumed was the beginning of his victory, Garreth began to attack with renewed vigor, his jabs having more force behind them and his technique getting wilder.

The next few lunges Harriet was able to dodge easily, and Harriet began started to notice a pattern. When Garreth would lunge forward, he wouldn't throw his full weight behind it. He would keep some of it on his back leg, which more often than not, was positioned just behind him.

However, that wasn't all. He was getting sloppy, he was too eager to win, to beat her, and that was making his technique messy. His strikes with his sword were becoming less like jabs or slices and more like a swing of an ax. He would bring it high and then lower it swiftly, as if he was attempting to chop Harriet up into small pieces.

Just barely dodging his next swing, Harriet realized what she needed to do, but she knew how risky it was. The chances of it working were slim, but she knew that the fight needed to end.

The metal of the sword glinted in the sunlight as Harriet waited for the moment to strike. Garreth got closer to her and Harriet kept her own blade close to her side. She didn't like the idea of hurting him. They were on the same side, even if he was actively aiming for her most vulnerable spots.

Garreth had walked her up against the wall of people surrounding them. Harriet could feel their breath from where she stood, each of them waiting for the outcome to come to pass. Harriet stopped moving backwards, watching with her muscles tensed as Garreth swiftly raised his arms, the sword angled up above her dangerously. If this went badly, there would be no escaping it.

Garreth suddenly brought his arms down and Harriet darted into motion.

Keeping her head tucked down, Harriet tossed her sword to the side, hearing it clatter against the rocks as she threw her body at Garreth's back leg. The dirt and rocks of the ground scraped against her as she shot forwards, but in the next second her left arm was wrapped around Garreth's leg, sending him tumbling down with a shout.

As he toppled backwards, Harriet's right arm stretched out as far as she could, grabbing hold of the sword she had dropped in order to make sure she wouldn't injure him in his fall. Her fingers curled around it and as Garreth hit the ground, she scrambled upwards and forwards, putting her foot on his stomach and the tip of her sword at his throat.

His eyes grew wide with shock and Harriet's chest heaved from the effort of holding her longsword with her injured arm. After all, longswords were meant to be held with two hands, not one. The people around them were quiet, waiting for one of them to talk.

"Say it," Harriet said, her voice strong despite her hammering heart and how winded she was after slamming her body onto the ground. Garreth stared up at her.

"You're not going to do anything else?" Garreth asked her, almost sounding bitter. Harriet looked at him puzzled before pulling her sword away from his neck.

"No. It's not worth the resulting guilty conscience," Harriet said, and Garreth met her eyes.

"Am I not your enemy?"

"No, not even now," Harriet responded, taking her foot off of his chest and holding out a hand to him. Garreth eyed her hand suspiciously, but after a moment's hesitation, reached up and took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

"You're stronger than you look, little soldier," Garreth said. Harriet was surprised to note there was no anger in his voice. What had changed? A moment ago he had been prepared to possibly kill her, what had caused his attitude change? Maybe she had finally earned his respect? She threw that thought out of her head. That couldn't be it.

"Sometimes looks can be deceiving," she stated. "It was an honor to face you," she said, reciting the standard ending lines that always accompanied a spar between friends or allies. She waited for him to respond, feeling relieved when he nodded.

"Likewise." Harriet gave a small nod, before turning on her heel. In the silent crowd she met the eyes of Oliver whose mouth stretched into a grin. Soon the other men started to applaud, and Harriet did her best to hold back a blush. She went to turn her head to look at Leopold's reaction but as a loud shout sounded close behind her she turned around in time to see Garreth sprawled out in front of her.

Her brows drew together as she took in his blank expression. What on earth? She thought that he'd been fine. He had seemed civil, accepting.

"You do not attack people when their back is turned," Leopold spat out, standing in front of Harriet so he could tower over Garreth. It was clear now what, or rather who, had caused Garreth to fall, especially since Leopold stared down at Garreth with his hackles raised and his blue eyes squinting into a scowl. Harriet did her best to see around her unexpected protector, but Leopold wasn't budging, and she could only see the upper half of Garreth's face past Leopold's body.

"We're fighting in a war. He better get used to people aiming to stab him in the back, or else he'll never make it through." Here Garreth looked past the angered king to meet Harriet's eyes, staring at her pointedly. They held each other's gaze for a moment more, Harriet feeling all the while like something wasn't adding up.

"Regardless, it is not your job to teach him that lesson," Leopold said, his eyes flickering to Harriet's hurt arm before he looked away. "You have harmed your fellow soldier. Mr. Filbert, please escort Mr. McIntosh to the tactical tent. Mr. McIntosh, you will wait there for me. We will then discuss your punishment."

With that Leopold grabbed hold of Harriet's uninjured arm, dragging her through the crowd of men. Even once they had passed through the crowd, his grip was still tight on her forearm, to the point of hurting.

"Sir, er- can you loosen your grip a little, I kind of need at least one of my arms to be working," Harriet said, almost jogging to keep up with his pace. Leopold came to an abrupt stop, dropping her arm as if she had burnt him.

"My apologies," Leopold said, his voice tight and cold. Harriet raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding his cold fury. Why was he so upset? It seemed like a lot of things weren't adding up.

"Don't worry about it, I just wanted to make sure I was still of use to you," Harriet replied. "Where are we going anyway?" She asked before hurriedly adding, "Not that it matters, I mean, wherever we need to go sire." For a moment Leopold just stared at her, before shaking his head as if to clear it, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly.

"I thought that would be obvious Mr. Greenfellow."

"Sorry, no."

"The physician's tent, Mr. Greenfellow." Harriet felt the sudden urge to slap herself. Where else would they be going? After all, she was hurt, even if her arm had stopped bleeding. Harriet peeked a glance at it. It had sort of stopped bleeding. She looked it closer. It definitely hadn't stopped bleeding. She glanced back up at Leopold to see him watching her with a hint of amusement.

"Well, Mr. Greenfellow? Do you need a physician?"

"Er- probably."

"Probably?"

"Possibly."

"Really?" Here Leopold's on eyebrow arched upwards, and Harriet looked away sheepishly.

"Yes, I need a physician," she finally acquiesced, allowing him to once again the lead the way, this time without the iron hard grip.

By the time they reached the physician's tent, Harriet was feeling a little woozy, and when Leopold caught sight of her pale face he hurried her over to the nearest cot.

"Here, take a seat. We don't want you falling," he said, guiding her into a sitting position as her stomach flipped. Leopold waved the physician over, and Harriet sat still as she let the physician take a look at her wound. She didn't pay much attention to his words, her head swimming and stomach churning too much to focus.

Her stomach had settled significantly by the time she realized Leopold had left sometime in her blood-loss caused haze. Looking around, she saw only the army physician in the tent, and she furrowed her brows at the odd feeling in her stomach. For a moment she considered it to feeling guilty for not noticing when he left, but when she vomited over the side of the bed in the next second, she decided that maybe it wasn't too likely.

She was just sitting herself more comfortably in the cot when Oliver came in, his smile bright in the dim tent.

"Hey, look who I brought?" Oliver said, holding his hands out. "Clark! I thought you might want the company." The little mouse scurried from Oliver's hands as if his tail was on fire, nestling himself in the crook of Harriet's neck as soon as he could. Harriet could feel him trembling and she frowned.

"Why is he scared?" She asked, but Oliver just shrugged.

"I don't think he likes anyone but you," he answered. "So that was some fight you two did. I can't believe he tried to hit you with your back turned, though," Oliver said, sitting on the edge of the cot.

"Me neither, he had seemed fine before. I wonder what made him change his mind, and so subtly too. I had expected a lot more shouting." Oliver just shook his head.

"Well, regardless, look what I've got." With a grin he brought up a large leather purse, and Harriet sent him a confused look.

"What is it?"

"My winnings. I was one of two people to bet you would win. Everyone else thought you would lose. We can split it if you want. The other person didn't want his winnings."

"I'm glad to hear they all have so much faith in me," Harriet said, eyeing the leather pouch with an amused eye. She had clearly proved them wrong.

"They do now."

Oliver was in the process of getting up to leave after splitting up the winnings and conversing a little more about the fight when Harriet thought of a question.

"Who was the other person?"

"King Leopold, I guess he didn't feel right about taking his winnings."

"Why?"

"He said he knew you'd win. He doesn't have any need for the winnings anyway. He is a king after all." With that Oliver left, leaving Harriet alone with Clark to think over the events of the day.

From Garreth's cryptic words to Leopold's actions, it was as if both of them were trying to out do each other over who could confuse her more.

Leopold had dropped her arm like she had burned him, and he had been so angry on her behalf. She frowned. Maybe she was just his favorite soldier. After all, he had bet for her. Choosing to try and forget both Garreth and Leopold for the time being, Harriet huddled into her blankets, moving Clark so he wouldn't get squished.

Harriet was just drifting off to sleep when her eyes flew open with realization. She was suddenly not tired in the slightest. The men who had talked at the stream, Garreth's words to her earlier, they added up.

His words had to have been a warning. But what did they mean? And more importantly, why would he take the time to warn her?

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And the plot thickens. Why do you think Garreth tried to warn her? Who do you think is the traitor? What do you think is up with Leopold? Let me know in the comments.

Also, shout out to Aphrodite-Artemis for guessing the name inspirations for last chapter. Yes, they were all from disney princesses/fairytales. McIntosh-Snow White, Caecilian (another word for frogish creature) Tiana, Mr. Briars-Aurora, Mr. Tome (another word for book)-Belle, Mr. O'Shaun (phonetically it's ocean)-Ariel, Mr. Collard (vegetable like Rapunzel)-Rapunzel, Mr. Rolfe-Pocahontas (her real last name was Rolfe), Mr. Meriscot is a mash up of Merida and Scotland for Merida, and lastly, Jasminium was Jasmine.

This chapter is dedicated to kbstclair as I've really been enjoying their writing over the past couple of weeks, as well as their conversation. Make sure to go check out their books!

Additionally, guess what? Remember that thing I asked you to vote for? The story won! Thank you so much to all of you who voted. It was greatly appreciated! :)