The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

22.1

Kiet's captain of guards was attacking Taeichi, a ring of sailors surrounding them and a cacophony of gulls above. Isla had heard from the servants who brought them their breakfast. She arrived onto the main deck just as Taeichi caught the captain's blade between the serrated ribs of his folding fan.

'I said I do not fight.'

'You will if you want to pass off as a member of the maharaj's personal guard.'

He was indeed dressed as one; armour and tunic, leather over linen in Kiet's silver and royal blue. Isla almost did not recognise him. She scanned the circling men for the maharaj, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Again the captain swung, aiming low for his waist, and again Taeichi blocked—this time with the guard of his fan.

'Wood and paper can only hold me off for so long.'

Taeichi flicked his fan open once more, daggers out, and slashed just to send the man jumping back. 'Enough. Before someone is injured.'

'You've clearly had some training.' The captain did not pause long. He shot forwards, swinging high, but again and again his blade scraped off the edge of Taeichi's fan.

Isla found herself too rapt to intervene. The folding fan should have splintered by now, but the steel never left so much as a scratch. Even the sailors began to mutter among themselves. The captain, on the other hand, was growing frustrated, his attacks becoming less controlled, less rhythmic. Another blow, and this time the shock was clear in Taeichi's face.

The truth-weaver slipped aside one last time before lunging in close. The movement was quick, unexpected; he brought the point of his index and middle fingers together and hit the captain three times. Chest, abdomen, forehead.

He drew back, wiping blood from his forearm where it had scraped the captain's blade.

'What ... did you do?' The man stood frozen where Taeichi had tapped him, one knee still bent in an offensive position, sword in one hand and the other shielding his midsection.

The sailors backed away, breaking the circle, their voices rising to match the shrill call of the gulls above them.

'Relax. The hold should only last a few minutes.'

'Release me!'

'I can do nothing of such kind.'

'You call this a fair fight?'

A loud cry interrupted Taeichi's response. Another bird came swooping in, larger than any of the gulls, clawing, pecking, screeching them away before taking a watchful position upon the ratlines. Kiet walked under its shadow, the sailors parting to let him through. 'Akai, you should be honoured. Not many are fortunate enough to ever witness the Refined Gingko's elusive art of martial combat.'

The captain looked mortified at Kiet's presence, his face quickly turning red. 'Maharaj ... forgive me that I do not bow.'

Kiet laughed. 'I've heard tales of the three finger-hold, and still I can hardly believe my eyes. Perhaps you can teach my men this skill.'