Luther's Pride Part 54 (Alt) (Patreon)

The following three days were brutal for Luther. His wives took turns training him in their spells. It took less than a day for their training to become a thinly veiled excuse to amuse themselves with their superior familiarity with their arcana. Luther proved inept at first, struggling with the basics, but he improved as their training continued. 

Helena went first, teaching him her arcanum in swift, painful lessons. They sparred early, before they risked an audience. Then they vanished into the gardens while the others kept the servants, their guest, Emily, and any visitors away from the thunderous clamor of their fighting. Luther matching Helena in strength gave her someone to fight that she didn’t have to hold back on, and she enjoyed the challenge.  

The servants’ curiosity grew as the day went on, but none proved brave enough to venture into the gardens or disobey Wulfric’s orders after Luther requested privacy. 

Eira took her turn in the afternoon, teaching Luther her arcana in her apartments. Her spells were more confusing to him, but she taught him the basics. Foreshadow remained the one he relied on most in combat, but the others taught him divination. He hadn’t had much opportunity to study such spells, and they interested him most.

Criella had little to teach him, as she hadn’t devoted herself to studying her arcanum in her schooling. She knew the basics, and Luther had to learn the rest from manuscripts in his father’s library. He’d collected a few for Criella’s benefit. They were helpful manuals, but they weren’t the same as learning from a practiced tutor. 

Rhosyn proved hesitant to train him in her arcana. Psychomancy was a dangerous and volatile arcanum, and it required patience and self-discipline. In their first session, they did little more than meditate and focus on their inner thoughts. Stray thoughts ruined her spells, and Rhosyn feared Luther wouldn’t be ready to use her arcanum amid the distractions of combat. Not to mention the distraction in both of them when he merged his spirit with hers, and pleasure shot through them.   

She’d join the fight and agreed to help him, but she refused to teach him actual spells for fear he might hurt himself with them. No amount of persuasion or bribery would move her on the subject, so Luther had to settle for scholarly understanding where he desired practical application. 

In the late afternoon, Luther focused on mingling his spirit with his wives’ without causing them undue distraction. The pleasure of bonding with them was wonderful. The pain of misjudging Eira’s temperament was intense. Criella remained the easiest for him to bond with, and he wondered if it was because their connection was stronger than his connection with the others. He’d have to get to know them better and soothe whatever storm Eira hadn’t voiced between them. 

Many questions regarding Luther’s arcanum remained unanswered. When they weren’t training Luther, the others practiced their forms and training on the grounds or searched the library for answers. Alas, their efforts were in vain. 

Luther ate dinner with his wives and Emily, but the meal passed in silence, with minimal small talk. The first day of training exhausted everyone. Poor Emily tried, but she must have endured the meal thinking they thought she was a spy. After the third attempt, she stopped trying to engage them in conversation, and Luther made the excuse of exhaustion. Training had sapped his magical and physical strength. 

The clinking of plates, chewing, swallowing, and other ambient noises filled the grand dining hall in the absence of conversation. 

Luther realized Wulfric knew the union was under stress and was guarding a secret, but he was polite enough not to comment. The servants kept their heads low. Chatter around the mansion suggested that the Le Fey union was nervous about their bout with the Spencers and any challenges that might follow. It was common among new noble unions. They needed a show of strength, and it’d strike fear into any challengers for a while. Brutality would bring them peace for a time. 

Meanwhile, a growing rumor threaded its way through the servants. Wyll reported the staff were laying wagers on whether he’d challenge the duke after his battle with the Spencers. Luther played coy. It wasn’t out of the question, but he didn’t have any plans to risk his future happiness. 

Each person took to their own bed that night. Luther fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

The following day, Jowangshin took over Luther’s training after asking for a temporary leave from her temple position. The temple granted her two weeks to enjoy her new union before she had to return to her duties. She took Luther to the local quarry and showed him her spells. Luther didn’t practice there, preferring privacy to keep the element of surprise. Witnesses believed Jo was ‌showing off her most impressive spells for her new husband as foreplay. Might, after all, was a person’s most attractive feature. 

Luther practiced her spells at home on a smaller scale, not trying to match her prowess. Their magic pool filled slowly. Their connection grew as they spent time together. Intimacy would have deepened their connection, but they were too exhausted. Still, their time together did them good. 

That second night, everyone slept in their own apartments, though this time they shared the baths. Luther knew then how exhausted he was when the display of his wives’ naked bodies didn’t rouse him to drag them to bed. Instead, they spent their time together recuperating, bathing, relaxing, and chatting as they reviewed the day’s training. Reviewing together and discussing what they’d done and what they might do better helped. 

The next day was more training in the morning and strategizing in the afternoon. Between him, Helena, and Eira, they devised battle plans that accounted for their enemies and came up with general strategies that might work against any grouping. It’d work, Luther thought, and they had several tricks up their sleeves. Jo saw every deception he suggested as nothing more than an underhanded scheme. But that was her problem, not his. 

The eve before the battle, they slept in the same bed, but only to sleep. No one rustled under the covers, and even Helena kept her hands to herself. Nerves remained high. He expected Criella to be nervous about another battle, but she appeared relaxed. She wasn’t entering the arena alone this time, and she expressed more faith in her spouses than in herself.

Dawn crowed on battle day behind gray clouds, and Luther rose first. He and the others dressed for battle. 

Their maids helped his wives don their armor, and Wyll helped Luther gather his supplies: the magic rings, the enchanted armor, the enchanted sword, and Lavinia’s rod. Luther wasn’t confident it’d work on an electromancer’s lightning, but it would be a good experiment. Besides, anything was possible. 

He refused to believe in magic’s limits without questioning them, now that at least one limit had proven false.

They ate breakfast on the road, and the carriage ride to the duke’s castle was long. He wished he’d surveyed the arena when they were last there, but he assumed it was outdoors, as most were, and they’d have an audience. The Spencers were well known among the nobility and were friends with Emily’s mother. They’d have their share of supporters at the challenge, and at least a few would boo the Le Feys. Heck, he wondered if anyone in the stands would cheer them when they won, but they’d be surprised either way. 

The sky suggested a gray and dreary day ahead. Light gray clouds darkened overhead as they drove toward the duke’s castle, and Luther frowned at the advantage such weather might give a hydromancer and an electromancer. A natural storm cloud meant they wouldn’t have to summon their elements, and Luther hoped the clouds didn’t thicken before their scheduled challenge. 

As strange as it seemed, Luther’s nerves danced faster at the thought of revealing his arcanum than at the idea that he had to kill four strangers. He expected them to have their own tricks, and he expected last-minute deceptions. Alchemy couldn’t account for every variable, and neither could life. 

“Are you nervous?” Helena asked Rhosyn, who hadn’t let her eyes leave the window since they left. 

“Yes,” Rhosyn answered. She took another breath. “This will be my first challenge. I’ve sparred, but I’ve never taken a life.” 

“Nor have I,” Eira said. 

Helena nodded. “You’ll do great. Besides, there are only four of them. Chances are you won’t have taken a life by the end of the challenge, either.” 

“Am I the only one of us who’s fought a challenge?” Jo asked. “Besides Criella, I mean.” 

“You fought a challenge?” Luther asked, curious. “When?” 

“Three years ago,” Jo said. “A young woman who wanted my position in the temple and believed that my arcanum was weak compared to hers.” 

“How did you beat her?” Luther asked. 

Jo frowned. “I overwhelmed her.” 

“What was her arcanum?” Helena asked. “I don’t remember hearing this.” 

“There wasn’t much of a crowd. It was just a minor dispute between two priestesses,” Jo said. She sat across from Luther. Helena and Eira sat on either side of him. Rhosyn and Jo sat across from them in the carriage. “She was a physiomancer, like you, Hel.” 

“Now I need to know how you beat her,” Helena said. 

“I overwhelmed her, knocked her down, buried her head in the Earth, and suffocated her,” Jo said, making everyone in the carriage raise their eyebrows. “Must we discuss this? We need to focus on what’s coming, not what’s behind us.” 

The carriage fell silent. Helena clearly wanted to know more, but she let it go. Jowangshin didn’t want to discuss it. She crossed her legs and left her hands on her knee, waiting for the carriage to stop at the duke’s castle. 

“We should have brought cards,” Luther said after a few minutes of silence. “Or a book to read aloud.” 

Eira chuckled. Helena grinned. Jo grunted. Criella tapped her fingers on her knee. Rhosyn said nothing. She glanced at Luther, then let her eyes slide back to the window, where the countryside rolled past. 

Luther half-expected hired bandits to ambush them on the road. The duke had made his distaste for his union and its members clear. Luther didn’t care. The sunrises and sunsets since he took his oath were beautiful, but they did nothing to cool his distaste for the duke or the Spencers. His only thought was keeping his wives alive. 

His wives had to survive. He’d sacrifice himself first, though he had no intention of dying either. No, their plan was solid. Execution remained, but it approached with every turn of the wheels beneath them. 

The horses drew their carriage along the road, reaching the duke’s castle just before noon. Emily traveled in her own coach, riding behind them. Many nobles waited for their arrival. Seeing so many eyes on him as he stepped from the carriage surprised Luther. Their dispute with the Spencers was minor, and he hadn’t expected more people than at his oath ceremony.

He helped his wives descend from the carriage, working with the footmen. Whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd as they exited, dressed for battle. Perhaps that was in poor taste, but Luther had always prepared for the battlefield. He wasn’t about to trust the duke’s staff with his belongings. 

Luther eyed those gathered in the courtyard, but none of them lived here. Neither the duke nor his spouses, nor the Spencers, were there to greet them. Nobles, servants, and guards made up the crowd. 

“Can someone please direct me to the duke’s arena? We’re here for our challenge with the Spencers,” Luther said. 

“The duke is in his hall, Lord Le Fey,” a young lady answered, then giggled. “My, you are handsome, for a fey.” 

“Thank you,” Luther said, bowing in gratitude. “But I did not ask as to his location, only his arena.” 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and a servant stepped forward. “If you please, my lord, I’ll take you to see the duke. You may leave your weapons–” 

“I appreciate you are a man of duty,” Luther said, patting the valet on the shoulder. “But if you think any of us would leave our weapons out of sight minutes before we enter a battlefield, my opinion of you lowers, my good man. It plummets like a stone.” 

The servant gave a nervous chuckle, as did members of the crowd. They acted as if Luther had made a good-natured jest, which was the tone he put into his words. Many saw the folly of the servant’s suggestion, but Luther and the others recognized he was only following orders. Still, neither Luther nor his wives disarmed themselves or allowed anyone to inspect, alter, or arrange their equipment. They were here to fight a challenge, not exchange pleasantries. 

“I’d heard the fey were charming,” a young lord said. “Come, sir. Where is your good faith?” 

“My faith in the duke abounds,” Luther said. “It is equal only in my respect for him.” No one seemed to understand the joke. “Otherwise, I reserve my faith for the gods. I’ve met too many mortals to have much faith in them. Now, please, the arena? We have an appointment there.” 

The young lord rolled his eyes as if he found the matter droll. “Then give your weapons to the guards and head inside. Lunch is ready to start.” 

“Father!” Helena called, waving to the two older gentlemen who were leaving the castle. 

“Helena!” 

Petros, Lionel, and Regina Cerul approached them, hugging Helena and clasping arms with the others. 

“We’ve come to cheer you on,” Petros said. “I hope you’re ready?” He nodded toward Luther. The older gentleman’s gray hair made Luther smile, and he envied the paternal affection between Helena and her fathers. They doted on her and loved her, though her mother fussed over Helena’s armor and licked her thumb to wipe away a spot. The gesture would have made Wulfric frantic, but no one begrudged a mother such a simple sign of affection. 

“We’re heading to the arena now,” Luther said. “Would you care to walk with us?” 

“Certainly,” Petros said, clasping Luther’s forearm in greeting. “You’re prepared, I imagine?” 

“As best we can be,” Luther said. “Are the Spencers here?” 

“They’re inside with the duke,” Petros said, leading the way around the castle toward the arena. The walk was a long one. 

One of the duke’s servants saw them and ran inside the castle; he’d no doubt announce their presence to the duke.

“Do they have any further members to their union beyond the four? I fear trickery. Most nobles aren’t the type to face a challenge when the odds are so stacked against them,” Luther said as they walked.

Petros grunted. “The duke gave them special license to marry, but none of the nearby lords took them up on the offer. You’re too much of an unknown, and with your conjuration arcanum, they worry you can match your father’s skill with the blade. The duke has been grilling everyone about your strength, but no one has answered. That’s why he asked to speak with us. He spent most of our audience asking about you, your travels, and what we knew. Which, I must say, isn’t as much as I’d have liked now that you’ve married my daughter.” 

“Ah, secrecy, the mightiest shield,” Luther said, chuckling. “I fear I’m about to abandon that defense.” 

“There’s honor in confidence,” Petros assured him. 

“Hm,” Luther hummed. “As you say.” 

“How has marital bliss been treating you?” Petros asked. “Helena seems well and ready to face her first challenge as a married woman.” 

Luther nodded. “It’s been more complicated than I expected.” 

Petros laughed. “Ha! It always is. And you took five partners in a short time. You’ve faced more complications than our humble trio.” 

Luther laughed with him. “Yes, what’s the adage? More people, more problems. That seems to hold true.” 

“And here we are,” Petros said, gesturing ahead. The slight drop in the terrain revealed a stone-ringed arena at the base of the hill twice the size of Luther’s. More than challenges took place here. The duke could even host races, mock battles, jousts, tournaments, and more in his arena, entertainments for nobles and commoners alike.

Nobles milled around in the stadium seats that ringed the arena, eager to get the good seats. They looked surprised to see Luther and his family arrive without fanfare. They whispered and pointed as they turned their heads in recognition. Luther stopped at the edge, near the entrance, and waited. 

They didn’t have to wait long before Duke Beaudivere and his entourage emerged from the castle. Luther scanned the crowd pouring from the castle, but he didn’t see the Spencers among them. Strange, but not worth boiling over, yet. If they thought they’d escape their fates by forfeiting and fleeing the empire, they were mistaken. 

“Hail, Lord Le Fey!” Duke Beaudivere cried out as he approached. “I had hoped to speak with you!” 

“I am happy to grant your request, Your Grace,” Luther said, bowing. 

“Good! Then come inside. You can leave your weapons with my man here,” the duke said. 

“Alas, I cannot, Your Grace,” Luther said. “We may speak here, as we are, but I swore to fight today, and I stand ready to enter the arena. Have the Spencers fled or forfeited?” 

The duke stopped, annoyance flashing across his face before he hid it. 

Callista, two rows of spouses behind him, met Emily’s eyes and shook her head. Luther caught the motion. 

“You refuse my hospitality? You insult the lord to whom you’ve sworn your oaths of fealty and obedience?” Duke Beaudivere asked. 

“Surely not,” Luther said. “I only assumed that Your Grace would wish to see the law fulfilled before I indulge in any feasting or celebrations. Let us celebrate our might after the battle, but I stand ready now, and I shall see the Spencers answer for their petty challenge against me.” 

“What pettiness against you?” The duke asked. “Their hatred for the Asmodean bitch? That quarrel has grounds. She cheated in her challenge with the Feothes, did she not?” 

“Her name’s Criella, Your Grace, and she is an advocate of the law. She followed it to the letter, and their quarrel with us has no grounds.” Luther’s jaw tightened, but Helena’s hand in his kept him from surging forward to argue with the duke. “Besides, Branan’s quarrel with her was unjust from the start. She arranged for Eira and Rhosyn’s parents to gift them property before they issued any challenge. Branan’s wrath at not coming into new property after his consistent insults drove Lord Verdell to challenge him was unjust.” 

“Is that so?” the duke asked, bored. He hadn’t been listening to Luther. “Well, come inside, and we shall discuss it.”

Luther had answered that request, so he ignored it. His impatience urged him to draw his blade, but he kept his hand off his hilt, just in case. “Are the Spencers on the grounds, Your Grace?” 

“They’re inside,” the duke said wearily. 

“Then bring them out, Your Grace,” Luther said. “And we shall rejoin your celebration with as much swiftness as the gods above see fit to grant us.” 

The duke grimaced, annoyed at being defied. Yet with so many nobles around, he couldn’t throw a tantrum. He had to appear above such petty squabbles as the dispute between the Spencer union and the Le Fey family.

“Fetch them.” Duke Beaudivere gestured to one of his spouses, and they stepped aside to carry out the task. “You are a bothersome fey. Do you know that? I had wished to discuss matters with you privately before your challenge.” 

“Is that so?” Luther asked. “Well, we can discuss them after.” 

“Are you so confident that you will win?” Duke Beaudivere asked. 

“Yes,” Luther said. His tone wasn’t arrogant, but the declaration was. 

“And what of your brides? Are you so callous you’d use them as fodder?” The duke asked, and a murmur rippled through the surrounding nobility. “Come, let us go inside, Luther. I might persuade Benedict to drop this challenge and negotiate a peace between you.” 

“You’re free to do so as soon as Benedict joins us,” Luther said. 

“Come inside,” the duke half-whispered. “That is an order from the duke to whom you have sworn your obedience.” 

And there it was, the ultimate thrust of the duke’s arguments. His last, desperate, and pitiful attempt to ensnare Luther. It was laughable. When one course of action didn’t work, the duke had no alternate plans. He couldn’t pivot. He could only thrust. The duke lifted his chin to project every ounce of regal bearing, as if no one could reasonably defy such a request from one who didn’t have to ask. 

“Alas, this is not a matter of governance, nor of war, for which I swore obedience,” Luther said. “But a personal grievance and challenges sworn before you and many witnesses. No command but the law should keep me from it, and I have followed the law. I have answered the challenge before witnesses, and await my challengers. The Spencer clan must fight me, or surrender their rights in this empire. Those are their only choices.”

Gasps rose around Luther, drowning out some of his words. Benedict laid the challenge, but he had not yet appeared, and defying the duke’s pleasant request for a pre-challenge parley made him appear callous and inhospitable. Yet it presented Luther as confident when facing a union known to have won several challenges in the past. 

Those who worked out his deft maneuvering around the duke’s command had every reason to suspect an obstinate, rebellious spirit within Luther. Why not abandon his weapons at the door and follow the duke? What distrust lay between them? What an insult to the duke to even imply he was untrustworthy.  

“And what will you do if they forfeit?” the duke asked. 

“I will let Criella see to distributing their properties,” Luther said, ready with an answer. “But I suspect they won’t drop their grievance.” 

“There’s too much of your father in you,” the duke said, tossing his hands in frustration. “Gods above save us from such fey pride.” The duke laughed. “Fine, Luther. Let us dispense with any parley and rush ‌to combat. More’s the pity. I do so hate to lose such mighty human nobility.” He eyed Helena and Jo as he spoke.  

“Then we only wait for our enemies, unless they have fled,” Luther said, bowing to the duke and ending the conversation just as Benedict, Wren, Kay, and Jane emerged. They marched as four determined warriors, their chins high.

“Hello, Benedict, Wren, Kay, and Jane,” Luther said, bowing and addressing them‌ as if they were friends. “Are you ready to die?”