20th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

The courtyard was full of activity. A ring two dozen paces across had been cordoned off with rope, and a crowd waited eagerly around it to see the spectacle, a mix of castle servants and nobility and even some of the peasants that had heard about the duel, united in harmony for the first time in years not by bonds of friendship or love but by a common lust for blood.

Princess Luna and Princess Celestia sat above the crowd on a raised platform, a brightly colored awning in wide stripes of deep blue and a yellow pale enough to be almost white protecting them from the shade. Bianca sat at the edge of the platform, her front hooves on the railing as she looked down over the crowd.

“What if Pallas gets hurt?” Bianca asked, turning her head to look back to where Luna sat in the shadows, the sisters carefully not looking at each other.

“If she does, perhaps Luna will realize how bad of an idea this is,” Celestia sighed. “This is barbaric. Whatever charges should be levied at Golden Showers, they should be made in a court of law, not in a dueling ring.”

“Blood can only be repaid in full with blood,” Luna said. “And Pallas will not be hurt. Golden Showers cannot afford the kind of warrior it would take to do her harm.”

A murmur went up from the crowd, and a path cleared as Pallas entered the courtyard, Quel following at her heels. Luna’s eyes went wide and she stood up to look as the thestral lifted the rope and entered the ring.

“Those are Hungry Ghost’s weapons,” Luna whispered. “I didn’t think he was fond enough of anypony to lend them his wingblades.”

“They look heavy,” Bianca said.

“Yes. I hope it will not prove to be too much of a handicap for her.” Luna considered as Pallas swung a blade slowly, then flapped her wing with surprising speed, the blade retracting.

A cheer went up from the crowd. Luna and Bianca looked to the other end of the courtyard, where a strong-looking unicorn stallion walked towards the ring. His armor was a suit of coins, the bits like scales in a dragon’s hide, shining golden and polished in the bright sunlight. A brace of six blades was strapped to his flanks, three to a side. The blades were wide and short, all of them lacking handles, intended to be grasped with magic and not held by flesh. Golden Showers followed him, grinning widely.

“I see she has asked her son to represent her,” Celestia said. “Perhaps the best choice she could have made. He is a champion fencer for the Academy, and considered one of the finest swordsponies in the world.”

Luna didn’t reply to that immediately. She just smiled a little. Bianca was the only one close enough to see it.

“Got any tips for me?” Pallas asked Quel, as she looked across the dueling ring at her opponent. It wasn’t quite high noon, but it was getting close.

“Yeah, see if you can call the whole thing off,” Quel snorted. “Look, I knew Zudah as well as practically anypony did, and I don’t think he’d want to see two ponies fighting over his corpse. What’s fighting going to solve?”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Pallas said. “Now do you have any real tips on fighting a unicorn, or am I going to have to learn it the hard way? I’m still healing from the last time I had to learn to fight something new.” Pallas lifted her injured wing slightly.

“Fine,” Quel sighed. “Look, this is a duel, and you’re not a unicorn, so what you’ve got to worry about the most is magic. He’s wearing armor and not robes, so he’s probably not a magus like Silver Tongue,” Quel noted. “You might not have to worry about really advanced magic. That said, he hits you with something like a Hold Pony spell and you’re done if you can’t shrug it off.”

“And what’s the best way to avoid that?” Pallas asked. She looked over to where the unicorn waited, his nose turned up and armor glittering in the light.

“If he does start to cast something, his horn’s gonna light up like a torch. You’ll only have a second or two to disrupt his concentration.”

“Okay. I can do that,” Pallas nodded.

Quel sighed and patted her wing. “Just be careful. There are old soldiers, and there are bold soldiers, but there are no old, bold soldiers.” Quel trotted out of the ring, flying up to a perch on the wall to watch the action from above.

Pallas stepped forwards, glaring across the dueling ring at Golden Showers’ son. A horn blew from near the raised platform where the Princesses sat. The assembled crowd turned to their rulers,

Luna and Celestia rising to their hooves to address the gathering.

“Hail and well met!” Luna shouted. “Today we are gathered to settle a manner of honor. Duchess Golden Showers has named Golden Strike as her champion and challenges Champion Pallas Athene in a duel against accusations of slander! After this day, the matter will be settled and neither party will have a right to challenge on this again.”

“As the charges against the Duchess are severe,” Celestia started, maintaining a strong façade despite her personal distaste for the proceedings. “This will also be serving as…” she suppressed a sigh of annoyance. “…Trial by combat. Centurion Pallas Athene, as the challenged, you have the right to deny this duel. If you do, it will be no loss of honor on your part. You are still recovering from the wounds you suffered in battle, and I remind you that should you lose, there will be no investigation into whatever crimes you might charge the Duchess with.”

“I will not back down, your highness,” Pallas said. Her eyes slid to where Bianca was sitting. The albino thestral smiled approvingly at her.

Luna nodded slightly. “So be it. Duchess, as the challenger, you have rights as well. If you have pressing concerns, the place and time of the duel can be changed, but not to end it once the challenged has accepted. Are there any concerns you wish to be made known?”

“Excuse me,” Golden Strike said, stepping forward. “Am I to understand I am to duel a wounded mare? And one without the benefit of magic?” He frowned. “I do not wish to harm somepony who has no chance in a fight, and everything about this seems weighted in my favor. She has no armor, she can barely see in the sun…” He was cut off as his mother’s hoof struck the back of his head.

“Don’t complain about things going well for us, you idiot!” She hissed. “Your highness, we have no complaints.”

“Very well,” Luna said. “Duelists, shake hooves.”

Pallas and Golden Strike moved to the center of the ring and shook hooves.

“We don’t have to do this,” Golden Strike whispered. “It’s not too late. I don’t want to have to fight somepony who isn’t at her best, especially for something important.”

“Worry about yourself,” Pallas said. “I don’t intend to lose.”

“Duelists, to opposite ends of the ring.” Luna called. “Centurion Pallas Athene will be fighting with wingblades. Golden Strike will be using the traditional brace of fangs. The terms of the duel are as follows – if a duelist intentionally harms somepony other than their opponent, they lose the duel. If a pony intervenes in the duel on behalf of one duelist, that duelist loses the duel. The battle will be conducted until one fighter yields or is unable to continue battle. Do you understand?”

Pallas and Golden Strike nodded.

“Excellent,” Luna said. “You may begin at the sound of the horn.” She and Celestia sat down, and Celestia nodded to her hoofservant once they were settled. The hoofservant raised the horn, and with a clarion call, the duel began.

Pallas rushed towards the unicorn the moment the horn sounded. She knew her biggest weakness was going to be range. His spells could strike her from anywhere in the ring, while she had to be within just a few paces if she wanted to be able to fight him effectively. Even if she was fully healed, flying wouldn’t help much against an opponent who could strike her at range, and the wingblades strapped to her were like lead weights dragging her down.

She was only halfway there when Golden Strike’s attack started, the unicorn maintaining his space and starting to circle to the side, the blades at his side floating up in an aura of magic and circling him in a halo of razors. One flew towards her like an arrow. On instinct, Pallas tried to swipe it aside. The blade curved around her wing, striking low against her forehoof and leaving a bleeding cut along her fetlock.

“First blood goes to Golden Strike,” Luna noted, loudly enough for the crowd to hear over their cheering.

“You should yield!” Golden Strike yelled. “You aren’t a unicorn, you have no defense against my attacks!”

Pallas ignored the pain and kept moving. It was nothing compared to some of the wounds she’d taken before. Her uniform ripped as another line of pain was drawn across her side. The unicorn was light on his feet, trying to keep as much distance from her as possible. The two blades he was manipulating circled around, nipping at Pallas’ ankles and trying to make her stumble and falter. It was clear he was more concerned about hurting her than finishing things quickly.

“I beg you to yield!” Golden Strike said. “I do not wish to seriously harm you!”

Pallas roared at that, grabbing one of the fangs out of the air with her teeth, the blade wiggling like a fish as the unicorn fought to get it back, the struggle breaking his concentration for a moment and slowing the other flying dagger enough for her to bat it out of the air. Golden Strike let go of the one she was holding, firming up his grip on the others.

The moment he let go, Pallas whipped her head around, flinging the fang back towards him. He reacted quickly, deflecting the knife with one of the four still circling him and grabbing it before it could go off into the crowd.

His expression changed. The knives around him spun in a tight circle and Pallas lost track of the individual blades as a burst of light sprayed out of his magical aura. She was blinded only for a moment, but it was a dangerous moment to be blind in. She cleared her eyes at the last moment to see the glint of steel flying right for her face. She knocked it aside easily, leaving herself defenseless as two more blades curved to the right and left to stab at her sides, the other fangs hidden in the blind spot created by the first dagger.

“I command you to yield!” Golden Strike yelled. One of the daggers was relatively harmless, bouncing off of the wingblade strapped to Pallas’ injured wing and held close to her side like a shield. The other sank into Pallas’ barrel, getting stuck on her ribs.

Pallas screamed in pain and spun, her wing going low and scraping at the dirt. A spray of sand and dust few into Golden Strike’s eyes, the unicorn cursing and rubbing as he was blinded.

He stopped moving for a moment, his blades hanging in the air as his attention drifted, unable to focus or see well enough to control them.

Pallas grit her teeth and ran, not slowing as she approached. Her forehead collided with his with the force of a sledgehammer, the tip of his horn opening a cut over her left eye. The aura around his horn faltered, and the fangs dropped to the ground.

“That’s cheating!” Golden Showers screamed from the sidelines.

Golden Strike’s horn lit up again as he tried to reach out to his weapons. Pallas roared and headbutted him again, feeling something crack. The cut on her forehead poured crimson into her eye, blinding her on that side. Golden Strike screamed and fell back.

His horn was badly cracked, the outer layers starting to splinter. The tip was gone entirely, leaving a jagged end that bled sparks and trickles of flame.

“N-no!” Golden Strike gasped, stumbling and off-balance. “I y-”

Pallas ignored what he was going to say and slashed with Hungry Ghost’s wingblade, the heavy weapon as unstoppable and implacable as death itself. It caught Golden Strike in the neck, his armor tearing apart under the force of the blow, coins exploding out along with gore. His head flew into the air, a final jet of magic from his horn making it erupt into sparks like a fireworks display before it fell into the crowd, ponies screaming as blood sprayed over them.

His body stood for a few long seconds, shivering as if confused, like it didn’t understand it was already dead. Pallas gave it a gentle push with a hoof, and the headless form fell, blood pooling under it from the stump of the neck.

“A dazzling finish,” Luna noted. “Excellent work, Centurion.”

“He was trying to yield!” Golden Showers protested, tears streaming down her face as she rushed into the ring. “T-this monster murdered him!”

“There is no proof of that,” Luna said. “And the matter is closed with the conclusion of the duel. I declare Centurion Pallas Athene the winner, as Golden Strike is… unable to continue.” She smiled down at Golden Showers.

“You can’t just let her get away with this!” Golden Showers hissed, looking to Celestia. “That beast killed my son!”

“You allowed your son to act as your Champion, even knowing the risks,” Celestia sighed. “You knew there was a chance he would be injured or killed, did you not?”

“Yes, but… he wasn’t supposed to lose!” Golden Showers spat. “She cheated!”

“Don’t be a poor loser,” Luna said. “Though I do understand that he was your only child. How tragic that your bloodline comes to an end like this. While this was a trial by combat, the sentence is left to myself and my sister to decide, and given the circumstances we believe you may deserve mercy after your terrible loss.”

“I would… be grateful,” Golden Showers said, looking down. Tears fell to the sand at her hooves. Luna and Celestia spoke in hushed tones for a few moments before they both nodded in agreement.

“Duchess Golden Showers,” Celestia said. “We offer you these terms – you may retain your title and holdings. Upon your death, your holdings will become property of the state. You are banned from the palace unless specifically requested by myself or my sister. No other action will be taken against you as you have… already lost much.”

“Thank you for your mercy, your highness,” Golden Showers whispered.

“Go, then,” Luna decreed. “Leave this place and do not return unless you are bidden. Neither you nor your servants are welcome here. Your son’s body will be tended to and returned to your estate.”

Golden Showers turned and ran, fleeing the ring and the silent crowd as she escaped.

Pallas watched her go, the Duchess not even sparing her a look as she fled, as if all the monsters in Tartarus were on her heels.

“You sure do like making a spectacle of things, don’t you?” Quel muttered. He lifted her good wing, looking at the blade still lodged there. “Wonderful. Let’s get you to the medics. I’m sure they’ll be just so damn happy to see you again. You’re the only idiot who can manage to get into a swordfight in the royal palace.”

“I had to do it,” Pallas said. “You understand that, right?” She looked back at the body. “For Zudah.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Quel sighed.