The interior of Notre Dame glows with amber candlelight. Thick incense hangs in the air, muffling the low, rhythmic chanting of the monks.
Henri de Valois stands in the center aisle. He wears the polished crimson tabard of the Cardinal’s Guard. He tosses a heavy, leather-bound purse onto the cold stone floor at the feet of John Smith. The clatter rings out like a gunshot against the vaulted ceiling.
Henri de Valois
Your father died a coward, Smith. This gold covers his gambling debts, provided you walk away from the duel and leave the city forever.
John Smith
My hands are shaking. The weight of his insult is heavier than the steel at my hip. If I draw my rapier in this house of God, I lose my status as a soldier of the King, but if I let him stand there smiling, I am nothing but a dog.
Henri de Valois
Well? Is your pride worth more than the coins, or does the boy finally know his place?
+ Scene Quest Added
Decide whether to accept the bribe or defend family honor
“Pick up the coins and throw them back. " thanks but no thanks. I will earn these while you die in a pool of your own blood."”
SUCCESS (Good Willpower, rolled +0)
John Smith
You mistake my silence for hesitation, Valois.
John Smith lunges forward. His large, calloused hand snaps down, fingers wrapping around the leather purse before the gold can settle into the dust. With a roar of genuine fury, he pivots and flings the heavy bag back at Henri, striking the nobleman squarely in the chest.
John Smith
Keep your pathetic bribe. I intend to earn these coins while you drown in a pool of your own blood.
John Smith
My knuckles ache from the force of the throw, but the fire in my blood is finally finding a vent. There is no turning back now.
Henri de Valois
You foolish, loud-mouthed brute. You have just ensured your own funeral.
“Draw weapon and prepare for battle.”
SUCCESS (Fair Fencing, rolled +1)
John Smith
You have a sharp tongue, Valois. Let us see if your steel is half as keen.
John’s hand blurs toward his hip. With a flick of his wrist, his rapier sings, clearing the scabbard with a crisp, metallic shriek that echoes off the vaulted stone ceilings. He adopts a classic en garde stance, the tip of his blade steady as a plummet, aimed directly at the nobleman's throat.
John Smith
His composure is nauseating. He stands there as if he is watching a common brawl, not a duel to the death. I will wipe that smirk away with the first thrust.
Henri de Valois
You always were a creature of pure impulse. Very well. Let us see how your strength holds against actual discipline.
Henri draws his own blade with fluid, agonizing grace, his expression remaining as cold and unyielding as the cathedral’s granite pillars.
“Utilize strength to unbalance the nobleman. Distract and use feet to knock him off guard when he is not expecting it”
Critical hit for 3 damage — Henri de Valois struck back but missed
John lunges, his massive frame surging forward. He feints a high strike before hooking his boot behind Henri’s calf, delivering a bone-jarring shove that sends the nobleman reeling. Henri’s rapier flies from his grasp, clattering uselessly across the stone floor as he collapses against a pillar, clutching his side in agony.
Henri de Valois
You... you brute. You have broken... my ribs.
Henri’s face turns a sickly grey, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He slumps against the masonry, his elegant coat stained with the sudden toll of the strike. He tries to reach for his blade, but his fingers tremble and fail.
John Smith
That was too easy. The pride of the Valois family is nothing but a fragile glass doll under my boot. Is this truly the man who dared to challenge me?
“Yield or die. The coin is mine either way. Do you yield?”
SUCCESS (Good Willpower, rolled +0)
John Smith
Yield or die, Henri. The coin is mine either way. Do you yield?
John Smith
He looks ready to collapse. If he does not answer, I will finish this. I did not come here to play games with a wounded dog.
Henri stares up from the cold stone, his jaw set in a mask of defiance despite the grey pallor of his skin. He coughs, a thin ribbon of crimson staining his lip, and he narrows his eyes at John’s looming shadow. The silence of the cathedral weighs heavy, broken only by the distant chime of a bell. Henri shifts, his hand twitching near the scattered debris, but he stops, realizing the hopelessness of his position. He gazes up at John with a mixture of malice and resignation.
Henri de Valois
You seek... glory, brute? You have your win. I yield.