Adventure of Frederick 1

The Foreign Warrior wipes blood from his eyes and snaps two fingers toward port, ordering the Hidden Enemy wide. The deck heaves under his feet, and his first step skids on the wet planks.

Frederick stays light as the boat rolls, sword angled to catch the next rush. Spray lashes his sleeves and the stern lane shudders open behind him.

The Hidden Enemy darts left along the port side, trying to turn the angle. Their shoulders are tense, eyes fixed on Frederick's blade, alarm barely hidden.

Frederick shifts with the tilt and meets the Foreign Warrior's charge at the edge of balance. Steel flashes once, not for a kill, but to make the next step costly.

The boat lurches again, freezing the three of them in a brief, dangerous triangle, each one measuring the other across the salt-slick deck.

Frederick gives ground only by inches, letting the deck's heel do the work for him. His blade stays relaxed, point alive, inviting the next mistake.

The Foreign Warrior bites at the opening, driving hard into the open lane. His weight goes forward before his balance does.

Frederick turns his wrists and steals the line, a neat parry that sends the charge off true. The man oversteps, boots scraping wet wood, shoulders pitching past the guard he wanted.

At the cabin doorway, the Hidden Enemy freezes again, caught between helping and surviving. The triangle breaks, and Frederick owns the center.

The boat slams down off a swell. The Foreign Warrior stumbles wide, exposed, as spray erupts between him and Frederick.

Frederick slips inside the stumble and answers it at once. His blade flashes in a tight riposte, quick as a snapped fan, aimed straight through the opening the lunge leaves behind.

Steel ticks home with a sharp, controlled jolt. The Foreign Warrior jerks back, his forward drive cut short before he can recover the line.

He folds a half-step sideways, hand dropping to his flank, face tightening as the deck bucks under him. The center lane stays Frederick's.

At the cabin doorway, the Hidden Enemy flinches at the hit, still stuck between action and retreat. Spray sheets across the boards, and the open space in front of Frederick widens.

The Foreign Warrior wavers on his heels, no longer pressing the attack. He looks ready to either fall back or lunge in desperation.

Frederick presses in on the checked opening, blade snapping from defense into command. The Foreign Warrior tries to reset his guard, but the wet deck steals his footing again.

Steel darts past his recovery and hammers the line a second time. His weapon drops low, his shoulders fold, and he gives ground toward the rail.

The cry comes out strained, more admission than challenge. He turns his head, measuring the drop to the sea, and the fight leaves his stance.

At the doorway, the Hidden Enemy recoils at the collapse of the assault. Their hesitation breaks into a backward step, and their eyes stay fixed on Frederick's blade.

The exposed lane on the slick deck now belongs to Frederick alone. Spray skates past his boots as the two attackers hesitate, one beaten back, one still undecided.