Right of the Victor
Prologue-Three Years Prior

Three years prior

My father was an honorable man. He never cheated in a card game, stayed true to his beliefs, and most importantly, never refused a duel. Sometimes I wish he hadn’t been like that. It was what got him killed. The day was a cold one. Snow coated the rooftops and grass, a white sheet blocking out all detail. Icicles hung from any spot they could get a grip on, and the wind whistled through the empty streets violently. It certainly wasn’t a day people were expected to go outside on. Nonetheless, at around midday, a knock echoed through our home. My mother rushed to answer, and the door swung open to reveal a man with a cloak and a mask to cover him. Neither was overly unusual, considering the weather and the fact that the head of a house would generally wear a symbolic mask when getting ready for formal combat. I didn’t recognize the house this man belonged to, though. The mask he wore was patterned in white and black, making it weirdly disturbing to look at. It resembled a basic human face, instead of the animals that most houses would choose for their symbols. Dark hair flowed out behind his head as the man spoke in a deep and calm voice.

“Gather your family and the man of this house. I wish to duel.” Those words would never leave my mind. At the time I hardly thought anything of it, confident that my father was the best swordsman to ever live. The fantasies of a child. As the man stepped inside my home and waited for my mother to do as he had said, I sat to the side and studied him further with curious eyes.

Nothing new stood out to me, except for the hilt of a sword poking out from beneath the heavy cloak he wore. No surprise there. Eventually my father arrived with a ceremonial mask on, and my four elder brothers trailing behind him. Their ages ranged from fifteen to twenty-three, while I was a mere thirteen at the time. At the entrance of my family, the mysterious man reached into his clothing and withdrew a katana, pointing it at the chest of my father, who did the same. This was the first duel I’d be permitted to watch, and I was excited for it. It never even crossed my inexperienced mind that this may end badly for my father. The excitement didn’t last long, as it was hardly seconds later that the two men were going at each other, blades twirling and dancing in a blur of steel, clangs ringing out like a strange rhythm when they touched. A new sound soon joined the violent orchestra: the sound of a sword shearing through skin and bone as it was driven into the heart of my father, followed by the thump of his cold body hitting the floor. Silence fell. Technically that had been perfectly legal, but most duelists choose to spare the loser. Shock was clear on the rest of my family’s face, and my oldest sibling even went so far as to draw his own blade with a loud rasping noise and aim it towards the masked man. I looked at my mother. Surely, she would stop this. She wouldn’t allow two important men of the house to be beaten while she watched, right? Wrong.

As was the custom of our people, a challenge had been issued and my mother couldn’t prevent it. Loss was the game of the house today, as my brother was similarly ended seconds later after a skillful disarming. A dark admiring for this man had taken me, filling my heart next to the disgust I felt at his cold demeanor while he masterfully fought and removed each of my siblings. My brothers had been good, but this stranger apparently was unbeatable. Blood thoroughly coated the floor by the time he turned his back and stepped towards the door, slick red in his footprints. Shaken by anger and grief, I ran to the body of the man who had been my father and pried his fingers off the hilt of his sword. Lifting it shakily, I tried to point it at the cloaked man, hands and blade wavering. I was too weak, the sword was too heavy, and the point dipped back to the floor. The amused laughter of the stranger mixed in with the cries of my mother when he observed my failure.

“Try that again when you know what you’re doing.” He talked casually for a man who had just killed five others. But I took his words to heart and swore an oath that day. I was going to become the greatest fighter alive and avenge my family.