sycophant
a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite.
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In her life, Iiana had seen a lot of nobles. She had seen a lot of royalty. Most of them had an air of arrogance around them. Even the nicest of them had it. Some quality that let her know they thought they were better than others. It was subtle in some, and obvious in others. She thought she had seen the worst of them. But now? Now there was no question she had. And his name was Prince Victor.
The third prince had come up to her, surrounded by yes men and sycophants masquerading as friends. Iiana wanted nothing to do with the chubby royal, but he was still a royal. No matter how bad he was.
“And then I drew my sword and told the vagabond to leave, lest his stench infect me. The fool saw my steel and ran. No doubt afraid to try anything against my superior skills.” The prince said proudly. His hangers on all told him how amazing he was for threatening a commoner just going about his day.
“That’s…very interesting, my prince.” Iiana said through grit teeth. She cast her eyes around, hoping for a more tolerable person to converse with. The other party goer’s eyes seemed adamant on not meeting hers.
“Yes, Of course. It was truly a fine act.” The prince said, oblivious to her tone. “No doubt comparable to some of yours.”
Iiana had to fight to keep her tongue in check. The fool was comparing scaring off a starving person to her fighting actual monsters? She put her life on the line nearly every day so people like him could sit on their backsides and get fat. It was lucky for him that she was not allowed to bring her sword.
The man’s sycophants had no trouble agreeing with Pince Victor. The worse part was that the man probably though they were sincere in their words.
“Of…course, my prince.” Iiana said, putting on her largest, fakest smile.
“You know, I’ve heard some tales about you, miss. They say you’re one of the greatest swordswomen in the world.”
“I’ve heard that. I don’t believe it for a moment, of course.” That was a quick way to end up dead.
“Of course you don’t. Because I bet you’ve heard word of my skills with the blade.” He said, patting the sword at his hip.
She put her hand slightly behind her back, so that the man would not see her knuckles turning white. Of course as a royal he was allowed to carry a weapon when everyone else was deprived of theirs. That was just how the world was. But Victor was wearing the blade improperly. The scabbard would get tangled up in his legs within seconds, the belt was too loose to be useful, and the hole thing was hanging off him in a way that would throw off his balance. And that was not even considering the sword itself. The thing was practically ornamental. She very much doubted it was even sharp.
“I’m sure your skills are a sight to behold.” She said.
The prince’s entourage couldn’t speak his praises fast enough. Iiana barely even listened. It was clear none of them knew what they were talking about, and were simply repeating phrases related to swordsmanship without any real knowledge. Prince Victor lapped it all up like a thirsty dog.
“Indeed, indeed.” He said. “In fact, I dare say if the two of us crossed blades, I would be the victor.”
“Really now?” That caught her interest. With a few more words she might be able to get away with lowering his ego, if only slightly.
“Oh yes, no doubt in my mind.”
“My prince, it sounds to me like you’re challenging me to a duel.”
“Am I?” He looked to his sycophants, who went out of their way to tell him how easily she could beat her, without actually saying he should fight her. “I suppose I am.”
“I see.” She had him now. “And what would be the stakes? Since this is not a duel of honor, there must be stakes.”
“Ah, now that is simple. When I win, I shall be the one to court you. And, oh, on the off chance you should win, I shall give you use of my personal seal for one day.”
Iiana schooled her expression. Access to a royal seal for a full day? She could do a lot with that. Quite a lot.
“Very well, I accept.” She said with an exaggerated curtsey. “When shall we hold this duel? You don’t mean to hold it now, seeing as I am without my sword.”
The prince clapped his hands loudly. The room quieted and Prince Victor made the announcement of the duel, as well as the terms. Nervous whispers filled the room. Iiana sighed inwardly. The really was the worst and most arrogant person she had met. A sword was quickly given to her. It was a decent blade, but it had obviously never seen real use. Plus, the balance was all wrong. But it would do.
Victor drew his sword and stood in a ready stance that was so full of openings that she could riddle him with holes with her eyes closed. The call to start was given. Iiana planted her feet and held the borrowed weapon at her side.
Prince Victor charged. He was slow, clumsy, and the tip of his sword was not even aimed at her. Even if she allowed the strike to finish, he would miss. But she was not going to do that. All it took was a flick of her wrist, and his sword clattered on the floor. She held the tip of the weapon in a vaguely threatening manner in the general direction of the prince’s neck.
“So, I believe this makes me the victor, yes?” She asked.
Victor stuttered and stammered. “I…no, not yet!” He grabbed his sword and swung.
A moment later, his blade was again on the floor. This repeated several times. Iiana had not moved from her spot. The prince’s entourage kept up their act, insisting to the crowd that he was holding back, or implying that she was cheating. Anything but admit that the prince had lost.
“I…I’m not feeling well.” The prince said after losing his sword for the sixth time. “I’m coming down with an illness. If I was at my peak, this would be an easy win for me.”
“Very well then. We’ll continue this another day, when you are in the peak of health. We can even get the royal healer and physician to ensure that you’re healthy. Shall we use the same terms then as now?”
Prince Victor looked around at all the eyes on him. Not all of them were trying to suck up to him. “Yes, fine. Whatever. Another day.”
“Of course, my prince.” She curtsied again and handed the sword back to whoever it was that gave it to her. Another royal, she assumed.
Prince Victor made a hasty retreat, followed closely by his false friends. She knew the duel would never happen, not really. But that did not matter much. While having a day with the royal seal would be wonderful, she was just happy to have humiliated a royal, even if only slightly. For her, that was worth more than all the gold in the royal treasury.
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If only it was that easy to bring arrogant idiots down a peg or two.
