“Correct. I am taking the valuables that Rustin should protect. I will not spend a copper ringer of the spoils. All will be returned with interest after the duel.”

“This is going to get ugly,” Twitch murmured.

“And we have front row seats,” Jace said.

“What if we’re not just the audience?” Cole asked, his insides tense. What could they do if violence came their way? Their Jumping Swords wouldn’t work here. Neither would the golden rope.

“Check out the tiny knight,” Jace said. “If a fight breaks out, I call him.”

The joke didn’t do much to relax Cole—the thought of an actual fight here was terrifying.

“I have a wagonload of furs and specialty items,” a merchant called, his voice breaking a little. “They represent most of my wealth. Taking them would ruin me.”

“Bring your grievance to Rustin Sage,” the Rogue Knight replied. “Your wagons are mine for now. The drivers must remain to help me transport them, then they will be released with the horses. The passenger coaches and other horses may remain to bear you to your destinations. Each individual will be allowed to retain any money equal to or less than two silver ringers. I don’t want to leave you destitute. I won’t take your clothes or shoes, unless the attire is merchandise heading to market. But I’ll keep the rest—ringaroles, jewelry, promissory notes, deeds, and the like.”

“And if we won’t hand it over?” Monroe asked firmly.

“Do not mistake my courtesy for weakness,” the Rogue Knight said. “I do not wish to harm anyone, but any who choose to resist me will die swiftly.”

“The worst of their armor is much better than Konley’s,” Jace muttered beside Cole. “And those horses are incredible.”

Monroe glanced at his soldiers. “All right, boys. Time to earn your wages.”

Four of the five private soldiers spurred their horses forward. One dismounted and produced a longbow.

Konley pointed to three of his guardsmen and gestured toward the fight. They charged forward with the mercenaries.

The Rogue Knight drew his sword. One of his companions hefted a flanged mace, another held up a battle-ax, a third clutched a spear, and a fourth revealed a chain with a spiked ball at the end. The small knight drew a little sword.

Cole winced as the knights rode forward to meet the attack of the mercenaries and the guardsmen. A tumult of devastating impacts filled the air. The knight with the spear shattered a wooden shield, and a mercenary flipped backward off his horse to tumble ruinously. The knight with the flanged mace clubbed a guardsman with a blow to the chest that folded him grotesquely. Swords clashed, bones crunched, hooves thundered, blood splashed, men yelled, and horses screamed. Clods of dirt spewed into the air.

Within moments, only the six knights remained on horseback. An arrow sparked against the Rogue Knight’s breastplate, bouncing away harmlessly. The Rogue Knight nodded toward the mercenary with the longbow, and the tiny knight raced off in that direction.

At the approach of the small knight, the mercenary tossed aside his bow and drew a sword. When the undersized knight drew near, the little guy sprang from his pony at full gallop, skewered the bowman as they collided, then landed in a clangorous roll.

“You still want to fight the little guy?” Cole asked Jace.

Of the four mercenaries and three guardsmen on the ground, two of the private soldiers got up, panting, bleeding, but with weapons in hand. The Rogue Knight nodded to the knight with the battle-ax, who dismounted and approached the two mercenaries with the implacable confidence of the grim reaper. Cole didn’t want to look but couldn’t resist.

One of the mercenaries leaped forward and swung his sword. The knight caught the blade in his mailed hand and cut him down with a vicious swipe. The other mercenary backed away, his sword falling from trembling hands.

“Kneel and surrender,” the ax-wielding knight demanded in deep tones.

The man gave a wretched glance at Monroe and then dropped to his knees.

“Is this the end of your resistance?” the Rogue Knight inquired loudly.

Monroe looked down the line of wagons to Konley. “What say you, sir knight?”

Raising his visor, Konley cleared his throat. “I challenge you, Rogue Knight, to single combat.”

The offer surprised Cole. Based on everything he had seen, he doubted Konley had much chance against the antlered knight.

“Who are you to challenge me?” the Rogue Knight responded.

“I am Konley, second knight to Henrick Stroop, champion of Carthage.”

“Where is Henrick?” the Rogue Knight asked. “His challenge I would heed. ‘Rogue Knight’ may be my title, but I am the champion of nine fair towns and three noble cities. It is not within your rights to challenge me, but any of my eight and a half knights would gladly engage you should you so desire.”

“Eight and a half?” Konley repeated.

“Eight full-size knights, and Minimus, the Halfknight, who just slew the archer.”

The small knight was back on his feet. “Let me have him, sire,” the little knight begged, his tinny voice in a fairly high register.

“I’m not going to grapple with underlings,” Konley said. “In the eyes of the realm you are an outlaw harassing travelers. Your thievery has forfeited any protections a true champion would enjoy. Perhaps you fear to face me.”

Cole shared a glance with Jace. He’s so dead, Jace mouthed.

“I know of you, Konley,” the Rogue Knight said. “I have made a study of all the champions and their knights. You were once champion of Rudberg.”

“That’s right,” Konley said.

“You gained that position when the former champion stepped down,” the Rogue Knight continued.

“I was his first knight,” Konley said.

“You inherited your championship,” the Rogue Knight said. “Why are you not still champion of Rudberg?”

“Henrick offered me a place among his knights,” Konley said. “I stepped down.”

“Why surrender your championship to serve another?” the Rogue Knight asked, walking his horse toward him.

“Rudberg is a minor town,” Konley said. “Knighthood under Henrick was a better position.”

“It was a matter of wanting a better position?” the Rogue Knight asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why not take the championship from Henrick? Would that not have been nobler?”