Arathorne settled into a focus even as his agile opponent leaned backwards, fell on his back, and rolled away, before getting back onto his feet and showcasing the most exotic style of dueling Arathorne had ever seen in his years as a Knight of Britannia. His opponent brandished a knife. "Numbers are insignificant," he had whispered calmly before darting across the gap established between them during the past few seconds. Every one of his steps had a spring to them, and with an unnatural speed - too fast for any human, Arathorne's opponent was already in front of him.<br/><br/>Pressing his advantage of height even as spring-loaded boots propelled him into the air, Prince Nash brought his fist smashing downward with merciless force in a blow aimed for Arathorne's faceplate. However skilled his opponent was however, Arathorne saw the blow coming, and deftly twisted his neck to the right, avoiding the blow smoothly.<br/><br/>Something was wrong. The move was too deliberate. It had to be some sort of distraction...thought Arathorne, then a slight click came to his ears, and he turned an eye towards his opponent's right hand. Through natural intuition, he thought it was best to send that weapon pointing elsewhere as soon as possible, and his sword came snaking upwards. Even with his many years of experience, the attack took him off guard. The Slayers' ingenuity seemed limitless.<br/><br/>Through luck or skill, Arathorne didn't know, but the spring-loaded knife edge came streaking for his face a millisecond later, and it bounced off the flat of his blade with a sharp clang. Seeing his opponent had utilized both the weapons in his hands, he decided it was best to counterattack now. Arathorne brought his sword down on the hilt of the knife in a fluid motion of his arm to pin down his opponent's only withdrawn weapon, before utilizing the momentum his right arm had given his left to smash his heavy kite shield into his opponent.<br/><br/>The blow was perfectly timed, and the Prince probably didn't even see the move coming. The heavy shield smashed the prince two meters away, taking him through the air and bringing him crashing to the ground. Arathorne took a step forward, intending to finish the duel, but he turned his eye to the entrance the politicians had left from, and saw that a congealing mist was already beginning to form. No doubt more of the Slayers' biological weapons. Maybe even the Cryxians.<br/><br/>"This isn't over," Arathorne said, pointing the edge of his sword at the fallen prince. "We'll finish this one day, when the victor of the duel isn't condemned to death."<br/><br/>Bringing his sword down to his side, Arathorne sprinted for the exit.