Laurence set the parchment down on the conference table. "A challenge
to... who?"
"Everyone." The ancient Seraph leaned back on his chair. He and Laurence
were alone in the General Staff Room, high in the highest tower of the
Spires. "I'd like to issue a challenge to single combat, one on one. To
everyone and anyone who cares to accept it."
"I... see." A silence stretched. Laurence shook his head. "No, I don't
see. You've obviously given this some thought. Please explain to me why
this isn't as insane as it sounds."
Michael smiled broadly. "Think about it. There have been only a handful
of Superior-level combats since the Fall. Not nearly enough to be able to
develop a general tactical theory! But if we could hold a whole series of
combats -- _trial_ combats, of course -- between Superiors, we could learn
so much!"
"And is that the only reason?"
"Oh, no." Michael leaned forward, his gaze growing intent. "There's at
least one other reason."
"_I_ need to be challenged."
"I'm the Archangel of War. I'm Heaven's champion, the Hero Victorious.
And I /am/ victorious, again and again."
"That's the problem, Host Commander. It's been decades since one of my
Servitors came up with a trick in combat that even gave me a moment of
trouble. Centuries since I had a *real* fight, one that forced me to think
and to sweat." There was something in Michael's voice that Laurence had
never heard before. "I... I _need_ this challenge, Laurence. Or _some_
challenge. How else can I know that I'm pushing myself to the furthest
possible limit?"
"I see." _Pride_, thought the Angel of the Sword. _Hubris, even. And
yet... yes, he does have a point. A sword kept sheathed grows dull._
"Well. Do you have... parameters, for this challenge? Rules, of some
sort?"
Michael nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. As I said, I've given this some
thought."
"One, it must be held here in Heaven. Obviously, I'm not going to wander
off into the Marches, or stage a battle between Superiors on Earth. But
any location in Heaven is fair ground."
"Two, I'll fight anyone who shows up, Superior or not, at any place in
Heaven, at any place in Heaven, using any means of combat they require --"
"Wait." Laurence raised his hand. "So, you'd fight Janus, say, in a
free-fall judo match ten thousand feet above the Groves? Or Gabriel in the
heart of her volcano?"
"Yes!" Michael slapped the desk. "Exactly! Their locations, their
rules... as long as it's a fair combat, I'll accept the challenge.
"A fair combat as defined by..."
"You, of course." Michael shrugged. "You command the Host, by God's will.
Yours is the final authority. If you determine that it's fair, it's fair."
_He means it,_ thought Laurence wonderingly. _Of course he means it. It's
the Truth._
"Mind you," Michael added, "it is a challenge to a trial of /combat/. I'll
agree to any sort of combat, no matter how weird... but it has to be
combat. I mean, I'm not going to take on Novalis in a flower-arranging
competition, or Jean in a Fermi Quiz."
"Ah. A combat, not just a competition. Someone has to get hurt?"
"Well..." Michael frowned. "...there has to be the /possibility/ of
someone getting hurt. That's what combat is about, after all."
"But if Jean used a giant robot, say, or a battle-suit..."
"Yes! Exactly." Michael nodded vigorously.
"...or if Novalis came up with a..." Laurence paused. "I mean, if she
decided to... ummm..."
Both archangels fell silent for a moment.
"Well, the point is, it has to be some sort of combat. Even if it's just
thumb-wrestling. Any sort of unarmed combat, or any sort of weapon,
anywhere. Or a contest that tests combat skills, even. But no foot-races
or riddle-games."
"I see." Laurence rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and looked down again at
the draft of Michael's challenge. "And... trial combats, I see.
Non-lethal."
"Well, I'm certainly not planning to kill anyone."
"Right..." Laurence rustled the parchment again. "And, ah, stakes. I see
that you're offering..."
"To anyone who can defeat me in a fair fight, one boon. Anything that's
within my power to grant, and not inconsistent with my duties as Champion
of Heaven. Attunements, forces, relics, Essence... Anything within my
power to give, or do, as long as it doesn't interfere with my office."
"So if someone asked you to dance in a ballet? Or spend a day shining
their shoes, or hand over your axe?"
Michael frowned. "If I lose the contest," he said heavily, "of course I
will pay the forfeit. Fair is fair. But I really don't think it's going
to an issue."
"Ah." Laurence turned to the parchment again. "I notice that you've gone
to some trouble to specify that the Pax Dei applies to any challenger."
"Well, we don't want to scare anyone away, do we?" Michael shrugged. "If
an Ethereal, say... or, well, anyone... was thinking about walking into
Heaven to wrestle me, or whatever, well, we wouldn't want them worried
about being ambushed by the Host, now, would we?"
"Mm." _Is he really hoping that a Demon Prince is going to endure the pain
of the Light of Heaven just to take a whipping from him?_ Laurence
contemplated the ancient Seraph, his tense stance and intent expression.
_Yes, I do believe he is. Hope springs eternal._
"Well. This is very interesting. So, information on Superior-level
conflicts, possible new challenges, and a good workout for you..." Laurence
paused. "Are those the only reasons you have, for proposing this?"
There was a long silence. Then Laurence spoke again, very softly.
"It'll drive Baal just mad, won't it?"
...and Laurence found himself seized by an uncharacteristic emotion. _I
would never have believed that I could ever want to laugh at Michael. But
-- the look on his face!_
When the silence had stretched to the point of acute embarassment, Laurence
allowed his gaze to drift away to a corner of the tent. "Of course," he
said in his best General Staff-meeting voice, "a Demon Prince could never
issue such a challenge. First, since demons inevitably cheat, and defeat
would mean death, he would be placing himself in deadly danger."
Laurence steepled his fingertips. "Perhaps an unusually strong and...
valorous.. Demon Prince might issue such a challenge anyway. Perhaps
Lucifer might even allow it. But what then? Even if he did so, and did
defeat all comers... why, what would he gain? Everyone in Hell would
assume the contest had been rigged to support the status quo. He would
lose face, not gain it. A no-win situation." Laurence glanced at Michael,
who had gone very quiet and still. "So, just by issuing such a
challenge... why, you would be striking Baal at his most sensitive spot.
Reminding him of what he was, and where he now is, and how far he has
Fallen." Laurence let his gaze drift back to Michael. "Correct?"
The ancient Seraph seemed to have some difficulty speaking. _Sometimes I'm
glad God didn't make me one of the Most High,_ thought Laurence. When you
see them wrestling with the Truth like that..._ When a few moments had
gone by, Laurence spoke again. "Actually, I think this is a good idea."
"You... you do?" Laurence found himself suppressing laughter for a second
time; Michael surely didn't realize how surprised he looked.
"Yes, I do. Enraging Baal is good tactics. His pride is his weakness; I
think there's an excellent possibility that this may cloud his judgement.
Which could easily lead him into tactical error." Laurence tapped the
parchment. "Yes, as a piece of psychological warfare, this is first-rate.
Michael, I approve."
_And perhaps_, the commander of the Host thought to himself later, after
the overjoyed Seraph was gone, _perhaps this will do good in one other way
as well._
_You're the Champion, Michael. You're skilled with every weapon,
infinitely cunning in combat._
_But I am the Commander of the Host, and I have some idea just how clever
and resourceful Heaven's inhabitants can be._ Alone in the room, Laurence
smiled to himself. _It's true that this will enrage the Prince of the War.
But... Baal may not be the only one whose Pride takes a rebuke from this._
_Good luck, my old commander. I think you'll need it._
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