4.05 – Strip Spars

Rosalie wasn’t sure how she’d been goaded into this.

‘Strip spars’. Heavens above. What would Father—or her sisters—think? Even disregarding the inappropriate nature of the event, the duel itself was offensive. Or, rather, the stakes. Stakes implied she might lose. Her? The heiress to the Deepshunter Guild?

She couldn’t imagine the shame. Fortunately, it wasn’t something she needed to worry about. As if she would lose to this annoying woman. Delta was more than competent enough, but not only was the match-up unfavorable—Rosalie’s class was nearly ideal for dueling, and Delta’s high-damage, low-survivability style was not—but ‘competent’ didn’t mean she was on an even playing field with her.

She didn’t mean that in a disparaging way. Simply, Rosalie had been pushing herself to her limits—or rather, Father had been, and then Rosalie herself, once old enough to realize the purpose of her training—since the moment she could walk. By Delta’s lackadaisical views on how they should be spending their time, clearly her upbringing was not remotely on the same level of Rosalie’s. It wasn’t her fault she was worse.

Then why was she nervous?

Because Delta’s taunts held credence? How Rosalie might become ‘distracted’ as the event progressed?

“You ready?” Delta asked.

The fox-eared girl stood across the dueling arena, bow drawn but held down and to the side, arrow nocked. Delta preferred ranged combat, but in this fight, she wouldn’t get to use her bow much. That disadvantage wouldn’t be too crippling. She was more than competent with her dual knives. But still a disadvantage. She excelled when she could stay back, not engage in a melee.

Hence, closing the gap would be crucial. Though, as a spear wielder, that would have been a goal of Rosalie’s regardless of Delta’s talents.

Even with her advantages detailed, this spar of theirs wouldn’t be completely free. For all of Rosalie’s complaints about her hastily-acquired teammate, she wasn’t a poor, or even mediocre, combatant. Rosalie would have minor—minor—difficulties fending her off. Just nothing to truly worry about.

“Begin whenever,” Rosalie said. Her grip tightened against her spear, which she had planted into the ground. Her muscles were tense despite her relaxed, intentionally taunting words.

She wished she had a better weapon. For most of her upbringing, she’d trained with a spear of almost incalculable value, a prize of Father’s own adventures. Dragon’s Tongue. It was too powerful for Rosalie to inherit its passive benefits, but despite that, it had an enviably perfect balance. Father had, perhaps, crippled her by giving her such an outstanding weapon to practice with. He did have blind spots, in that regard. Why not train her to be competent in any situation? Though she supposed he had. Just, the inferior weaponry she’d been faced with recently was irritating.

Then again, Rosalie had been supposed to return immediately. Her lingering in Treyhull—with Zoey and Delta—was against his directive. She grimaced, then, like usual, pushed the thought away. She’d made her decision. Father would understand. Maybe. After explanations. Zoey—and even Delta, though less so—would be talent he appreciated. Or … probably. Also a maybe. Rosalie wasn’t sure if she wanted to share the full details of Zoey’s class with Father, for numerous reasons, and so he might not see why Rosalie had paired with her.

And paired in a different way. Girlfriends.

What a disaster. Dating. Rosalie wasn’t supposed to be dating anyone. Ever, probably, but certainly not until she’d carved an appropriate name for herself. She didn’t have time for that kind of frivolity.

“I’ll start, then?” Delta asked. She’d raised an eyebrow, as if noticing Rosalie’s wandering thoughts.

Shaking them away, and fighting off a flush—distracted already?—Rosalie replied, “Whenever you wish.”

Delta didn’t linger. She seized the opportunity, bursting into motion. The first three arrows had zipped her way before Rosalie had spurred herself to move. A skill, undoubtedly. Delta was quick with her movements, and admittedly even faster than Rosalie, but not as lighting-quick as the initial barrage of arrows would imply.

Weaving between them, Rosalie closed the gap in a blink. Delta pulled out her daggers, frowning that none of her initial attacks had found purchase. It’d probably been her best shot, especially since she’d relied on a skill.

The fight began in earnest.

She would give her teammate credit. A close-range duel like this wasn’t her specialty, her two daggers far inferior to Rosalie’s spear, and yet she put up a good fight. Most sparring partners, Rosalie would have dismantled in a few exchanges. Instead, Delta weaved between between spear thrusts and even managed to have her on the back foot for a few moments, Rosalie barely avoiding the quick, vicious slashes of her twin daggers.

But, ultimately, the first round wasn’t close, either. Delta wasn’t an irrelevant opponent, but she wasn’t a highguild heiress apprenticed under one of the world’s strongest wayfarers. She hadn’t lived and breathed combat training for every waking moment of her existence.

A series of precise footwork and thrusts later, Rosalie’s spear scraped along Delta’s shoulder, drawing blood as it pierced her armor. Delta grunted and pulled back.

Delta eyed Rosalie, a bit sourly. She did have a competitive streak, which Rosalie respected. However much Delta had set this debacle up with intent to tease Rosalie, she had also been trying her hardest to win.

It was one of their few points of kinship. Here was a girl who cared about winning, desperately. Overall, Rosalie found Delta a bit unfocused, but Rosalie had sorted through the many candidates of the Treyhull guild and landed on Delta, despite annoying first impressions. That had been for a reason.

Attending to her minor injury, Delta pulled out a health potion and took a drink. The scrape on her shoulder stitched itself over, returning her to her previous condition. Likewise, her armor repaired itself, mending the slash Rosalie’s spear had cut open. An awfully convenient feature of equipment found in shards. Beyond being more durable and providing empowering effects, they were tied to a person’s life force. Most damage could be healed, either over time or with a health potion, in the same manner injuries would.

“Almost had you,” Delta said. “But whatever.” She sniffed, ego bruised. “What do you want first?”

Hm?

Rosalie paused, remembering the nature of this spar. Right. Each of Rosalie’s victories meant her opponent would be losing a piece of her equipment. Stripping, slowly, toward nudity.

Which should mean it would be easier to win. A lack of armor in a normal spar ought to be a detriment.

Would be a detriment. To Delta. Not her. She wouldn’t get distracted.

Because, first off, what was there to be distracted by?

“Your gloves,” Rosalie said.

“Nice try, princess. Not one of the options.”

“And the options are?”

“Top, bottom, and for each of those, outer, inner. So four pieces total.”

Traitorously, Rosalie’s heart sped up, considering the choice. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Either. It hardly matters.”

“You’ve gotta pick, princess.”

“Bottom.”

Delta snorted, as if she’d expected the response. “Yeah. Of course you would. You’re scared of these.” She cupped her breasts behind her leather armor, sneering at Rosalie. Done under restrictive armor, the bouncing motion wasn’t especially flattering … but Rosalie, unfortunately, glanced away, blushing.

And, the accusation. Staring? Her? “I have most certainly not.” Rosalie could, maybe, perhaps admit that from a strictly factual stand point, Delta had a lot going on up top. A lot more than Rosalie, certainly. There was plenty to stare at. But was Rosalie doing so? No. Clearly, Delta had an ego problem along with her obnoxiousness one.

The amusement in Delta’s curled lips said everything it needed to. How she could dismantle Rosalie’s protests with a simple look, she had no idea. Maybe Rosalie was dismantling her own protests by the way she blushed furiously. Either way, she rallied herself, then met Delta’s eyes, glaring. She wouldn’t be cowed, however mortifying this sparring session was—and would shortly become.

Unfortunately, Delta seemed to bask in Rosalie’s heated look, flourishing underneath the glare.

Delta’s boots came off, then her pants. She held eye contact with Rosalie as she did so, making it an event. Once done, the boots didn’t go back on. They came as a pair, apparently—the accessories came with the major articles.

Once done, Delta plucked her daggers off the bench she’d set them on, then padded back to the opposite end of the room.

Rosalie tried hard not to stare. Delta’s long, toned legs were on full display, and not the easiest thing to ignore. She’d also worn a pair of bright orange underwear. Matching her hair. Something as attention-grabbing as possible, and undoubtedly intentional.

Fortunately, it wasn’t working. Not in the slightest.

“Ready?” Rosalie asked.

Delta only smirked. Why did she have to be so confident about all this? And even pleased? Like she wanted Rosalie to admire her? Not that she was.

“Mm,” Delta said. “Nah, gimme a second. I’m actually kind of tense. Lemme stretch out.”

Delta turned around, then bent forward, keeping her legs straight. She pretended to go about a stretching routine, but all she was doing—blatantly so—was showing herself off for Rosalie: her recently exposed legs and ass, which her panties did an excellent job of cupping.

From an objective standpoint. Not Rosalie’s own opinion.

Delta peeked down from beneath her legs, fists on the floor as she stretched out her hamstrings. Violet eyes met her own, and a fluffy orange tail swished in amusement. “Don’t enjoy the show too much, blondie. It’s rude to stare.”

Rosalie tore her eyes away. “I wasn’t,” she said immediately. Then, correcting the instinctive lie, because it would be torn in two, she sneered, “It wouldn’t be beneath you to use this as a distraction. I was making sure you didn’t start.”

“So why look away, then, when I called you out?”

Rosalie’s lips pressed into a line. She … had her there.

Finally, Delta straightened out and rolled her shoulders. That irritating smirk was still there, and even more pronounced than before. Rosalie had won the first actual spar, but Delta had done so—and in much more spectacular fashion—the first spar of less literal interpretation.

“Alright. Ready for round two?”

“As ever,” Rosalie replied stiffly. The annoying fox-girl could try as hard as she wanted to fluster her, but she wouldn’t let it carry over into combat. She had better training than that.

Despite that determination, round two was sloppier. Not for any particular reason. She just made a few minor errors. Not because she was distracted by Delta’s exposed legs and bright orange panties. Just … a coincidence.

Fortunately, the irritated look on Delta’s face, having lost twice in a row, made up for the ordeal Rosalie was suffering.

“How do you do that?” Delta asked, tail swishing in annoyance, holding her arm where Rosalie’s had scored her next hit. “It’s like you can read my mind. You don’t fall for anything.” She narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that you’re doing with your spear? New skill?”

Rosalie inclined her head in acknowledgment. She didn’t generally think it wise to share skill details, and to most other people would have simply stayed silent, even if the skill was obvious. But Delta was looking to be a long-term teammate of hers, so she didn’t outright snub her. Still, no details.

Delta huffed. “Okay. What’s next off?”

“There’s only one option, isn’t there?” She tried to not focus on what they were talking about. Keeping her blushes under control was hard enough.

“Nah,” Delta said. “Two. You could take my panties next, if you wanted. Doesn’t have to be my top.”

She … could ?

“Your top is fine,” Rosalie said firmly.

“You sure? Don’t wanna get to the fun stuff?”

“Positive.”

Delta grinned, then got to stripping. Before Rosalie knew it, Delta was lined up across from her, now in only her underwear. It had already been a gargantuan task to ignore the glimpses of smooth skin and flashes of underwear, especially because a good warrior needed to watch her opponent’s hips, being the fulcrum which most powerful moves pivoted on and the easiest place to identify intent, but now Delta’s …. assets … were on full display. The ones Rosalie had been—quite falsely—accused of staring at.

How was it fair? That she’d gotten those things? Rosalie didn’t have nothing up top, and likely more than she could hope for considering her lean build, but compared to this annoying fox-girl, it wasn’t even close. If Rosalie had been staring, it was because she was annoyed. Outraged at the unfairness of it all.

Rosalie tore her attention away, forcing it back to Delta’s eyes. Delta’s annoyance from losing had faded. Getting to see Rosalie squirm made up for the bruising to her pride.

“Have another stretching routine?” Rosalie asked. “Or shall we begin?” It came out stiffer than intended.

“Only the first show is free. But … maybe if you ask nicely.”

So she hadn’t been stretching. Not that Rosalie had believed that. But still. So shameless. Rosalie glared, then lowered her spear, making her intent clear. Time for round three.

Just three more quick victories, for Delta’s bra, panties, then the naked round, and Rosalie would be done with this. It would be over shortly. She wouldn’t let herself get distracted.

And the hand-to-hand final round … where she had to pin a naked Delta down and make her tap out … that wouldn’t be a problem, either.

Not a problem at all.