Fools

“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat,” Rowen grumbled to Aria, who had made herself busy tampering with her sword.

She looked up, irritated. “Listen, clodhopper,” she retorted, “I know what I’m doing. Besides, there are more important things than winning.” She turned away from him to focus on the task at hand.

Taken aback, Rowen took a moment to find something to say. He’d expected Aria to take the competition seriously, and she was in the semi-finals of the tournament. Why would she give up her shot at the title now?

“Don’t ask. I won’t tell you,” Aria replied, her back still to him. How does she do that? He wondered for the millionth time. 

Minutes passed, neither one of them attempting to make conversation, as they both knew it wouldn’t do any good until after the match. Instead, the silence was filled with the rhythmic scraping of stone against metal as Aria sharpened her sword. At least, that was what it sounded like, but now, Rowen couldn’t be sure. He still felt a little guilty, stepping down from the games. Aria didn’t have a problem taking his place, but still. As her brother, he felt it was his responsibility to protect her while they were away, and he couldn’t very well do that when she walked onto the field wearing not only his armor, but his name as well. He had to say it suited her, regardless how useless it made him feel. She had always been better with a sword, and she had been able to take him in a wrestling match since they were kids. 

Rowen was pulled from his thoughts as he realized Aria was done with whatever she was doing, and was starting to tie her hair up to put under her helmet. Moments later, he heard his name bellowed from the grandstands as he watched her put on his armor. Funny, He thought. It fits her better anyway. 

“Rowen Jorgensen, you’re up in three,” a man with a scroll droned as he walked by, clearly done for the day. The smell of the mead stung Rowen’s nose as he wondered how this man was still walking in a straight line.

“Sh-he’ll be there. Thank you sir,” Rowen responded, still not used to referring to his sister as himself. After he injured his shoulder in a jousting tournament, Aria had insisted upon taking his place. They were miles from home, and had only won a small purse from the bets she had made under the table. He dared not ask if she bet for or against him, so long as she ended up with the money. He had taken on the role as her squire, but she still did everything except for the talking. That was his strong suit anyway. But he still got the nerves, worse than before, if anything. At least when it was him going onto the field, he knew it would be him that bore the consequences of his actions. Now, Aria would bear the consequences of both his actions and her own. That was almost too much for him to bear. Almost. 

“Ready?” Aria had snuck up behind him while he was lost in thought. He turned to her, and did his routine check of the straps on the armor and weight of the sword, much to her dismay. 

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Aria?” he asked as he looked her in the eyes through the helmet. They rarely used first names with each other, and when they did, it was serious.

“Listen, Ro, I’ve seen this man I have to duel. They call him ‘The Mountain,’ for a reason. I have a plan, and I don’t want you to worry about it. Just focus on making money today. It wouldn’t hurt for you to work the finances for a change.” She turned toward the arena, silently telling him their conversation was over. That was one thing she had a knack for. She didn’t use many words, and not very often. But when she did, and when she was done, it was like talking to a brick wall. The only difference was, walls could crumble; Aria didn’t.

A voice came from their right, telling them it was her turn. Aria signaled for Rowan to make himself scarce. He knew what she meant, but didn’t bother letting his feelings get hurt. She didn’t like being watched, and insisted that she knew when he was watching, and it insulted her performance. He knew better than to try and convince her otherwise. Instead, he made himself busy taking and making bets with the gentlemen behind under the stands where the spectators were seated. He couldn’t read people the same way Aria could, but he could talk them out of ten gold pieces before they could think twice, regardless whether or not he won the original bet. Not that it mattered, because she always won. That led him to again question her motives. Why would she intentionally lose?

The sounding of the horn and clanging of swords indicated that the match had begun. As much as he wanted to watch her, he knew better than to peek out from under the stands. Again, she was much better with a sword than he, and she wasn’t nursing a sore shoulder. While Rowen gambled with the other squires outside of the arena, he gathered tidbits of information on his sister’s opponent. Nothing concrete, but whispers and murmurs here and there.

“-never loses-”

“-always wins-”

“-helmets off-”

Rowen stopped his gambling as he processed what he had just heard. The Mountain never loses? He knocks the helmets off of his opponents? No wonder Aria had been so quiet before the match had begun. She didn’t want him to know she would lose, whether she had planned to or not. One thing stuck in his mind though; if he knocked her helmet off, it would be revealed that she was a girl, and they would be forbidden from competing ever again. If Aria knew this, why would she still compete? What have you got planned this time, sister? Rowen wondered. I hope you know what you’re doing.

The rest of the match seemed to take forever, once Rowen knew his sister’s situation. He prayed she wouldn’t lose, but then he knew it was pointless. Hadn’t she said this would happen? His feet danced with nervousness, and his hands shook in anticipation as he heard the horn blow a second time, indicating the match was over. He made his way back to his post at the entrance of the arena, waiting for Aria to meet him. Instead, she walked out the opposite end, and under the stands, somewhere she hadn’t gone since they switched roles. He hurried back to meet her. By the time he got there, it was too late.

Aria ran before anyone could ask any questions. Once she was behind the sands with the rest of the backwards gamblers and dealers, she removed her helmet and used it to start collecting pieces of gold and silver from them. Across the way, through the crowds, she saw a blond head making its way towards her. She felt bad, to a certain extent, but knew he would have never agreed to her plan. While learning what she could about her opponent, she knew there was no winning. So she did what she did best - aside from swordplay, of course - she gambled. Determined to make her inevitable defeat worthwhile, and knowing her identity would be revealed, she gambled that “Rowen Jorgensen” was, in fact, a girl. No one would believe her, of course, so she would win the pot. 

Rowen approached her, his mouth already forming a question. But before he could make a sound, Aria stopped him. 

“Fools,” she mumbled as she brushed past him, walking through the crowd and collecting more money, “I’m the only one that makes money off of my losses.”