The Bravest Warrior in All the Land

Belboz stepped back from the dazzling display of swordsmanship. The necromancer had seen his fair share of knights before, but none were as skilled as this brash young man. Belboz felt envious of Fred's prowess, and the necromancer was well aware of the threat Fred posed. But as he stared at the knight's fast and fluid movements, the dangerous thrusts and sweeps of the blade, what Belboz felt the most was simple, petty annoyance. He hated it when knights showed off.

For his finale, Fred threw the sword high into the air and then snatched the twirling blade back without a blink, without a whisper of doubt, and most importantly without losing a single finger or thumb. Fred was good, and he knew it. And so did Belboz. The necromancer took another step back as Fred sheathed his sword and then Belboz raised his arms like a cobra about to strike. But he never had the chance to breath one magic word or syllable, instead, the necromancer found himself pushed up against a wall, Fred's arm shoved against his throat, his hand and the magic ring caught in Fred's steel-like grip.

"Bad move, old man," Fred admonished Belboz with a smile on his lips. "You know, I don't like magic and I don't care much for magic users. Now unless you want to lose that finger, I suggest you keep very, very still." Belboz didn't even dare to blink as Fred took the blue sapphire ring off of his finger and dropped it into a pouch. Fred suspected the ring was magic and he really, really didn't like magic. Magic was for cheats and cowards. But the ring, if indeed it was magical, would be useless now. The pouch had been given to Fred by the Vedic priests. It was blessed so as to nullify any magic object held inside it.

1. With that taken care of, Fred now had to decide what to do with the necromancer.

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