Shadow of great britain

Three short-handled sword blades flew towards Arthur.

Taking advantage of Arthur's time to dodge, Bertrand turned from defense to offense. He stepped up and approached instantly. His arm was thrust forward like an outstretched branch, and the foil sword was almost integrated with the arm. The edge was already close to Arthur's throat.

However, just like all Fiore swordsmen would do, at the moment of life and death, Arthur almost subconsciously clutched Bertrand's slender foil with his hands, and his white gloves were instantly The sword edge opened a hole, revealing the iron chain buttons hidden under the gloves.

Those were the anti-cut chainmail gloves he had specially customized for today's duel. Combined with Fiore's unique trembling wrestling technique, this was the best way to deal with the French foil, which was good at stabbing.

Arthur tightly grasped the blade of the sword to restrict Bertrand's movement. In the blink of an eye, he raised the side of the triangular step. The sword turned from a long-tailed posture to an bullish posture and slashed horizontally with a thunderous force with the roar of the wind. It seemed that This sword will kill Bertrand.

Bertrand's reaction was not slow either. He suddenly pulled out his left arm from his cloak to protect his side. He only heard a crisp sound, and even the mist surrounding the two of them trembled.

Bertrand grinned: "Is that all?"

The audience in the audience exclaimed: "Is Bertrand's arm made of iron? How did he withstand this blow?"

"No, look at his arm, what is that?"

In the sight of the audience, what was equipped on Bertrand's left hand was a shield integrated with a plate glove, and a long thorn that could be used as a dagger was connected to the tail finger of the glove.

Even the well-informed Duke of Wellington and Talleyrand couldn't help but raise questions when they saw Bertrand's new weapons.

"That shield looks so weird!"

"I seem to have seen something similar to this shield somewhere. If I remember correctly, it should be in the collection of the Duke of Somerset, but that thing is from the 17th century. Based on this, the shield in Bertrand's hand It’s probably old.”

William IV asked Brother Angelo, the sword fighting experts beside him, "What is this?"

Angelo smiled and replied: "Your Majesty, we are in for a treat today. I thought this was just an ordinary duel, but now it seems that Bertrand and Mr. Hastings are more like a duel than a duel. Showing off what he has learned throughout his life. First, the Fiore-style swordsman took out the Richternar-style swordsmanship to fight the enemy, and now the foil master took out the lantern shield in response."

"Lantern Shield?" William IV wondered: "Why is it called the Lantern Shield? I don't think it looks like a lantern!"

Little Angelo shook his head solemnly and said: "Your Majesty, you will know as you read, this is a very insidious weapon. If Mr. Hastings doesn't handle it well, the winner will be decided in the next round."

As soon as little Angelo finished speaking, he saw Bertrand suddenly turned his left arm and pointed the shield towards Arthur. Immediately, a small hole suddenly appeared on the top of the shield, and a dazzling light radiated from the small hole, shining directly on Arthur's face.

The dark environment of the duel stage suddenly lit up, and the sudden increase in brightness made Arthur fall into a trance. In his sight, there was only a patch of light. He could not see the stage or the audience, and he could not find any trace of Bertrand.

However, the outcome of the duel was only a matter of seconds. The moment when Arthur was in a daze was a great opportunity for Bertrand to attack. The Parisian swordsman released the hilt of the foil that was tightly held by Arthur without any hesitation, and with his right hand He inserted it into his arms and took out the dagger he had prepared earlier. He approached Arthur in a breath and planned to insert the nail-sharp dagger directly into Arthur's skull along his chin.

Bertrand raised his eyebrows and smiled contemptuously: "It's almost time to end."

When the audience saw this, the men yelled angrily: "Insidious! Despicable!"

The ladies each covered their eyes with handkerchiefs, for fear of seeing some horrific scene of blood spurting.

However, the scene they expected did not happen. Perhaps after hearing the reminder from the audience, when Bertrand raised the corners of his mouth to end the game, he suddenly felt like something kicked him in the lower abdomen.

A clang!

When everyone saw Bertrand, he seemed to have jumped up a short distance. His expression, which was still smiling just now, suddenly changed. His face began to turn blue and purple, his mouth was half-opened but he couldn't breathe, and he was sweating profusely. One by one, it dripped down the cheeks.

"I...you..."

Even in the noisy environment of the theater, the sound of Bertrand's hissing breath was still very clear.

His hand holding the dagger was as soft as a puddle of mud, his fingertips were trembling, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clang.

The seven-foot-tall Parisian swordsman curled up on the ground in pain, clutching his abdomen. He breathed in and whispered intermittently: "You...I...didn't we agree...don't use so much force?" "

And Arthur, who made a key interception, was not much better. He covered his feet and squatted on the ground, and responded slightly apologetically: "I'm sorry, Mr. Bertrand, my reaction may have been a bit excessive. But If you think about it on the bright side, at least the audience is happy to watch it."

The audience burst into thunderous cheers, the ladies blushed, and the gentlemen smiled wickedly and whistled to urge Bertrand to get up.

William IV and other important guests all turned to look at the Angelo brothers beside them.

However, what people didn't expect was that the two sword masters, who had experienced many battles, were not surprised by this scene.

Little Angelo smiled and explained: "As you can see, Your Majesty, this is the importance of wearing a crotch protector in a duel."

Lionel promptly asked the two experts for their opinions: "What do you think of the quality of this duel?"

Big Angelo held his chin and nodded slightly: "I have to say, they fought quite classically, and the duel was more intense than I imagined. Although I couldn't see all their footwork clearly because of the smoke on the stage, For now, they're recreating some of the daily lives of medieval and Renaissance swordsmen. The only downside might be that they're a little too complicated."

In the box on the other side, Alexandre Dumas laughed and punched the air: "Damn it, I said Arthur can handle it!"

Disraeli subconsciously grabbed his pants. He only felt phantom pain in his lower limbs: "This kick was too harsh. I felt like Bertrand was about to fly into the sky."

Dickens glanced at Tennyson next to him with a strange expression: "Alfred, didn't you just say you wanted to compose a poem? Where are the lyrics?"

Tennyson, who had just started to feel something, was also speechless by this scene. He looked at Bertrand on the stage who seemed to be about to faint at any moment, and just shook his head.

Heine on the side rolled his eyes when he saw this: "What's so difficult about this? Look at me."

He cleared his throat and recited uninvitedly: "Ah! My dearest one! Can you tell me? Why are the roses so pale? Why do the crisp violets wither among the flowers? The clouds in the clouds Bird, why do you sing so sadly? Why do the loveliest fragrant buds exude the smell of death? Why do I become increasingly haggard? Ah! My most beloved person! Why do you want to leave me?"

Everyone was shocked when they heard this, and couldn't help but respect Heine.

Tennyson, who is also a poet, was stunned for a long time, and then commented: "This... this is simply turning decay into magic."

Alexandre Dumas even held Heine's hands: "Heinrich, did you write this poem now, or was it prepared early in the morning?"

Heine shrugged and said: "I wrote it before. It was originally a love poem. But I think it is quite appropriate to use it in this place. It can at least be used to explain why the heroine left me. Of course, I originally wanted to That's not what I meant. What I mean is, I have no problem on my side, Mr. Bertrand is just a special case."

While everyone was commenting, Arthur and Bertrand on the duel stage also relaxed.

The two protagonists got up from the ground. Bertrand glanced at the foil sword lying on the ground. He was about to pick it up when he saw Arthur holding the hilt of the long sword and throwing a javelin directly at him. Throw it over.

As a master of sword master level, Bertrand has naturally been on guard against this move for a long time. All sword fighting masters know that there is such a "flying fairy" hidden in the Fiore flow with a killing range of more than ten meters.

Bertrand rolled to avoid the English dagger, which was big enough to penetrate three adults. He only heard a bang and the dagger pierced into the mahogany wardrobe under the stage behind Bertrand like a bolt of lightning.

Only then did the audience discover this inconspicuous cabinet placed under the stage.

Before they could guess what the cabinet was for, Bertrand had already jumped off the duel table and yanked open the cabinet.

Immediately afterwards, he saw a flail meteor hammer in his hand.

Just when he was about to go on stage to continue the challenge, he discovered that Arthur on the west side of the stage also took out two dual-wielding miner's pickaxes from his weapon cabinet and prepared to take the stage aggressively.

"ah?!"

Upon seeing this, Bertrand, who was sweating profusely, hurriedly threw the meteor hammer aside, and took out Talkhov's two-handed giant sword from the weapons cabinet.

When Arthur saw that he had changed weapons, he threw away the miner's pickaxe in his hand and pulled out the 70-inch Demon Trident that he was most proud of.

Bertrand, who was dripping with sweat, hurriedly threw Talkhov's giant sword aside, and before the audience booed to express their dissatisfaction with the two players' armaments, he chose the ax gun he kept at the bottom of the box as the final weapon to deal with the enemy.

But when he picked up the ax gun and rushed back to the stage, Bertrand discovered that a confusing mist had risen above the stage at some point. A large amount of liquid carbon dioxide was madly absorbing the heat in the air. The entire Astley Theater was The stage dropped a few degrees for this.

The gentlemen tightened their jackets one after another, and the ladies also put on the shawls they had just taken off because of the heat.

As for Bertrand on the duel stage, all the sweat on his gloves and clothes had solidified and turned into a thin layer of white frost.

Under the light of the torch, his whole body was shining, and he looked like he was wearing a suit of armor dotted with diamond chips.

But Arthur, who had just appeared holding a 70-inch trident, was nowhere to be seen. Just when Bertrand turned around to get the weapon, he had already hidden himself in the fog.

Bertrand looked around the stage, not daring to make any rash move. The huge size of the ax gun helps him gain an advantage in attack range, but it also limits his movement. At this moment when it is impossible to determine the opponent's position, taking the initiative to attack is tantamount to exposing one's vulnerable parts to the opponent.

Just when Bertrand was caught in a psychological self-game, bursts of lightning suddenly erupted from the edge of the stage.

Lightning roared down from the nine iron pillars surrounding the duel platform, like nine venomous snakes that curled up and struck out quickly.

Blue-purple electric light whizzed past, lighting up the dim duel stage again. Bertrand turned his head suddenly, and a black shadow holding a sword was reflected in the thick fog. The guy was already close to the extreme distance.

"Monsieur Bertrand, what are you looking for?"

Arthur kicked his toes, and Guy Fawkes' mask broke through the fog. What followed was not the devil's trident that Bertrand had expected. It was a British saber with a cold light on the edge, or to be more accurate. He said it was a Scotland Yard officer's command sword with a intricately patterned guard and a Viking-style blade.

It's not a special weapon. On the contrary, it is the conventional weapon that Arthur uses most often.

Bertrand had no time to change gears, so he had to release his left hand holding the ax gun, hold the ax gun with his right hand, and raise the lantern shield on his left arm to try to withstand the blow again. Almost at the same time, he repeated his old trick and opened the The small hole in the shield releases light to destroy Arthur's lower attack.

But this time it was obviously impossible for him to succeed again, and Arthur changed steps equally quickly.

Just a simple step backwards and he missed the direction of the light. Arthur stepped on the long handle of the ax gun, just like he did a year ago when he stepped on the springboard between two ships to kill the Barbary pirates. The two feet quickly rushed along the long handle.

The already extremely heavy weight of the ax gun was now coupled with the weight of an adult man, which made Bertrand unable to lift it. The Paris swordmaster decisively abandoned the weapon again and simply used the lantern shield in his off-hand to face the enemy.

The sword light intersected, and the fists connected to the lantern shield and the gloves collided with the police officer's knife several times in a breath. There were several bang bang bang collision sounds, and the audience could even vaguely see a few sparks splashed by the sword blade. They fell into a mist that was enough to submerge the lower half of their bodies.

Arthur made a horizontal chop, and Bertrand's right chest leather armor suddenly opened several holes. Bertrand's punch penetrated, and Arthur's Guy Fawkes mask also instantly opened several cracks.

When the Angelo brothers in the box saw this, they couldn't help but have a look of surprise on their faces, and the words they wanted to complain about were swallowed back in their stomachs.

The Duke of Wellington picked up the wine glass and nodded slightly: "I can understand these moves clearly. This is the standard swordsmanship in the army. The typical Highland swordsmanship of Scotland Yard. The soldiers of the 42nd Regiment relied on this Highland swordsmanship. Playing a major role in the Battle of Four Arms, this group of angry Scottish men approached the enemy with fearless courage and repelled Ney's attack, thus solidly guarding the flanks of Prussian Marshal Blücher. If it hadn't been for them As well as the Prince of Orange who was responsible for commanding the outnumbered troops in the Battle of Four Arms, we will definitely not be able to wait for the Prussian reinforcements at Waterloo. At this point, Mr. Angelo, I have to thank you, you are also the hero of Waterloo one."

Angelo was flattered when he heard this. He touched Wellington with his wine glass and said: "Your Excellency, you are really flattering me. It is also an honor for me to be responsible for guiding and training the Black Guards. I am very happy with everything I have done. It really helps Britain and it helps you.”

When William IV heard this, he smiled and asked: "In your opinion, how much of the essence of the Scottish Highland swordsmanship does this young man from Scotland Yard possess?"

Big Angelo glanced at Arthur who seemed to be in a hard fight under the stage, and couldn't explain directly. After all, this young man was using his highland broadsword skills to fight. Wouldn't it be a slap in the face to say that he couldn't do it?

Angelo, who is not good at verbal expressions, thought about it for a long time, and finally chose to throw this problem to his younger brother: "Mr. Hastings' sword skills cannot be summarized simply by the highland broadsword skills. As you can see, he is not only a A master of the Fiore style, he also understands the German Richtenauer style, and I also saw a bit of the charm of the Royal Navy sailor sword in his just steps. As we all know, the standard drills of the Royal Navy sailor sword and My younger brother is responsible for the training textbook "Infantry Swordsmanship Exercises", and he obviously has more say than me in this regard."

Faced with his brother's behavior of dragging the Royal Navy sailor's knife he invented into the water, little Angelo could only curse obscenely in his heart, but he still kept a smile on his face.

"Your Majesty, when it comes to duels, I think the record is more convincing than anything else. Mr. Hastings is a master who can directly solve problems against thirteen people on the high seas, and he can also achieve forty-nine consecutive victories in London. Bertrand fought equally... Haha, Your Majesty, in fact, in my personal opinion, it is a bit rude to use a fixed formula to describe such a sword fighting master. Fiore, George Silver Masters like Richtnar and Lichtenar all draw on the strengths of hundreds of schools of thought and eventually form a fighting style that best suits them.

When I was writing the Royal Navy swordsmanship textbook, I also fully considered the bumpy combat environment of the sailors, so I finally finalized the three basic postures that are the most basic and practical. Mr. Hastings's swordsmanship includes swift sword moves, English dagger routines, German longsword techniques, as well as Highland broadsword and sailor sword techniques. In short, this is the most suitable for him and the most suitable. I can't find a better way to play in the duel stage than this. "

When Lionel heard Angelo's high emotional intelligence speech, even though he was always proud of managing his expressions, he almost burst into laughter without holding back.

If you hadn't paid close attention, you wouldn't have heard that Angelo was euphemistically expressing that Arthur and Bertrand were performing swordplay.

Sure enough, even swordsman masters like the Angelo brothers are not exempt from this. As soon as they take out the sailor sword and highland swordsmanship, they will not be willing to reveal the true nature of this duel no matter how hard they look at it.

When William IV, who was watching the excitement, heard this, he couldn't help but stroke his beard and nodded: "I know this young man is very strong, but being recognized by you two is a bit beyond my expectation."

At this moment, Arthur and Bertrand were fighting with each other with swords, fists and police swords were locked in a stalemate. Even the iron cage hanging above the duel stage began to be filled with flash arcs, as if the will of the two masters of swordsmanship They are all accumulated in these countless arcs of lightning and fire.

The iron cage is like another moon in the sky, but compared with the charming moonlight, it is a little more violent and shining.

In the sight of everyone, the corners of Bertrand's mouth twitched, and the frost that had condensed on his body melted away little by little due to the heat emitted from his body after intense exercise. He looked like a monster thawing from an iceberg.

On Arthur's side, the ice beads hanging on Guy Fawkes' mask were melting little by little, and lines of water drops dripped from the corners of the mask's eyes, but no one knew for whom these tears were shed.

Suddenly, the electric light shining around the iron cage in the sky suddenly exploded into a fireball.

This explosion was like a starting gun. Bertrand moved. He swung his lantern shield to deflect the police officer's knife. His free right hand wanted to lock Arthur's joints and drag him into the ground. Unexpectedly, he failed. An accidental jump was missed, and Arthur's knee slammed upwards directly against his mask.

With just this blow, Bertrand felt that his head was about to be smashed. A large amount of blood surged out from his mask, and the overflowing blood directly covered his entire face.

"Hastings!!!"

With an injured roar, whether out of embarrassment or anger, Bertrand raised his arm and hit Arthur's shoulder hard with his elbow. Only a hiss was heard, and Arthur's duel uniform He opened a big hole directly.

The two separated instantly. Bertrand's blood-stained right hand inserted into his inner pocket and pulled out a flintlock pistol and pointed it at Arthur who was about to get up: "I didn't want to come to this! But...but you Why are you forcing me? Hastings, you are going to get fucking shot!"

"Oh! My God!"

"It's unbelievable! The Paris Sword Master would actually choose to use such despicable means to end the battle!"

"Draw out the gun! This is simply tarnishing the honor of being a sword master!"

Waves of dissatisfied shouts and curses erupted from the audience. When Bertrand saw this situation, he felt a little frightened for a moment. However, he suddenly saw the suitcase placed in the corner of the theater again. The Parisian Sword Master glanced at it. He stopped and yelled at the audience: "British martial arts is nothing more than that!"

Immediately afterwards, Bertrand suddenly pulled the trigger of the pistol that only had gunpowder but no ammunition. He only heard a bang and black smoke spurted out from the barrel of the flintlock pistol.

Arthur's shoulder jerked back in response to the sound of the gunshot. He covered his left shoulder with his right hand and opened the red dye package hidden inside. The Guy Fawkes mask also slipped to the ground due to this violent movement.

Thick scarlet liquid flowed out from between his fingers, and his entire shoulder was dyed red by large chunks of chemical agents. Realistic blood beads flowed down his sleeves to the ground and filled the cracks in the bricks. , looks like a gurgling stream in spring.

Arthur's body also started to sway, and he didn't know whether it was because he was tired from the beating, or because he was just playing a temporary role.

"Oh! My God! Look what this Frenchman has done!"

"Why does Scotland Yard have gun control? If it weren't for that, I'd kill this French guy right now!"

Amidst the sounds of pity and scolding, Arthur stood up again unsteadily. The black hair on his forehead was covered with crystal beads of sweat. He smiled and raised his hand, which was a Colt that he was holding tightly. Revolver.

Bertrand half-opened his mouth: "You..."

Arthur tapped his fingertips lightly, and the muzzle of the revolver suddenly turned to point to the sky. He only heard five gunshots in a row, and the small colorful flags hanging in the air fell to the ground one after another.

Among the flying flags, Arthur walked with heavy steps in front of Bertrand and kicked the Paris sword master to the ground, who was at the end of his crossbow. The black muzzle of the gun was pointed at Bertrand's head. A low and hoarse voice sounded again: "Mr. Bertrand, do you know what kind of pistol this is?"

"I don't know, how...what happened?"

Arthur raised his pistol and pointed it at Bertrand: "This is a Colt revolver."

"Ah...and then..."

In the silent theater, only one gunshot was heard, accompanied by a few lightning bolts, like the sound of final judgment. The Parisian Juggernaut fell to the ground: "I'm sorry to introduce a new product to you in this way."

On the theater stage, the thick fog dispersed again, torches rolled, lightning flashed, and Arthur's face contrasted with the moonlight. He looked up at the sky, his body covered in blood.

This performance made the audience worried. Although the final result was Arthur's victory, such a victory did not make them happy.

"Mr. Hastings..."

"Where's the doctor?! Come and bandage him!"

"Oh! God, please have mercy on him. He is so young and cannot lose his arm."

The doctors who had been waiting for a long time saw this and hurriedly came on stage. Some of them surrounded Bertrand and carried him off the stage, while the other part walked to Arthur and begged: "Mr. Hastings, you It’s better to go to the hospital for treatment first. Regarding the piano music, today..."

Unexpectedly, Arthur just waved his hand gently and showed a charming smile. The white mist dispersed and a piano appeared behind him.

"Did you..."

Arthur just shook his head. He dragged his steps slowly and sat on the bench in front of the piano. With a long, deep breath, his bloody white gloves finally touched the keys.

do,re,mi,fa,sol,la,si……

Sound check completed.

Arthur smiled and nodded gently. Seeing this, the theater staff couldn't bear to extinguish all the lights in the venue.

The Astley Theater was plunged into darkness, and for Hastings fans, they certainly knew what that meant.

This is the playing habit of the piano master Mr. Hastings. From the first time he took the stage, he was accustomed to performing in the dark.

According to him, this is done so that the audience can experience the music without distraction and not be distracted by the complicated external world.

Today, this darkness has obviously been given more meaning.

Most of the audience was still immersed in the shock of what they had just experienced, while a few ignorant men wanted to ask about the reason for the darkness, but before they could speak, they were severely punished by the female companion beside them.

For a moment, everyone in the Astley Theater held their breath as if they had made an appointment. They were ready to listen to this piano piece that may be Hastings' last performance. .

The playing time is the only time he has left in his life...

I’ll write here first, take a nap, and then continue writing after dinner in the evening.