The Exiled Duke's Lottery system

The armored man crossed the compartment faster than something that size had any right to move.

Vale barely had time to shift his sword before the figure reached him. A plated forearm struck the flat of the blade, the impact driving Vale half a step sideways. He recovered instantly, turning with the momentum to bring his sword back toward the stranger’s exposed flank.

There wasn’t one. The edge struck overlapping armor beneath the arm and threw sparks across the compartment. The armored man twisted away before Vale could change his angle of attack.

Ghara arrived from the other side, her fist hammering into his shoulder. The figure staggered. Thorne followed immediately, driving both hands into the man’s chest. This time the armored stranger gave ground—two steps, three—as his metal boots dug into the floorboards.

A faint mechanical whine rose from somewhere within the suit. Then the man stopped.

Ghara grinned. "Now we’re getting somewhere."

Vale did not share her enthusiasm. "Don’t surround him."

Thorne glanced toward him. "Why?"

"Because we don’t know what the armor can do."

Ghara answered before Vale could. "It can get hit."

Then she charged again. The armored stranger met her halfway. Ghara expected another contest of strength, but he didn’t give her one. At the last moment, the figure shifted sideways, caught her arm, and used her own momentum to throw her across the compartment.

Ghara twisted in the air. Her boots hitting the wall, but she pushed off before she could fall, landing in a low crouch. Her smile disappeared. "That was rude."

The stranger turned toward Thorne. Thorne lowered his shoulders.

Vale saw what was coming. "Don’t."

Too late. Thorne charged, and the armored man braced.

The collision shook the entire car. Thorne drove forward with enough force to move the stranger several feet, but the armored boots remained planted as the floor beneath them groaned. Then something inside the suit changed pitch.

The armored man pushed back. Thorne’s boots began sliding, his expression tightening.

Vale stared. The stranger wasn’t stronger than Thorne—not naturally. The suit was adding something; not enough to casually overpower a Grand Knight, but enough to turn what should have been a clear advantage into a grueling contest.

Thorne growled and pushed harder. The armored man took another step back.

Then Vale arrivedd. He struck low, smashing the flat of his blade against the side of the stranger’s knee. The armor absorbed most of the force, but the joint buckled. Thorne immediately changed direction, and together they forced the armored man sideways.

Ghara hit him from behind. The stranger went down, the impact denting the metal floor.

Aldis stared. "That seemed easier."

Vale didn’t answer. The figure planted one hand, and the suit moved—not the man, the suit. Something drove through the armored limb, and the stranger rose with enough force to throw Ghara off his back.

Thorne stepped in again, but the armored man caught his wrist. Vale saw his second hand reach toward Thorne’s elbow.

"Move!"

Thorne understood instantly, twisting before the stranger could lock the joint. The armored grip closed on empty air.

Renna appeared from the side and kicked the stranger behind the knee. The figure dropped slightly. Ghara hit him in the chest, Thorne struck the shoulder, and Vale attacked the opposite leg. For several seconds, the armored man seemed being defeated beneath coordinated violence.

The ordinary soldiers had retreated farther toward the vault; none tried to join the melee. Vale noticed that. He also noticed something else: the armored stranger still had not drawn the enormous weapon at his side. Not once.

He had openings—several of them. When Ghara overextended, the stranger could have reached for it. When Thorne was locked against him, the weapon was within easy reach. When Vale attacked the knee, the barrel had passed directly beside his ribs. The man never touched it.

That was deliberate. Vale didn’t know why, and he didn’t like unanswered questions during a fight.

"Ghara, back!"

She ignored him for half a heartbeat too long. The armored stranger caught her next punch, but this time he didn’t contest her strength. He rotated sharply and drove his armored shoulder into her chest.

Ghara flew backward, hitting a storage cabinet hard enough to crush its metal doors inward.

The stranger turned immediately toward Renna, but she was already gone. He looked left—nothing. Right—nothing.

Renna appeared behind him, driving her knife toward the shoulder joint, but metal stopped it. She changed angles instantly, the blade striking the side of the elbow. Metal again. She went lower, but the overlapping protection shifted with the movement, leaving nothing exposed.

Renna withdrew before the armored hand could close around her wrist. "No opening."

Vale parried an incoming punch with the flat of his sword. "None?"

"None I can reach."

That mattered. Vale had fought men in heavy plate before; every suit had compromises. Every moving joint eventually created a place where a narrow blade could find flesh. This one did not.

The stranger’s fist came toward his head. Vale slipped aside, the armored knuckles passing close enough to stir the air against his cheek. He stepped inside the man’s reach and struck the breastplate with his palm, surging mana through the blow.

The armored figure lifted off the floor, crossing several feet before slamming into the bulkhead and bending the metal inward.

Aldis looked toward Vale. "Perhaps you should have done that earlier."

Vale watched the stranger push away from the wall. "I wanted to know what we were fighting."

"And?"

Vale raised his sword again. "I still don’t."

The armored helmet turned toward him. His posture changed—subtle, more careful. Vale noticed. Good. At least the feeling was mutual.

The stranger came at him. The first strike was a feint, which Vale ignored. The second was real, and he blocked it, feeling the force travel up his arm. The stranger followed with a shoulder strike. Vale stepped aside and cut toward the hip, the blade striking armor and skidding away without finding a gap or exposed inner layer.

The armored man spun. Vale ducked beneath an elbow and drove his shoulder into the stranger’s chest. The suit corrected—Vale felt a brief resistance, then a subtle shift through the stranger’s stance as the armor helped maintain balance.

Fine. Vale changed tactics, stopping his attempts to penetrate the shell to attack movement instead. His leg hooked behind the stranger’s ankle while his shoulder drove in the opposite direction. The suit tried to correct, but Vale added more force, and the armored man crashed onto his back.

Vale immediately planted one boot against the stranger’s chest and brought his sword down against the side of the helmet. The blow rang through the carriage, but the metal held. Vale struck again, harder, scattering sparks across the surface, but nothing gave way. The helmet didn’t split, no visor cracked, and no weak joint opened.

Vale stopped. That told him more than finding a flaw would have: there simply wasn’t an obvious one.

The armored man moved beneath him—not toward Vale, but toward Ghara. Vale realized why a moment too late: Ghara had turned away to charge the remaining soldiers. The stranger ignored the pressure on his chest and threw himself sideways, forcing Vale to step off rather than be dragged along.

The armored man hit Ghara from the side, sending both crashing into the wall. Vale stared. Again, the stranger had abandoned a favorable position to protect one of the ordinary soldiers.

Ghara shoved him away. "What is wrong with you?"

The armored man answered with a punch, which she blocked.

Vale’s attention shifted toward the withdrawing guards, then back to the stranger. "He’s covering them."

Aldis looked over. "What?"

"The soldiers." Vale pointed. "Watch him."

Ghara attacked again, and the armored man met her. Thorne moved to assist, but Vale stopped him with one hand. "Don’t."

Thorne looked sharply toward him. "We need through."

"Exactly." Vale looked toward Durn and Pib. "You’re going forward."

Durn’s expression changed immediately. "Through him?"

"No." Vale pointed toward the opposite side of the compartment. "Through them."

The remaining soldiers had fallen back toward the connecting door—four of them. Pib counted faster than Durn. "That seems inconvenient."

Aldis stepped forward. "I’ll make it less inconvenient."

Vale shook his head. "You stay."

Aldis frowned. "Why?"

"Because I may need another fighter here."

Aldis looked offended. "You say that as though logistics isn’t fighting."

"Today it isn’t."

Elenwe moved beside Durn and Pib. "I’ll open the path."

Vale looked at her. "Then come back."

She gave him a flat look. "I wasn’t planning to emigrate."

The armored man struck Ghara hard enough to push her backward. Vale turned. "Now."

Elenwe raised her staff. The remaining soldiers saw it and fired; the long guns cracked while the shorter weapons followed with rapid bursts. Elenwe’s barrier appeared before the first rounds reached her. The air distorted as shots struck invisible resistance and changed direction—some flattening, others deflecting into the walls.

Elenwe’s expression tightened. "Move."

Durn and Pib ran. The soldiers fired again, and the barrier trembled. One round slipped through at an angle, tearing across Durn’s sleeve. The dwarf swore.

Pib grabbed his shoulder. "You’re fine."

"I know!"

"You sounded surprised."

"I’m being shot at!"

"Technically they’re shooting at the elf."

"That is not helping at all!"

Elenwe struck the end of her staff against the floor, erupting wind through the compartment. The first line of soldiers staggered as one went down, while the others grabbed whatever they could reach. Durn lowered his head and charged through the opening, with Pib following close behind.

A soldier recovered quickly enough to step into their path, raising his long gun. Pib stopped, but the weapon never fired—Aldis’s knife struck the man’s forearm handle-first, shattering his grip. Durn used his shoulder to push him aside.

"Thought you were staying!" Vale shouted.

Aldis retrieved his knife. "I am!"

"Then stay!"

Vale had no time to argue. The armored stranger had broken away from Ghara and was moving toward Durn and Pib. Vale intercepted, their shoulders colliding violently. The stranger tried to force past, but Vale held his ground as both pushed against one another.

Vale felt the armor respond as internal pressure increased and more force entered the contest. He smiled without humor. "There you are."

Then he pushed harder. The armored man stopped. Vale was a Peak Knight; the suit changed the equation, but it did not erase it. The stranger’s boots began sliding backward—slowly at first, then faster—until Vale drove him hard into the wall.

The impact shook the carriage. The helmet turned toward him, and Vale leaned closer. "You don’t get through me."

The armored figure answered by driving both fists into Vale’s ribs. Vale grunted; the first strike hurt, the second shifted him, but the third never landed. Ghara caught the armored wrist. "Mine."

Vale looked at her. "What the hell, we are not assigning ownership here."

"You had your turn."

Thorne attacked from the other side. The armored stranger twisted away from Ghara and blocked Thorne’s blow with both arms. Vale stepped back. "Keep him here."

Ghara grinned. "Gladly."

Vale looked forward. Durn, Pib, and Elenwe had almost reached the connecting passage, with the vault entrance visible beyond the remaining guards.

Then something dropped from above. Pib saw it first, her eyes widening. "Durn!"

The dwarf looked up as another armored figure landed between them and the vault, the impact shaking the floor. Pib stopped dead, and Durn nearly ran into her.

For one brief moment, nobody moved. The newcomer straightened—same sealed helmet, same layered protection, same complete enclosure, and same massive weapon secured against the armor.

Durn looked back toward the fight behind them, then forward again. His expression changing multiple times. "There’s another one."

Pib stared. "Apparently."

Elenwe’s eyes narrowed as the second armored figure stepped toward them. Durn slowly backed away. "I preferred the soldiers."

Pib nodded. "Much friendlier."

The armored man reached for Durn, but Elenwe’s staff struck his forearm with a ring that echoed through the car. The figure stopped. Elenwe looked at the armor, then at her staff. "Hm."

Durn stared at her. "’Hm’?"

"Very solid."

"Your professional insight is invaluable."

The stranger attacked. Elenwe moved sideways, her staff tracing a narrow arc to summon a translucent shield between them. The armored man hit it, bending the barrier until it shattered. She stepped back. "Stronger than expected."

Pib pointed. "Incoming."

"I can see that."

Durn grabbed Pib’s shoulder. "Door."

The vault entrance was less than twenty feet ahead, blocked by three ordinary soldiers and the armored stranger in the middle. Pib studied the walls, the benches, and the ceiling before looking upward. "There."

Durn followed her gaze to a support beam running along the upper side of the compartment. He understood immediately. "No."

Pib grinned. "Yes."

"I’m not flying again."

"You don’t need to."

Elenwe blocked another armored strike with her staff, the impact forcing her backward. "Durn!"

The dwarf looked at her. "Busy!"

"I KNOW!"

Pib pointed upward again. "Boost me."

Durn stared at her. "You’re insane."

"Correct."

She stepped onto his hands, and Durn threw her upward with a grunt. Pib caught the support.

The armored stranger turned, exactly as Elenwe wanted. Her staff struck the side of his helmet—the blow did almost nothing to the metal, but it did turn his head. That was enough. Pib swung over him and landed behind the second line of soldiers.

One soldier turned toward her, but Pib kicked him behind the knee, pulling his coat into the next man so both went down together. The third raised his shorter weapon, but Pib froze as a gust of wind from Elenwe blew his shots into the ceiling. Pib immediately turned and started running.

The armored stranger turned after her, but Durn moved, driving both shoulders into the man’s back. It was a terrible idea, and Durn realized it immediately—the stranger barely moved, and Durn bounced backward onto the floor. "I have reconsidered."

The helmet turned down toward him. Durn raised one finger. "That was a distraction."

The stranger looked toward Pib too late; she had reached the vault door. "Got it!"

"Not yet!" Durn shouted.

The armored figure moved after her, but Elenwe intercepted, catching his arm inside a glowing mana lasso(a rope with a hook at one end). The band stretched as the armor pushed against it. Elenwe grimaced. "Go."

Durn went, the binding snapping behind him as he ran.

Pib was already examining the vault door—heavier than anything in the guard cars, with no viewing slit, no exposed hinges worth attacking, and multiple locking points disappearing into the frame. She ran her fingers across the surface. "Mechanical."

Durn reached her, breathing hard. "Mostly?"

"Probably yes."

"That is not a useful word."

"You’re the lock person, you should know how to open this."

"You build airships."

"Airships aren’t usually locked."

"Perhaps that’s why people keep stealing them."

Pib looked offended.

Behind them came another crash as the second armored stranger reached Elenwe and caught her staff. She tried to pull it free, but the armored hand did not move. Elenwe released the staff, stepped hitting both palms against his breastplate. Magic flashed, sliding the armored figure backward several feet before she recovered her weapon off the floor. "Any time."

Durn turned back toward the vault. "Working."

Pib crouched beside him as the dwarf removed several narrow tools from his ring. He inserted the first—nothing. The second—nothing. The third—a faint click.

His expression changed, and Pib noticed immediately. "Got anything"

"No"

Pib leaned closer. "Can you open it?"

Durn gave her a look. "Do you want to continue breathing?"

"Preferably."

"Then stop asking."

She smiled.

Behind them, the fight intensified. Vale heard the crash from the forward end of the car and glanced past Ghara; Durn and Pib had reached the vault. Good. Then the first armored stranger punched Thorne in the chest, lifting him off the floor and throwing him into the wall. Less good.

Ghara attacked, the stranger blocked, and Vale came in from the other side. When the figure tried to retreat, Renna was already behind him, her foot hooking his ankle. Vale struck the chest, Ghara hit the shoulder, and the armored man went down again—this time with Thorne landing squarely on top of him.

Aldis stared. "Was that necessary?"

Thorne wrapped both arms around the stranger’s upper body. "Yes."

The suit moved, metal groaning as Thorne tightened his grip, but the armored figure began rising anyway with Thorne still attached.

Aldis took one step backward. "I withdraw the question."

Ghara caught one arm, Vale took the other, and together they forced him down again. The stranger fought hard; every movement carried more weight, making every restraint a contest against both the man and the machinery assisting him.

Yet Vale noticed the same thing again: no lethal escalation. The enormous weapon remained secured, and the other equipment attached to the armor went unused. Hands, shoulders, grappling, controlled impacts.

Controlled. The word bothered Vale. He looked toward the unconscious guards scattered around the compartment, then back toward the armored man. "He’s holding back."

Ghara ducked beneath an armored elbow. "What?"

"He’s holding back."

Thorne tightened his grip. "So are we."

"Exactly."

Aldis understood first, his expression shifting. "Why?"

Vale had no answer, but Renna moved around the stranger. "Because they want us alive."

Silence lasted less than a second before the armored man nearly threw Thorne through a bench. Vale caught him before he fell.

Ghara looked toward Renna. "How do you know?"

"I don’t." Renna circled again, her eyes flicking toward the oversized gun. "But he has that weapon. He has never touched it."

Vale had reached the same conclusion and disliked hearing it aloud.

Aldis looked toward the front. "Then this is a trap."

Vale parried an armored fist. "We already knew that was possible."

"No." Aldis gestured around them. "The train. The soldiers. These things."

The armored stranger charged, and Vale met him, the collision pushing Vale back two steps before he stopped.

Aldis continued. "They aren’t trying to kill us."

Vale’s jaw tightened. Ghara struck the armored man from the side. "They’re doing a convincing imitation."

"Not convincing enough." Vale shoved the stranger away. "Think of a way."

The armored man recovered as Vale watched him. Whenever one of the eight threatened an ordinary soldier, the armored figure intervened immediately. Whenever they moved toward the vault, he resisted—but never with everything available to him. The massive gun remained untouched. The fight was violent and very real, yet there was a boundary beneath it—a limit ordered by someone.

Vale didn’t like where that thought led. He looked toward the vault. "Durn!"

No answer.

"Durn!"

A distant voice came back. "BUSY!"

Vale almost smiled; at least something remained normal.

The armored stranger advanced again, and Vale raised his sword. "Fine."

Ghara looked toward him. "Fine what?"

"We finish this quickly. Legs."

Thorne understood, and Renna did too.

The stranger moved first, and Vale met him head-on. This time, Vale didn’t try to win the exchange—he gave ground, one step, then another, drawing the armored man in.

Ghara came from the left, so he turned toward her. Thorne hit one leg while Renna swept the other, causing the armored figure to lose balance. Vale grabbed the breastplate, and all four moved together to slam the stranger onto the floor.

Thorne locked one arm, Ghara took the other, Renna pinned a leg, and Vale planted one boot against the armored chest. The suit strained and metal groaned as the stranger tried to rise. Vale increased the pressure.

"So can we hold him?" Aldis asked.

"For a while," Vale grunted.

"How long?"

"Not long."

Aldis looked toward the front. "Then I suggest Durn develops a sudden respect for speed."

Vale agreed. Farther ahead, Durn heard another click, then another.

Pib crouched beside him. "How many?"

"4more."

The lock was unlike anything he had encountered in Elarion’s civilian workshops—multiple stages, redundant catches, and a secondary mechanism that punished the wrong sequence by resetting the password. Whoever had built it expected someone competent to attack it. Durn respected that, and hated it at the same time.

Another crash sounded behind him. Pib looked back; Elenwe was retreating toward them as the second armored stranger followed slowly as Elenwe kept forcing him to correct against wind striking from alternating directions.

Pib looked at Durn. "How much longer?"

"Less if you stop talking."

Durn turned another tool—click. He stopped, and Pib heard it too, her grin disappearing.

"That sounded important."

"It was."

Durn tested the mechanism as one internal bolt withdrew, then another. His expression changed. "Very."

The second armored figure forced through Elenwe’s next gust. She raised her staff, but he caught it again and pulled. Elenwe moved with the force instead of releasing her weapon; she stepped onto his armored knee, pushed upward, and vaulted over his shoulder to land behind him.

The armored man turned, and Elenwe struck the back of his helmet, the staff ringing uselessly. She stared at it. "This is becoming irritating."

Pib shouted from the vault, "Maybe hit him harder next time!"

Elenwe looked toward her. "Thank you, Pib."

"Always happy to help!"

The armored stranger advanced as Elenwe backed toward the vault. Then Durn heard the final internal mechanism move—a deep metallic clunk from inside the door. He froze.

Pib turned immediately. "Was that it?"

Durn slowly removed his tools as Elenwe’s barrier shattered beneath another armored strike behind them. The dwarf placed one hand on the vault handle and tested it. For the first time, it moved.

Durn smiled. "Yes."

Pib’s eyes lit up as the second armored man broke through Elenwe’s final barrier. At the same moment, somewhere in the guard car, Vale heard Durn’s voice echo over the rattling carriage: "VAULT!"

Vale drove his boot harder against the armored stranger beneath him. "Open it!"

Durn tightened both hands around the handle. The locking bolts withdrew one after another from deep inside the reinforced frame, shifting heavy metal. Pib stepped beside him while Elenwe turned toward the approaching figure.

The vault door gave its first reluctant movement,as Durn pulled.

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