Did I mention that Tyrel's servant is named Michael?
Nearby but clearly oblivious to her stood Michael intently watching the fighters circling each other. Ryan's back was to her but even 30 feet away it was clear he was moving stiffly, with too much effort. Duke Tyrel had eyes only for his opponent and Brent was too far across the field, looking for all the world like a leashed tiger. His inability to do anything was clearly driving him crazy.
The fight had started easily enough. A pass of blades, a simple testing. Even hampered as he was by the fuzziness in his brain Ryan answered the attacks handily. The first exchanges were a test anyway, designed to gauge an opponent's reactions. They were to form a game plan for the real fight to come. Ryan had no illusions that this duel would be anything but a true challenge.
Intent on the fight now seething in full force Michael was completely unaware of the soft white ghost that wafted toward him. Until a grip of steel fastened itself to the pressure points of his neck. He gasped, unable to cry out as Anieka nudged him around to face her. Her dark eyes were cold metal. "Stop the fight. Now."
"I... I can't." His voice wavered. His eyes never left the fighters.
Pietro broke in, "Technically correct. Nothing may legally stop the fight unless foul play is proven."
"There's nothing to prove!" Ania snarled. Her hand twitched in reaction causing Michael to draw up in pain. His eyes did no more than twitch, still away on the field. The last data fell into place in Ania's mind, the final realization that the voice that had played with her sounded nothing like the Duke, and she shook Michael like a rag as she forced his head down and around to see her and only her.
"Get out of my commander's head!"