Wilbur

"Come," said Sir Triston, hands behind his back. His scholar's robe flowed to the left as a gust of cool forest air welcomed him.

Wilbur wasn't provoked. "Do you not need a weapon, Sir?" He inquired.

"You assume I am not armed. A flawed assumption," saying so he removed the glove from his right hand. Wilbur's eyes widened as another gust of wind snapped at the training ground to deliver the revelation. Below the elbow, Sir Triston's right arm was made not of flesh and bone, instead of earth. "The war claimed its price."

He had been using alchemy to move his right hand throughout? Such an advanced application of alchemy is no minuscule feat.

"Commence," provoked Sir Triston a second time, flexing the fingers on his right earthen arm, as if to test his alchemy.

Wilbur charged for an all out assault. Taking the cue Carter Hill stealthily tried to sneak behind him. Sir Florent readied himself to lock Sir Triston on the spot, while Wilbur deviated his attention.

But the entirety of Sir Triston's attention seemed to be consumed by his right hand. Wilbur swung his Gladinstone blade. "Too wide," said Sir Triston his sharp eyes still admiring his right. He raised it and the blade dug in the hard earth. Wilbur tried to retrieve it. But it was stuck. Sir Triston flung the sword at Sir Florent, who ducked.

His right hand swiftly moved to punch. Or at least that seemed like a punch to Wilbur, as he raised his shield. Only when the stone fingers bore five holes in the shield did Wilbur realise that he was trying to grab it rather than punch.

When did his hand turn to stone?

His shield was ripped off along with the gauntlet, and in one single smooth arc, Sir Triston's right hand turned to his back to shielded himself from Carter's oncoming knife assault. In the same motion a right kick landed on Wilbur's breastplate throwing his six foot frame across the training field.

He can move his right leg? Then Sir Florent couldn't lock his legs?

He moved to look in the direction to find Sir Florent in a predicament of his own. The ground below him was moving in patterns and entwining around his legs like a creeper alive. He was actively using alchemy to push it back, but in all clarity Sir Triston emerged victorious. In fact Sir Florent was stuck on the spot, if he ceased to use alchemy he would be trapped completely, while using it just slowed the process of capturing him in a seemingly never ending cycle.

And that is how you entrap a seasoned alchemist in two seconds.

Wilbur saw Carter had been subdued as well, his knives sprawled across the training field. Sir Triston's left hand was still behind his back, nor had his left leg moved an inch.

Wilbur tried to get up. He couldn't. He tried again only to meet the greet the same result.

He must have hooked my armour to the ground.

He had only one way left. He wondered how even the strongest man in the Empire could be fooled by a simple trick.
No man is beyond or devoid of pride, after all.

He willed his Gladinstone blade to rise. He felt the familiar tingle as the blade reacted. But the blade did not rise. He saw the Gladinstone blade had been honoured with a well deserved stone prison of its own. It was strapped on four places to the ground. It glowed within its prison trying to seek freedom only to encounter failure. Seeing the glow Sir Triston turned his head towards the blade and smiled, "You assumed I would not know that it is a Gladinstone blade? Another flawed assumption"

Wilbur smiled back, resigning to his absolute defeat as the blade stopped glowing and accepted its own fate.

Monster!

The shield in Sir Triston's hand vibrated as the holes and dents straightened themselves and the shield turned as good as new. In the next instant, all alchemy bounds broke free, Sir Triston folded both his hands behind his back and said, "Again."

****