Rodrigo scoffed, drawing his body higher. He was an intimidating 'mon, several times larger than the diminutive cat in front of him.
"In person or otherwise, I have no preference; I just want you handled. This is less personal than you'd like it to be, señorita. It is you who bears the greatest grudge between us."
Esperanza snorted. "Grudge? This isn't a vendetta for myself, I do this for everyone in this town, and the surrounding country, my home."
"A charming lie, but I cannot believe it."
"Believe what you like."
Even from his hiding-place, it would be easy for Phantom to imagine their expressions – hateful and unblinking, the glares of nemeses.
"What now, then?" demanded the baron. "Are you going to fight me? Cut me down?"
A curt laugh. "I am no assassin. Honour compels me to stay my paw. First, I must ask you to give yourself up. Come clean about your misdeeds, abdicate your rule, make such payment as the courts decide is just."
A long pause. Was he actually considering it...?
"It sickens me that you would think to ask. Worse, I think you do not even jest. Modareno is mine, girl. It will remain mine."
A deep sigh. "A duel we shall have, then—"
Before Esperanza could finish her challenge, a rush of leaves poured from Rodrigo's body, drowning out any further words and blasting the Floragato across the room. The emerald energy dissipated quickly, only its sharply spearmint scent lingering.
"Bastard," hissed Esperanza. Her sword scraped and swished as she drew it and extended it before her.
"Think of me what you will. You never could understand the full vista of this country's fate."
A low growl. "Then paint such a picture for me, as I can see, blaggard."
The thump of paws as she leapt forward, the clash of hardened tail against rapier blade, the crack and crash of splintering wood as the Serperior threw his bulk around the room...
"—If I don't keep order, if I fail to maintain the economic partnership that the Commonwealth expects, what do you think will happen? You haven't the first idea! The old order of things is passing from this world. Industry, commerce, finance, governance – the Protectorate as you know it will not exist three generations from now, and I intend that it should survive changed and triumphant, not ground beneath the heel of northern modernisation. Compared to that, your petty feuding is nothing. You think Verizion will protect the town from what is to come, from exploitation or annexation? Verizion cares only for her garden wilderness. Verizion cares nothing for this town and its future. And Verizion is but a single emerald warrior."
"In years to come, baron, I shall be Verizion, and I would give my life for this place, and gladly!"
"And achieve nothing in your martyrdom, I am sure. Your life shall be spent like spare coin," spat Rodrigo, "that is, if it is not first ill-spent in this very place—!"
A wet and scraping sound, that Phantom would surely feel like a file grinding on his bones. What blow had the baron struck—?
"...damn it...."
"Saintly gifts or no, El Espino, you came ill-prepared for this battle. Throw down your sword, and I shall spare you a slow agony as you die."