Rules of the Fight
- CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR...Books One, Two, Three, and Four
Fighting Words
When you create a warrior character it’s helpful to define them with a code of conduct. It’s a key tool in defining their personality and modus operandi. Who/what do they fight for/against? When they face an obstacle is violence their immediate response, last resort, or somewhere in-between? Do they have a prohibition against killing? How strictly do they follow their own rules? Is there dishonour in disobeying or do sometimes circumstances dictate going off script?
Henry is the lead warrior in The Mythic Series so he naturally was the one with the set of guidelines. In The Mythic and the Horses of Doom he teaches Lucy what he calls “the Rules of the Fight”. There are five of them and he doles them out during a sparring session. Well, Henry spars, Lucy mostly just gets knocked to the ground and farts…
Code Blue
We are still to learn where these directions originated. Did Henry create them? Did he learn them? If so, who was his teacher? Our favourite minotaur is still, in many ways, an enigma. We do know that he grew up as a prisoner in a labyrinth, being hunted for sport. And we know that, to him, this code governs more than actual fights. ‘These rules are not just about literal battle,’ says Henry. ‘They are about keeping you safe in any situation.’ In effect, then, this is his handbook for life just as much for combat. And the evidence points towards at least some of them coming from his own experiences.
I created the Rules from scratch. None are based on an existing system or specific regulation and I had no particular character other than Henry in mind when I wrote them. In other words, unlike a lot of The Mythic Series, they’re not intended to ape a real or fictional code.
Of course, some clearly do mirror similar directives from real and fictitious codes—but also they’re designed to also simply be common sense. Henry is a pragmatist first and foremost and hopefully that matter-of-factness comes through each and every one of the following.
Rule One: Always be prepared for the fight.
This is a prime example of common sense, right? No sensible person undertaking any hazardous task would head out under-prepared. From hard hats to bulletproof vests, from a security detail to an evacuation plan, if there’s danger afoot you need to be ready for it.
However, Rule One goes beyond mere prudence. It’s in that first word. Always be prepared. As we’ll see later it is inexorably tied to Rule Five for it implies that danger is ever present.
I had a very specific lyric in mind when I came up with this first Rule. In the song New York Minute, Don Henley sings ‘You find somebody to love in this world, you better hang on tooth and nail. The wolf is always at the door’. That final line hit me hard when I first heard it and I’ve never forgotten it. Implied in Rule One, then, is the idea that we should never take anything for granted. Everything can be swept away with one snap of the wolf’s jaws.
Rule Two: If you can avoid the fight, do so.
‘Any fight that can be evaded is not worthy of your time,’ says Henry. Lucy asks whether she should run from any threat to which Henry replies ‘No. You need to decide which danger to face and which to avoid.’
Rule Two has its genesis in a piece of advice a policeman once shared when, as a class, we visited the local station. I was only nine but I still recall it. He told us that if you find yourself face to face with someone who you think is going to start a fight, and it’s possible to exit, then do it. Don’t stand your ground. Leave. Get out.
It struck me as odd back then given that, as a society, men are taught—expected—to be “macho”. Man up. Don’t be a sissy. But then, and now, walking away is exceptionally sensible guidance. Fights in real life aren’t choregraphed like they are in the movies. The human body can’t withstand the punishment regularly doled out to action stars. If someone hits you, they could kill you or leave permanent damage.
I gave Henry this rule because it contrasted beautifully with what would be expected of a brutish bruiser. Henry is a fierce warrior. But he also survived his early years being hunted for sport. Of course he would want to avoid fighting. It minimised his risk of detection, of injury, of defeat, of death.
Rule Three: Never underestimate your opponent.
Henry notes that ‘a larger adversary will often be overconfident. A smart warrior uses that to their advantage.’ David vs Goliath is the classic illustration of this, but it goes far beyond literal size. Mythology, history, our own lives are all full of examples where, for whatever reason, lesser fancied forces prevailed against a foe that was bigger, stronger, smarter, higher ranked, more skilful, or better resourced.
Lucy and her friends are the eternal underdogs and they are the ones who have typically been underestimated in the books. But this directive was more a warning to Lucy herself against arrogance and overconfidence or—especially in her case—lack of preparation. Our Lucy has a lazy streak a mile wide.
In my mind, Rule Three was designed to reinforce Rule One. No one who is fully prepared would underestimate what a foe might throw at them.
Rule Four: Fight to win.
Here is another wonderful curveball. Good warriors live by some noble code, right? Wrong! ‘Forget decency and the rules of engagement, all that matters is victory,’ says Henry, adding ‘Playing fair will result in death. You do whatever you have to do to win, to survive.’
Rule Four makes perfect sense when you realise that prey don’t have the luxury of guidelines and concepts of honour. It’s live or die, kill or be killed.I grew up reading superhero comics where the good guys always set themselves limits, usually meaning no killing. I purposefully left open the issue of whether deadly force was acceptable, preferring to show, rather than tell and let Lucy make that moral choice herself.
In Aedea, killing carries a lesser taboo than our world and in The Mythic Series we’ve often seen Henry slay enemies. Big Bear too. Lucy herself has killed, either purposefully—a moth-man in Book One, the Horses of Doom in Book Two—or inadvertently—Memnon in Book Four.
Did I wrestle with effectively allowing Lucy to take lives? To be honest, no. The Fight—life itself—for Lucy isn’t a game. She’s the only thing protecting us from an evil that can possess literally everybody else in two worlds. There’s a lot at stake and I didn’t want her hampered artificially. Equally, taking a sentient life has consequences and, as the Lucy’s journey continues, we’ll see her grapple with where she draws the lines and how killing affects her in the long term.
Rule Five: The fight is never over.
We come full circle, as the logical end point of Rule Five is Rule One. If the fight is never over then, of course, you must always be prepared to battle.
I felt a profound sadness when drafting those five final words. More than any others, this speaks of someone who spent their early life under constant threat. Henry was a thing, not a being. He was mere target practice. I suffer from chronic, persistent anxiety and I can still only imagine what Henry went through.
Will we ever learn more details about those years? Perhaps. In the meantime, take it as a given that this last Rule in particular paints at least some of that awful picture.
