Tymythy had dropped his cracked weapon and taken a quick step back the moment his loss had been called, but had not had time to leave the field before the challenge came to its conclusion. Wounded, bereft of his weapon, but still the Seneschal had finished two enemies within moments, all without drawing more than a few drops of blood.
And the way he had broken the haft of his spear? Tymythy could not contain an exuberant smile as he looked down at the cracked a few steps away. His hand still tingled as if he had swung a staff at an oak's unyielding trunk. It was one thing to cut into a spear with a heavy blade, but to crush wood with one's fist, without even properly getting one's whole body behind the blow, and to manage it without knocking the weapon out of Tymythy’s hands? He simply couldn't fathom the skill necessary for such a feat.
”Elder! Thank you for the lesson!” Tymythy shouted, grinning from ear to ear, once Voltus had bowed to their host and received what acknowledgement he might. He picked up his broken loaned spear with one hand and brought his arm to his chest, over his heart, in a salute. ”Next time, may I provide you a better challenge!”
Voltus looked unsatisfied, ”You taught me something. Strength of character makes a man hard to read. Badrelow’s pride makes him easy guileless. Aparisteros greed does the same to him. The guard can not see the imagination of others and therefore has none. Always take the wise out first.” He began to walk away, stopped and returned. ”Also, don’t shift your weight until the last moment. When you change your centre of balance the creases in your shoes change.”
He turned to walk to the voms.
"Well, what a bright enemy do I have here. Sorry, I'm being facetious. Not a true enemy, just a competitor. I'm lucky to be faced with such a good one. The Blackbirds have been the surprise of the party. It's one thing to get through these games alive. It's quite another fr me to survive better than you. You task me."
Zahra laughed lightly, ”I’m not even sure I’m much of a competitor. Otherwise, people wouldn’t keep wagering that I’d die in each challenge just to make some easy money.” She cocked her head as she regarded the prince, ”It sounds like you’re familiar with the way this party works. We didn’t know what we were really getting into, at least I didn’t.”
He looked back to Lord Badrelow, "LORD Badrelow is impressive indeed. He's bastardly, brutish, a heartless aristocrat, and very, very impressive. You aren't announced, are you? Have you ever been introduced at court? You have the air of someone who has. Please, take a turn with me." He began to walk counter-clockwise around the lower stands. He glanced frequently at what was happening in the arena.
Zahra smiled and ducked her head, ”You flatter me, your highness. I’m only a merchant’s daughter. There have been no courts to be introduced at for me. But I have definitely had a better life than most.” She fell into step beside him, ”It would be my pleasure to walk with you.”
"Surely you've marked this display? This isn't a showcase. Like any court, there are intrigues going on here. My guess is that enough has happened and …" He gestures towards Nadj with a slight nod and then towards Voltus. "they are worried about looking vulnerable. This is a lure. Invite the strongest and most brash fighters in and then smack them down. Voltus is trying to make the veteran fighters look small."
"I'm afraid your Tymythy is making the smack-down look a whole lot more like a true contest. But then again, he didn't rush in to fight. He was volunteered." Keone smiled coyly.
The sorceress nodded as her smile grew, ”Voluntold more than volunteered, you are correct. The exuberance of youth makes some of us afraid of missing out. At the time it seemed like a good way to showcase Tymythy’s skills…” The action at the water drew Zahra’s attention and she stopped mid-step to watch everything unfold. ”Seems like we weren’t entirely wrong.”
Dounia stared, rapt, as the battle came to its stunning conclusion. She wasn't exactly certain what had happened, but Tymythy had done something wonderous; even she could see that. She wondered if volunteering him to this fight had been a good thing, or if she'd upset some important game or lesson. After all, the other three had been soundly embarrassed. Had she prevented a forth idiot from being taught a lesson?
It was beyond her. Instead of trying to puzzle it out, she bowed low to Voltus, acknowledging his victory. Then with as much dignity as she could muster, she approached Tymythy and presented the usriev back to him. "That was amazing," she said softly.
He began to walk away, stopped and returned. ”Also, don’t shift your weight until the last moment. When you change your centre of balance the creases in your shoes change.”
Tymythy saluted the Seneschal’s back once more in silent gratitude, not to rob him of the last word in their exchange, handed his broken spear to an attentive attendant and accepted his discarded tunic and half-cloak and a thick towel with murmured words of gratitude. ”Any chance for replacement trousers?” he asked as he did his best to towel off. It would be... unfortunate... to spend the rest of the evening drying off his trousers while he still wore them, or bother Zahra once again for a frivolous spell.
Then with as much dignity as she could muster, she approached Tymythy and presented the usriev back to him. "That was amazing," she said softly.
”Yes he was,” Tymythy agreed, misinterpreting Dounia’s words as he accepted his weapon, towel tossed over his shoulders, bundled clothes in one hand, looking back where he had seen Voltus walk away to. ”It’s a privilege, to cross spears with such a master. And it’s all thanks to you volunteering me for it,” he added with a chuckle.
Prince Keone, "This was a pleasure." His smile was small but warm. "It's rare that I have an unscripted conversation. You must be a remarkable person to know in private life. In my real life people are frightened to introduce themselves. It must be three or four hours past concilliare. They say half to the song of Penitent here I think. My team must get some rest if we're going to survive better than you do tomorrow." He clicked his heals together vigorously with his right leg turned to expose his calf and bowed nearly in half.
He spun in place tightly, then his posture slumped and he trudged off to bed.
Zahra was slightly confused by what the prince was saying about private and real lives but she quickly chalked it up to being a royal thing. Her smile never left her face as she responded, "Maybe intimidated more than frightened? I'm sure there would have been cringes on the part of some seeing me just walk up to you and begin speaking without an invite."
She curtsied when he bowed. "Normally I would say that if you are ever in Zhayalammar to look me up, but I'm not sure we'll remember this conversation in a few days. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure meeting you and I wish you all the best tomorrow."
Zahra watched Prince Keone depart and marvelled at how many different cultures and societies that existed in the world that she knew nothing about. Until now, she had had no interest in knowing anything but her city; however, this party was exposing her to the existence of the huge variety of life stories that existed in the world. No wonder people traveled.
Zahra rejoined her friends and congratulated Tymythy on his showing. "You did much more than hold your own, Tymythy. Nicely done. I think you impressed Voltus."
Even with the towel, Tymythy was leaving a small puddle by his feet as he stood in place. "I can warm the fabric so it dries faster or else we can go back to our quarters so you can change. Any preference?"
Even with the towel, Tymythy was leaving a small puddle by his feet as he stood in place. "I can warm the fabric so it dries faster or else we can go back to our quarters so you can change. Any preference?"
”Well, if you are offering...” Tymythy gestured at his dripping trousers. It wasn’t proper to try and solve every minor issue with magic... but then again, Tymythy had grown to understand there was no great price Zahra had to pay to use her powers. And there was so much magic going on, used for convenience and amusement, that he doubted a little bit more would not great any great ripples.
”And thank you all for your efforts to rally the crowd. It seemed I have much to learn on that front,” he said ruefully. Not that he cared overmuch about that the people had thought – they might not understand it, but the only audience he had been performing to had been himself, and to a lesser degree the other contestants.
The attendant stepped back towards Cairee and in a rash whisper, "If you want to help Her … lose." The attendant's face switched to instant regret.
Lose? How could the Blackbirds losing help her? The Princess had withdrawn her team from the competition. Was she secretly working with another team? Cairee couldn't fathom it being her siblings, the Adherents, or the Orcs. That left the Cavaliers.
But she had defended the Blackbirds that very morning when Prince Keone had contested Cyn & Egama joining their team. She even attacked the Prince quite personally. Was that a misdirect?
Something scratched at her mind. What had Tymythy said that morning? He had seen someone with her ring slip away with one of Prince Keone's men.
And now the Princess had a bundle and a mission to complete within two nights, and it would help if the Blackbirds lost.
Cairee couldn't puzzle it out, and wasn't sure it was her business to try. She decided to tell her friends and see that they thought.
She found them clustered around Tymythy, celebrating his skillful demonstration that Cairee had mostly missed. "Are you hurt?" She did a quick visual inspection, looking for signs of injury.
Afterwards, when they were able to step away from the crowd, she shared what she'd learned in a low voice. "She seems to be in trouble. Tymythy, didn't you learn that she's come several years in a row with different champions? She seems desperate to win that gem, or the wish. But is it our place to interfere?"
She found them clustered around Tymythy, celebrating his skillful demonstration that Cairee had mostly missed. "Are you hurt?" She did a quick visual inspection, looking for signs of injury.
”Only my warrior's pride, and that can benefit from a bit of humility from time to time. Mind you, those slippery platforms… I came close to spraining something more than once. The Elder was right - I could do training my balance some more.”
Afterwards, when they were able to step away from the crowd, she shared what she'd learned in a low voice. "She seems to be in trouble. Tymythy, didn't you learn that she's come several years in a row with different champions? She seems desperate to win that gem, or the wish. But is it our place to interfere?"
”Yes, she certainly keeps coming back. But desperation doesn't mean her motives are pure.”
Dounia rolled her eyes. "If we want to help her, lose? Like that's any sort of help at all. Everybody wants the diamond, or the wish. She can't want it that badly, considering how she treated her team. What does that even mean? Stupid," she continued to mutter to herself for a while. Seriously, what a dumb thing to say, without any context. Hey stranger that we're competing against, if you like the princess that you haven't even properly met yet, just lose. Goodbye. Ugh!
The scene was becoming familiar.
People started to head to their rooms, well, maybe not their rooms. A few stayed up and drank into the wee hours. Most of the competitors were headed to their own beds to rest and be ready for yet another challenge.
The sky of this other place, this fairyland, was a deep blue and stars that showed no familiar constellation twinkle as purple clouds threatened to obscure them.
"Are you hurt?" She did a quick visual inspection, looking for signs of injury.
Tymythy had only a few contusions and scrapes and nothing from the little performance that wouldn't heal overnight.
Dounia considered going to rest, but knew that by the time she unwound enough to fall asleep, she'd just make herself groggy for the meeting. Better to stay awake and sleep after.
She hadn't seen the pale women all day. She looked around for them, and decided to go knock on their door again if she couldn't find them.
Dounia scanned the crowd with a keen discerning sense. It was like picking a target to filch from. Don't get greedy with your eyes. Don't go for the wealthiest. Find the one that was rich and oblivious.
It was not about looking for a thing that matched a picture in her mind but looking for an opportunity in whatever disguise it might be wearing.
She saw a grungy dwarven man, crass and greasy, as he scolded three humans who looked like servants.
She noticed a woman in heavy modesty-robes with her back to the wall of one of the voms. Sir Pellius was leaning over her. They looked like they were negotiating what would happen next.
And there was Jacote. She looked as pale, as nearly translucent, as ever. She was bargaining with that older man, the Baronet Wigeon de Vertbatton. They were just to the right of the scoreboard. None of her 'sisters' were with her.
There was certainly no shortage of intrigue in the crowd. Dounia was almost distracted by some of the other colorful characters she saw before she finally caught sight of Jacote.
Curious, Dounia made her way over to the pair, trying not to be seen, listening hard, wanting to know what was going on. There was not, however, much cover to be had.
Zahra headed back to the room and fell into a light sleep troubled by her friend Dounia's secret rendezvous.
Meanwhile.
Dounia moved through the crowd trying to be subtle as possible. If either Jacote or the Baronet noticed her they didn't let on. They were in heated discussion that could be heard twenty feet off.
Jacote, "- That's three times what I paid you for it."
Vertbaton, "You shouldn't let on you're so desperate. I would have gone higher but, from what I know of your finances, I don't think you are good for four."
Jacote, "Are you telling me you want ninety thousand for that run down foundry?"
Vertbaton, "I can see this hurts but you wheedled more that I wanted to pay when I bought it from you. Had me quite on the ropes as I recall. Don't try to talk me d-"
Jacote, "Done."
Vertbaton, "I … really … no fight? What don't I know. I've changed my mind. Make it one-twenty!"
Jacote, "You agreed! Do you want me to tell every speculator you don't honour verbal agreements. Every deal you make from here on in would have to be in writ. I hope you enjoy paying solicitors."
Vertbaton, "My word against yours, and who's going to trust a cursed wretch like you. One-hundred and twenty thousand."
Cairee wanted to stay up and see what more could be learned from the crowd. Surely there was some scrap of wisdom that would help them the next day. If only she knew where to look, or how to interpret it. But her body felt heavy and her mind fuzzy. It had been a long day. Best get what rest she could now.
Back in her room, she changed out of the dress her attendant had convinced her to wear, and put on her simple cleric's robes - something she hoped would be less conspicuous than her new ones from the Sahradhurone weavers if she had to go after Dounia. They were a dull white, roughly woven, fraying at the sleeves. Cairee smiled at the familiarity, feeling more like herself than she had in days.
Ousel settled in the flower basket she'd claimed as a nest. Cairee laid down on top of her sheets, not wanting to get too comfortable - she doubted Dounia would put much effort into waking her.
It had been another eventful day – psychological strain followed by some rigorous physical activity. Thus, with another day of challenges looming, Tymythy made his excuses and retired to his room for a quick nap as they waited for Dounia to return from her private mission, hopefully with important answers. And as she had made clear she wanted no guards nor company to her meeting, Tymythy took her word for it and trusted in her to handle the matter with her usual efficiency and the silver tongue the ladies had displayed numerous times already.
Dounia stepped forward, aiming for casual. "Do you think MY word would be trusted? A famous competitor, and member of the 2nd place team?" She stands next to Jacote, lending her support. "I believe the price was eighty thousand, isn't that correct? Or shall I spread word of your untrustworthiness?"
Oh sure, intimidation, my strong suit.
Vertbaton looked unnerved for a moment and then, with a businessman's common sense, "And in two days you'll remember to mention it? One-twenty. Final offer."
Jacote, "One moment." She left and returned with Chrizdoff, "Chrizdoff, Vertbaton is willing to sell me his foundry. He says one hundred and twenty thousand Aerthane crowns."
Chrizdoff, "Is that the proposed price?"
Vertbaton, "It is."
Jacote looked Vertbaton in a stare that could burn through parchment, "And I agree. You popinjay. I would have paid more. It's the last thing."
Vertbaton, "I reneg-"
Chrizdoff, "Oh no sir. You have agreed before a Lord's High Herald, both Field and Book, of the Issmenadore college and that is that."
Jacote to Chrizdoff, "Can you have it arranged through the institution in Zhayalammar? I believe that leaves fifteen thousand to our credit. I want both the deed and the money, minus the bank's fee, transferred to the members of the Brawdethal Ironworks Consortium." She looked at Dounia, "It was their's to begin with."
Chrizdoff, "The consortium will have the deed before the birthday is over. I'll make sure the money is transferred to Vertbaton immediately." He clicked his heels and left. Vertbaton smiled, counted his new money in his head and left in another direction.
Jacote to Dounia. She looked tired. "Nice try but when it comes to business you have to involve the heralds. (long exhale) It's good to see you're still kicking. How are you?"
Dounia stomps a foot. "This is all confusing and bad! How does that even work? We all forget, then the herald says, oh, by the way, you agreed to pay 120 thousand crowns for this factory? It's all so stupid! I'm sorry that he cheated you. I should have known I wouldn't help."
She echoes Jacote and takes a long breath. "How am I? I'm fine. We're doing okay so far. No permanent marks. Well, mental ones, maybe. Except we won't remember them, so who knows? How about you? How are Shull and Hermica. Any great ideas about how to make our host put you back together?"