Chương 28: Eliminations

Arien carefully slipped out from beneath the blankets, trying not to wake Will beside him. His first night away from home had given him a bed softer than any his family owned, along with floorboards every bit as cold. One creaked loudly beneath his weight, but Will remained curled up asleep. Kreft's bed was empty. He washed himself in a specially prepared basin of water, using soap and a rough brush with a bit too much force. He felt slightly uneasy at the sight of the brownish water left behind.

He usually washed in the morning and evening, something his family had long since gotten used to, but the cold well water struggled to wash away the dirt that had deeply settled into his skin. Fortunately, on his way down the stairs to the common hall, he passed a servant girl who nodded and said she would take care of changing the water in their room when he mentioned it. The news of the Tyranny's downfall kept Arien awake long after he was sent upstairs.

Annoyingly, he had learned almost nothing beyond Hugo's original announcement. What he knew already came mostly from Terry's stories and Velyn's careful half-answers: the Tyranny lay east of Ribenne, its border was closer than Wayhold, its ruler had lived for centuries, and the country had remained sealed off from most of the continent for just as long. Several kings were remembered less for their courage than for the stupidity of trying to breach its borders.

Even the Monsters of the Forest of Silence somehow never crossed into neighboring lands, a mystery everyone seemed content to appreciate without examining too closely. None of that made the sudden collapse of a four hundred year old regime any less worrying.

"Arien, I see nothing can stop you from making it to a meal," Sir Samwell said with a laugh. The shadows beneath his eyes suggested he had stayed up almost as late as Arien. Helia sat beside him with a cup in both hands, while Kreft was already halfway through breakfast.

"Will is still asleep, I presume?"

"Yes, my lord. I didn't want to wake him. He'll need every ounce of strength today." Kreft gave a slight nod.

"Good. Let him sleep." Sir Samwell glanced toward Helia.

"I'm thinking we should head back today. I've already left the village without either of us longer than I like."

"I was thinking the same," Helia said.

"Especially after what we heard last night. Better safe than sorry." Sir Samwell hesitated.

"Will's been talking about the main finals for weeks. I'd hate to drag him home just before them." Kreft set down his mug.

"Then let me stay with the boys. We can hire a carriage and return tomorrow."

"Hm, I'll think about it, maybe that's not a bad idea. Arien, would you like to stay?" Arien, who had only been half listening while busy devouring delicious warm buns generously spread with butter and honey, eagerly nodded. He wanted to see and experience as much as possible before returning to the village. More importantly, it meant another morning of those buns.

Will came down only after Arien was the last one left at the table, still trying to force down another sausage while enjoying a blissful warmth spreading through his stomach. The boy, on the other hand, had barely touched his breakfast, claiming he wasn't very hungry. Probably nerves before the fight. Arien slipped the last bun into his pocket. Not long afterward, they climbed back into the carriage and joined the morning traffic heading toward the city gates. Ribenne was already louder than the night before.

Merchants shouted from newly opened stalls, carts crowded the streets, and groups of spectators all seemed to be moving in the same direction. The tournament grounds lay just outside the city. The designated area had been leveled and stripped of vegetation, with ten rows of stands rising on each side. Stalls selling snacks and beer surrounded the arena, and queues had already begun to form despite the early hour.

They pushed through the crowd and entered the arena, fenced off with wooden barriers, where several groups of young boys had already gathered with their parents.

"Get a feel for the ground before the fight," Kreft said, and Will nodded solemnly.

"The match schedule should already be posted. We'll go check," Sir Samwell said, walking off with Helia on his arm.

"Will, do you see those two boys stretching over there? Those are Sir Hortec's sons. You don't stand a chance against the older one, but the younger should be within your reach. You should also watch out for the one in the red shirt, the long-haired one with the earring, that one with the strange pommel on his sword… oh, and the one doing push-ups on his hands looks dangerous too. And that whole group over there. They're probably all around nine years old, and it's clear this isn't their first tournament."

Arien glanced between the boys Kreft had pointed out. Beside him, Will rolled one shoulder, then the other, loosening up before the fight.

"How do you know which ones are dangerous for Will and which aren't?"

"You watch how they move. How they hold a weapon. Whether they keep looking around or only stare at the person in front of them." Kreft nodded toward one of the boys.

"After a while, you start noticing things."

"No special Skill?"

"Not for that." Arien shifted uneasily.

"Are there Skills that let you check someone's Status?"

"There are hundreds of different kinds of Skills. I don't know if there are ones quite as strong as reading someone's Status, but I've heard of Skills that can reveal Level, or someone's strengths and weaknesses." Arien's stomach tightened. His carefully hidden advantage suddenly seemed far less secure. They waited in silence for several minutes, watching the arena, until Sir Samwell returned.

"Twenty minutes until your first match," Sir Samwell said.

"Your mother's gone to save us seats, so use the time to warm up." He gave Will a pointed look.

"And remember what you promised me."

"I remember."

"Good." Samwell turned to Arien.

"Come on. We'll leave them to it." As they walked away, Arien glanced back.

"Good luck, Will. I'm sure you'll do great! But if you don't, you can always become a scribe instead. Then I'll become a knight in your place." Will snorted and burst out laughing. Helia was waiting for them in the front row, looking even paler than usual. Most of the stands were still empty, since the morning bouts between children drew mainly families and acquaintances.

Aside from them, Arien noticed only a few small groups of small boys who looked like locals, probably there to watch the fights and dream about entering the arena themselves one day. Finally, a bell rang, and nearly twenty boys moved toward a table where five adults were seated. Each competitor approached one of the stations individually, said something, and then received a weapon. Most chose short swords with shields, though a few opted for axes or two-handed swords. This novel's true home is a different platform.

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"Are they going to fight with real weapons?" Arien asked, surprised and slightly alarmed.

"Of course not," the knight replied quickly.

"Each weapon is enchanted for the duration of the tournament. A hit will hurt, but it shouldn't break any bones." He nodded toward the arena, then looked at his wife.

"And you see those two in white robes? They're Healers. Nothing will happen to Will." One of the men at the table stood and shouted something, sweeping his arms through the air. Glowing lines spread across the ground, forming ten perfect circles about twenty feet in diameter. Arien watched, entranced, as the normally dispersed mana gathered into precise, motionless patterns. What had the man shouted? Was it a spell? Were those arm movements part of some kind of ritual?

The spell itself did not look particularly dramatic, yet the precision of it was far beyond anything Arien could currently manage. A judge took position in each circle as the first pairs were called forward. Arien scanned the fields and stopped when he spotted Kreft officiating at the last one.

"The rest of the judges will arrive for the adult matches," Sir Samwell explained, following Arien's questioning look.

"At lower levels, family members or servants of the participants can officiate. Of course, only for matches that don't involve their own wards." By then, Will had reached one of the fields, where he stood opposite a slender boy half a head taller than him. Like Will, he carried a sword and shield. They shook hands, then stepped back a few paces. His friend looked far calmer than usual, as if all the energy he normally scattered in every direction had been pulled inward and tightly contained.

"Begin!" one of the judges shouted, and the arena erupted with cheers from families and the ringing clash of metal on metal. Arien found himself shouting his friend's name. Will approached slowly, watching his opponent for the first move. The other boy did not hesitate. He surged forward and brought his sword down in a heavy overhead strike aimed at Will's face. Will did not even try to block.

He stepped aside, let the blade pass within inches of him, then moved forward and placed the tip of his sword against his opponent's throat. The judge raised his hand to signal the end of the match, and Arien jumped up from the bench, cheering wildly and drawing amused looks from nearby spectators.

"You see, Helia? Will has a natural talent for combat," the knight said, applauding. His wife joined in a moment later, though her lips remained pressed into a thin line.

"Will is amazing," Arien said, now sitting back down after calming himself.

"We've been training him for two years with Kreft. His opponent looks like a self-taught fighter. The poor boy never stood a chance." The next match, half an hour later, ended much the same way. Will's opponent attacked with a two handed sword, swinging in wide, uncontrolled arcs, while Will struck the exposed arm twice and the leg once to earn three points. The boys Kreft had identified earlier performed similarly well.

Only a duel between two nine year olds lasted several minutes, with both using shields, feints, and rapid exchanges before one finally won three to two.

"Well, I won't be needed anymore," Kreft said, sitting down in an empty seat.

"Will's next match will be tough. He drew Sir Hortec's younger son, Tylus, but he has a chance."

"Mother, father, Arien, did you see?" Will ran up to them, out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

"Of course, son, we're proud of you. You fought wonderfully," Helia said, though some of the tension remained in her face.

"The Guild of Scribes will be devastated by such a great loss," Arien added.

"I'm glad the next fight is against Tylus. Winning isn't as fun when your opponents are weaker."

"Those fights were easy because you spent more time training than they did. You earned that advantage months ago. I'd be proud of it," Arien remarked, earning odd looks from the adults.

"Ahem. Well said, Arien," Kreft noted.

"Now go get me a beer, would you? Will, come on, we'll talk tactics for the next fight."

"Anything for you, my lord?" Arien asked, taking the coins from the man.

"I'll have a beer as well. Just be a good lad and get it from the nearest tavern, not a stall. Helia?" Helia shook her head without looking away from the arena, her attention fixed anxiously on another match. Arien ran out of the arena, waving goodbye to Will as he went. Being small had its advantages. Arien slipped easily through the crowd filling the stands, and no one paid much attention when he ran and bumped into someone.

The city gate stood right beside the arena, so he reached the first buildings without even losing his breath. Months spent running Will's training course had clearly improved his endurance. He passed several taverns that looked less than inviting before stopping in front of one marked by a sign showing a pig with an apple in its mouth. He stepped through the open door, passing an elderly woman peeling potatoes beside an enormous pot that looked large enough to hold him. Arien gave her a polite nod.

She studied him for a moment, then returned to her work without a word. At first glance, the tavern seemed fairly decent. Not as refined as the Golden Grapes, but clean and well-kept, and the patrons were dressed in relatively good-quality clothes.

"You didn't get lost, boy?" A waitress suddenly appeared in front of him. Young, dressed in a snow-white apron, she balanced an enormous tray of empty dishes high above her head with one hand. She was rather short but solidly built, with black hair tied into a long braid and thick eyebrows above amused dark eyes.

"No. Sir Samwell Greyrock sent me from the tournament. He wants two beers, one for himself and one for his guard." Arien was glad he had a believable excuse. Without it, a five-year-old walking into a tavern and asking for beer would probably have been thrown straight back outside.

"Oh, in that case, it'll be four bronze for the beer and another four for the mugs, which you'll get back if you return them. Wait here. And don't touch anything. Better yet, don't move at all," the waitress replied, walking off with her tray held high as if it weighed nothing. Arien stood still, looking around the room. A huge fireplace occupied one corner, surrounded by couches and armchairs covered with animal furs. Beyond them stood a dozen wooden tables where a few patrons drank beer.

Unlike the Golden Grapes, the walls held only ordinary candles, while shelves behind the serving counter were packed with bottles. The second room, visible through wide open double doors, looked more like a dining hall, filled with long benches and tables where several guests were enjoying a late breakfast. It was also much brighter than the first room, thanks to large windows letting in summer light through glass that was perhaps a little more fogged than what he was used to on Earth, but still glass.

"Arien? Is that you?" The voice stopped him cold. He turned. Sari stood a few steps away in a brown dress and apron, taller than he remembered. For a heartbeat, Arien only stared, afraid he had mistaken someone else for her. But it was Sari. Alive. Arien crossed the room and threw his arms around her waist hard enough to make her stumble. For a heartbeat, Sari went rigid. Then her arms closed around him just as tightly. Arien pressed his face into her dress, his eyes burning.

He had spent months thinking about what he would say if he ever saw her again. He had wanted answers, had wanted to shout at her for leaving them to wonder whether she was dead. Now none of those questions would come. He could ask them later. For the moment, all he could think about was the fact that she was alive. When she finally let him go, Sari stepped back and studied him closely.

"What are you doing here?" She hesitated.

"Are our parents with you?"

"No, our parents are still in the village," he replied, feeling her relax.

"I'm here with Sir Samwell. He brought me along as Will's companion for the tournament. I'm so glad I found you. You don't even know how worried I was about you."

"Oh, with Sir Samwell. I can see you've grown over the past year. You even speak differently. You must have plenty of stories to tell. And at home everyone… Never mind. How do you like Ribenne?"

"It's fine. But Sari, what about you? Do you work here?" he asked, glancing at the apron over her brown dress. Something about her seemed older now, not just her face.

"Oh, yes, yes. Lady Vylda took me in. She treats me very well. I even have my own little room in the attic. Listen—""Sari, you know him?" the previous waitress interrupted, carrying two large clay mugs topped with thick white foam.

"Mili, this is my youngest brother Arien. I told you about him."

"The quiet one? Huh. He looks sharper than I expected. At least compared to my sister's kids, whose favorite game is digging anything they can out of their noses. But wait, does that mean your family—""No, Arien came here with our liege for the tournament." Arien's eyes dropped to the two mugs in Mili's hands.

"The tournament..." Arien looked toward the door, but didn't move. He had only just found her, and the thought of walking away already felt wrong.

"Will's next match is about to start," he said at last.

"I have to go back, but the elimination rounds end in two hours. Can we meet after that?"

"I'll ask Lady Vylda for a break. Most people will be at the tournament anyway, it shouldn't be too busy."

"Great." Arien took a step toward the door, then stopped.

"You'll be here, right?" Sari looked at him in surprise.

"I'll be here." Only then did he nod and hurry toward the exit.

"Beer!" Mili shouted after him, and he spun around so quickly he nearly fell. He handed over eight bronze coins, then carefully carried the heavy mugs back toward the arena.

"Maybe not that intelligent after all," the woman muttered with a laugh.