Chapter 17: Prizes
The liveried servant led Victor down another pathway through the gardens to yet another lawn, where a fighting pit had been dug and lined with fresh wood; the smell of sawdust and paint still hung in the air. The Lady and her guests came in twos and threes to find spots around the pit's edge while Victor stood off to the side, waiting for instructions. Yund appeared after a few moments, a clutch of snacks held in a napkin in one hand and a delicate wine glass in the other. The glass looked comically small in his massive hand, and Victor snorted an involuntary chuckle at the sight.
“Friends, thank you for coming. As you’re no doubt aware by now, my household suffered an affront that left us shaken and inconsolable last week. A vagabond took it upon himself to break into our home,” she gestured around her to the grounds and the manor in the background, “steal from us, assault us, and even try to take my daughter’s innocence.” She paused for the crowd to gasp, exclaim, and even swear threats of vengeance. “I took the matter to Magistrate Dorl; he cautioned patience. He counseled a measured and restrained response. He spoke of politics and influence! Our representative for Justice in the city spoke of politics! My blood boiled; I fumed; I raged at those who love me, shaken by my impotence. If only I’d had the guards kill him in the act! If only I’d made him disappear before approaching the authorities! Those are the mad thoughts that whispered in the back of my mind. Then, dear Larl, here, found a solution.” She paused again and gestured to a tall, thin Ardeni man wearing a very sharp-looking suit.
“That’s right! It might be archaic and out of fashion, but trials by combat are still perfectly legal, regardless of the political connections of your offender!” He said loudly, obviously reciting words that he’d been practicing.
“Precisely!” the Lady continued, “It is my right, nay, it is everyone’s right to put an offender that they’ve captured in their own home into a trial of combat. All we need are witnesses,” she smiled and waved around at the crowd, “to ensure a fair combat, and a willing,” she pointed at Victor, “Champion of Justice. Why, Magistrate Dorl’s assistant, Lisell, is even here to bear witness to the legality of our proceedings.” A thin, severe-looking Shadeni woman, wearing a black robe and a strange, square golden hat that reminded Victor of an old lady’s purse, nodded to the crowd, not a hint of emotion on her face.
A commotion broke out from the other side of the pit as a man wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants and chains was pulled toward the pit by two servants wearing the Lady’s livery. He was an Ardeni, but big, larger than many the Shadeni Victor had met. He was as tall as Yund, though not nearly as heavy. He struggled and strained against the servants, but they had some control over him with the chains and managed to get him to the pit’s edge, where they held him, looking expectantly at the Lady.
“Gweld ap’Horrin! Your time for justice is at hand!” the Lady shouted, pointing at the bound man. He glared at her, eyes hooded by heavy, black brows scowling with his lips pulled back in a sneer. He started to answer, perhaps to offer a retort, but the Lady yelled, “Put him in!” The two servants gave him a shove, sending him down the eight feet to the hard dirt bottom of the pit. Then she whirled on Victor, “Your time is nigh, Justice! Do your work!” Victor felt a big meaty hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the pit, and when he looked behind him, he saw that Yund had made his way over. Victor snorted and walked toward the pit; no doubt Yund wanted to make sure he didn’t make a run for it.
“Bitch! Wench of a lesser house! You call this fair? Me fighting bound by magical chains?” Gweld was shouting as Victor approached the edge.
“Your chains will be removed when our Justice has taken his position in the pit.” Lady ap’Brellin said, striding to a big wooden chair positioned on a small dais to provide her an unobstructed view of the pit. Victor stood at the edge and looked at the Lady. When she nodded, he hopped down into the dirt, staring at the guy he was supposed to fight and kill. He wasn’t a pleasant guy, that was for sure. Still fuming and straining against his chains, he had an ugly expression on his face, snarling and nearly frothing at the mouth he was so agitated. His hair was black, which was strange to Victor - every Ardeni he’d met had bright, colorful hair. Was he not Ardeni? Could the races of this world mix, perhaps?
“Are you ready, Justice?” the Lady asked from her perch. Victor formed his hands into fists and nodded. “Release his chains!” she shouted to someone; Victor had no idea who. A brief flash of light, and a puff of smoke, signaled the destruction of Gweld’s chains, and the big man flexed his fists, looked at Victor, and grinned.
“No weapons for us, then?” he called up at the crowd, suddenly charming. The frothing, raging face was gone, though his eyes were still obscured, hidden in the shadows of his brows.
“Justice?” the Lady looked at Victor questioningly. He didn’t know how to respond. The guy was bigger than he was and presumably quite a lot higher level. Maybe a weapon would even the playing field, or maybe it would just get Victor killed faster. According to the System, his skill with weapons was only “basic” - what if this guy was some kind of expert? He looked at the Lady and shook his head. She smiled, looked at Gweld, and said, “No, dear thug. You will die by the bare hands of Justice.”
“This lady really hates you, pendejo,” Victor quietly said as he started to circle the larger man. For his part, Gweld growled, rubbing his hands together, staring at Victor. Victor felt a surge of something like paranoia, and he wondered what strange fucking thing this guy was going to do. He didn’t want to give him time to do something wild, so he used his Channel Spirit ability to launch a rage-fueled leg sweep. He slid forward gracefully, bringing his left shin, throbbing and pulsing with red-hot Energy, toward Gweld’s legs. Gweld had been standing straight, not a muscle tensed, and Victor hoped to catch him off-guard. He was partially successful; Gweld cursed some word Victor hadn’t heard before and pulled his hands apart, pointing one palm down toward Victor’s sliding body. A wave of cold poured over him, cooling the rage-attuned Energy in his leg and slowing his movement immensely. His shin collided with Gweld’s and bounced off painfully.
“Whatever. If I have to do it, I will, but I’d rather not get the tag - it seems too permanent. Hey, I didn’t level from that guy.”
“Your new class probably takes more effort to level. Maybe next time, or maybe now that you have a cultivation guide, you’ll be able to advance that way too.” Ahead of them, Victor could see a light on a brick post, signaling a gateway. When they approached, he saw that they’d come out of the gardens near the front of the house by the stables and waiting carriages. Victor followed Yund toward one of the carriages, but a figure stepped out from the shadows nearby as they approached. Lady ap’Brellin walked up to them, a small package in her hands.
“I know you’ve been paid, Mr. Yund. I wanted to give a gift to our young representative of Justice.”
“Oh, of course, Lady,” Yund said, bowing low and stepping to the side.
“I’ll see that he takes full possession before you leave, sir. I know how cutthroat your business is.” Yund’s obsequious smile faltered momentarily, but then it was back, and he nodded enthusiastically, taking yet another step back. She nodded and stepped closer to Victor, holding out the package. Self-conscious of his blood-stained hands, Victor reached out and took the paper-wrapped box. It was about three inches square and as heavy as a paperback book.
“Um, what is it?” he asked.
“Open it.” She nodded toward the box, indicating that she’d be staying around until he complied. Victor peeled off the brown paper, revealing a light brown wooden box. He lifted the lid, revealing a straw-filled interior on which a deep purple plum-like fruit sat. “This fruit will advance your race. If you want to ever achieve levels much beyond fifteen, you’ll need at least one advancement. This fruit should get you as many as four.”
“Lady! This is too valuable for someone like him! I can’t see you wasting such a prize!” Yund stepped forward, reaching for the box in Victor’s hands.
“Sir! You will back away and allow him to consume this fruit! I have paid for his services for the evening, and I will reward him as I see fit.”
“He could die in a day! Why such a rare fruit? You could give him a Wyrdla berry for a hundredth of the price!”
“That is the last outburst I’ll tolerate from you, Mr. Yund.” She didn’t even look at him, trusting that her words would suffice. They worked, though. Yund turned away and paced in a small circle, visibly clenching his mouth shut to avoid saying anything. “Come, Justice. Sit in your coach and eat the fruit. You won’t want to be standing when the effects hit you.”
“Um, okay. Thank you.” Victor was at a loss for words. What the hell did it even mean to ‘advance your race.’ He knew these guys used the word ‘race’ differently than the humans back home. When there were actually different species of people, it kinda made worrying about the color of someone’s skin seem a little dumb. He stepped past the Lady, opened the coach door, and climbed up onto his seat. He looked at the woman’s beautiful, cold face one more time, she nodded, and he ate the fruit.
