The scion of the Ars-Dhahabi family continued his approach towards the two newcomers, though he found it quite hard to keep his eyes off the beautiful woman. Though others would find it highly rude, including the one he was staring at, he looked at it another way. Even if they were a man, he would do the same. It would be a crime not to appreciate such natural art, though perhaps not as comparable to himself, and with more of an appreciative point of view than his slightly lustful when observing a woman for the same reason. It was not like others of higher families didn’t do the same after all, man or woman.

Alistaira was not, however, viewing the Elf with any degree of desire, save for the desire to put a boot up his arse, set his feet in concrete and send him sinking to the bottom of the harbor. The Elf did not notice any of this though, perhaps too caught up in his own musings and verbal stratagems he came up with.

The Elf finally reached the two, who ignored him for the most part and continued to haggle with the stunned merchants. The Elf cleared his throat a few times, but this action bore no fruit and he was forced to take more… intrusive methods.

“Excuse me, Captain, I wish to have words with you!”

The captain of the Darksol ‘merchant’ ship turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at the dandy before looking back to the merchants he was haggling with.

He frowned a bit. Mayhaps he was deaf and looked up after feeling his presence. He remembered many a warrior able to detect someone coming close even in absolute silence. A captain used to watching the seas at night, it would not be a stretch to consider them to have a similar ability.

He tapped his foot a bit, hoping the vibrations would garner his attention. It was quite obvious he was capable of speech, likely reading the slightly balding and sweaty merchant’s lips so they could respond. “Captain, I am gracing you with my presence, so I ask you pay attention when I am speaking to you.” The Elf tried to put his hand on the captain’s shoulder, but the unnamed captain had finished his haggling and was already turning around to face the Elf faster than the knife-ear could react.

“What?” the nameless captain asked in a gruff and curt voice.

The heir of the Ars-Dhahabi family straightened and tightened their silk necktie with a gloved hand. “As one in a position of power, I ask that you do not refer to me as such. One of the things that come with a placing such as mine is respect, and I must ask that you give it.”

The captain snorted in amusement and replied with a fundamental truth that few people seem to understand.

“True respect is earned, not given away freely.”

The gaudy Elf growled a bit, frustrated by folks who were most certainly foreigners, ones without a lick of common sense. Quickly, his eyes darted around, observing that some people were observing the scene. It was at this moment he realized two fundamental truths of his own.

One, he overstepped his boundries. He found himself above others, and while he most certainly was in quality of both the mind and his handsome visage, that did not make him immune in the slightest. He should not have made a move in another family’s territory, and his pride that came with his profession combined with his youth had led him to overestimate his capabilities. He would surely mark this for the future, review on it, and improve. That is how his family had rose in such a set-in-stone world, after all.

The second was that people decided the prestige of their name. When someone wanted to stain another family, they targeted the people to spread rumors, not using themselves. As of right now, he was being observed by a crowd. If he were to simply give in to some random merchants and accept this, the burden he would place on his parents and family would be unacceptable. He grit his teeth a bit, before deciding on how to fix the situation. Better he be known as a ruffian rather than those tied to him by blood being known as weak. He was a bit angry at himself, as he could have handled himself well in negotiations but he didn’t even plan how to get to that part. Walking up to someone and getting their attention wouldn’t work every time, no matter the likelihood it would.

Raising the fine leather gloves, he separated them a bit before clapping his hands twice. At that signal, a couple large and burly men seemed to emerge from the woodwork and surrounded the two citizens of Darksol. These seven bruisers were then followed by another Elf to match the one who had called for the reinforcements, except this one bore bright silk robes and walked with an elaborate staff. Alistaira raised an eyebrow at this last one, as she could feel the magic wafting off of him.

He sighed a bit, preparing to play up his act, “Do you understand now, human? You will behave accordingly, or I will have to show you respect. I don’t know which backwater you came from, but here on the main land we have manners.” He thought for a moment, nodded, and continued, “Do not worry, as long as you understand, as your superior, I will forgive you. Though amends for offences will obviously be required.”

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His eyes narrowed. He could not take any of their goods, as it would definitely bring some trouble with the other families due to actions on their territory, and yet that is the only thing they posse-

His eyes glanced once more to the woman.

That was it.

Men and women hiring whores for their ship was not uncommon in the least for the trip ahead. It was quite obvious how much they paid for this one even to the public, considering her charm, and if he took her with him it would seem as if justice had been done, not end up in violence, and he could simply pay her double what they did. It was obvious she wasn’t a noble or important anyway, as he had memorized most every important person even in the remote areas in order to advance his education, and she had come on a very simple vassal not worthy of anyone of note. Her being the captain was the only other option, but the man claimed the role. He breathed a small sigh of relief at being able to clear up the situation a bit. In the future, he would prepare for unexpected circumstances better, and not let his pride get ahead of him, no matter how much better he is than others.

“I understand, however, that in order to survive the tumble of the sea you must have able and fed men, and taking your supplies would be taking your funds for doing so. I do not wish for death, so I will take the woman instead. You’re welcome.”

The dandy Elf tilted his head up and his eyes down in an obvious show of self-assured egoism as was taught of him. The captain and Alistaira looked at each other for a while, seemingly sharing a secret dialogue before the captain replied.

“Better idea. A wager, if you think you can win.”

“Oh ho? And could you possibly wager against anything of mine?”

“I see you have some decent muscle, so let’s make that part of it. Here’s the wager; our strongest versus your strongest. If we win, you and your cronies don’t come after us. We go our separate ways and no one gets hurt save the ones doing the fighting. But if you win, you take everything of ours and can do what you want with us all.”

The heir of the Ars-Dhahabi family was a bit taken aback.

“This is highly weighted in my favor.” he muttered incredulously, but he quickly regained his composure. “Well, that works to my benefit, and to back out of such an offer would be cowardly. I suppose I have a slight interest in the dingy you came in here on.” That should do it.

All parties and bystanders save for the Elven heir looked from the Elf to the large and powerful ‘merchant’ ship and back with a look that roughly said “are you fucking serious?” How anyone in the Sultanate could call that oversized ship a ‘dingy’ was beyond all understanding. It had arrived carrying more than one and a half times the amount of cargo that a normal merchant vessel would have carried, and its hold was still a bit vacant when that cargo was still onboard.

“Then, we’ll let you pick the arena, but we’ll pick the time. Deal?”

The captain offered his hand and the Elf put on his glove again before shaking it, after which he removed the glove and tossed it to the side like a common litterbug.

…

A call had gone out throughout the city of Ars-Saihar; a fight between champions of two forces was to take place at the dueling grounds. On one side was the champion of the uprising heir of the Ars-Dhahabi Family and on the other was the champion of the enigmatic merchant ship that had arrived not too long ago. Merely an hour after the fight was scheduled the family that ran the banks, the Ars-Nvurari Family, had already set up a betting pool. Of course, anyone with a lick of sense was betting on the sure win. The Ars-Dhahabi Family spared no expense when it came to settling duels, always either paying the opponent’s champion to take a fall or, if that didn’t work, either hiring a powerful mercenary or simply paying an assassin or a few ne’er do wells to off the opposition before the fight.

However, the moment that the fight was scheduled, all crew of the black ship returned to their vessel and stayed there on high alert. There were several people who tried to collect a bounty that had been posted ‘anonymously’ and attempted to get aboard and kill the champion, some person named ‘Alistaira’, but these people either were cut to ribbons by the crew or seemingly vanished off the face of the planet. The day of the fight drew closer, and the attempts made on the mysterious champion grew in number. Eventually, the black ship was viewed as ‘untouchable’ by even the dumbest would-be assassin, and the attempts made slowed to zero.

The day of the fight arrived with the light of the seventh morning from the time that the duel was announced, and all betting was locked from that point onwards. No one knew who betted on whom, but a nasty rumor had begun to creep around the port city. It stated that the crew of the black ship had all taken out massive bets in favor of their champion and had convinced the families of the city (save for Ars-Dhahabi) to do the same. No one save a few crackpots believed the rumor, but whether or not there was any validity to it would be seen after the duel. This rumor was an annoyance to the Ars-Dhahabi Family, so, in order to make sure that they won, they made an extra play.

When only three hours remained until the duel was to take place, the roads surrounding the dueling grounds were blocked off by wagons and carts owned by those in debt to the Elven heir. As the opposing champion had not arrived yet and the roads were now closed, it seemed that the duel would be an automatic forfeit. However, just thirty minutes before the Elf claimed victory, a mass of black smoke began to form in the dueling circle, eventually melting away to show the captain of the black ship, the woman who had accompanied him, and a few crew members.

“I have brought my champion.” the captain said in a semi-yell to all that could hear. “Behold the greatest mortal Arch Mage from our homeland, Alistaira Crowley!” The captain then bowed to the woman and stood back as she stepped forwards.

“Now,” she asked with a voice colder than the depths of Cocytus, “who’s the lamb that has willingly come to the slaughter?”