Four green-scaled Skeeths pulled our carriage through the market. We weren’t cramped in the back of a shabby cart but comfortably accommodated in the padded seats of a luxurious carriage with bronze guardrails and an upholstered interior. In our blue uniforms, we looked like nobility.
The start of the tournament had taken the city by surprise, and hundreds of people slowly walked to the Great Hall. Prince Adrien went all in with the event. Hundreds of flags hung over the market streets, and town criers announced the dozens of teams that would participate. I wondered where the tournament would take place. Farcrest didn’t have an arena, and the grounds of the Great Hall weren’t big enough to house such an event, even with all the wooden stands magical woodworkers could raise.
The people on the street quickly moved to the side as the coach approached. Despite the muzzles and straps, Skeeths were naturally aggressive, and their long claws could rip open the sturdiest monsters. The royal army used them in areas where horses would be easy prey.
The Skeeths hissed at each other but continued moving in a straight line. Elincia laughed as she watched the beasts and squeezed my arm. The passersby looked at us, trying to guess what noble house we represented in the tournament. I wondered how many knew we were from the poor orphanage in the Northern district. They looked at us with reverence. Little did they know we were nothing but a wild gamble by the crown prince.
“Four Skeeths, no less,” Elincia giggled under her veil. “People will think we are part of the royal family.”
Firana waved at the crowd. I made [Awareness] take a ‘screenshot’ of her smile; there were no traces of the old, distrustful Firana I had met when I started working at the orphanage. Firana encouraged the crowd. Getting the Wind Fencer class had boosted her self-esteem to perilous heights, but I decided to save the humbling lectures for later.
In the opposite seat, the story was completely different. Zaon leaned forward, shielding his head between his legs, his skin almost as green as Wolf's. I left my spot and sat next to him.
“Remember what Captain Kiln said?” I asked, putting my arm around Zaon’s shoulders. He raised his head.
“Eh… that she will go to the orphanage for a celebratory drink?” Zaon asked.
Izabeka had said that, but that wasn’t what I wanted Zaon to remember.
“Captain Kiln said that a Lv.2 in Longsword Mastery is way above average for a classless person,” I said. “Most of the opponents you will face didn’t touch a sword until after they got their classes. Even if they have Classes and levels above you, the time they have been training is the same as ours. They train for power; we train for skill.”
Zaon nodded.
“I know,” he muttered.
“Nervous is good, Zaon. Accept the feeling; don’t fight it,” I said reassuringly.
Zaon took a deep breath. “Nervous is good. Nervous is good. Nervous is good,” he repeated like a mantra.
“You have fought real foes before, Zaon. Your opponents today are kids just like you.” I said. “Just remember the secret technique, and you’ll be good.”
Firana seemed to hear our hushed conversation because she promptly pounced over my shoulder.
“What secret technique?” She asked.
“It’s a boy thing. You wouldn’t get it,” Zaon replied with a mocking half-smile.
Firana climbed over me and dove on Zaon, trying to immobilize him. The elven boy fought back, his skin turning a healthier hue as he struggled against Firana. I returned to Elincia’s side, giving them space to brawl in peace.
“Shouldn’t you stop them?” Ilya asked, her feet hanging a couple centimeters over the carriage’s floor.
“They are warming up for the tournament,” I replied. “In the meantime, you can brawl with Wolf.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“I’d rather not,” she replied with a sulking expression. “I don’t understand why Wolf hasn’t gotten his class yet. We are handicapping ourselves without a good reason.”
Wolf opened an eye, interrupting his meditation.
“I can win without a Class. In fact, I could probably squash a Lv.2 gnome with an arm tied behind my back,” he replied.
“Want to try, Big Snot?” Ilya replied, channeling mana to her hands.
I laughed. It was good to see everyone in such a good mood. After months of hard work, we had the opportunity to show everyone the real capabilities of a bunch of orphans. Mister Lowell might not have been happy with the circumstances; he was a pacifist, after all, but his dream of seeing the line between nobility and commoners erased was a step closer.
I stretched my back and looked at the crowd.
“Come on, kids! We are representing Farcrest in this tournament. Act accordingly,” I said as we crossed the main gate.
The inner gates were crowded, and the guardsmen had to open a path for the carriage to enter. It seemed the tournament was going to be in the Great Hall. A double line of soldiers guarded the Great Hall entrance, funneling the spectators around the main building and into the gardens. I expected the most influential citizens of Farcrest to be there, but I underestimated the number of people invited.
The carriage reached the stairs and stopped. The Skeeth hissed at the soldiers in full armor. The coachman fastened the reins and opened the small door for us. Then, with all the deference in the world, he helped us climb down. Firana enjoyed the regal treatment.
Once we descended from the carriage, I offered Elincia my arm, and we climbed the stairs. The spectators looked at us from the sidelines, probably assuming we were guests from far away. Ilya got some quizzical looks. Gnomes were already rare in this part of the kingdom, and she seemed out of place between Firana and Wolf. The soldiers let us through, and we entered the Great Hall. Just beyond the doorway, Captain Kiln was waiting for us.
“Any suspicious activity around the orphanage?” She whispered as soon as we met.
I shook my head. Since the attack, things had been calm.
Captain Kiln turned around, and we walked into the Great Hall. The vestibule seemed empty without the dozens of courtiers whispering in the corners. I guessed they might already be in the tournament.
“Any leads regarding our troubles at the feast?” I asked. The poisoning attempt against Captain Kiln had flown under the radar, and no further clues had been found.
“Vedras agreed to help us test the poison used on Raudhan, but the shards of the glass disappeared. They were locked inside a secure room,” Captain Kiln replied, leaning towards me and whispering. “Whoever is trying to mess with us is either a ghost or a high-level assassin with the skill of traversing closed doors.”
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A ghost with ties to organized crime.
“What are you talking about?” Firana interrupted our conversation.
“We are talking about the tournament brackets,” Captain Kiln said, patting my back. It seems someone wants your head really bad, boy. Rumor has it that the Osgiarian dogs are on the hunt for a certain Scholar.”
“Aren’t the matches randomly chosen?” Elincia asked.
Captain Kiln gave us one of her usual disappointed glances.
“Do you really think the noble houses would leave the matches to luck?” She said, “Osgirians got the memo. They know you are part of the royal faction and think you are the weakest link.”
“Are we facing the Osgirian team in the first round?” I asked.
“No, one of his lackeys,” Captain Kiln replied, guiding us through a long corridor I had never been before.
I let out a massive sigh of relief. As much as I trusted my process and the kids' skills, fighting in front of an audience was completely different from sparring in the backyard of the manor with the younger orphans running around. A small foe was perfect to test the waters. It was also an excellent opportunity to show Prince Adrien we were a valuable asset to his cause.
“Are you even allowed to tell me this?” I asked.
Captain Kiln sighed. “No. Anyway, you are fighting against Lord Nara, a wealthy merchant who bought his way into nobility. A noble of the robe, not the sword, if you may. That’s all I know; I have been too busy to do a background check of his team.”
Elincia put her hand on Captain Kiln’s shoulder. “If you are tired, you can always crash at the orphanage for the weekend. Despite the rabble currently crashing at the orphanage, there are plenty of free rooms.”
“Thanks, Elincia, but I need to stay by Tauron’s side,” Captain Kiln replied as she opened a lateral door. “We are here.”
The door led us to the inner gardens. Hundreds of spectators waited on the sidelines, sitting in stone benches around fountains or walking among the flowerbeds and low vegetal mazes. Other than the small gravel path between the Great Hall and the gardens, there wasn’t a place to properly call the arena.
“A thousand more are heading to the Great Hall right now,” I mentioned.
Captain Kiln shrugged it off and guided us into a red and black pavilion attached to the Great Hall’s exterior wall. More than twenty teams were already inside, waiting for the start of the tournament. I examined the room. Near the entrance, Lord Gairon and a group of six tall young boys and girls dressed in blue and gold watched the crowd. By his side, House Herran’s team played a board game with dice and tokens. They wore green uniforms with a gray hammer printed on their chests. In the corner of the room, Lord Osgiria instructed his team with a severe expression. They wore black uniforms with a white tower embroidered on the shoulder.
I recognized the House Vedras team, dressed in green and violet, and the House Jorn team, dressed in silver with the crest of the red falcon catching a fish. For an instant, I thought the Jorn team was composed solely of elves, but a quick glance at their ears told me they were just tall, pale, and blonde, almost Nordic-looking. I recognized Duke Jorn standing silently in the corner, accompanied by Lyra Jorn.
A wave of murmurs rose as we entered the pavilion. I could feel their eyes following us, trying to place us among the sea of nobility. The feast guests already knew who we were, but the ones who arrived afterward could only guess. The great ducal houses ignored us. However, Lord Osgiria gave us a hostile glance before focusing on his team.
We walked to the corner of the tent, where a small pennant with a white rose over a blue field signaled our place. I looked around. There were still several empty spaces inside the pavilion.
“See? They are kids like you,” I said, patting Zaon’s back.
“The members of the House Herran team look strong, though,” Firana pointed out.
Captain Kiln joked, “They are thrown into a mine as soon as they can walk.”
“People who live between a mountain range and the Farlands are bound to be strong,” Lyra Jorn said out of nowhere. Good afternoon, Master Clarke. I received your message. I’m sorry for my late arrival, but I had matters to attend to.”
The girl caught me by surprise; she was just as stealthy as her father. I remember being unable to detect him approaching even with [Awareness] working at full steam. I wondered if that was a trait of the Jorn family.
“Good afternoon, Lyra. Don’t worry about it; we are always ready to receive you,” I replied.
Lyra let out a sigh of relief.
“What a relief! I am so excited to study under your guidance. I have even dreamt about you… I mean about the things you have to teach and the machines from your land,” Lyra quickly corrected herself as she felt Elincia’s green eyes.
“That’s good to hear, but…” I said. “What kept you so busy?”
Or rather, what prevented you from being at the orphanage during the assassin’s attack?
“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Lady Jorn said. “Preceptor Holst asked my help to reorganize the Farcrest library.”
I froze for a moment. There were two possibilities: Holst delayed Lyra’s departure to create a free window of time for the assassins to attack, or he did it because he knew of the attack and wanted to keep Lyra safe. The second option wasn’t very compelling, but Holst had implied his attack on the orphanage was a one-time thing due to a favor he owed.
“You are welcome as soon as you are available,” I said, my jaw suddenly stiff.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I will do my best. I promise. I have even convinced my father this is a good idea. The Jorn Duchy is far from commercial centers. We would benefit greatly from any development in transport technologies,” Lyra Jorn said, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
Holst might be the only link between us and the culprit behind the attacks.
“Is there any way of going around a Silence Hex?” I asked.
“Is this a test?” Lady Jorn said, embarrassed. “Oh! House Jorn is more than willing to pay for your inventions. We wouldn’t dream of enriching ourselves at the expense of other people’s work.”
“We are not going to put a Silence Hex on you, Lyra,” Elincia sighed. “Rob is probably thinking about something else. He does this all the time. It might feel like he’s talking to you, but he is actually thinking about two or three different things.”
Lyra let out an awkward laugh, “I understand. People say that about me sometimes.”
“What’s this about a Silence Hex, then? That’s not an amateur spell,” Captain Kiln asked.
“You should check Holst’s tongue,” I said.
Captain Kiln grinned. “I know Darius can be harsh. At times, I want to cast a Silence Hex on him…”
Then, the realization hit her, but before she could reply, the sound of a horn filled the pavilion.
Outside, a small army of men and women dressed in green and beige robes and headbands with antlers fixed to the sides entered the garden. They lined up in the gravel path and raised their hands over their heads. For a moment, I thought they would perform a musical number. Instead, a sudden mana discharge made the ground tremble. An area spell? Out of nowhere, the trees and bushes uprooted themselves and walked through the crowd to the outskirts, leaving a vast empty area in the middle of the Great Hall grounds.
The performance didn’t stop there. A second group dressed in terracotta-colored robes appeared from around the corner. With a movement of their arms, stands made of sandstone emerged from the ground and raised several meters over the ground. A myriad of different enchanted banners and flags flew from the Great Hall’s windows, perching in the newly created masts. I couldn’t help but laugh, amazed by the scene. Where there was a well-kept garden, now was a dueling arena with stands for thousands of spectators. There was even a roofed area for the VIPs.
The spectators started to flood the stands. Prince Adrien waved at the crowd from the royal booth, accompanied by an attractive woman in a luxurious purple dress. The whole city was there: members from the Alchemists Guild, the Sentinels, high-ranking officers of the Guard, nobles from all around the kingdom, and wealthy merchants. On the plain stands, several thousand commoners were gathering together.
A small man dressed in a ceremonial robe stood in the middle of the arena. For a moment, I thought his voice would get drowned by the crowd, but, to my surprise, it came out amplified with a spell. After a quick introduction to the event, he presented the teams.
The Marquis was the first to enter the arena, followed by Istvan Kiln and the rest of his team. Shortly after, Captain Kiln, with a team of young Guard cadets, joined him. The audience went wild, cheering for the city teams.
“Are you ready, team?” I asked, turning around.
Zaon smiled, Ilya gave me the thumbs up, Wolf nodded, and Firana raised her fist in defiance.
“And the third team and last team representing Farcrest,” the master of ceremonies stuttered as he examined the fixture. “Lowell’s Orphanage.”