This woman, Alex, was really starting to get on my nerves. Before this, I honestly considered myself to be a patient person, but by the gods does she press my buttons. After a little while of her sitting on the back of the horse Eric was riding after we left the forest, she asked us to stop. The reason for this was that she wanted to put on her armor, which was still on her horse, as we approached the city. This would mean that our journey through the fields past the small farms and the guard towers would be at a walking pace, maybe even slower as Alex would need frequent stops for that rather uncomfortable looking outfit.
We could stick her on the horse and let somebody else walk, though when this was suggested she adamantly refused this too, for the same reason as putting on the armor in the first place; appearances. Eric was staying timid, and did not say a thing against this rash decision. Probably wise for him to do so, she was already antsy about him one upping her at every turn and probably wouldn’t listen to anything said. I, on the other hand was fully motivated to tell her off, however when I did she simply shrugged it off and ignored me. Such an awful and despicable woman I have never met before. I also noted that this pleased Eric who now had a shit-eating grin on his face, only furthering my displeasure.
There was no game for me to hunt nearby, as the day reached its end, so we resorted to purchasing a meal with the local farmers. They were happy to sell us some of their food, as they made more money from selling prepared food to us than just selling in bulk to their landlords. As the night drew near, the farmers entertained us with tales of the great champions that were coming to the city from the various villages around. They were highly exaggerated, claiming several champions had defeated dragons in the past, or hydras in the ocean, making them sound more like children’s stories than anything. But of course, this did not deter Eric from following their epic tales of grandeur with intense interest. Afterwards he mentioned something about “knowing their weaknesses now” to Alex, whom entertained his childish notions.
After the two had gone off to sleep in one of the farmers spare rooms, I asked the husband if he had any horses he was willing to part with. Unfortunately though, all the horses on the farm were owned by the landlord, and not his decision to sell. Unluckily for me, the landlord was currently away, gone to the city to enjoy the tournament and mingle with those of appropriate status. Nobles will be nobles I suppose.
In the morning we carried on, me on horse, Eric leading his horse, walking beside Alex while talking about his upcoming grand plans for victory. I couldn’t tell her facial expression from here, but depending on it she was either the perfect match for this buffoon, or utterly fed up with his nonsense. I know which I would be, if I was walking in a stove because a certain someone’s horse got injured and that same someone was currently not using my horse in order to walk beside tell me about his heavily hyperbolized future goals and exploits. I would be utterly livid. But you could also take the gesture of walking beside her as compassionate, I guess.
When we finally arrived at the city gate, the guards looked at me and Eric, then addressed me.
“Bears?” Questioned the guard, with a stoic expressions. His comrades further back shared a mocking smile. Seems city people have a little bit more common sense.
“Yes” I answered, before Eric interrupted us. At this the guards let the three of us pass rather easily.
“Alphonse, what the fuck was that back there! You’re no bear!” Eric was angry that they addressed me instead of him, how cute.
“I thought they were referring to the attire, Eric. My bad” Though while saying that I smiled at him.
“Anyway , now that we are here my guard is over, right?” At this Eric’s face lit up.
“Yes, you may leave now” Opening up a pocket on his belt, he handed me the agreed pay.
“Though father said that I might need guards for the way back too, will you be joining us for that or should I hire someone else?” The last part he said with a haughty manner. He emphasized the hired part, with a smile. I could see that it was bringing him joy to consider me a subordinate.
“I don’t know what I’ll be up to here, I’ll inform you when I do. I know where to find you after all” As if I would tell him anything. I’d had it with him for now, go bother somebody else. Please?
“Of course, I’ll be fighting in what, a week? I’ll see you when I see you then.” He, too, was eager to leave, probably envisioning a shared room and romantic dinners with Alex. What was it his father said as we were leaving?, something about emotions getting in the way? Love is an emotion Eric, and I hope it kills you. That would be a poetic justice to me, sweet, sweet justice.
Having departed with Eric and Alex, I walked through the crowd towards the part of the city with lots of bellowing smoke coming out of it. The blacksmith district was a collection of shops named after their founder’s family name. Blacksmithing was a prideful business after all, who wouldn’t want to become a renowned blacksmith? You wouldn’t need to risk your neck in battles or mingle with snotty nobles yet you would still attain the bonuses these figures of power would receive. It was in the nobles’ interest to keep the best blacksmiths under your control, seeing to it that your men proved themselves in battle the most and survived longer. The nobles that contributed better troops would be more favored by the emperor, and in turn would gain more power to retain more troops and more proficient blacksmiths.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
However, the capital was a little different. The very best smiths in the country would get an offer from the emperor himself, to make armor and weaponry for the royal guard and the national army. Which is why all the shops here were named after their founders, though said founders would usually not be present in the shop and available to the general public. Their apprentices however, were.
Having no current favorite blacksmith, I simply went into any shop that had something interesting on display. In the end of it all, I had bought something that looked like a full set of plate, including a helm that covered my face down to my nose in a dwarven design. In fact, most of what I bought was like this, they had certain parts of the steel made from a darker kind, and had some ancient language inscribed on them.
The money I had used to purchase all this was from the scavenging of recently or soon to be deceased people. I had, however not used all of it. Not that armor wasn’t expensive, it was, especially in this part of town they were actually more so, but all the pieces I had bought were from the unwanted and discounted parts in the shops. The armor wasn’t bad or anything. In fact for armor about half a millennia old, it was remarkably good. It was discounted simply because it was of dwarven craft, and people wouldn’t want to wear something created by a slave race when they came to these famous shops of the capital.
The parts I had bought were the essentials; helmet, shoulder pads, armguard, gloves and shin guards. They were all smaller pieces from a larger set, since I had bought them from different shops and from piles of random pieces of armor, I couldn’t find anything that really fit together. Not that I minded honestly, the plate was more for show and to keep low. I had already discarded my bear head shoulder in favor of two actual pieces of protective gear.
Having bought the armor and equipped it, I headed towards the arena where the preliminaries would be fought. Though Alex had complained somewhat about the heat of walking in armor, I actually found it to be nothing much. This was probably due to the fact that I was essentially only wearing parts of the plate, strapped over my smelly hunting gear. Alex had been wearing a proper suit, with some additional chainmail to cover gaps.
Arriving at the arena, I received a lot of demeaning and some hateful looks from passersby. There was a smaller section outside of the main arena where several participants were fighting inside squares on the ground. There were seven squares in total, with two fighters inside each one of them. The squares formed a square with one side open, around a centralized desk with a long line leading up to it. As I was standing and looking at the competitions, a woman in leather fighting gear came up to me.
“Do you know the rules here?” She asked me with a happy smile. For some reason I didn’t like those eyes though.
“Well, the two men fight inside the squares. The winner gets qualified to the competition” I said, not letting my thoughts show on the exposed half of my face.
“Yeah, you’re smart, huh mister?” Still smiling, she now was standing awkwardly in silence as I did not grace her response with one of my own. She did not seem to find it awkward though, in fact she looked to be enjoying it.
“So mister, are you going to join up?” She was still smiling, I was still not responding. I had a was getting a sinking feeling, why was I getting a sinking feeling? After a little while of more awkward silence with her smiling at me, she continued undeterred.
“Say mister, if you sign up, I’ll sign up too. But don’t you worry mister, I won’t pick you for my first fight here. You see there are more rounds to this qualifier than just this one. We’ll get to fight later, okay?” After this she stopped smiling at me. She kept smiling, just not at me. Instead she started to imitate the way I was standing. Was she mocking me for wearing dwarven armor? City people sure are weird. Eric, you’ll fit right in here.
I had come to this place with a reason though, so I went over to back of the line leading to the sign up desk. After enduring a good ten minutes of the lady behind me hitting me anywhere thinkable with her black ponytail, I was finally freed from hell as I stepped up to the counter.
“Contender number 1541, and what name should I sign to that number, mister…?” The clerk asked me while looking at the woman behind me with curious interest.
“Write down Alfred”