Chapter 70: A Time for Violence
Losing a guild member is like losing an arm, or a leg, or even going bald. You were so used to that useful appendage that for a while you might still feel your arm when it itches, or impotently kick something, or even run your fingers across your scalp. But it is gone: utterly and totally gone. It will take some time to adapt to this brave new world, but eventually acceptance does come, though it is different for everyone. I must say, however, that a guild member is unlike a bodily function in that a person is missing, not a replaceable extremity that Great Nexia and the Automaniacs can build anew. My only advice is to think upon the good times when they lived, and do not tarnish their memory in wallowing self pity or regrettable vice. A drink or two, here and there, is sufficient in mourning—not buying a bar and making it your life’s work! I hope my words can be of some utility, and that you shall be returning to us shortly.
-Letter to Michael the Pileman from Drazitor, guild leader of the Screaming Scallions, SD545
Brent marched to the arena, his thoughts feeling dead and empty. Alex and Claire trudged along with him, having left the others with Daniel back at the stable of The Royal.
“You guys go ahead,” Chase had told them. “We are going to deal with his body.”
“I can’t even think about fighting,” Brent had said. But Chase had placed a hand on his shoulder and led him outside to where Claire and Alex had been standing guard.
“You three need to clear your heads, and there is no better place than at the tournament, okay?”
There had been some mild protestations, but in the end Brent and the others are begrudgingly agreed to attend.
For Daniel, if nothing else, Brent had thought to himself. Of course, Daniel was dead, what would he care if they fought or not? Brent glanced at Alex and his friend nodded his head. Claire shrugged.
“Should we really be doing this?” Said Brent. “Can’t say I am in the mood after everything that has happened.”
“Same,” said Claire heavily.
“Daniel would want us to fight,” said Alex.
“Would he though?” Said Brent, rounding on Alex. They stopped in the middle of the street and people had to walk around them. He lowered his once so that he would not be heard. “I mean, we didn’t even know Daniel that well. Plus, he died last night, so I really doubt he cares.”
Alex shrugged and he sighed.
“Look, we came here for the tournament. Some stuff happened that we didn’t plan on at all. In fact, way before the tournament back with Xemnara, even. But if we quit now then what does that make us?”
“I feel like we would be bastards for even doing this,” said Brent bitterly. “I mean. Someone just died. It’s not...respectful.”
“Maybe,” said Alex, shrugging. He didn’t look happy to be saying this but plowed on ahead regardless. “But people, die, Brent. I am sure they did in the Old World, and they sure as hell do here. If one of us died would you stop living your life?”
“Well, I mean—.”
“No, you would have to keep on placing one foot in front of the other. I know you don’t feel like going to this now, but there are going to keep on being hard times too—they don’t end with Birchtown. One day we might have to fight through the worst things imaginable.”
“Yeah, but, but,” Brent sputtered. He knew in his head that Alex right, but his heart felt so differently. He kept thinking about Daniels dead body, surrounded by his guild mates. They had all been crying or close to it when they left.
“Meredith and the others are going to bury him outside of town,” said Claire, trying to be helpful. “They will want to do it themselves, because its a kind of guild tradition, I have heard. There’s nothing us for us to do right now.”
“True,” nodded Alex. “And do you really want to be in The Royal today? The players there are gonna be real suspicious why the innkeeper is gone.”
Brent hadn’t thought about that, but it still didn’t encourage him or give him any enthusiasm to fight. His body itself was still sore and exhausted from the night before. There was no way he was going to be performing at his best, that was for sure. Plus, a loss today was something he really didn’t want to contemplate.
“It just...it feels so pointless, you know? We lost someone going after those guys. Maybe we should have just never done that in the first place.”
Alex shook his head and crossed his arms. His was the face of determination.
“They needed to pay,” said Alex. “They were just going to come back for us if we did nothing.”
“Yeah, but—.”
Claire cut him off by placing her hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her there was great sympathy there and a little bit of sadness.
“Do you remember reading about Valki? Back in the library back on training island?”
Those days suddenly felt further away than they had the day before. As though seeing their friend die had added immeasurable distance between the day they spawned and spent their time training and dreaming of the times to come when they were signed players with their first contract marks.
“No, I don’t. Why?”
“Valki was a player who lived a long time ago. Near the beginning of Esem, I think,” said Claire. “Her first day after leaving her island she lost her spawnmate, and nearly threw herself off a ledge because of it.”
A tickling of a memory came to him. He frowned.
“That’s supposed to make me feel better, Claire? And I’m not gonna throw my self off a ledge, by the way. I’m just—.”
She sighed and looked like she wanted to punch him, but held her self back.
“No, Brent. Valki didn’t kill herself. Instead she dedicated the rest of her life in Esem to living to the fullest extent in honor of her spawnmate. She became a very famous player, and I think her friend’s death is what propelled her to such heights.”
“So…what? We dedicate our tournament fight to Daniel?”
“Sure, why not?” Said Alex. “I for one will definitely be thinking about Daniel. Might as well say it’s for him and do our best.”
It sounded cheesy to Brent, but the sincere looks in Alex’s and Claire’s faces were too much for him to say so. He only shrugged and agreed.
“Okay,” he said. “For Daniel.”
Claire smiled and Alex patted him on the back. As they walked the rest of the way to the arena Brent tried to push Daniel out of his mind and focus on the coming match. He wasn’t sure how the second day would go, or how they would be choosing their opponents. He assumed Markon, if he were fully recovered, would have chosen the next fights.
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I hope I get a worthy one, thought Brent to himself as they came in view of the arena. There were fewer people than the day before, as likely the fighters who had lost had left Birchtown with their guilds. This meant that the spectators gathered closer to the platform. Christie was still there, standing at the top with Argo at her side. They were chatting, and Christie appeared to be making Argo very nervous, as the NPC was sweating profusely and kept glancing around the arena.
Brent and his friends pushed their way to the front, which earned them some glares but none said a word when they saw Alex. All he had to do was stare at them and the players would back down and make room for the trio. Soon they were standing near the front and waiting just like all the others for the tournament to begin.
“ATTENTION,” yelled Christie from the stage. Argo jumped beside her with alarm. “WE ARE ABOUT TO DRAW NAMES FOR THE MALE FIGHTERS.”
Argo produced the same helmet he had the day before and lifted it up to Christie. She placed her hand inside and after a couple minutes drew out a name. She squinted at the piece of paper and announced the fighter.
“BRENT!”
Christie found him in the crowd and nodded her head. Brent felt an uneasy pit form in his stomach. He had hoped to not be the first match, but at least he would get it over with.
“You ready?” Muttered Alex.
“No, but I’ll manage,” responded Brent. He started pushing through the crowd to get to the stairs. As Christie announced his opponent Brent felt his ears curl back like a cat.
“And for the other one...hold it still, Argo, by AION you keep shaking...ASTOR BRIGGS!”
The crowd roared, and Brent felt a chill go up his spine. The day before after seeing Astor fight he had been excited to eventually face him, but now he felt hollow inside at the fact it was going to happen. Astor was clearly a maniac, and one who enjoyed killing people it seemed. After the fight last night Brent wanted no part in the death of others, and could not imagine a mind so warped that death brought it pleasure.
He slowly made his way up the stage and all the while people shouted encouragements.
“Give him hell, Brent!”
“Good luck!”
“Don’t let him mutilate you and you’ll be okay! Hahaha!”
When Brent had gotten to the stage he walked over to Christie. She looked grim and nodded at him once more, the moment in the cafe seemingly forgotten.
“Good luck,” she said to him quietly. “I saw what he did to that player yesterday.”
“Thanks,” muttered Brent. He looked around for his opponent. Only he, Christie, and a nervous looking Argo were there.
“ASTOR BRIGGS!” Shouted Christie. “Get up here already!”
Now the crowed began to chant:
“AS-TOR, AS-TOR, AS-TOR, AS-TOR.”
But still Brent waited. Argo awkwardly handed him a sword and Brent accepted it. Where was the ginger at? Now his trepidation at the match was melting away to be replaced by a mild annoyance. Was Astor trying to make an entrance? Should he have considered that as well? He began to swing his enchanted sword around lazily, watching as the blade sliced through the air. He imagined Astor had been in the forest the night before, and not the mask man he had killed. He saw in his mind Astor’s hand falling from his wrist, and screaming in pain.
“AS-TOR, AS-TOR, AS-TOR, AS-TOR.”
“THIS IS THE LAST CALL, ASTOR!” Shouted Christie over the crowd. “YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO SHOW!”
Brent scanned the crowd. He saw Claire frowning as she looked around. When she saw Brent she shrugged her shoulders. She mouthed the words, “where is he?”
Was he one of the masked men? Brent thought to himself. But no, that was impossible. They had removed all the masks from their attackers and none had been Astor, that was for sure. Unless the illusion mage had dome something to their faces...but he had died too, and their faces had stayed the same. Of course, they had been too focused on getting Daniel out of there for a thorough look...
“ASTOR FORFEITS!” Said Christie to the boo’s of the crowd. “I DON’T MAKE THE RULES. HE DIDN’T SHOW!”
Christie then walked over to Brent and grabbed his wrist. She raised it high.
“BRENT WINS BY DEFAULT!”
There seemed to be a collective sigh from the crowd, and only a few scattered claps. Brent felt equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.
“Win by default?” He said to Christie as she dropped his arm. “So I don’t fight today?”
“Guess you really were lucky,” she said. “You go on to the next round tomorrow.”
“That’s lame.”
“Why? Enjoy your day, and get some rest. You look like you’ve been up all night.”
“Ok, I guess” said Brent. He handed the sword back to Argo. “Here.”
Argo took the blade and returned it to the box which was on the floor. The little NPC didn’t seem to want to look him in the eyes. Brent just sighed again and then walked off the arena platform. There were some cheeky grins from the other players.
“Dodged a bullet, eh?”
“Easiest match ever!”
“Don’t worry, lad, your time will come.”
Brent just waved his hand and returned to his friends. Claire had a small smile for him which only annoyed Brent even more, and Alex shrugged his shoulders and gave a half laugh from the side of his mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” said Alex. His mirth stopped in it’s tracks. “But must be nice not to have to fight that guy, right?”
“You got a reprieve,” added Claire.
Brent felt his blood begin to boil and Claire dropped her head. Alex, however, only cocked an eyebrow.
“Reprieve? What’s that supposed to mean?” Said Brent. “You think I was scared to fight Astor?”
“No, that’s not what I mean—,” began Claire.
“Relax, Brent,” said Alex. “She isn’t wrong. I wouldn’t want to fight him either. There’s no shame in saying so.”
“But I do want to fight him,” said Brent angrily.
“Yeah, and I want to only Eat salad for the rest of my life,” joked Alex.
Brent was taken aback. Alex never made jokes about his weight, which made him pause and he finally noticed that Claire looked mortified. She was staring at her feet as Brent argued with them.
“It’s whatever,” said Brent, wanting to move past the moment. “I guess I did get a kind of reprieve...I’ll just have to get some rest until tomorrow.”
The three were silent for a bit, but Brent was starting to feel bad for snapping at Claire and Alex, and so he tried to move the conversation to a more pertinent location.
“Who do you think you will fight, Alex?”
“Who knows, I only hope it’s not that big guy we saw back on the first day.”
“I don’t remember any big guys,” said Brent.
“Oh yeah? Well, one of them was a head taller than Markon, if you can believe. His head nearly brushed the ceiling of the building.”
“I remember him,” said Claire, raising her head. “Didn’t he have black hair and a long beard?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” nodded Alex.
“Someone beat him yesterday,” said Claire. “I heard about it in the inn, because we missed the fight.”
“What? Who beat him?” Said Alex incredulously.
“GEORGIO,” announced Christie. She had drawn another name. “COME TO THE ARENA!”
The crowd grew quiet, and soon Brent saw a head pop above the far side of the arena as a player climbed the stairs. The young man, close to Brent’s age, strode to stand beside Christie. He had dark hair and an almost bored look to his face.
“That’s him,” whispered Claire. “Georgio. He left training island a year before we did, and he’s already a level 7, apparently. The other fighters were saying that he’s a prodigy.”
Christie riffled in Argo’s helmet for the second name.
“ALEX.”
Brent clapped his friend’s slumped shoulders with his hand.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” muttered Alex, and Brent had a moment of dejavu as he watched his friend walk around the arena to get to the stairs, just as Alex had likely watched him when he thought he were about to fight Astor Briggs.
“What do you think?” Asked Claire when Alex was out of ear shot.
“He’s toast.”
“You just know that?”
“It’s in his eyes,” said Brent, pointing at Georgio. “That guy is on another level.”
“You’re right...I guess.”
Brent didn’t bother to explain it to her. As Georgio watched Alex ascend the stairs and accept his enchanted blade, he never took his eyes off his opponent. In his gaze was neither fear, nor arrogance. He merely observed his opponent and sized him up. It was clearly unnerving Alex as he took a big gulp the moment he accepted the blade.
“Fighters,” said Christie, this time in a normal voice. “Are you two ready?”
“Yes,” said Georgio simply.
“Yup,” said Alex.
“Very well, on my mark,” said Christie. “Argo! Get back!”
Christie and the NPC retreated to the far corner of the platform. When they were settled, she clapped her hands twice.
“MATCH START!”
Alex adjusted his feet and brought his sword into a defensive guard. His opponent was about ten feet from him and only stood there, staring at Alex.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex.”
“Nice.”
“Oh yeah?” Said Alex. “Why’s that.”
“Dunno. My name is Georgio. A lot of people just call me ‘G’.”
“That’s nice,” said Alex, sounding confused. “Well, how about we...?”
“Oh,” said Georgio, raising his eyebrows. “Of course.”
Alex’s opponent brought his sword to his side, and Brent was reminded of the player he had killed the night before. A look of concentration crossed his face.
Oh no, thought Brent.
“ALEX!” He shouted. “STONE SKIN! HE’s GONNA—.”
“FRENZY!” Screamed Georgio. He took a step and seemed to be shot like an arrow from a bow. Alex had no chance to raise his sword to block, let alone use his single ability to defend himself.
The crowd gasp and then cheered.
Brent saw Christie, wide eyed, mouth the word, “wow,” to herself. Just as Alex fell to the ground his head banged off the arena floor.
“GEORGIO WINS,” announced Christie.
Alex was out cold on the ground, his blade had fallen from his grasp and lay beside him. Georgio, standing over Alex, his blade hung loosely in his grip, wasn’t even breathing heavily. He stared at Alex for the briefest of moments, as though examining a bug upon a leaf, then shrugged his shoulders.
The crowd cheered.
“Brent!” Hissed, Claire. She had to place her hands on his to stop him from clapping.
“Oops, uh, Alex! You okay?”