Omen: 1, 5

‘Should I have bet so much on Nobby?’ Adam thought, glancing at the boy. He was well built, and though he had been trained by Jurot, he still wasn’t sure if he could really place first. ‘He’ll probably come across some rising star or something. That’s how it always goes.’

“Vonda, please take some of the party fund with you to pay for your fees, and to pay for food and the like.” Adam had checked the party fund, which had become rather lean. They had started off with hundreds of gold, and now it barely reached triple digits. “You should all bet on us too. Just a gold or two, so you can make a little coin. Don’t bet too much, just in case you end up losing it all. In fact…”

Vonda could see Adam was thinking deeply, his eyes falling to the party fund.

‘Should I use the party fund? If I bet on myself, I could double it at least…’ Adam wondered if he could really afford to that. ‘I could do some alchemy to make some coin if I really need to…’

“We’ll use one hundred gold of the fund,” Adam said. “That should be fine since we’ll have some left over.”

Vonda, who knew how much was in the party fund, gave nothing away. If they lost the bet, it would have almost nothing. However, she didn’t know Adam still had more gold within the bank, though it still wasn’t much.

‘I should have kept better tabs on it, really.’ Adam began to sweat slightly. Then a flash of insight came to him, something he was told long ago.

“Jurot, can I access the line of credit with the guild?” Adam asked. “I have some coin in the Iyr that I could use to bet.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” Adam said, feigning a smile. “Let’s make bank!”

Dawn was still welcoming the city as Fate’s Golden made their way to the arena. They managed to slip through the side since Adam was fighting that day, though since some of them weren’t fighting in the tournament, they had to pay.

‘I’m really counting silvers at this point?’ Adam thought. ‘We had almost a thousand gold before we started. I really should have quested more.’

“Adam Fateson,” called a guard as the group settled to one side. “Adam Fateson, of Fate’s Golden!”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, raising his hand.

“Come along,” the guard said, leading Adam away.

“Make sure you bet on me!” Adam waved at his companions before he left.

They made their way down some side steps, going down to the ground floor. They made their way to the inner walls which split the arenas, where many warriors were readying themselves to fight. Most wore plate mail, and many wore symbols of various orders.

‘I suppose if you’re young and have magical items you’re probably a member of an order or a noble,’ Adam thought, wondering how he didn’t realise something so obvious.

The guard took him to a small room, reaching for a book and a quill. “So you use magic?”

“That’s right.”

“What kind?”

“All kinds,” Adam admitted. “Mostly divine, I suppose?” Adam motioned to the symbol of Baktu on his chest.

“That’s Lord Sozain, isn’t it?” the guard asked. “The Iyr’s symbol for the great God of Death, I mean.”

“Yep,” Adam said. “The Head Priest of the temple handed it to me after I prayed to Lord Sozain.”

“I’m sure,” the man replied dryly. “Your equipment is magical?”

“My axe and shield, yeah,” Adam said. “Oh, I suppose my armour too. I prayed over it in the morning and it holds some minor magic.”

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The guard bowed his head, writing it down. “You aren’t allowed to use potions or other consumable items.”

“Understood.”

“You…” The guard paused for a long moment, staring at the amulet. He cleared his throat. “I hope that you will not kill your opponents.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Adam replied, almost smirking. “I’ll pray to Lord Sozain for forgiveness.”

“Thank you.” The guard nodded. “How powerful are your spells?”

“Third Gate.”

The guard wrote down the note. “You are not allowed to cast spells upon yourself before entering the arena. The arena will dispel such spells before you step onto the platform, so it will just waste the magics given to you by the God of Death. Also, no flying.”

“Thank you. I had no intention of doing so, but I appreciate the heads up.”

“The what?”

“Uh, it just means that I appreciate the information given beforehand,” Adam replied, awkwardly.

The guard nodded. “How shall we announce you when you are to fight?”

“Ah,” Adam replied, having not expected such a question. “Just a moment…” ‘What should I go with? Aren’t I meant to be showing off the magical weapons? No, I suppose I shouldn’t just yet. Though…’ “Chief Executive Officer Adam.”

The guard furrowed his brows. “Are you in the military?”

“No, I work for a business,” Adam replied.

“You want us to announce you as an officer?”

“My role is that of a Chief Executive Officer,” Adam said.

“What kind of business is it?”

“We sell wares of an enchanter.”

“An enchanter?”

“That’s right.”

The guard stared at Adam, but then marked something in his book. “I wish you the best of luck, Priest of Death.”

“Thank you.”

Adam returned back to the waiting area with the rest of those who were fighting during the morning. He spotted a great many well kept young men and women, realising most were probably nobles of sorts. However, there was a large number of rougher looking fellows, those hardened by years of fighting as adventurers or mercenaries. He spotted a few who were napping in the corner, one was a Drakken who nursed a bottle to her chest as she snoozed. He wondered who he’d be fighting that day.

Adam walked over to a guard. “Excuse me. Where do I bet?”

“I can write down your bet,” the guard said. “How much do you wish to bet?”

“One hundred…” Adam paused. “Two hundred gold on myself?”

“Do you have two hundred gold?”

“I do,” Adam said. “I mean, I have more, but two hundred gold for now. I’ve already placed a bet on placing high, but I wanted to bet on today’s match too.”

The guard glanced at Adam’s chest, noting the symbol on the badge which kept his cape together, and he nodded. “Alright. Two hundred gold it is.”

“Thank you.”

Adam watched the fights, noticing that each time someone was called, only one person left their room, and their opponent would appear from the opposite wall which split the arena, and sometimes they’d fight in the other arena behind them.

“Are you an adventurer?” a young Aldishman beside him asked. He wore plate mail, though his helmet was at his side, revealing his reddish hair. He wore a symbol of an order, that of a blade above a bow.

“I am.”

“Which family has sponsored you?”

“The Littlesea family.”

The young man nodded his head. “Your armour is beautiful.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Adam replied, smiling from behind his helmet. “I like your armour too.”

The young man nodded. “Where did you acquire it?”

“I received it in the Iyr,” Adam said.

“Are you close with the Iyrmen?”

“Somewhat,” Adam admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “My brother is an Iyrman.”

“But you are not, since you have not removed your helmet to reveal your tattoos.”

“That’s right.”

The young man tilted his head slightly, eyeing Adam up. “How did you become an Iyrman’s brother?”

“His mother told him to be my brother.” Adam chuckled. “We have an adorable little sister who will be hearing of our tales, so we hope to do well.” Adam glanced around. “Though I think, perhaps, I might find that difficult.”

A guard approached Adam. “You’re up next.” She motioned her head to the arena which he’d step out towards.

“I suppose we’ll chat another time,” Adam said, extending a hand. “Adam Fateson.”

“Sir Charles,” the young man replied, shaking Adam’s forearm.

Adam stepped up towards the wall and began to limber up. He donned his shield and stretching out his arms and kicked out his legs.

“Sponsored by Sir Landon Littlesea, adorned in purple, with axe of great magical might, Chief Executive Officer Adam!”

Adam stepped out of the wall, feeling his heart beginning to pound in his chest as he heard the cheers of the crowd, finding that there were easily thousands of people staring at him from the open bleachers to the side, whereas his companions sat within the first floor above them, surrounded by stone.

He stared ahead of him to see his opponent, who had been introduced as Gregory of the Order of Ice Blades. He was pale skinned, with black hair, denoting that he was from the north. He wore full plate mail, and carried a large axe at his back. The Aldishman from the north stepped out, his eyes glued to Adam. Behind him was a guard, and Adam noted a guard behind him, the pair being escorted towards the centre.

“The bets are to be placed,” the guard behind him said. “Circle around your opponent and greet the crowd. One you are done with a rotation, reveal your weapons, and greet one another. After a few moments, you will be told to fight.”

Adam did as he was asked, circling around the arena. He waved his hand to the crowd, noticing that many children were watching from under the bleachers, shouting and pointing at him. Adam waved towards them, before returning back to waving at the crowd. He wasn’t sure what to say, so, for once, he kept his mouth shut.

‘I need to be careful,’ Adam thought as he kept circling around the arena. ‘I can’t win too easily.’