Omen: 1, 3
“Damn,” Adam whispered. He was glad he hadn’t bet on Stone Sword, especially not after almost dying to the Noskan. The Noskan seemed relatively unhurt even after facing one of the top four warriors of the greatest segment.
The audience understood Stone Sword was no slouch, they had watched every fight, some of which he had struggled, but that was only expected since they were all within the final stage. However, Fisher Black, who was native to East Port, had the same showing as the rest of the great warriors against the monster known as Raging Bull.
Thankfully, Kitool and Adam had warmed them up to such great upsets, and the crowd went wild for the ridiculousness which was shown even during the last day of the tournament.
With the tournament over, the winners of the various segments were announced constantly throughout the day. Adam and the others relaxed at the guild. The tournament had burnt Adam out, but there was something greater burning in his pockets.
The farmers and the porters spent time in their rooms, trying to understand what was happening. They had, at first, bet thirty gold on each of the fights. Then they increased the bets, before they finally bet three hundred on Adam’s fight against Vasera. They hadn’t lost a bet thanks to them never betting against Adam’s intuition. If they, who were betting conservatively, had managed to earn a thousand gold, then what about the likes of the Iyrmen? Or, more scarily, Adam?
‘I should buy new clothes,’ Adam thought, staring up at the ceiling within his own room. ‘My trousers will rip if I carry all this gold around with me.’
The Iyrmen gathered together in a private room to eat and drink. The teens remained together at one half of the room, holding their own conversation.
“You should have fought too,” Amokan said, pouring his cousin some wine. “You would placed in the top ten of your segment.”
“The gifts given to me are not to be used lightly,” Ilyakan replied, taking a sip of her wine. “There was no need for me to fight in the tournament with so many of we Iyrmen already participating. You and Naqokan have brought much glory to our family.”
Amokan didn’t press her. Ilyakan followed the pair near silently, and though he did not like the fact that his cousin didn’t seem to want to espouse her own opinions, he was glad she assisted them in whatever ridiculous nonsense they wanted to partake in.
Jaygak and Kitool shared drinks and food together. “Katool is going to be so happy. Second place in your first tournament, and you would have beat Jurot if you had used Tigerstaff.”
“That is not certain,” Kitool replied.
“Nothing is certain with Adam,” Jaygak agreed, but she brought up a cup to Kitool’s lips, “except that you would have won.”
“Why did you sacrifice it?” Timojin asked, in their tongue.
“I had no need for it,” Kitool replied. “If I did beat Jurot with Seekerstaff, then my story would have been greater.”
“Did you hold back during the fight?”
“No.”
Timojin just replied with a bow of his head, continuing to drink and pick at the fruit.
Jurot crossed his arms, thinking about how he hadn’t won cleanly. If Kitool had fought him with all her strength, he would have lost. There was no doubt in his mind that this win had been gifted to him.
“I will send Inakan my winnings,” Amokan said. “She should enjoy herself with the winnings.”
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“Will you return home to see her?” Jurot asked.
“No. I will continue to adventure. I will return to marry, and request to leave again.” Amokan poured Jurot a drink. “Third place is not enough.”
“We may fight again in another tournament.”
“I will face you with my all again.”
The pair raised their cups, before drinking their wine. The pair had grown up beside one another since young, and though it seemed obvious that the pair would fight for the position of Chief, Jurot had decided against it when he was young. That did not, however, mean the pair did not see each other as rivals still. In the future, when one would speak of the Paragons in the Iyr, they would mention Amokan and Jurot in the same breath.
Amokan, the potential future Chief, and the nephew of the Front Iyr Elder. Jurot, the Gold Rank Adventurer, and the grandson of Jarot, the one who the Iyr could barely contain. Timojin, too would be mentioned as the potential future Chief. Kitool also could be mentioned, but then there was a last name, though he was no Iyrman.
Laygak stared at the wine within his cup. Laygak, who had learnt the way of his family, hadn’t done poorly in the tournament. No, it was more that he had done too well. Managing to rank quite high in the top ten, it was something he’d have never expected. He glanced aside to Nirot. He would be ranked among her as an equal peer. Him? Laygak, son of Kaygak? With Nirot, daughter of Mirot?
‘How ridiculous.’
“It is our fortune that we placed well,” Faool said, understanding the thoughts which appeared on Laygak’s face.
“Top ten,” Laygak said.
“Taygak, Saygak, and Tavgak, will be proud.”
Laygak held up his cup, and silently drank down the wine. He would be able to return home to a proud pair of siblings. He could feel something seize his heart, the same thing which had seized the heart of Naqokan first. “You have a little sister now too, Faool.”
“Yes,” Faool replied, but he said no more, busy falling into thought about his younger sister.
‘Third place,’ Bavin thought. ‘Nice.’
Uwajin fell asleep half way through the gathering, leaving Naqokan to her thoughts. She thought of the twins, and her youngest sister. ‘Second place?’ She frowned. ‘Second place.’
Omen: 8, 20
“Whoa,” Adam whispered. The arena’s inner walls had disappeared, and the inner octagon was split, spreading atop the outer walls of the arena, leaving the centre bare. ‘Damn!’ It was only seeing the arena like that that Adam realised how large the arena was. It was larger than any football pitch he had seen, and seemed to be an even bigger draw considering the nearby roads were full of people waiting around the arena. The roads were all clear, with dozens of guards patrolling, some even riding horses.
The top ten of each segment and range were brought up, starting from the youngest range, before moving along to the older ranges.
“Sponsored by Sir Landon,” and “of Fate’s Golden,” was said so often that one would have thought Adam had spent thousands of gold for the marketing.
‘Nice.’
Nobby, Uwajin, Naqokan, Nirot, Faool, Laygak, Bavin, had taken the top seven spots of the top ten rankings. During the statements, the Iyrmen responded about as expected. They thanked the Iyr and their families, as well as Fate’s Golden.
“Thank you, mister bosses,” Nobby said, before falling silent.
Moments passed.
The crowd cheered for their statements, including the brief, almost forgettable statement by Nobby.
“I’d like to thank Sir Landon for giving me the opportunity to partake in this great tournament,” Adam began. “I will never forget the grace the good sir has shown me. To see Fate’s Golden, a group formed by my brother and I and our best friends reach such a height, it fills me with great pride.”
Adam glanced across the thousands of people watching him. “I want to thank the business, United Kindom, for providing the magical weapons which have assisted the members of Fate’s Golden. As an Executive of the business, I hope that you all have seen the quality of the magical items provided, and will keep the name United Kindom in mind if you have need of magical items. Thank you.”
As Adam stepped out into the back, he was swarmed by his companions.
“Are you okay, Adam?” Jaygak asked, grabbing his head to see if his head was hot.
“What?”
“You didn’t say anything cringe!” Jaygak stated. “You didn’t mention your sister or your children!”
Adam turned up his nose at her words. “Showing off for coming in third place? The next time I fight in a tournament, I’m going to come first place, and then I’ll be sure to embarrass the kids properly.”
The Iyrmen, however, were far more eager to show off their placing, mentioning their families by name during their speeches.
The crowd continued to whisper about how it was rather ridiculous that one group dominated the tournament so handily. Fate’s Golden placed high, and so had almost every Iyrman. Save for Jaygak, who had dropped out, everyone else had managed to dominate the top ten spots.
Adam noted Sir Karra and Sir Roseia glaring at him from nearby as he waited with all the others who placed high from the bottom two ranges. He waited for Jurot and the others. Apparently they needed to wait in order for some of the nobles to want to meet with them once the ceremony was over.
‘At least they know how to have fun,’ Adam thought, noting all the magic between the ceremonies. He mostly ignored it all, instead kicking it with the Golden Savages and Fate’s Golden.