Jaygak inhaled deeply. This was her third fight, and it was against another Oathsworn of an Order, a white scaled drakken woman from the Order of the Snow Storm. She wielded a blade made of icesteel, though certainly it was magical too, at least Basic, if not Greater.
The pair engaged in a vicious battle, magical steel clashing against magical steel, ringing against the joy of the crowd.
‘She is at least four years my junior, but she can go toe to toe with me?’ the drakken woman thought, the pair clashing steel. ‘Her ability is great, but…’ Her blade flashed white, and though she did not wield a shield, their defensive capabilities were the same. The woman had called forth magics, her entire body glowing slightly as her conviction protected.
Yet, even with her greatsword of icesteel, which had been enchanted with Greater power, she found herself dropped to a knee, a glowing blade resting against her shoulder.
“It was a good fight,” Jaygak said, her heart pounding within her chest. It wasn’t just that she had pushed herself to her limits during the fight, but something seeped within her heart.
Certainly Adam, Sir Roseiah, and the Nightval Blade were great, but this young drakken woman was no slouch, and nor was Sir Rory. Yet, she had beaten the pair. Two contenders to place, and she had beaten them.
“You fight well, Iyrman,” the drakken said, clasping Jaygak’s forearm, hoisted up by the Iyrman. “I thought my magics could help me close the gap, but I was wrong.”
Jaygak smiled. “I was gifted with my magical blade, a blade which is one of the greatest which the Enchanter has made.”
“The Enchanter?”
While Jaygak explained the Enchanter and the business to the woman, she couldn’t help but think about what the woman had said. ‘She thought her magic could close the gap with me?’
It was a statement which followed her for the rest of the day.
‘I thought my magics could help me close the gap, but I was wrong.’
Someone else thought they were weaker than her?
Her?
Jaygak?
‘…’ Marshal Black remained silent as he noted the group had come together to eat, exchanging a look with Jane.
“You need to give us a better show,” Lucy said.
“If we slip up, we’ll lose,” Adam replied. “It’s the best you’re going to get.”
“The bets are so tiny now.”
“What can I say?” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Did you bet on the first battle?”
“Yeah, and I almost lost it all!”
“You didn’t though. You should be happy that we’re making you all this money, you know?”
“You need to let me complain because I can’t get to fight.”
“Fine, but then I should be allowed to talk about my kids a little bit!”
“I didn’t make the promise not to be cringe.”
“This is ridiculous!”
“It’s not my fault you made the promise.”
“You kept bullying me.”
“Deservedly so.”
‘Ah,’ Marshal Black thought, understanding what the word finally meant.
‘I’m glad I didn’t join the tournament,’ Jane said. ‘I wish I had more money to bet.’
Jurot remained silent. ‘I must win. I require three more tournament wins before I can claim the title of Champion. Champion.’ Jurot closed his eyes, thinking of his wife’s warm smile, sometimes tinged with anxiety from being so close to the Iyr, and his ugly son, who cried so loudly.
‘Hey, Bell?’
[Yes?]
‘How come you’re not giving me the XP for their wins if we’re sharing mine?’
[It will be granted after the tournament.]
‘Oh. How are you doing, anyway?’
[Well.]
‘You, uh, want me to make you a body and transfer your consciousness into it?’
[…]
‘The offer’s always there.’
The next day, Adam fought against a warrior whose blade moved like a snake. It almost slipped through his armour several times, but somehow, didn’t manage to slip through the chinks of his armour.
Victory!
XP Gained: +300
XP: 4 200 -> 4 500
‘Eh? That much?’ Adam thought. ‘That’s a lot!’
[…]
Adam walked away from his opponent, who wielded a blade coated with a terrible poison, oblivious to how close he had flirted with Baktu.
As the group gathered together, Adam noted the Order members who joined them, invited by the Iyrmen. He remained quiet, allowing the group to mingle, understanding he couldn’t give too much away this time.
“Are you planning on staying for the Twilight Month?” Rory asked.
“We are,” Jaygak replied. “We will help defend North Amber.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“We were planning to do the same,” Rory admitted.
“There are rumours it will be more difficult this year,” Sir Eliza, the drakken Jaygak had defeated previously, said.
“It would be too boring otherwise,” Jaygak said. She basked in the attention of the Order members, though noted they sometimes glanced towards Adam.
“We may come to cross blades soon,” Eliza said to Adam. “I do not believe I would defeat you, but you should not underestimate me.”
“I’m planning to win the tournament, so it’s not like I have the luxury of holding back.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate Jaygak either,” Eliza said. “Her blade is vicious.”
“I never underestimate Jaygak,” Adam said, smiling as he was about to continue, before he found his throat grew dry. “I’m not in the business of underestimating Iyrmen.”
“I wish I had such wisdom earlier,” Rory joked, noting the shadow appearing across the half elf’s face.
Adam’s companions noted the stutter of thought. “Excuse me.” Adam excused himself from the table, smiling awkwardly towards the group, before he stepped out into the cold air of the evening, glancing around to see the white of the snow. The chill crept into him.
‘Right,’ Adam thought. ‘Jaygak and…’ He had joked about it previously, but it was only then, in that moment, Adam realised the pair were going to come across one another soon. He thought of Jirot, who constantly bullied him for coming in third, but the faces of other children flashed through his head.
Raygak, who, though often bullied by his sister, held nothing but love and pride for her.
Taygak, who had once spoken such horrendous words, because she was born a Gak, but was so confident and well behaved.
Saygak, who had cried so much when he caused trouble in order to buck the Gak’s way, and to become a Blood Mage.
The four tiny little girls, or rather, four chonky girls, who were so sweet and innocent, and had yet to hear of the Gak’s dire situation.
“Fuck,” Adam whispered, reaching up to cover his eyes. ‘Damn it. What the hell did I do?’
The soft crunching of snow gave away his position, as Jurot stepped beside his brother, and crossed his arms. “Okay?”
“Jurot. I messed up.”
“It is okay.”
“I don’t know. I just… I didn’t think about it, and now I’m regretting that I didn’t think about it.”
“When you come to cross blows, you have to fight with your all.”
Adam frowned. “I know.”
Jurot remained silent. Since his brother had said so, it meant he wouldn’t hold back. Jurot had to believe it. He had to believe that when the pair crossed paths, Adam wouldn’t hold back. Adam, who wielded such a great axe. An axe which was like his own. An axe which…
“Adam?”
“I know,” Adam repeated.
“Adam,” Jurot called once more, but this time his voice was more curious.
“Yeah?”
“… Later.”
“Okay?”
It was later in the evening when Jurot sat opposite Adam, his brows furrowed. “What is the enchantment upon your axe?”
“Same as yours.”
“Can you recharge it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you recharge it whilst attacking?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Strike me.”
“Well, tomorrow you’ve got a fight.”
“I will be fine, you can heal me,” Jurot stated with such confidence, Adam couldn’t help but assume it to be true, only to then remember it was true.
“Alright…”
The pair went around to the Guild’s training area, the snow cleared off to one side even this late, before the pair faced one another.
“It feels bad enough I have to attack you, at least, you know…”
Jurot turned red hot.
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 23 (13)
D20 + 10 = 26 (16)
Hit!
Wraith: 3 -> 2
2D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 26 (5)(12)
Damage resisted!
13 damage!
‘Damn,’ Adam thought, as Jurot brought up his shield, and shrugged off most of the blow, which would have staggered many others. ‘I forgot how crazy tough you were.’
“Attack with all the charges,” Jurot said.
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 19 (9)
D20 + 10 = 23 (13)
Hit!
Wraith: 2 -> 0
2D6 + 4D6 + 9 = 31 (7)(15)
Damage resisted!
15 damage!
“Now,” Jurot said, still red hot with rage, and still seemingly fine after taking 10D6+18 damage right to the face.
Adam blinked.
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 12 (2)
D20 + 10 = 15 (5)
Miss!
Adam’s heart wasn’t in the next attack, it glancing off his brother’s skin too quickly for him to harm him. The half elf quickly gathered himself, and focused, swinging his blade more violently towards his brother.
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 25 (15)
D20 + 10 = 30 (20)
Critical hit!
Mana: 25 -> 24
Wraith: 0 -> 1
Wraith: 1 -> 0
4D6 + 4D6 + 9 = 28 (9)(10)
Damage resisted!
14 damage!
Jurot could feel something greater within that blow, feeling the ache through his bones, though after a moment, the feeling passed with his rage, and he flexed his muscles.
Adam blinked. He had done about enough damage to almost knock himself out, and yet his brother was pretty much fine, as though it had been barely an inconvenience.
“You know, Jurot…”
“Yes?”
“You’re so scary too.”
Jurot slowly nodded his head, his lips almost twitching. “Did it work?”
“…” Adam let out a soft sigh. “Jurot. Would you believe me if I told you that I thought about this before and somehow forgot?”
“Yes.”
“I have mixed feelings about that.”
“It is okay.” Jurot placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed it.
“Please help me raise my children. If their daddy is this stupid, I’ll worry for them.”
Jurot blinked, uncertain of whether he would do much better. “They will be fine.”
Adam sighed once more. ‘Damn it. How did I not realise that? Aren’t I even more powerful than I realised. Also, Jurot, why did you tell me now?’
The tournament continued, with the four racking up victory after victory, against all manner of those who belonged to the Orders, mercenaries, adventurers, and worst of all, noblefolk.
Jaygak fought against an Oathsworn who was considered weaker than both Rory and Eliza, and yet, as their blades clashed, she could feel how heavy her arms had become. For a moment, Jaygak thought she would fail to defeat the woman, a young woman roughly her own age, who was no doubt just barely above an Expert, and yet somehow was pushing her this far back. Then, somehow, Jaygak’s blade managed to strike her though a chink in her armour, causing a grave wound that would have killed her, if not for her own timely magics, and the Priest who swiftly rushed over.
Jaygak panted. “A great fight!” The Oathsworn remain on the ground, knelt, but grunted as the Priest tended to her wound, and the Iyrmen retreated. ‘I have to be careful not to let down my guard.’
“You worried me,” Adam admitted. “I almost lost a thousand gold!”
“A thousand gold? Did you lose faith in me?” Jaygak teased.
“A thousand gold is my limit now, just in case I mess up,” Adam replied, flushing slightly, taking the words too close to his heart.
Jaygak winked.
Adam, Jurot, Kitool, and Jaygak, all had managed to remain undefeated, even as the second week began to pass.
Then it happened.
“Ah?” Adam said, smiling wide.
Omen: 9, 18
‘No crit? I guess I can’t do that again.’
A servant approached Adam within the room, the other fighters all glancing towards the half elf. It wasn’t right for a servant to be here, but upon seeing the Grand Duchess’ symbol upon the servant, the fighters glanced away.
‘Right, if it’s the Blacksnow family, it’s okay, since they’re good.’
Good?
Powerful.
Adam checked the note, and as the servant pulled away, the other fighters quickly glanced towards him.
Why?
Because Adam had dared to speak up.
“Hey,” Adam called. “I believe I informed the Grand Duchess I intend to win.”
“That has not changed,” the servant assured, tossing a note into the fire, a fake note, just in case someone used magic to reform it. “If you are able, with your own strength, to win, then win.”
The fighters blinked, shocked, for the Grand Duchess was saying he could win?
Then what was the note about?
“Good,” Adam replied, as his name was called out, and he stepped up, donning his shield. Adam almost ignored the announcer, but he raised his axe and shield, circling around the arena. Then she stepped out.
She was adorned in full plate, silver and red. Her armour was no doubt magical, due to the tiny runes along the trim. A heavy cloak, which fell to her knees, billowed even in the slightest breeze, glistening as though it was made of the blood.
“Sir Roseia Drakkenslayer!” the announcer shouted, to the eruption of cheers.
“Have you come for your revenge, leaf ear?” Sir Roseia asked, wielding her greatsword within her hands.
“…” Adam smiled from behind his helmet, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“There were distasteful rumours previously. This time I shall dispatch you with ease.”
Adam inhaled deeply. ‘Uh oh.’
Jaygak, Jurot, and Kitool were all ready to fight that day, therefore they weren’t watching the fight, much to their chagrin. However, Lucy and Mara exchanged a look.
“He’s not going to…”
Mara was uncertain of how to respond to Lucy’s worries. ‘He is fortunate to be so close with so many Iyrmen.’