Amaro’s head was swimming. Each hour he waited for the ceremony was longer than the last. Today was the eve of the ceremony. He had hardly been able to enjoy everything he had wanted to. He was sure Kaara hated him, so giving her a gift was out of the question. Who was he to think he was worthy of giving a gift anymore?
What could he do? What was he supposed to do? He had been in this camp for only a few weeks, but it felt like months. Years even. The Ux scrolls had been confiscated, apparently. If anything, Amaro might have preferred the temporary escape into another body that those scrolls offered. Anything was better than this slowly ticking clock counting down the minutes before he was to risk his life.
He had never truly done something like that. Even when he fought his father, he was still safeguarded from death. When this day was over, they would march out into the woods and fight something which would not pull its punches. They would spare his life only to torment him until they got bored and ended it.
His father had made his lesson clear. As powerful as they were compared to other xiozians, they were still children. They were still mortal. The Malaki were true monsters who sought their suffering and ultimately their death.
Amaro’s brain was rattled with that lesson again and again. Yet it did not feel real in the end. He did not feel fear, he felt numb. Perhaps he was better off that way. He had always been more calm when he was fighting. He wondered how he would feel when he was faced with death. Put to the edge and truly tested. Would he crumble, or would it unlock something inside him he had never experienced before?
“Hey Amaro!” Kaara yelled, trudging through the snow towards him, “In the afternoon there’s a pie eating contest for the nobility, you wanna join or watch it?”
Amaro was stunned. Why was she here? “Pie…eating?”
“Yeah, on the morning of the ceremony all the nobles get together to compete for the Tibur’s latest bestiary. The catch is, though, that they can’t use their hands to eat so they get real messy!”
“I can’t imagine any nobility stooping to such a level. Is the bestiary really that valuable?”
Kaara nodded, “Yeah, since Malaki and Magakos are always evolving and changing, a new edition of the bestiary is always valuable for handling them. We make more copies, but this is the first of the new ones.”
“Wouldn’t it be a waste of food in the winter?”
“Nope! This time of year we get plenty of Malaki meat to make the pies, so the only limit is your stomach!”
Amaro swallowed, scratching his head, “I suppose I could participate since you’re asking.”
“Great! Follow me, we’re gonna be starting in a few minutes, I hope you’re hungry!”
Amaro followed Kaara to the center of the camp. Long stone tables had been set up. People had already filled the seats, chatting uproariously about the day’s events. Fresh pies were kept warm with fire magic. Amaro could smell them, and even though he hardly ever enjoyed pies there was something about these which made his mouth water. He recalled that a lot of the Tibur dishes were that way. Perhaps there was something about Malaki meat which made it taste so good? A stage had been set up nearby with colorful ribbons of black, blue, and red; The colors of the Tibur clan.
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They approached a blue skinned xio holding a ledger.
“Tiksu! I got another participant for the pie eating contest!”
“Ah, I see. Amaro Xirxus correct?”
Amaro nodded, “That is correct.”
“Alright. Take an open seat, we’ll be starting soon.”
Amaro looked to Kaara who gave him a thumbs up. Was this her way of telling him there were no hard feelings?
Still, even if there weren’t, Amaro was not going to accept such an easy forgiveness. He needed to repay her and the rest of the tribe somehow. He needed to apologize to the Noxas on his brother’s behalf.
For now, though, he had to humble himself. Perhaps that’s what she was trying to tell him?
“Everyone, may I have your attention please?” A voice rang out from all sides around them. L’Maya stood at the center of the stage, donned in regal feathered attire. She was using wind magic to amplify her voice, “To our extended family from the other noble clans, on behalf of the Tibur tribe I thank you for coming. On the eve of the Siren Ceremony it is tradition for the nobility to participate in a grand humbling, so we hope you enjoy these pies. We are ever grateful to have you all here as company to keep our tents ever warmer during the winter season. Here are the rules of this competition. Firstly, your hands must be placed firmly behind your back while eating. Secondly, you may not touch, nibble or eat any pie before the starting horn is blown. The first person to finish their pie must throw their hands in the air. The judges will decide if the pie is actually finished before ending the contest. In the event of a tie, we will have an ‘eat off’ to decide the winner. Good luck, and may the best pie eater win!”
A horn sounded off and the pie eating commenced. Amaro was taken aback by the sudden start, watching as nobility from all levels of high society buried their faces in Malaki meat pies like pigs in a pen. Not to be outdone, Amaro jumped in as well, scarfing down as much as he possibly could. There was something liberating about a lack of table manners. Once he got messy, it became so much easier to eat. He ate and ate and ate. His belly was getting full. Amaro glanced at the rest of his competition. He could see they were slowing down as well. A viscount Amaro had seen at prior noble gatherings raised his hands in the air to declare himself the winner, but the judge shook their head in denial. Amaro got to see them hastily dig their face back into the pie with a loud SPLAT!
Amaro dug his face in again, having to stifle a laugh to focus on eating. The horn sounded as the judges yelled for everyone to stop. Amaro looked around for the victor. People murmured, laughing and joking with one another as they waited for the winner to be announced. L’Maya’s voice spoke over the crowd once more, “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have a tie this year! Will the two winners please step onto the stage?”
Heads turned to the center of the stage as a stone table was set up.
“You cannot pick any better nobility to go head to head, folks. On the right we have Lord Kadmus Xirxus, Grand Duke of Itaro!”
The crowd cheered. Amaro looked on. His father had been participating? And he had been one of the winners no less.
“And on the left side, opposing our grand duke is none other than Emperor Ilmalak Alveridan himself!”
Another thunderous cheer.
“You could not have written a better contest, folks. I would like everyone to count them down as they prepare to duel for the honor of being crowned this year Pie Lord! One!”
“TWO!” The crowd counted.
“THREE!” The horn blared, and for the first time in Amaro’s life, he got to see his father make a complete and utter fool of himself. Kadmus Xirxus, the oppressive father who loomed his shadow over his children was now no more than a pig scarfing down as much pie as he could in a desperate attempt to get a silly book.
The Tibur really did know how to humble people.