“I was stuck in that place for thirteen--”
“Thirteen hours.” Jura groaned in frustration, hearing the same complaint for thirteen of her own hours, or at least that's what it felt like. “I get it, and I said I was sorry. We were all scraped up and needed attention and I didn't expect the arena staff to just leave you there. ”
Tyr walked with a heavy, stitching limp. He didn't require bed rest, and he wasn't in much pain – it was more like his body refused to obey him. Sluggish and rigid all over, suddenly very clumsy. An unwelcome change after dedicating so much effort to develop the dexterity of a practiced gymnast... “I wonder if this is what old people feel like?”
“Well...” Fennic said. Of all of them, he was the only one that showed any apparent guilt – even though he'd never have been expected to carry Tyr from the arena like that. “You are walking with a cane, just like me old granddad. His name was Fennic, too...”
The man was dressed in a suit of silver plate armor far outside of his comfort zone, with the pattern of a white wolf emblazoned on the tabard. They were to be Tyr's 'honor guard', all of the remaining blackguard present. Only Ajax and his beastkin refused to be dressed in this way, opting to sit out the proceedings altogether. Tyr didn't mind, the cat man had gotten what he'd wanted in challenging Girshan again and seemed satisfied enough. Ajax was never really around, just idling by with his demi buddies and doing whatever he wanted.
Just like Okami, coming and going as he pleased. Tyr wasn't one to enforce any rules on any of them, and it's not like the blackguard actually did anything productive. Mikhail and Fennic ate and drank constantly, Tiber trained, and Samson... Tyr wasn't even sure what Samson did. Stood around menacingly in between experiences involving helping old women with groceries and lifting heavy things for the others.
“Is this really necessary?” Tyr asked. The collar was too high on his neck and made him feel claustrophobic, he wasn't used to wearing such tight and stuffy clothing. His armor felt much better than this robed finery they'd dressed him in.
“Yana did a phenomenal job with all your uniforms and if I have to hear you asking if you can 'just wear your armor', I'm going to slap you.” Jura growled. “Now stand still.”
She tugged down at Tyr's formal trappings, ensuring it was snug, fussing over his appearance in a way that he'd never expected her capable of, even going so far as to do his hair for him. “You look so handsome.”
“So do you.” Tyr said, eyeing her at his rear through the mirror. She was dressed in a tight and flowing gray dress. High and clasped around her neck with a collar, it was slit over the sternum to reveal her chest, the opening not leaving much to imagination, extending all the way down to the navel with fine lace in between. Yana was indeed talented, Tyr was dressed in a black military suit in the Harani style, with blue accents to match the color of his eyes and a white shirt underneath. He thought he looked fairly decent, but it, again, wasn't very comfortable. Jartor himself had arrived with the clothing all prepared in advanced, with a nervous looking Yana in tow. Presumably, Tyr's father had conscripted her to see it done, but she seemed to enjoy the experience whatever the case may be.
It was all too pompous. Tyr had been immobile, forcing them to tag in Camille as their alternate, and the team had promptly lost the following round against Haran. Not much of a surprise, considering Regar, Asha, and Gideon were all members of the team. Winning the tournament for the northern empire in a much easier fight than the match against Oresund had been. Even if Tyr had been present, he doubted he could have changed the result. Valkan himself had lost in a direct confrontation with Asha, she was an archmage without the flaws in personality that made Kael seem rather unremarkable.
Daito hadn't even participated.
Goroshi had made an excellent showing of defeating most of the Harani team by himself. Unfortunately, the combination of Asha and her husband was just too much – she was ruthless – brutalizing them on the way to two marks and a terrified referee threatening to expel her.
Another woman, one Tyr was not acquainted with despite being from his country, had beaten Rafael by herself. Andrea was her name, another archmage and vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her face.
Thus concluded the martial segment of the trials, devolving into a series of awkward interviews and the gala that capped it all off. Hence the absurd dress. The tournament had went by so fast, and except for their last fight against Lucian – it hadn't been very enjoyable. Lucian had excited Tyr in a way none of the others had, not even Nala, he very much wanted to speak to the man again.
Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, but Tyr was not content with how it had turned out. And worst of all, he'd broken his promise to Stella, his heart felt heavy thinking about what he'd say to excuse himself from failing to uphold his oath. He'd never liked breaking promises, that wasn't his way.
Unbeknownst to him, Stella and her family couldn't have been more excited by the result. They hadn't watched the tournament, far too grisly for such a young girl. Only hearing about it from others and deciding that Tyr had given a phenomenal effort. All they could truly wish for was a quick return to health, after being notified that he was 'injured'.
Without further ado, they were crammed into finely decorated carriages. Mikhail, Samson, Fennic, and Tiber took to horse and flanked them on the wide road. Joined by a squad of men from the republic, unfamiliar faces except for Alexandros who somehow managed to squeeze his way into the seat across from Tyr.
“What are you doing here?” Tyr asked.
“You fight for my team, I am obligated to join you in your arrival to the the gala. I'll be leaving before anyone tries to talk to me, though. I just need to be seen, and then I'll be off. You did good work, there, very interesting, though not the win I'd hoped for.”
“I am equally disappointed.” Tyr assured him. “I have no excuses.”
“You don't need any.” Alexandros shrugged. “It was a foul thing that they did, bringing such strong teams into the tournament only to fight you. I haven't seen an ascendancy with that many famous figures since I was a child. Second is good enough for our purposes, maybe even better than first place considering how the last round turned out. You fought well, and kept it snappy, dramatic and flashy. The rest did a fair job of it, though I'll admit to being disturbed that Daito still hasn't learned to take anything seriously.”
“Indeed.” Tyr nodded. Daito had left after their fight with Lucian. Goroshi, Valkan, and Rafael had attempted to carry the rest together but they were all tired and wounded from the fight against Lucian. In no condition to show their best against the Harani. Asha in particular was just too strong, Anu might be powerful opponents, but an archmage was the pinnacle of human spellcasters. He couldn't match her in raw power and had fallen through a combined assault from husband and wife. It was enough for him to have equaled her if only for a brief moment, he knew very well how limited his skill in magic was when compared to someone like his father.
Tiber, though. Tiber had answered Tyr's lifelong question of who was the better knight among the royal guard, sans the battlemages. Engaging Regar in a heated duel before eventually pummeling him into the ground. Seconds before getting blown away by Gideon, of course, but a win was a win. Considering that Regar had been so richly equipped with artifacts, it was a result nobody had expected. But Tiber did have his own now, and hadn't even used his implants.
After defeating a platinum ranked foxen adventurer... Tyr had never known Tiber was that capable – in fact, he was absolutely sure the old man hadn't been. His awakening couldn't possibly explain it, he was getting stronger for some reason.
“I would rather not attend this thing. Can I do the same, do you think?” But as expected, Alexandros dashed his hopes in the face of reality. Events like these were a convenient excuse for men of power and influence to network with people of... Actual power, and typically less means. A world expo of sorts that many nobles would attend. To auction off their daughters to other influential families, strengthen ties, or leverage their wealth to make bargains with tournament winners. In a way, it was the worlds largest job fair. Industry titans and business magnates participating only to suss out talented prospects for their respective organizations.
And with that being said, it was no less grand than Tyr expected. All of it was to take part in the council palace of Amistad, trains of horses and carriages hastened through heavily guarded dimensional gateways far larger and anything Tyr had seen before. Arriving in a pleasant park on the palace grounds, with the massive structure of gold and silver looming over the surroundings.
As richly appointed and romantically designed as the rest of the 'magic capital of the world'. It appeared a poor choice for a defensive structure, but magic did what utilitarian architecture could not.
One by one, the train of carriages were beckoned through the courtyard. Tyr had wondered at why they arrived before noon to a party that would be happening in the evening, but now he understood. Every time the residents of a carriage disembarked, they would be paraded around and announced by heralds. Some weren't so important, and quickly went inside. But those of true influence and fame, including the various arena teams, were hounded by ravening people carrying short metal cylinders and sticking them rudely in their faces.
“What are they doing over there...?” Jura asked curiously, leaning out of the window in awe at the grand sight of Amistad. Kriegstad was far larger in comparison, the whole state was a city in itself, but Amistad had a charm and fanciful air about it that the former did not. Beautiful beyond belief, all the way up to the lip of the crater. It was wondrous.
“The press.” Alexandros spat. “Don't worry, they won't bother us as long as I enter with you... I think...?”
–
“Tyr! Tyr!”
“Oh, lady Jura! Wow, she looks so pretty! ...For an orc.”
What the hell?
“Tyr Faeron! Is it true that you have a fetish for crustaceans? What is your comment on the rumors that you've married a maxxid!?”
“Prince Faeron! Where are your other wives? Will they be in attendance?”
“White Wolf! What is your comment on the rumors that you have sired a child with a dragon?”
“Take off your pants, man! We want to see it!”
“Is it true that you are allergic to beans!?”
“Prince Tyr! Since you can detach parts of your body at will, and continue to ambulate even without your head being connected to your body. Does that mean you could, just hypothetically, uh-- Where'd he go!?”
Somehow in the midst of the wild crowd, Tyr and most of the others had managed to disappear, leaving Alexandros alone – scratching the back of his head and facing the press with tired eyes.
“Primus Alexandros!” Someone shouted – directly into his face... Or up at it, rather – she was quite a small woman. Behaving opposite from how he'd expected the press to. Then again, the primus' had always maintained a 'no authority during the X festival' stance on things. Not that they had any in the successor states to begin with, technically. Humans became bolder and more entitled with each passing day, that was something that didn't shock him.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“What are your thoughts on the recent accusations going around that Tyr Faeron has begun to amass and train an army of lizard people on the Harani border? Eyewitness accounts from adventurers and wandering traders alike have all corroborated strange occurrences in the disputed valley north of here. What's your take on things? Is the world safe from this scaly menace?
“...Do you know how ridiculous you sound? Lizard people?”
–
The herald standing on the platform facing the door, splitting the dual staircase down to the forum proper – now serving as a feast and dance hall, took a deep breath.
“Please don't.” Tyr asked of him, raising a hand before he could say anything.
“Very good, sir.” The old man winked playfully. There was no true 'nobility' in Amistad, but oligarchy with magic as the measure wasn't much different, ultimately. He enjoyed events like these when there were those who didn't bicker about this or that title he had 'forgotten' in their introduction. Some of those idiot archmages had dozens of them, and would insist he cry them all! “Big fan of your performance, by the way.”
“Appreciated.” Tyr said with a sincerely apologetic nodding of his head, slipping a coin into the mans hand. “Sorry if I let you down by bowing out of the last round.”
“I was more interested in the women you keep company with.” He winked again. “But yes, yes. Big strong men punching each other in full view of the world. How exciting.”
Tyr snorted. “Yes, my harem is legendary and phenomenal, I will share your kind words with my wives, elder. Enjoy your night. If you need a break, tell them Tyr Faeron said it's alright. I am a very famous and heroic adventurer.”
“Very good, sir.”
Without further ado, Tyr and Jura departed, making their way down the staircase, arm in arm. Like everything these days, it was made from white marble with gray veins patterning its glossy surface – something she had mentioned more than once. “Why is everything in these kingdoms made of marble? Don't you have other quarries around?”
“Dunno.” Tyr shrugged, he was happy she was here with him, it made all of this so much easier for him to bear. “Not an architect. Do they not use marble in Kriegstad?”
“They do, but most of the structures are of an enameled granite. I've never seen any of the big palaces before, but even my previous masters estate wasn't – and he is quite wealthy. I think...” Jura mused, following him through a crowd of staring eyes. Some of them were blatant glares, while the vast majority were looks of intrigue. A primus bedding an orc was something of a scandal among the nobility, Tyr was savvy enough by this point to see right through it. Humans didn't often take very well to orcs in particular, even a half orc was a 'monster' in their eyes.
A man stepped free from the crowd and directly into Tyr's path. There were a lot of people here, simply placing himself in that spot had prevented them from moving unless they wanted to bowl over the rest of the crowd, something Tyr was currently considering.
“Prince Faeron, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. It was a shame we could not conclude our business in person, but I did receive your payment and it was more than fair. Might I ask if you have any other interests I could indulge? I'm a man of many products, you see. Not just those of the... Ah, fleshy variety.” He flashed Tyr a toothy smile and stepped back in a respectful and elegant bow. As for his appearance, it wasn't anything special. Mid thirties, rather average in the face, but the honeyed hues of his hair were pleasant. It was worn long and over the back of his ears, no question he prided himself on that being his defining feature. But the eyes were full of intellect and cunning, a dull green with flecks of gold throughout.
“...Who the hell are you?”
“Ah, how silly of me!” The man laughed like a veld, that chirping cackle they made when they were communicating with one another. Tyr had heard they sounded like a hyena, but he had no experience with those creatures firsthand. Large doglike creatures native to the southern bits of the continent, but far more prolific on the southern landmass dominated by Agoron. Apparently even their females had male genitalia, which was an intriguing concept. “We've never met, so of course you wouldn't know me.” He laughed again, if that unpleasant noise could be called 'laughing'. “Merchant Prince Martin Klaus, at your service – should you wish it. Of Kriegstad.”
“Did you know that both the male and female hyena have dicks?” Tyr asked the man flatly, alarming some of the eavesdroppers into gasps and blushes. “At least that's what I've been told, do you have any experience with this?”
“...Pardon?” This Martin was a bit taken aback by that, but that was sort of the point. That, and Tyr genuinely wanted to know. He'd asked Samson multiple times, but the man just glared at him in disappointment and walked away.
“Penises, the dangling bits. I am curious how their breeding rituals must look. Do they dock, or...?”
“I'm quite perplexed at that question, my prince.” Martin squinted his eyes and frowned hard. “I'm afraid I do not know.
“As am I.” Tyr mused wryly. “Perplexed – that is. That's a nice word, perplexed. Perplexed at how two dicks slapping against one another could give way to the making of a child. And equally perplexed as to what would compel you to corner me and introduce yourself as if I'd ever had any dealings with you whatsoever. If you're in the potion business, you'll deal with my business manager Ella – not me. I'll snap your scrawny bird neck like kindling if you don't get the fuck out of my face.”
Another gasp. Tyr was the tallest person in their immediate vicinity, with a well built body compared to the scholarly frame of the much smaller man before him.
“Tyr.” Jura said, squeezing his arm. “Martin Klaus is the son of my master.”
Ah, shit. Tyr thought, sighing at the idea of actually killing this man in broad daylight, a bit excited to see what would come out of it, though. They couldn't hold Tyr or try him in court here. Amistad had an extradition policy with all primus held territories, even Oresund. Would he be tried in Lyra, or Haran? He wouldn't get to find out, in any case. Jura latched harder onto his arm, covering his dimensional ring with her hand as inconspicuously as possible.
“Former master, my lady. And I'll have you know that I am in the process of liquidating all dominus related holdings posthaste. What a wasteful vocation, and terrible for the economy. Slaves do not buy sundries, what fool would want to fill a country with wageless labor? Not I, but I do apologize for my abruptness. And my bird neck, as you've so eloquently stated.” Martin bowed again, either oblivious to or ignoring Tyr's not-so-implied threat. “I do believe your invoices were signed by a Lady Ella, some time after my fathers repudiation. The old bat was wise in many things, but to deny the request of a primus. More than one, if I do so recall... His dementia made him overly bold, I'm afraid.”
“Is your father here?” Tyr asked. “I find myself hoping that he is in attendance.”
“Ah, alas.” Martin sighed exaggeratedly, everything about him reminded Tyr of the troubadours and actors that would often stop in the capital to put on shows, very dramatic and overwrought. “A bit hard to attend the gala with a knife in his throat.”
“Somebody killed your father?” Tyr tilted his head. “Too bad. I would have liked to do that myself.”
Martin nodded, unconcerned. “As had many, but things are like that in the Krieg and other states dominated by the hand of the merchant princes. Giving real meaning to the word cutthroat. Thankfully, I got to him first before he could make a miser out of we children of his.”
“...”
“You've killed your own father, Martin?” Jura wasn't upset, nor sad to hear it. Verner was a fair master and had never abused nor punished her beyond reason, but he'd still been a slaver. One of the most influential flesh peddlers in the entire region. As for Martin, well... He was very talented, and everyone knew it – even the slaves in the household. While not exactly 'kind', as to be such would be forgetting his motivations for doing so – Martin had always ensured that the gladiators in the dominus were well fed and maintained. In fact, he was the only reason they'd been given cots rather than sleeping on the stone floor of the pens. “Why?”
“Nasty business, that.” Martin frowned. “My father was not a bad man, and he had his talents – but looking to the future was not one of them. He was furious when a page arrived with coinage to purchase you from us. I remember him shouting, bowling over all manner of sheaves and receipts off of his desk, red faced and spitting. 'How dare a bastard disrespect me like this', he said.” He mocked the dead man shamelessly, his own father. “He refused the primus', and you can guess at what that means. Even if the great ones care not, people hear. And our competitors used that as an opportunity to leverage blackmail against my family. Tax evasion, even I was surprised at how many enemies my father had made over the years.”
“...What happened next?” Jura asked. “Did you sell off the other slaves?”
“Of course not.” Martin replied. “I freed them and parceled out that waste of a 'hunting ground' he kept in the western valley. Six thousand acres for a recreational space, how ridiculous. Anyways, I invited them all to tea to discuss our terms of surrender, so to speak. You should've seen their faces when I told them all the wine they'd been drinking was poisoned! Ha! I killed them all, took their tertiary holds in recompense for their uninvited 'assault' on my estate, and the killing of my dear and beloved father. No charges filed against their houses, of course, I am a very fair and forgiving man.”
Also an honest one... Tyr frowned at the man's bold-faced admittance to the crime, but in the Krieg court there was something called the statute of limitations. Estates were settled, and it wasn't worth the trouble of digging it back up. Some justice system, that. Lots of bad men were let off the hook for all manner of impure motivation, and corruption was very common in the Krieg. It was known for it, really, a city of gangs and thieves. They all were, in Tyr's opinion, but at least Kriegstad was honest with themselves.
“You freed the slaves?” Jura tilted her head, brows furrowed in confusion. Martin was fair, alright, but he was a vicious magnate. Positively obsessed with money, for what reason would he have allowed his fathers 'livestock' to walk free? “What about Lucretia?”
“You poisoned a room full of nobles and got away with it?” Tyr would be impressed if not for the method entailed.
“Goodness, let's see. I script for all eventualities in conversation but I did not predict these questions, so I'll speak more bluntly. Young Lucretia is fine, she's too young to manage a farm so I managed to contact her debtor family and brought them all into the state. Just like the rest, I gave them all farms, orchards, or lumbering territories. I kept the copper mine, naturally, but many still work within it – but as normal employees. Productivity has risen over six hundred percent, and no whips necessary! As for the poisoning, my prince, no. I did not poison them. I told them that I had so that they would call their hidden dogs into a position where they could not escape. After that, I slaughtered them to a man. Or rather... My employees did. You'd be surprised what kind of gratitude a free slave is capable of, all too eager to see one of the shackle holders of their kindred struck low. What a mess it was. Fun, but biting the bolt on two hundred credits in repairs certainly tested my patience.”
“Smart.” Tyr nodded appreciatively, forcing them to attack him in his own home. Eliminating many potential dangers in the process, all through a ruse. Martin wasn't just ridiculous with his pomp and flair, he was devilishly clever. And... As it would appear, completely bereft of remorse, willing to do anything to get ahead.
“That was very noble of you. To free them, I mean.” Jura smiled. “We all knew you had some good in you.”
“Noble?” Martin raised an eyebrow. “I am a thief and a degenerate, my lady, but an honest one. There was no nobility in it, it served to fill my pockets and that's why I did it. I'm not an altruist, nor a philanthropist, I'm a businessman.”
“Ah.” Tyr nodded, speaking to both the man in front of him as well as Jura. He was impressed at Martin's acumen for strategy, which was well beyond his own. Tyr would've just hunted them down one by one like he had in the past, which had caused some... Complications.
Some had even gotten away, but he was very sure those men were dead now. Sicario's did not miss, and Tiber still had contact with many of his old compatriots, more than eager to bury anyone for a fair sum of gold as long as it fit their frankly confusing moral code.
“My father says slavery in Haran is illegal because its an inferior way of doing business. With the moral implications aside, slaves are unmotivated labor and difficult to control. It costs money to see them shackled, observed, and guarded at all times. Whereas sharecropping, which is what this man is doing – is far more profitable. A nation of free and tax paying citizens under a nationalist social mindset is far more powerful than a nation built on the backs of the broken. Right?” Tyr said.
“Right indeed, and very astute! Forward thinking minds are so rare amongst our race, everyone is so... Stagnant and backwards.” Martin smiled. “As for business, I believe I have a proposition that just might interest you.”
“It doesn't.” Tyr replied, stepping away through a gap in the crowd. But he was kind enough to leave him with some advice, that being: “Call Ella.”
If there was money to be made, she'd probably be interested in it. Maybe... He didn't really pay much attention to her, either.
I pay her to manage a chain of apothecary shops for me. Well, no, she did that herself and then wrote up her own employment contract. Even though I said we were partners. Tyr wasn't sure if she even still worked for him, or where she was. He was too afraid to get yelled at through the communications amulet to respond to her biweekly calls anymore...