Current Quests

Justice For Courbefy: Find justice for the victims of the corrupt mayor of Courbefy. Use…

Chosen Of Knowledge: Escort Hugh on his journey to becoming a fully awakened iron…

Chosen Of Hero: Assist Johan as he competes in the Avril Reyer Birthday Tournament...

Making A Magnate: Dominion wants you to hire at least two employees to expand your…

Healer’s Materials: Gain Healer’s favour by donating alchemy ingredients to the church…

Investigate Dapcher Orphanage: Investigate Dapcher orphanage for signs of exploitation.

Abel’s Mace: Return Brother Abel’s missing mace to the church of Soldier. He was last…

Rescue the Lucas’s Daughter: Retrieve Charlotte Lucas, the warehouse owner’s…

Lost Treasure Map: Find and return an old treasure map stolen from, Marielle Lecuyer…

Wolf Menace: Hunt down a pack of mischievous foxes terrorising the livestock of Villars.

Haunted Mill: Investigate the abandoned mill outside Limony that's said to be haunted…

Embarrassing Request: Gather rare herbs from the dangerous swamp for Duerne's…

Merchant Escort: Safely escort a merchant caravan through bard-infested woods to…

Mine Monsters: Clear out the rat monsters that have infested The Old Mine, a popular…

Ancient Ruins Exploration: Explore and map out the ancient ruins that have recently…

Missing Scout: Locate and rescue a missing scout who was last seen investigating…

Bridge Repair: Collect and deliver materials needed to repair a bridge that connects two…

UnKill Streak 5: Complete a five day streak of not killing anybody!

Potion of Prosperity Delivery: Deliver a potion of prosperity to the midwife in Houlbec. Merchant's Goods Recovery: Recover stolen goods in Confolens from the bandits that...

Dave used Grand Mage’s Gravitas on himself before approaching an official tournament bookmaker. He could feel his heart fluttering, attempting to rise into his mouth. Which was odd because he technically didn’t have functional internal organs anymore but, he guessed, old habits stick around. He walked over as the previous better left, hyper aware of his own body.

The bookmaker, a rotund celestine with a calculating gaze, greeted him with a nod.

“What can I do for you, Mister?” she asked, her tone professional but indifferent.

Dave clenched his jaw, steeling himself, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. Now that he was about to do it, he felt more certain than ever that betting was not for him. The large coin purse felt leaden as he took it from his inventory.

“Put this on Johan Schmidt to win his first match,” he said, glad to hear his own voice steady, though his mind screamed that in gambling, the house always won.

The bookmaker put the coins on a device that measured the amount and started consulting a table that calculated the odds but glanced up as Dave took out six more smaller bags.

“I’ve labelled them,” said Dave, giving a small nod and displaying ‘Johan Schmidt: To reach semifinals in the duels’ written on the fabric.

“Thank you, sir,” said the celestine with the same professional neutrality.

Dave’s mind raced. He was very glad of his aura camouflage or else he knew for certain that he’d have been picked out by those with the skill to see it as someone worth paying attention to. He found himself wiping his hands on his coat and suddenly realised his palms were clammy. The pressure of what he was doing pressed down on him. Even though it wasn’t really just him, he still felt partially responsible for all the collected money as its conveyor to the bookmaker.

What if Johan lost? The amount of collective money that the clergy could muster up was surprising. All that gold invested in faith in Johan and, by extension Dave felt, in him too. He focused on breathing for a moment and letting the anxiety just wash through him.

When the bookmaker had finished looking up the odds and handed Dave a copy of the ticket. He forced a confident smile and slipped it into his inventory with a slight tremble in his hands.

“Will that be all, Mister?” asked the Bookmaker, making the unfocused Dave jump.

“What? Oh, yes. Yes, thank you,” said Dave.

“Fortune bless your wager, Mister,” said the Bookkeeper.

She’d clasped something beneath her blouse when she’d said it which Dave recognised as something that the common folk of Oullins were doing that morning at any clergy related to the event at all, whether it be Hero or even Warrior, who’d be invoked to open the contest.

“Thank you, Miss,” said Dave. “Yours too.”

The cyan haired celestine grinned at him for a moment before composing herself and calling the next better forward. After last night, word had spread like wildfire through the city that the divine will applicant wasn’t anything like the rumours. He was a commoner. Just like them. In the tournament. And, the common people had latched onto it. It’d originated with house staff overhearing the nobles they worked for, no doubt. Dave hadn’t heard yet how the Reyers were taking it but his guess was ‘badly’. The city had been supporting the home girl until now, and still did, but not with the enthusiasm Johan, the Adonis clone who walked the path of the parade with a smile on his face, had inspired from the common folk.

With the bets placed, Dave went to breakfast with Rupe and Harry who’d both also got taken up in the hype and placed a few bets themselves. Rupe had spread his pocket money out between Harry, Johan and a parlay bet of all of the top six winning their first match. Harry had just put everything he could scrape together on himself. Fortunately, Rupe had managed to convince him to bet only on himself to win his first match, not the whole thing.

“Uncle, look, it’s that book loving swot of yours,” said Harry with a grin. He was a rangy teenager of seventeen and shared his uncle’s red hair and pale skin but his mannerisms were more of the cocky youth than Rupe’s joviality.

“Indeed it is, young Harry,” retorted Dave. “Although I must insist you not act as my master of ceremonies on this occasion. It’s only breakfast.”

“Ha! Spiffing!” exclaimed Rupe, enjoying the turnabout of Dave treating his overconfident nephew as staff.

Harry scowled at Dave who grinned back. The Ainsworths weren’t like other noble houses. They were so far away from political centres that they mostly socialised with their subjects rather than other nobility and, as a result, the other nobles treated them only as peerage for two reasons. Firstly, that the Ainsworths were nobility for the same reasons other families were nobility, so to deny the Ainsworths was to open the doors to their own dispossession. Secondly, under the leadership of Arthur Ainsworth, Rupe’s brother, the Ainsworths could give the premier hunting experience for the well-to-do and thus, everyone wanted to be on polite terms with them. Even if they did say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to their servants.

The trio ordered food and drinks and gave each other a run down of everything the other had missed last night. Rupe had been instrumental in engaging Johan in a group chat for an hour that had solidly cemented the aristocratic opinion of him as a rural buffoon. Johan had grudgingly played along with it and allowed his lack of formal education to be highlighted again and again by first Rupe and Harry but then other nobles who thought to get in a jibe on the unfailingly polite farm boy who hadn’t read any of the classics. Rupe had been very careful to interrupt when someone had asked if Johan had ever read any books at all! Dave didn’t know the answer but thought Rupe was right to avoid risking Johan answering with a list of weapon’s manuals. In any case, the odds against Johan had gone up two points since yesterday, which Rupe thought was spiffing.

“So, what’s your plan for your first opponent, Harry?” asked Dave. “Luca Rossi, wasn’t it?”

Harry had gone over Dave’s notes from last night. Especially Luca Rossi, his first opponent. Luca, was an elf of the Flos Duellatorum school which meant he would favour a low guard, a beating parry that would fling his opponent’s sword aside and, according to the rumour mongers of the previous night, enjoyed darting in and out with single attacks over prolonged exchanges.

Harry switched to a look that was all business.

“Alright, Booker,” said Harry, shrugging in the teenage way of forced nonchalance. “Lots of feints to keep them moving the sword tip, get him tired or confused and work my way in. What about the next round? After I’ve beaten Luca?”

“Maria Kostopoulos and Ahmed Hassan,” said Dave, manifesting Tome and having it open to a single page for both. “Both are similar to yourself; local area names that nobody’s really seen. I’ve only been able to summarise what might be true based on who’s been training them.”

Harry nodded seriously with Rupe glancing over his shoulder at Tome. Kostopoulos was in an area famous for producing highly technical fighters and Ahmed from a school across the Byzas Strait that made aggressive, hard-hitting fighters.

“Ahh, they’re just sea-blown southerners,” said Harry in an attempt at bravado. “I’ll deal with them, hey uncle Rupe? My real opponent is that Brodeur!”

“Oh, I dunno,” teased Dave. “She’ll be no problem right? You’ve got a big enough head, just throw your hat at her.”

Rupe threw his head back and laughed heartily. Even Harry grinned bashfully.

Their food was served and each popped a spirit coin in their mouth and began eating to get the bitter taste of the coin out of their mouth. Before they’d struck up another point of conversation they all saw Hugh leading Johan towards them. There were some other contestants and associated staff with them, Dave used Stop And Think to look up names from several teams and note them all down, although Hugh and Johan said their goodbyes and good lucks to their escort and approached Dave and the Ainsworths.

“Morning,” said Dave, getting the attention of some staff. “What was that all about?”

Hugh fumbled his words while Johan spoke up.

“Hugh was attacked in a cowardly fashion while walking between cathedrals this morning,” said Johan, his eyes flashing with righteousness. “One of the Winters’ trainers abandoned all faith and dared to cross this warrior of Knowledge.” Johan smiled fiercely at the flabbergasted Hugh and patted his shoulder. “But our humble friar here put the bestial draconian in his place.”

“Smashed him!” said Harry, savagely.

“Well, I say!” said Rupe. “Whatever happened, my good friar? Please! Sit, sit! Tell us your tale. Waiter! Waiter, yes, a pot of Phonecian black. With haste!”

“Well, I do say,” said Hugh in response to the attention on him that was silently asking for the details. “A simple matter really. I was walking and then a well dressed Draconic asked me to stop a moment for Knowledge. Naturally, I did and he shoved me into that alley after the wheelwright on Imperial Parade and he held me by the collar, threatening with his other fist. He was unhappy about Johan’s heritage and inclusion in the tournament and made specific mention of us being on the same team but while he was jabbering about blood or such, I realised I could jolly well fight back so, I popped right under that arm he was holding me with and did that move from the other day. The suplex, yes - from a body-lock, I believe,” Hugh looked abashed. “Anyway, it all caused something of a stir when I turned him in. What with him being associated the way he was.”

“Gracious Gods,” announced Rupe. “That’d get the tournament organisers involved!”

“Indeed it did,” said Johan, who’d taken a seat and quietly ordered a hearty breakfast with a voice and smile that’d made the waitress’s heart flutter. “By the time we’d left, the Winters had made everything worse by stalwartly claiming the whole event was a tale of imagination.”

“I guess they didn’t know Hugh is of Knowledge?” said Dave.

“Well, obviously I can’t be sure,” said Hugh. “But they knew enough to accost me on the path between the library-cathedral and Hero’s cathedral. To know that as well as my association with you?”

“Nah, it’s a puzzle isn’t it?” said Dave as Hugh trailed off. “Even Harry here knows not to argue with Knowledge clergy. No offence, Harry.”

“Spiffing!”

“No, I agree with you,” said Harry, who was wearing a puzzled expression and indicated himself and Rupe. “Our type gets private tutoring and learns early enough not to screw with Knowledge clergy.”

“Quite so, quite so!” agreed Rupe with a wink at Hugh. “Those Knowledge folk, they always know.”

“Anyway,” said Hugh. “A few of the other teams insisted on sending an escort with me to the arena. Just to ward off any other wayward souls and as an apology for the terrible hospitality of the Reyer family. You know, I think the Reyers are losing a lot of friends over this tournament.”

“So, the Winters will probably get a huge fine, a whole lot of public embarrassment as well as a penance pilgrimage,” said Harry with a grin. “And now we’ve got something to tease the Reyer-aligned teams with.”

“Oh-ho! You dare, you scamp? You dare?” exclaimed Rupe, ruffling his nephew’s hair.

“Throwing them off their game is fair play, uncle Rupe!” said Harry with a grin.

“I like to attack when my opponent is speaking,” said Johan mildly. “They’re often distracted while speaking.”

“That’s because you can distract opponents by existing,” said Harry, looking Johan up and down. “What'd they feed you out there in the alp lakes?”

“Fresh milk and healthy, mountain air,” said Johan with the absolute conviction of a country lad quoting his mum.

“Uncle, we’ve got to try out that milk,” quipped Harry.

“Ha-Haa! That we do, boy. That we do. Spiffing!”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

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The group finished up their breakfast, leaving coins on the table, and went to their assigned dressing rooms. Even on the small walk between the cafe to the competitors entrance of the arena, Johan was hailed by strangers who wished him Hero’s blessings. In a world without image sharing media, Dave supposed that the rumours that flew around this morning must have also included an accurate description. Which wouldn’t have been difficult, Dave reasoned, looking at the larger-than-life appearance of the farmer’s son. ‘He’s the one who looks like a walking statue’ would have sufficed and if there was still any doubt, once you got close enough, his aura would settle over people with its gentle but firm, neighbourly feeling of protection. A common person standing next to Johan would instinctively feel he was looking out for them. Most of everyone else too.

Dave felt a pang of sadness that Sam couldn’t be here to support Johan and be part of the crowd. He knew she’d absolutely love it but she had adamantly refused to entertain any notion of joining an event where there was a certainty of silver rankers and, he knew, she was right. Sam was already hiking from farm to farm offering her services with Slimy and healing folk as she went. The team would meet back up with her the morning after the tournament.

Hugh found Johan’s room, with a little bit of Goddess assistance in the warren of stone that was the arena’s business side of things, and walked inside to change into the special clothes that the weapons bouts required. The bouts were under ‘bare fighting’ rules which meant ‘bare of armour’. Still, they wore an ankle to wrist outfit of thick cloth with an arming jacket over the top, socks, stout shoes, inner and outer gloves. Everything about the bouts was standardised. You couldn’t even bring in your own weapon which was, if anything, an advantage for Johan because Greenwood had trained him with the no-frills standard edition of every sword.

Once dressed, it was approaching the second hour of the day and the sun was casting a golden hue over the great crystals that refracted the sun into the bustling arena. Athletes from all corners of the realm gathered and their teams filed onto the sands in their fencing uniforms, their teams in various fashionable garb, and all gave a sense of anticipation to get started that hung in the air.

“Want to wait in here or on the sand?” asked Dave. He knew that being on the sand of the arena around the competitors and their teams might reveal more information but Johan’s nerves took precedence. He needn’t have worried.

“The sand,” said Johan with a boyish grin.

Johan was definitely in his element and just happy to be there. His exuberance practically shone from him, unable to be contained any longer as he strode confidently towards the arena.

The guards on the gate to the arena let Johan through and attempted to be petty and bar Dave and Hugh access saying that Dave would be more comfortable in the stadium with other people like him and Hugh, although they respected the gods, had no business here.

Dave teleported past them with a recent purchase. A rod that allowed a short-distance teleport, about twenty metres, with an hour-long cooldown. Not the most reliable with that cooldown but cheap to purchase because of it. One of the guards almost pursued but was stopped by the warning hand of the other who recognised that abandoning their post to chase Dave, who actually did have permission to be there, around the area wasn’t a good move. They turned back to where they thought Hugh was and saw him already in air form climbing straight up. They followed him with their eyes as Hugh airwalked directly over their heads and then down an imaginary ramp to back to his friends. The guards gave a sour look to Executive Services to which Dave responded with a rude gesture.

“Dave!” admonished Johan.

“Fuck ‘em,” said Dave. “They can be professional.”

Executive Services threaded through the nobility in the arena to the one Johan had been assigned; north circle, red flag. A member of the local Hero clergy, an elven woman with amber hair and lithe build, was already waiting for them there.

Hugh put a hand on Dave’s shoulder.

“There’s also being seen to be polite in public,” said Hugh, pointedly looking around.

Dave sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Guys, I gotta tell you,” he said, gesturing around at the gathered upper crust of society milling about on the sand. “I am getting real sick and tired of being polite to these inadequate people who act like the sun shines out of their arse.” He sighed again, shaking his head. “Can we skip politeness, win this tournament and fly out of this fucking city?”

The look of social exhaustion on his face made even Johan stop. Hugh pulled a face and just nodded.

“Hey, don’t worry, Dave,” said Johan with a gentle smile that belonged on the cover of Dentist Weekly. “There’s my opponent over there, they look ready. I’ll make the challenge as soon as the ceremony is over. It won’t take long, you’ll see.”

“That’d be nice, mate,” sighed Dave. “That’d be nice.”

They arrived at their designated place and Mother Élise Dubois, the representative of Warrior on Johan’s team, nodded solemnly in greeting. Johan gave Dave a brotherly clap on the shoulder.

“Cor! Great!” said Johan. “I’ll go let them know.”

Before Dave or Hugh could say anything, he turned around and marched across the duelling circle they’d just arrived at with a straight back and the body language of pure respect for self and for others. Heads turned to watch him. They usually did, he was a marble statue given life and topped with gold, but this time also because his behaviour was unusual. He hailed the other team’s trainer, something that was allowed in the rules, talking to your opponent was not, and beamed wholesomeness at the celestine woman who maintained a neutral disdain on their face for Johan. Johan had a quick exchange with the woman who gave a curt nod and they both walked away from each other, back to their respective teams.

“I think they agree,” said Johan. “No need to waste time. The match will begin as soon as the arena blessing is done.

Dave looked at Johan in wonderment that could detect no cynicism in the young man at all who’d, no doubt, just been subject to sly double-speak from the other team implying that their agreement to not waste time was because they considered Johan a waste of time and wanted to be him ASAP. But no, there was no indication that he had talked to someone unpleasant at all. Just an unfairly handsome young man smiling at the world around him like he wished the best for everyone and everything he could see.

No, Dave had to correct himself. Not ‘like’. He really did think that.

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The area had four circles in it defined by wooden railings that the matches could take place in until the quarter finals when the whole arena would be given over to the matches. There were little flags indicating where the fighter and their team should assemble. Other athletes and their teams not fighting yet similarly gathered in the areas between the circles. Everyone was waiting for the second hour to arrive, which was when the ceremony to bless the arena would begin. The Warrior clergy were already looking bored and standing next to a raised platform that had some magical voice projection equipment on it so it couldn’t be long until things got under way.

A couple minutes more and a hush fell over the arena as one of the figures in ornate ceremonial armour stepped onto the raised platform at the centre. The Bishop of Warrior, an elf of commanding presence, raised his arms, and the crowd fell silent. His voice, light and resonant, carried across the open space on the projection magic.

“We gather today to witness the strength and skill of our finest warriors. May the Warrior’s spirit guide and protect you in your battles in this arena.”

The Bishop gestured to his subordinates who moved forward to the edge of the arena and pressed their hands onto parts of the enormous magic circle that encompassed the entire arena. With his Eldritch Eyes, Dave could see flows of magical blood, flesh, renewal, time, swiftness and dimension come together and begin enmeshing with each other, affecting everyone within the arena. They were all silver rank magic, which was appropriate for iron rank safety. The elf clergyman continued, lifting a large ceremonial sword high above his head, the blade catching the morning light.

“In the name of the Warrior, I bless this arena and all who compete. May your courage never falter, and may you honour the Warrior with every strike and spell.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd as the elf came away from the speech projection magic and touched his now glowing sword to the magic circle, completing the ritual. Johan took a knee and muttered a quick prayer of thanks to Warrior. The elf returned to the voice projection equipment.

“In the name of Warrior, let the bouts begin!” the bishop declared, stepping back from the podium.

The clapping died down and Johan began the challenge ritual by kneeling in front of a Warrior acolyte assistant who snapped a suppression collar around his neck, stepping into the duelling circle, turning left and walking along the edge of the circle until he reached a weapon’s rack there and indicated which weapons he intended to use to the same assistant as earlier. The acolyte put a red ribbon over the heaviest arming sword and the largest heater shield.

Johan’s opponent, Maria Bianchi, a runic woman, immediately accepted the challenge and took the suppression collar around her neck, stepped into the ring, turned left and also indicated a one handed sword, but one slightly longer that tapered to a finer point, and a smaller, round shield.

The weapons selection rules were easy; each competitor would indicate their preferred weapon selection. Each weapon or shield was classified as either one handed or two handed, and the rules for that difference were always up for fierce debate, but once they were in the racks the competitors could select up to two hands worth of equipment. If one of the competitors only indicated one hand worth of equipment and their opponent had indicated two hands worth, they were first offered a selection of gloves and gauntlets that could be used to grasp the opponent’s blade. If that offer was refused, their opponent would have to either remove a selection down to a single handed weapon or make a new single handed weapon selection.

Johan had been lucky to get an opponent who allowed him his preferred choice. From what Dave had read most competitors selected single handed and only chose the glove if they thought they were stronger than their opponent. Otherwise, they’d fence one handed and only risk grasping their opponents blade if they had to. A barehanded grab on a weapon risked a sudden tug cutting deep and ending the bout but a bare hand could also grapple an opponent’s armour or clothing with more dexterity.

Johan and Bianchi donned their shields, accepted their swords from the assistants, saluted with swords across their faces and advanced across the duelling ring at each other. In that instant, Dave recognised how dangerous Johan was and how utterly screwed his opponents were.

Johan moved with a fluidity and grace that belied his powerful frame, moving across the circle with a casual ease and settling into a guard position with the grace of a dancer just as he came into range. In contrast, Bianchi competently advanced across the sand in a wide stance, with her shield extended and her sword in a high guard.

A sharp ‘thock!’ noise announced Johan’s first probe against Bianchi’s defences. It was a blink-and-you-miss it thrust that smacked into the top of Bianchi's shield. Dave had surely missed it, he was focusing on Johan’s footwork at that moment and only saw Johan’s withdrawal to a relaxed, neutral guard in his periphery. It was so fast. Bianchi took a half-stumbling step back and raised her shield in response to the attack and then advanced forward herself with a thrust and overhand cut that Johan retreated from, just out of her reach.

The two combatants circled for a moment, vying for position when Johan thrust into the same part of her shield again but this time instead of stepping back to neutral, he sidestepped to the right. Again lowering her shield, Bianchi moved forward and counter-attacked around her shield towards Johan’s new position with an overhand, diagonal cut. Johan, who smoothly sidestepped and pivoted to Bianchi’s left, started raising his shield to her attack but, with a flick of the wrist, his sword rose like a flash to meet her wrist.

Both combatants froze with a silver rank shield of force over them. Johan’s sword was buried deep in Bianchi’s wrist with a small amount of blood pushing out into the minute space under the shield of force.

“Winner, Johan Schmidt!” announced the three ringside assistants.

In a few seconds the forcefield faded and Johan flicked his sword downwards while Bianchi withdrew her own hand, dropping the sword and clutching at her wrist for a moment but the arena-wide magic had already healed the wound.

Johan stood formally and saluted his opponent. Bianchi left her sword on the sand and stalked away without looking back.

“What’d you think?” said Johan, as soon as he’d formally exited the ring, grinning like a maniac.

“Indeed, it was…” Hugh gestured at the ring, lost for words.

“To be clear,” said Dave seriously. “While I am sick of these people, I’m more invested in you winning this thing than you setting a new tournament speedrunning record.”

Johan laughed like Dave had told a joke.

“No, I just took the first opportunity that she presented,” said Johan, getting technical. “Did you see how she blinded herself with her shield and swung before she could see again?”

Dave used Stop And Think and Library Of The Mind to instantly relive the event and notice what Johan said. It was true, after Johan’s thrusts her counterattacking arm was extended while her shield was still raised. Time returned and he nodded at Johan.

“So, if I kept my own sword and shield low where she could see them, I thought she might overcommit to an attack at the head and Master Greenwood always says; ‘flick cuts are real cuts’ and made me train them.”

Johan beamed at both Dave and Hugh after his enthusiastic tirade who desperately tried to find something to say.

“Just privately,” said Dave to Johan in an undertone. “How do you think Lady Bianchi would measure up to Greenwood’s standards?”

“I don’t want to tell a lie,” said Johan softly, looking around furtively. “But she’s the kind of novice that Greenwood spends six months training up sometimes.” He gestured furiously with his hands in an attempt to ward off Dave interpreting his words as cruel. “Not that she’s bad, of course! Lots of potential! Just flinches on shield defence a bit and some sloppy bladework, using curves instead of straight lines. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed in a few months of hard work! Please, don’t say anything. I don’t want her to feel bad.”

“I promise, I won’t breathe a word,” said Dave and retreated into his own thoughts. The Reyers hadn’t fixed this tournament, they’d invited real contenders for their daughter to beat. In fact, Dave’s research suggested that Maria Bianchi wasn’t even a personal invite. The invite had been to her sword school in northern Italy, the Lombardy region if Dave recalled correctly. He didn’t know what it was called here but that’s where it was. She was the best iron ranker that the entire region could send and Johan had called her a novice.

“Well,” said Hugh, bringing joviality back to the celebration. “All I can say is that it was spectacular. My Lady says that you’re the fastest finish in this round.” Hugh’s face suddenly went cross eyed then wide eyed. “Dave, we need to talk! Johan, stay here and wait for your next fight. We’re going to collect Dave’s winnings.”

Dave manifested Tzu.

“Johan tell Tzu everything you can about the fight. Tzu listen to everything that Johan says and ask as many questions as you like,” said Dave and allowed himself to be dragged away by Hugh.

“What’s this all about, mate?” said Dave as he was dragged along past the rude guards from earlier and onwards. Hugh was not normally this assertive and it was concerning him. Dave’s eyes scanned over Hugh’s body and detected no mind altering magic upon him.

“Not here,” said Hugh, striding on.

Hugh took Dave to the betting area where the bookmakers were and into a booth covered by a privacy formation reserved for those who didn’t want just anybody to see their riches.

“I need all of your essences and awakening stones,” said Hugh abruptly. “And all of your spare magical items, just in case.”

“What for?” asked Dave, although he was already handing them over.

“No, no, no,” said Hugh. “You keep hold of them. I just need them. To make something called a side bet with certain individuals that my Lady has promised to identify for me but I’ll need them to make the bets for the awakening stones that those people have which I can use.”

“Something called a side bet?” asked Dave. “You don’t even know what that is, do you?”

Hugh shook his head, eyes full of certainty. Dave had already resigned himself to this but that certainty was confirmation.

“Okay, why am I making the bets? No, wait! It is because you’re Knowledge clergy and nobody will take the bet?”

Hugh just nodded at Dave.

“Alright, okay,” said Dave. “But it can’t be me either. I’m just a nobody, peasant hanger-on.”

“Well, if you say so but who - No, you can’t!”

“It has to be -”

“He’s never gambled in his li-”

“He’s the only one who can drive them mad enough to take the bet!”

“He won’t do it, he’s too nice!”

“You couldn't ask your lady for a way to convince him?”

There was a moment’s silence as Hugh checked.

“My Lady is silent.”

“Fuck. It’s up to us.”

“Indeed, yes.”

There was silence for a moment and then Dave shot Hugh a look that Hugh recognised.

“What was that? That’s your idea look. What was it?”

Dave tilted his head from side to side and made a grimace.

“Uhh, this wouldn’t count as a mission from a goddess, would it?” said Dave, delicately. “A religious sort of thing?”

“Well, indeed, I suppose it could be? Why - Oh! No! We can’t do that to Johan!”

“We can! He’s very religious!”

“I’m religious!”

“You’re not in a tournament!”

“And if I was?”

“If your wins were guaranteed, I’d profit off them too!”

“You’d lie and tell me I was on a mission from my goddess?”

“Would it help you win?”

“Well - Hey! That’s not the point!”

“Ah-ha!”

“What do you mean, ‘ah-ha’? What’d you just prove?”

“That it would help you win. And, it’ll help Johan win knowing that he’s serving the gods. We’re going to boost Johan’s confidence and help him win by telling him that you have confirmed that Knowledge Herself is on his side and that she wants awakening stones!”

Dave raised a finger against Hugh’s protests.

“Knowledge herself is on Johan’s side,” continued Dave. “Because, she wants you to have those awakening stones, yeah? She wants that. Therefore, she wants Johan to win and win in the most noble-infuriating way possible so that you can have awakening stones. Agreed? Run it by your Lady if you have to. Does She object?”

Hugh looked scandalised, expectant, confused and then despondent.

“She doesn’t object.”

“Okay, then buck up,” said Dave. “We have to convince the kindest, most wholesome man we’ve ever met to shit-talk a bunch of nobles he’s never met.”