Chapter 24: Fear and Fury
To my surprise, Xael is still happy to see me at morning training with Kalon over the next few days. In fact, he doesn’t bring up my little outburst at all which I am thankful for. Since my agreement with Atar, I’m allowed to skip the morning conditioning exercises. I go to them anyway, part of what makes me a dangerous opponent is my physicality. If I want to keep my end of the bargain and defeat the Itti’atti girl I’m going to need to be as athletic as I have ever been, maybe more so. It is not an easy conviction to maintain.
In the afternoon and evenings, I train with Xael. He is a little monster and still reminds me of fighting someone with decades more experience than he should have. I win more of the sparring matches than I lose, but often it is only because I am so much bigger than him. Skill for skill he is the better fighter. I hate to admit it, and I hate that I’m improving thanks to my time with him even more.
The houselord meets my demand for better food in an unexpected way. He just feeds everyone better. The first night I realize it I’m a little annoyed that the other slaves are benefitting from my hard work. It quickly dawns on me that this is to keep those of us entering the Storm Herald Invitational safe. If there was a group of three boys getting better food that didn’t include me I have a pretty good idea how I would react and it wouldn’t be positive.
The weird part is that the other boys keep coming up and thanking me for the meals, clapping me on the shoulder, giving me little nods, or raising their bowls in salute as I walk to my own seat. I didn’t mention this to anyone, so one of the other boys who attended the meeting with BloodRock must have loose lips. What I don’t understand is why they gave me the credit. Yes, the idea was mine, but Kalon and Tota aren’t my friends and could easily have kept the praise for themselves. Who would believe me if I claimed it was my doing anyway?
My whole life I’ve wanted the other boys to treat me the way they have been the last few days. Now that they are, it is so alien that I just feel nervous about the whole thing. Like Harrk or someone is going to walk up to me at any moment and explain that there has been a mistake. That the other slaves need to hate me extra hard now to make up for the error. I know it’s a stupid thought, things like that don’t happen in real life.
My discomfort never quite goes away but it does fade after a few days. Feeling like an impostor is well worth it for the improved food. It is still mostly rice and curd, but green vegetables and meats I don’t recognize are mixed through it. Not only do the meals taste better, I swear I wake up less sore in the mornings.
Morean and Task only get to enjoy better eating for a day before they have to leave for the Island tournament they are competing in. It makes sense, we are getting close to the season of storms which unsurprisingly is not a period of the year people want to sail during. Neston from Hall One doesn’t get to experience it at all, but I’m sure he doesn’t care. House Saffron are feeding him now.
While the pre-dawn training I, Kalon, and Xael are doing still takes place in the practice pit. When we practice in the evening It is in a little area behind the in-compound carpentry shop. I’m not sure what it costs the foreign boy to rent the space, but the owners of the workshop are extremely accommodating.
By the time I see the place, it includes a fenced-off wood sparring platform, an open-topped water barrel they refill every day, and a little rack housing several freshly oiled weapons, my beloved type-two medium axe among them. I’m shocked that this has all been set up in mere days, especially since the whole thing is ringed with large standing torches so that we can train in the dark. Money truly is the most powerful magic out there.
While I still think Kalon and Tota get a better deal than we do, I don’t resent them over it like I thought I would. In fact, I feel a weird sense of pride seeing the rate he is improving each morning. He might only have another two and a half weeks before the Storm Herald invitational, but if Kalon can keep getting better at the speed he has been he might actually resemble a threat when the tournament comes around.
Two and a half weeks is not a long time for any of us. I never have the best grasp on the passing of days, but even so, I’m shocked by how fast the event is creeping up on me.
One afternoon while the sun is still high enough to be hot I am doing some light sparring with Xael. We chat while trading slower versions of our techniques about the idea of bringing in some of the other boys to spar against when the ambush comes.
The little expectant glances Xael keeps shooting over my shoulder should be a dead giveaway that he is setting me up. Because I am apparently an idiot who has started to let his guard down, the first I notice of it is the smell of warm soap wafting from behind me.
The little foreigner lowers his sword and raises a hand. “ I know you aren’t going to like this, but I want you to trust me okay?”
Lowering the short spear I have been using I slowly turn around. The sight that greets me is perplexing at best. Ilexa marches towards us at the head of a small train of slaves and no less than four guards. That girl Tallulah who seems to be her shadow is with her, but she is the only domestic. Four of the big serviles carry a huge wooden tub that is already full of steaming water. My first thought is how impressed I am that the serviles can move the thing without sloshing water everywhere. Those boys are strong. My second thought is really more of a sense of rising panic. I enjoy baths, quite a lot actually but there is only one reason I have ever gotten to bathe outside of bath night.
“Please tell me you just think I smell bad.”
“ You do, but that isn’t what this is. “ He takes a deep breath as though to steady himself before continuing. “ I went and spoke to the BlackMist family, and they assured me there would be no violence or debauchery just pure marketing, so I really think it would help your brand a lot if we attended the party they are putting on for this ev-”
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
Some part of me wonders about what he is saying. I’m not sure what my brand is or why it needs help. These thoughts are tiny and quiet things, minuscule compared to the roaring rage pumping out of my chest.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Before I know it I’m throwing myself at Xael. The techniques and strategies I drill so diligently flee my mind before the tidal wave of my fear and fury. I drop the spear, the weapon completely forgotten as I try to get my hands on him.
“Listen North.” He ducks out of the way, circling to my left. I snarl and try to grab him again.
He dances straight back, staying just out of my reach. I keep the pressure on trying to trap him against the wooden fence of the sparring ring. Without even looking he executes a little backflip landing perfectly outside the little arena. At any other time, I would be overwhelmingly impressed at both his acrobatics and his understanding of distance. Right now I just speed up so I can leap the wooden slats myself.
“North I know this isn’t something you like, but that girl with the neck tattoo promised me nothing gross would happen.”
I jump the fence and charge him again, which is when two of the BloodRock guards collide with me from either side. Thankfully neither pulls weapons but the two guards tackle me to the ground with relative ease. I try to bite at one but his chainmail catches my teeth. Before long the other two guards are involved and I’m pinned immobile under a mountain of men and armour.
I’m not sure how long I lay there for. It's hard to breathe and impossible to move. Eventually, I manage to croak out.
“I’m calm, I'm calm” several times before they move off me. Even then they form a little wall between me and Xael who has both hands raised in front of him in a disarming pose.
“Does BloodRock already know?” I hiss at him.
He glances at the guards and the slaves then back to me. “Uhh yeah, yeah he knows.”
That means I’m trapped. If the Houselord has said I’m going to be somewhere he will drag me there in chains if I resist and it wouldn’t be the first time either. The urge to throw myself at Xael hasn’t gone anywhere. It is however a shadow of its former self, something I can control enough to actually hold a conversation.
The slaves and Ilexa have gotten close enough that I can feel the steam coming off the tub. I bite my lip for a few moments and finally let out a long sigh.
“When is this?”
Xael offers his sheepish smile and scratches the back of his head. “Well… it's tonight.”
I make a little jerking motion, the first part of attempting to throw myself at the collection of guards in a vain attempt to get at Xael. I catch myself taking a step back and closing my eyes in frustration.
“But I get a bath out of it?”
“More than that, you get clothes selected and purchased by my sister.”
I glance at the girl dressed as always in her chaste unfashionable dress and head garment.
“Uh-huh.”
I shouldn’t complain. Any clothes she has selected have to be better than my present wardrobe, which consists of two pairs of infrequently cleaned linen pants and the ghost that may or may not have once been leather armor.
“ Trust, my friend. Ilexa dresses like a midwife because she is faithful to our gods, not because she doesn’t know what she is doing.”
I nod and apologize.
“You’re right, thank you, and thank you uhh Ilexa” I finish lamely as I'm unsure what I’m supposed to call her.
Now that my anger is fading a surge of embarrassment is rising up to meet it. “And sorry that I tried to grab you so I could bite your face off.”
The two foreigners share a look I can’t quite decipher but probably isn’t positive.
‘Why did I say that? I’m a fucking idiot.’
They follow it up by yammering back and forth in their own language while I stand there awkwardly. I don’t think I've ever heard anyone speak Godsringer before, it is an airy-sounding language, strangely at odds with the flat accent the two of them have while speaking Mantian.
After a few moments of the airy gibberish Xael lets out a sigh and nods to her. Turning back to me he smiles kindly “Don’t worry about it. We will give you some privacy. Get scrubbed up, then the ladies will try to make you look presentable.” His smile turns mischievous.
“Though they are only human, you may need a sorcerer.”