Chapter 28

Lord of The BlackMist

My own name stares at me from below the painted figure of a much scarier me.

‘Saffron’s Golden balls what is this?’

I glance around rapidly looking from painting to painting till I spot another person I recognize. Tota stands on a canvas holding a halberd over one shoulder. Like me the painting isn’t quite accurate to real life, the painted version is more handsome, the spines jutting from his skin more jagged. Yet the artist has done a good enough job capturing the essence of his face that anyone who has seen him would recognize the boy from Hall Two.

‘These are the pit-slaves who are competing. If I look I bet I can find Kalon too.’

The metallic hands adorning the houselord’s outfit rattle as he leans forward to read the words on my canvas.

“The beast of BloodRock. So violent and savage that even the legendary mercenary Atar BloodRock cannot control him.” He makes a little ‘hmm’ noise. “ This rabid cursed has killed almost twenty pitters, a number he promises to surpass during the Storm Herald invitational. Will your favorite be next to fall under his axe?”

Even if I could talk I think I would be silent at that declaration. It isn’t true, I never said anything like that and I’ve killed…well counting that last boy which absolutely was not my fault I think I’m up to eleven.

“What do you think of that? Pretty scary right? It would make me want to go watch you fight!” He playfully punches the arm of the artist who I can now see is a human man in his twenties with mousy brown hair. “Good job.”

The artist stops mid-brushstroke to glare up from his work at the houselord but says nothing.

“Sorry, I’ll let you work.”

Beside me Viscarra stifles a giggle behind one of her hands, clearly amused at her uncle’s eccentric manner and light-hearted tone.

“Yes they are very nice Uncle Reon, I look forward to seeing them all over the city but can you help-”

The BlackMist houselord whirls around and settles his gaze on me.

“What do you think of that eh? In just a few days copies of these will be all over the city advertising the entrants to my invitational. This is already known as an event that the masses can afford to attend, but this year I plan to fill every seat in Prime Arena two.”

I nod and the bald man claps me on the shoulder.

“That's what I thought, you are about to be famous who wouldn’t want that?”

“Uncle!” Snaps Viscarra “ His muzzle please.”

The houselord makes some umming and ahhing noises and I feel my heart sink. The bald man might be affable and odd, but he is still a lord of Far Mantys, and they are cruel greedy bastards one and all.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure BloodRock put that on him for our safety. It says here he has killed almost twenty people.”

“You made that all up. You can’t hold it against him.” The tattooed girl’s voice has grown high-pitched pitched and she keeps shooting me little glances like I’m going to be offended by this exchange.

“ Not made up” He replies, tutting. “ Embellished. You’re friend here really does have more kills in the pit than almost any other youth in the city. I'm not sure I should let him out so you two can go make out.

Viscarra makes a little squeak and claps a hand over her mouth. At the same time, I managed a rumbled growl from between my teeth.

“Oh, I didn’t like that, I must have gotten the wrong impression. How silly of me. You two are using this rare interaction to broker a long-lasting trade agreement between our two houses.”

How is a person supposed to respond to that? My face turns increasingly scarlet as I realize I have no defense that will hold water. Even if I could speak I have no explanations that don't sound like the awkward lies of a lusty teenager.

Next to me, Viscarra makes a series of weird little noises that seem to increase with indignity the more of them she makes, before eventually exploding out a rush of angry words.

“He is friends with Resh, this stupid muzzle is rude, we just wanted to talk, and you aren’t making any of the other cursed competing wear this sort of thing.” By the end of her little tirade, she is practically poking her uncle in the chest.

I don’t remember the last time someone stood up for me so directly. Yes, Muraab, Resh, and Xael have been known to help me out from time to time. But I am all but certain no one has ever yelled at a houselord on my behalf before. He does not take it well.

The bald man’s friendly demeanor vanishes so quickly it almost seems like he has been replaced by an entirely different person. His eyes suddenly glow a strange black that seems to suck in the light from around it, and the spiral tattoo on Viscarra’s neck shines the same shade.

She makes a tiny scared noise not too dissimilar to the sounds she made out of flustered embarrassment. The similarity ends very quickly as she goes completely stiff. From the girl’s hands, a stream of the dark smoke that accompanies her magic flows into the air and begins to circle her throat. It reminds me of the swirling disc that flows around the tower. While I’m not sure what is going on exactly tears start to well in the BlackMist girl’s eyes. I don’t know if pain or fear is the cause, but she doesn’t move an inch or make any further sounds.

“ I appreciate your passion on behalf of your friend, but It doesn’t excuse forgetting who you are talking to. Does it?” His tone is one I have heard from Atar more times than I can count. The one that lets you know you have pushed things too far.

“No Uncle Reon.” Viscarra agrees, her voice surprisingly clear despite all of this.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“ It won’t happen again, Uncle Reon.”

As quickly as he vanished the affable middle-aged man returns, the houselord’s eyes retake their more natural brown hue, and whatever magic that has been affecting Viscarra dissipates.

“Wonderful. Now let us get this stupid BloodRock contraption of your friend.” He shoots his niece a sly wink as though none of that exchange had ever happened and they had been chatting idly the whole time.

“I was going to say no, but you are lucky I have questions about this one’s fight with Resh.”

Perhaps even stranger than the sudden shifts in the houselord’s demeanor is the lack of change in Viscarra. With quick strokes, she wipes her eyes and replies to her uncle also as though they had been just joking around before.

“That's why I came over” she smiles. “I knew the fan in you wouldn't be able to pass up asking a million questions about that.”

‘If this is like The Rush army I’m going to have a really bad night.’

Fortunately, it isn’t. The houselord once again displays how unfair magic is to the rest of us when he waves a casual hand. I swear we are plunged into absolute darkness for two heartbeats before everything returns to normal, almost normal.

A short eyeless goblin-creature wearing a tabard bearing the BlackMist spiral has appeared and nothing else has appeared directly in front of me. Out of sheer shock, I throw a punch at the thing, which it deftly dances away from. The being which can only be from the World of Shadow is hairless and pale-skinned in a most unappealing way.

“Po,” Says the houselord, causing the eyeless creature to turn to Reon.

“How may I serve the master of BlackMist?” Despite the shadow denizen’s small stature, its voice is deep and penetrating. Oddly similar to the way Old Man BloodRock sounds.

“The boy there has a contraption on his face preventing him from speaking, get it off without hurting him, please. Afterwards, go find my sister. I believe she has some use for you in mind.”

The Goblin thing…Po I guess inclines its head.

“I serve the will of the shadow swimmer.”

With no other warning, Po turns and hurls himself at my face. The little thing is fast, faster than a creature with its stubby little legs has any right to be. Fortunately, I’ve also been described that way before. People as big as me aren’t supposed to be quite so quick.

Without thought I snatch the shadow creature out of the air and am about to dash him against the stone floor when I stop myself. This thing was told to get the muzzle off of my face.

Despite its pathetic appearance Po neither squirms nor begs, but makes a demand in the tone of one who fully expects to be obeyed.

“Release me, idiot child, I am trying to help you.”

‘Then fucking say that before you launch yourself at someone.’

Holding Po for a moment longer I glare at its eyeless visage. The idea of roughing it up a little for calling me an idiot is appealing but I want the muzzle off more than I want to hurt yet another being. I’m not going soft or anything there is just only so many times you can leave someone in a pool of their own blood before the thrill of it turns kinda mundane.

So I gently release the shadow-being and lean down so it has access to the device on my face. Displaying no gratitude whatsoever it simply says.

“Good.” Before reaching up to grasp the muzzle with one long-fingered hand.

The creature’s strength surprises me as turn my head one way and then the other as though inspecting the device. I’m not sure how it does so without the use of eyes but after a few moments of ‘hmm’ noises it grabs the lock on the muzzle and crushes it one-handed.

I’m not sure what I had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. The little metal lock keeping the device in place shatters in Po’s palm.

“Your first demand is complete.” Declares the shadow creature. “ I will find the lady Raska.”

The houselord inclines his head.”Thank you, Po.”

Without a further word, the creature leaps ridiculously high into the air, easily clearing the distance to the tier above us, and landing on it with a light slap of its large feet. I don’t see the direction Po scurries off in as I am far too concerned with getting the now unlocked muzzle off of my face.

Once the device is off I rub my jaw and tongue where the thing had been locked into my teeth. As always it has cut into my gum and left scratches on my teeth. I hate the device more than I can put into words.

“Thanks, both of you,” I grunt out realizing I should probably say something.

The words are barely out of my mouth when the houselord starts to bombard me with questions.

The bald man it turns out is a massive fan of the pits, in particular, he loves Resh. Loves my friend so much that I was right to be worried that this might turn into a Rush Army situation. I suppose the BlackMist is a bit more mature than that group of fanatical boys as he is less offended and more fascinated by the fact that I nearly killed The Rush.

“It is one of the great regrets of my life that I did not attend the HighSail trials that year.” He informs me, referring to the event where I and Resh fought.

“I assure you I have not made such a mistake since, those HighSails are quite good at identifying the next generation of talented pit slaves.”

I don’t really know how to reply to that, but it doesn’t matter. Reon doesn’t pause bounding into a series of questions about how I countered Resh’s speed, what I thought of two single-handed swords versus other weapon combinations, and all sorts of other little details about the match.

Viscarra has vanished and the houselord’s questions are becoming slightly unhinged when we are thankfully interrupted by Po’s return. He had wanted to know if I recalled who had spent more time with the sun behind him during the match. I am saved from grappling with such an inane question by the goblin thing calling from the tier above.

“Great Master of the BlackMist, your sister has need of you.”

The middle-aged man considers for a moment and then nods. “Tell her I am on my way.”

‘Gods above and below thank you all.’

Reon claps me on the shoulder, and thanks me for my time…which is weird. Generally, you don’t thank slaves, informs me that many of the other competitors are here tonight, and finally, finally leaves me be.

“At least you get to leave. He talks to me every day.” Says the seated artist, shooting me a knowing glance. I let out a single laugh and make to leave. Reon BlackMist is headed for one of the higher tiers, I plan to do the same as now free and unmuzzled. I can try some rich people's food. I don’t want to get sucked into waking alongside the houselord so I head for one of the stairways off this tier.

I make it a massive two steps before the sight of Xael now leading an entirely different woman away from the dance floor towards one of the private alcoves.

“That foreign boy has some appetites,” I mutter to myself.

“Appetites and stamina.” I don’t know if I could bounce between human partners like he seemingly is. Not because I have less stamina than the dark-haired boy, but because the idea strikes me as kind of gross. Then again I have never even kissed a girl so I’m hardly in a position to judge anyone on that stuff.

Next time I talk to Xael I need to thank him or distracting me as the pause lets me spot the returning Viscarra. The tattooed girl is carrying two plates stacked high with steaming foods I don’t know the name of but my nose tells me are various kinds of spiced meats.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in my whole life.

“Oh Uncle Reon is gone, thank the lords of shadow.” She beams a smile at me before shooting her gaze back to her feet.

“I brought you something to make up for him wasting all your time.”