Chapter 30

The Bulwark

While lacking the brutal debauchery I am accustomed to at parties the houselords throw there is still a sort of bladed nature to the edges of the social gathering. Be it domestic slaves getting shoved up against walls by drunks, to be groped, or more. The way the performers slowly become more and more explicit in their acts as the night goes on. Or even the occasional fight between rich jerks backed up by their slaves.

Normally BloodRock or one of his rich friends would force me to get involved. As muscle if I’m lucky or entertainment if I'm not. Tonight though, not only is Atar himself not in attendance but I have Xael and Viscarra. The two of them don’t even realize the way they form a bulwark for me against the predations of Mantyian nobility.

Eventually the weird shadow creature Po returns and takes Viscarra off to perform some duty or another as the host’s niece. A fact that bothers me more than I would have imagined. For reasons I can imagine but don’t want to admit I am sad to see her go.

“I have to say I’m surprised at you.” Says Xael leaning his head back against the side of the stone tier.

“What does that mean?” I grunt, closing my eyes and leaning back the same way he did.

“That girl Viscarra. You were nice to her.”

My face heats up and I feel myself becoming defensive. Why is he bringing that up? I’m nice to plenty of people, especially ones with influence over my career who also happens to be close with one of my few friends. Besides she was the one who sought me out, and umm and she brought me food so of course I was at least polite to her. I open my mouth to relay these extremely reasonable points when he continues.

“You know it was her and her mother that set that shadowy serpent on you, yes?”

Alright, that is a fair point. I have to admit it's the sort of thing one might expect me to hold a grudge over.

“I know, but she probably saved my life. After I killed you and the judge, BloodRock would have had to execute me.”

The GodsRinger boy lets out a little laugh and we devolve into a friendly debate over who would have won had we not been interrupted the first time we fought. Neither of us is willing to admit that the other may have had the edge. In truth, I’m putting off what I really want to talk to him about. Waiting won’t help make it any less awkward but we are still almost home by the time I gather myself enough to broach the topic.

“Did you betray Kalon?” I say with sudden seriousness. It had been my intent to explain that I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t say something. Instead, I simply blurt the question out.

Xael frowns at me.

“What on the seven worlds are you talking about?”

That is almost the exact opposite response to what I am hoping for. Torturously I manage to elaborate.

“ You know. Those little alcoves off from the dancefloor, the umm private ones?”

I expect an immediate reply, some denial, or at least for him to answer the question but there is only silence. Eventually, I lean my head forward again and turn to look at the dark-haired boy. I’m more

than a little surprised to see him desperately holding back laughter.

“Well?!” I demand, emphasizing the words with a little snarl.

The laughter explodes out of him. It makes me want to get violent but I manage to hold back, reminding myself if Xael finds my question funny he probably hasn’t done something he feels guilty over.

“You saw me take women into those little privacy rooms. Is that it?” He asks, still smiling.

“Yeah,” I say uncertainly. “It was weird cause I thought you didn’t like girls.”

“I don’t like girls, I also didn’t do anything but talk in there. “

To that, I make a sort of ‘pssfft’ noise causing the dark-haired boy to tilt his head and narrow his eyes at me for a moment. “ You have a superior sense of smell to humans right?”

“Yeah,” I repeat in much the same uncertain tone.

“Do I smell like sex North?”

Rather than admit I have no idea what sex smells like I flare my nostrils and take an obvious inhale. The most obvious smell is the scraps of the food left on my plate which I placed on the ground beside the bench we are sitting on. I do my best to ignore the rich spices and focus on the scents coming specifically from the other boy.

This isn’t the sort of thing I do often, living among a pack of all-male slaves who don’t get to bathe often. Ignoring my sense of smell is usually the safer option.

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I also ignore the lime scent that is still coming from my own fur.

‘Okay he smells like sweat, food, and the weird pine scent that comes from his perfume or whatever it is he does to always smell like that.’

He doesn’t have traces of the floral scent a lot of the girls adorn themselves with or anything else I don’t recognize.

“I don’t think so,” I say slowly. “ But if you were just talking then, then why go in there at all.”

He leans back scratching his chin. “How do I explain? Hmmm, you see my pamphlet there?”

I glance over where he is gesturing. There is a fairly accurate rendition of the GodsRing boy brushing his hair out of his face on one of the canvases.

“Viscarra read it to me. What about it?” I ask, absolutely bewildered as to where he is going with this.

“Well, you might recall it mostly talks about how handsome, charming, and exotic I am, with barely a mention of my skills.”

I do remember that, It had struck me as stupid and nothing has really changed about my opinion.

“ I felt kind of insulted on your behalf,” I grunt.

He laughs and nods. “You aren’t wrong. It is insulting, but the reason they do it is because they want women to pay attention to me.”

I frown a little but it makes a sort of sense. I’ve never really thought about it before but women probably like to look at handsome men the same way men…most men like to look at pretty women.

“So…It's because most women care more about a man being handsome and charming than they do about him being a good fighter?” I ask and then push on before he has a chance to reply. “But what does that have to do with taking women into the curtained alcoves?”

Xael lets out a long sigh from his nose in a manner similar to my own expressions of disappointment.

“The short version is if we win a lot, women are going to want to have sex with me, and I want them to think that they have a chance to.”

I feel my jaw work as I try to respond but no words come out. I simply have no idea what one can say to a statement like that. He laughs again but goes on to explain that our job isn’t to win fights. It's to make people want to come watch us fight, winning might be the most effective way to do that but it is far from the only one.

We chat a little more before I drag him up to the first tier where the food stands are located. I could have gone alone but I’m not willing to give up the second half of my social bulwark. Fortunately, Xael doesn’t seem to mind and I’m able to indulge my curiosity for more rich people food. My stomach resents me for it, but I don’t get many opportunities like this so I push through the discomfort and weird sense of sleepiness that comes with an overly full stomach.

I’m stuffing my face with crispy little triangles full of meat when I notice Harrk is making his way up the tiers with Kalon and Tota following behind him. I don’t have to be Gori to know what that means. It's time for us members of the BloodRock contingent to go home. This is without a doubt the first time I have ever been reluctant to leave one of these parties but I don’t resist or complain. Especially as Harrk says nothing about my missing muzzle.

My stomach’s rebellion intensifies when we ride the elevator back down. It makes me regret the sheer amount of food I had recently devoured, but I do manage to keep everything down and not embarrass myself and climb into the covered cart.

Unreasonably tired considering I haven’t done anything physical I doze the entire wagon ride home.

The final week before the Storm Herald invitational passes in fits and starts. In some moments it feels like every hourglass takes an eternity, whilst others feel like the event is rushing up to me.

One day I hope to have a fight coming up and not feel like a nervous wreck, but for now, I channel that fear into anger, and that anger into training. It might be a little stupid to practice so hard right before what will be a series of fights since you want to avoid exhaustion and injury with so little time to recover. I know that, but I do it anyway.

I hurl myself into every training session I can manage, and I spar anyone who will put up with it. Including the ettin Laren and Tarnen who are still staying within the BloodRock compound. All while still taking part in the clandestine morning sessions with Kalon and Xael.

I guess it must be obvious what I’m doing as Muraab seeks me out and refuses to let me train at all beyond stretching the day before the tournament is supposed to begin. I suppose I should be grateful but I find myself just idly wandering the compound for most of the day. The master of the guards is unaware of my early morning sessions so at least I get that in.

It’s during the hour of ‘free time’ that the most pleasant ambush I’ve ever experienced catches me. That might not be a heavy stone to lift but I’m still left speechless.