Sachihiro
From there our travel is mostly routine besides the increasingly powerful night attacks the deeper across the continent we went. That coupled with the Espara ambush implies something is happening but we've already reported that along with all we've learnt back to the Conclave.
From the Nexus we travel through a portion of Gallia then Rumania, after which it's a straight road through unclaimed Dun, a place of rocks, little rock snakes, occassional shrubs and more rocks. And through it runs two highways at the intersection of which a little town called Fountain is shambled together.
How the place sustains itself I have no idea but I know the highways are a frequent working spot for slavers and bandits. We don't stay there, we aren't welcome because we killed to quickly and without thought for political ramifications last time we were here.
Past Dun, it's almost civilization again but I've discovered I don't really like most human cities much. They are just too dirty and filled with too much misery for my tastes, besides the fact that they are stuffy and generally overcrowded. Itri is no different, a rough uncouth city in Gragdia whose only redeeming feature is it's great alcohol.
We find accommodations in the city by renting a house so we can have a modicum of privacy though most of us will still sleep outside on the grass but at least its a home with a privacy wall built up.
All of us with new mates walk to one of the drinking holes to introduce them to real beer and we draw quite the crowd of eyes as we walk the dark city streets. The tavern is called the Rooster, one I've visited before so I don't have to look around much as I walk in first.
Ingwe is a step behind me followed by Om the Mountain and his mate Vuyo, then its the two young men Galen and Hale with their mates. Caden stayed in the Foothills with Asger but they are both probably long mated as well by now. All our mates are in their traditional revealing loincloths and bare feet but walking into places like these they are quickly learning to convenience of a pair of sandles.
We head towards an unattended corner of the bar and grab empty chairs as we walk past other patrons. Everyone is eyeing us and the women but they are mostly silent with only a few grumbles. All the women except Hale's are wearing coverings over their breasts because they are with child.
Apparently it's a thing that expecting and nursing mother's cover their breasts but I'm really not in the mood to deal with that little piece of information. We take our seats and two huge jugs are brought forward by the bar tender and several cups by a little slave girl.
Talking resumes and the volume starts picking up, the women mostly clump together 'talking' in Common. Apparently I'm the only one who thought to start by teaching my mate Sandersonian so I had to try teaching her both languages simultaneously for her to practice with the other wives.
Listening to her mix of Common and Sandersonian and Xhosa is hilarious, but I don't like that she didn't tell me she was with child till now after knowing for three ten days herself. That's the predominant thought in my mind right now when i look at her or think of her. I'm not even sure why I'm so sour about it but 'fucken' holding in my Awakening isn't helping, nor is it easy.
I find myself talking without hearing myself as the night progresses.
"I think its the fact that another one of my children won't be born at home that has me upset." I finally say to a silently nagging Ingwe before taking another drink and looking away.
How do women even do that, how do they ask a question once but keep silently nagging you about it if you don't respond, with looks and frowns they interrogate not dropping the issue? I down my drink as another jug is brought, Om pays, he has lots of money.
I'm drunk, everyone around me is drunk, my head is heavy. "We shouldn't have come here." I say swaying slightly.
"To Igris?" Galen asks.
"To the Rooster."
"Why not?" Hale asks beside me.
"We were here last time we passed this way only two years back." I say looking around at all the patrons.
"So what?" Galen asks.
"Well now no one here will fight us." I say shaking my head.
Ingwe giggles, I smile a little because she is catching Common quickly and I'm proud of her. She is tipsy even from the little we've allowed them to drink, they all are.
"You want a fight?" One of the people sitting in the corner booth eyeing us the whole night asks as he sidles closer but he stays were he things his safe from my immediate reach.
I look him up and down and spot two weapons, I'm too drunk to use examine but its only a recently learnt chakra skill I've survived this long without. He is short and lean but definitely a fighter.
"I wouldn't mind a fight." I say carefully, no need to kill anyone or get myself killed.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"There are organised fights every night down at the pits, its a hand to hand unarmored kinda thing, would you be interested in something like that? You could make a fair amount of coin if you win." He asks carefully, his voice low but still carrying.
"If there is a fight right now I wouldn't mind, any of you want to come?" I look to my companions with the question and they just shrug and we follow the shady character who introduces himself as Soal.
Its not long before I find myself in a literal pit dug 5m into the ground inside a tower-shaped building. A building that just has the ground floor foyer with the pit in the middle of and stairs that just spiral up and up providing a great view from the rails for the spectators to watch from. Ingwe is carrying my shirt in case I get it bloody so I'm half naked squaring off against a 2.2m tall man that towers over most of everyone here.
He stands like a boxer but he moves like a brawler as he comes towards me, I grin and go inside his reach and we clash into each other with fists without preamble.
Sometimes a person craves a fight not to hurt someone necessarily but for the adrenaline, the effort, the blood and pain. I take his punches not because I couldn't avoid them if I wanted to but because I want to feel them, I want to have fun. I dodge his next one and plant my own right under his ribs, dodge another and hit into his other side.
He grunts and stumbles from the power behind them, power that even I can feel is amplitudes more than it was before that fight with the Lilithian creature. Could it be that my Awakening will primarily be in physical strength and the path of a warrior?
I give him two more free shots one into my ribs and the other on my left cheek and my head swerves from the power of the blow to the loud cheers of the crowd. This is one of the known and trusted local fighters and he has height, reach and weight over on me.
I take a step back and walk along the cement wall of the pit to the jeers of the crowd, my opponent gives me my space though he is still slightly hurt by the power of my punches and I can see the worry in his eye. I look up and nod towards the gord at Om's feet which he throws at me. I take a long swallow of the strong spirits inside and almost immediately feel the alcohol warm itself a path through me.
I throw it back and move back to my opponent with a one two side step that has me in his guard and slapping an open palm against his right cheek with a loud 'plat' sound. He swings in quick and I duck under and out delivering another on the opposite cheek.
That's what the rest of the fight is for five minutes as I systematically destroy the man with debilitating chops and palm strikes to vital organs slowing him down. I'm pulling my strikes I'm not sure why really but I guess the fight would have ended too quickly if I hadn't, no reason to embarrass my opponent now is there, much.
The crowd is going crazy over my smooth, fast, flaxible acrobatic style though, it has a flamboyance to it and within 5 minutes the big man is on one knee on the floor panthing and covered in sweat and purple bruising from internal but superficial bleeding. He can barely stand but I lift him up to his feet and the crowd goes wild as I give him a drink from my gord and a pat on the back before calling for the next opponent.
I fight 16 more times consecutively after that and it a lot of fun for me, relaxing in a way I needed. Fight after fight I use the same style and almost always the same format of going in brawler style first, take a few punches, give a few before resorting to palm strikes and chops and my flexibility. Strength and striking power I have and I make sure all my opponents know I do in the first few seconds of the game before resorting to pure skill.
By the time I finish the 16th fight I'm utterly drunk and my gord is empty yet the constant fighting has kept me alert in a paradox that seems to be working for me. The drunkenness at times seemingly helping me make utterly brilliant moves I otherwise wouldn't have even thought of as a sober fighter. They eventually run out of fighters willing to face me and I exit the pit to collect my winnings to the adoration of the feekle crowd.
I walk to the organiser's booth through one of the side doors with my entourage behind me. Om is using an ominous aura to keep most of the crow at bay while Galen and Hale flank the women who seem to be chatting incessantly. They were some of my loudest supporters and Ingwe has a little grin on her face, though that could be from the alcohol.
I reach a counter to collect my winnings and the sour face man that faces me reminds me that some of the people here lost money and I could have an attempted stab in the back.
"Name." He says with a drawl putting quilt on paper.
"Hiro." Om ways at me shoulder and the man scowls a bit further before writing it down then signaling for someone to escort us.
In another room I'm handed a shoulder bag heavy with gold bars used to denote a hundred gold in these parts of Pangaea. I wish I had this when I bought Ingwe's brother and the other slaves, 'fucken' merchants. But at least I made sure their slave soul marks were removed before sending them home.
By the time we leave the pit grounds there are rumbling and whispers about a 'Hiro' amongst the fans.
"Hey."
I turn and find the shady Soal standing behind me with a little grin on his face. The man isn't simple for managing to get this close without me noticing, now that I think about it he really is more than he tries to make himself seem isn't he?
"Hey yourself." I say indicating the others to go on ahead.
"Where are you going when you leave this shit hole?"
"We are going home."
"Can I come with you?" He asks seriously, the smile disappearing from his face.
I look at him a moment at that, the man is in a dark cloak with patches on it but it's clearly well made and intentionally designed to look tattered. He is either a spy a thief, both, or I don't know, a shady person. And we still don't know why we were attacked by assassins on our trip and why we ran across such powerful mimics.
"Why?" I ask him straight up.
"I made to much many betting on you, I don't think I'd last long as a wealthy man here."
That actually makes sense, whoever organises those fights probably lost a lot of money tonight but the spectators had the time of their lives and it will definitely bring in more businesses in the long run. If he isn't backed by someone, as the first person to bet big on me when everyone was sure I'd get hammered and the odds were still good he probably made a killing.
I know Om made a killing betting on me and teaching the women yo bet. My mate now has coin of her own for the first time in her life and the pride in her aura makes me wonder how I overlooked her need as a hunter to be a provider. It's just that now she hunts more than just glass deer, pythons, brown moles or whatever else her people like to eat.
"Will you betray me?" I ask the short athletic man only 2m away from me, he is weary this one.
"Not without letting you know first." He says smoothly, I grin. That's actually a respectable answer.
"Meet us on our way out of town tomorrow an hour before dawn." I say and walk away, I feel better. Fighting is a great way of getting out of a funk.