---Holy City of Solis-----
Davim let out a breath of relief as the door to one of the Ghajavelon private dining rooms closed behind him. Since the Ghajavelon Inn catered to special interest guests of the Church, including foreign envoys, business magnates, and the like, it provided private dining rooms for its guests upon request. As someone who had risen to become the Merchant Councilor of Hervalle from humble food stand beginnings, Davim had experienced his fair share of similar rooms while negotiating high-value contracts and enjoying a good plate of food. Thinking back to the many good meals he'd ordered to woo a client or that had been ordered for him by merchants trying to get on his good side, Davim felt remiss at his lack of hunger or even a stomach rumble.
Before his life had been overturned by Bastian crashing into it seven years ago he'd loved food. Now he barely ate at all.
Anyway, despite the room's ability to trigger Davim's nostalgia for a simpler time, his happy past was not the reason their group had ended up dining in the private room.
Ever since that Avior boy was announced as Fluma's dad right after he arrived at the inn, their group began receiving dirty looks from other patrons whenever they ate together. It seemed the misunderstanding was a hard one to clear up and in Davim's opinion it wasn't worth going through the trouble trying to do so given the extra attention such an action would draw. Thankfully the others all agreed to eat in the more isolated space as a temporary solution.
Unfortunately, the private dining area had a hidden drawback Davim hadn't considered. Without the social pressure of being in a public area his party members who were anything but ordinary, no longer held back when expressing their opinions. It hadn't been a few minutes into their first dinner with Fluma's dad when Rosellia asked Avior if he was going to "take responsibility" for Fluma now that he'd reunited.
Not the best icebreaker.
Sure, he would be lying to say he wasn't suspicious. He, just like Diana and Rosellia, knew Fluma's Flood Dragon form. Luckily for him, he hadn't been toyed with by her like those two had during their first encounters with the little blue monster. Even the now talkative Rosellia avoided bringing up that particular part of her past and if the ever-silent Diana ever said anything about it, she'd spoken too quietly for Davim to hear.
Since returning from the Western Isles Fluma had treated them rather well. Davim initially assumed this sudden change in behavior by the monster was due to her fear of stepping out of line and being eaten by the even bigger monster called Bastian, but recent events made Davim question that assessment.
Now that they were far away from the temple Bastian was pretending to be an Archbishop at, Davim reckoned Fluma had plenty of opportunities to show her "true self," whether it be in eating them, torturing them, or whatever else her monstrous brain desired. Fluma had done none of that, in fact, the playful demeanor she maintained while around Bastian just seemed to become even more affable since their departure. So much so that Davim caught himself treating her like a human girl a few times. Well, a very strange human girl at least.
He attributed it to a recent extension of his veil of ignorance technique. A technique Davim had been gaining traction with since leaving Bastian's presence. Even if he was technically in charge of a Pirate Princess, an ex-Invoker, and a literal monster on a secret mission to infiltrate the capital of the world's most powerful religion, Davim had managed to convince himself they were truly friends going on a normal sightseeing visit to enroll Fluma in the Church ministry.
So when a young man came in who Fluma immediately recognized as her dad, Davim's thoughts in that first moment had been of a protective uncle.
Soon after that moment past and he had a moment to think, Davim's veil of ignorance faltered. He remembered Fluma's initial form of a young girl and how she'd only altered it to appear older when Bastian spoke of their master's current appearance. Marking her master around the age of fifteen...just like the Avior boy whom Fluma called her dad.
Davim was sure there was something to connect there, but thankfully he managed to restore his veil of ignorance just in time to block out those dangerous thoughts. He'd survived in Bastian's close service this long thanks to his ability to keep his mind from wandering into forbidden territory for what felt like a lifetime, he wasn't about to throw all that away to try and solve the mystery of who Fluma and Bastian's secret master was, at least not if he could help it.
And so now that left him to his current situation where he'd just stepped out of a private dining room wherein Fluma, Diana, Rosellia, Avior, and Glendale had all decided to eat lunch. Rosellia had steered the conversation towards Avior and Fluma's relationship so fast that Davim almost felt his mind venturing into dangerous waters before he managed to find an excuse to step out.
Hearing the door close again Davim looked back to see a haggard face that seemed to have come to a similar solution although for very different reasons.
Glendale gave Davim a halfhearted smile, "I didn't think they'd go at it right away like that. Reminds me of the last time I ate with my extended family."
Davim returned his words with a friendly nod.
Glendale turned away to seemingly head up the stairs to his room when he suddenly stopped and turned back towards Davim.
"Say Davi I overheard Rose saying how you were good with money. Any chance you'd be up to go check out the gambling pavilion? I heard the betting for the Hero's Tournament has been getting pretty crazy the last few days, especially after the final roster came out."
Ignoring the fact that his achievements of single-handedly reforming Hervallian economic policy, allowing the nation's recent exponential growth to even be possible was being reduced down to "good with money." Davim responded to Glendale's question in good faith.
"I'd love to." Glendale's expression betrayed his surprise at Davim's sudden enthusiasm.
In another situation, Davim wouldn't be too interested in gambling, he hated wasting money on chance when he could instead invest it and grow his economic footprint, but in this scenario, Davim couldn't turn down the offer for one simple reason.
Fluma was participating in the tournament, which meant that he would be able to bet on Fluma.
What type of merchant would Davim be to turn down free money?
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Glendale led Davim down Solis's main street until they came to a large square. If streets had been abuzz with activity this city square was roaring with it. Every square inch of the open area was crowded by an endless number of stalls selling goods. Many were targeting potential tournament attendees, selling weapons, potions, and armor. Davim even saw a few stalls advertising minor artifacts for sale which was shocking enough in its own right.
There were also many stalls one would normally see at any common festival. Street cooks selling freshly made food, merchants selling souvenirs, and tailors advertising apparel. And of course, each stand worker was wearing some piece of clothing matching the color of one of the Nine Pillars. All together Davim couldn't help but feel as though a unicorn had arrived and thrown up a rainbow all over the place with the collidescope of colors assaulting his eyes.
Davim followed Glendale as they approached a collection of stands under a large pavilion staffed by individuals wearing only blue clothing. Although their blue clothes marked them as aligning with the Blue Pilar, Davim reminded himself that didn't mean they were all Invokers like Rosellia had been. It was more likely they were supporters or just lesser members of the Tower's staff. Not everyone in the Church could be a dangerous Mage, at least Davim hoped they all couldn't.
This particular collection of stands was renting out a required tool for any gambler, the tournament bracket and participant list. Well, a curated version that is. The actual number of participants had been reported to be just under ten thousand this year. It was an open tournament so anyone could participate. Of course, not everyone did because there was still a risk of injury and even death for any who joined, just like with any tournament; although, it was largely mitigated by the vast number of Priests on hand to help with any wounds. The participant list was a set of thirty-five different books each with 300 names of participants. Each participant had a number associated with them in order to facilitate easier betting and minimize the possibility of confusing one participant for another. Altogether, they had the names and assigned identifying numbers of every single one of the over ten thousand participants sorted and organized into just thirty-five simple books.
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It was a robust system Davim could only imagine how much work had gone into it. He'd heard there were similar betting areas like it in each of the city's nine main squares, all performing identical services due to the massive demand that tournament betting had.
Considering the rosters only closed a day ago, for all nine betting areas to have a collection of books with participants that were constantly being updated as more people signed up for the tournament must have been a monumental and costly feat. Seeing how busy the stand was and glancing at the current odds displayed for some of the tournament favorites on the wooden board behind the main stall Davim had no doubt they'd be making a significant profit to pay back all that effort.
Betting always favored the house and tournament betting was no different. The Church may be running the operation instead of a seedy gangster, but the incentives were the same. They would make a profit, even if the sky fell.
Thankfully Davim wasn't here to gamble he was here to win. Like any good mercantile-minded individual, when he saw an opportunity where he got a return on his investment for no risk he had a hard time keeping his excitement down...and his money in his pants.
And it seemed like despite being a professor at an academy Glendale was the same way.
Their eagerness to gamble was easy to read, not even two breaths after they fully entered the pavilion an attendant came over to greet them. The stripes of blue on his robes marked him as a member of the Blue Tower. If the extent of his membership wasn't readily clear, a clipboard in his hands alongside a fat pouch at his waist marked that he was currently functioning as a bookmaker or "bookie" in charge of registering people's bets.
"Good afternoon gentlemen. Are you two looking to rent a bracket and participant list or do already wish to place your bets."
A sly smile made it clear to Davim that their confidence was showing through. Not that the bookie seemed concerned, Davim was certain the worker came across many who had "sure bets" throughout his day. Davim couldn't help it as a smile spread across his face. Only this bet really was a sure thing.
"I'm ready to place my bet." Glendale unabashedly answered the bookie's question. Revealing a fat pouch from beneath his cloak.
"I'll see a bracket and participant list." Davim answered deciding he would get a clearer picture of the Church's organization system while he was here. It might be a good template if he ever ended up running a tournament of his own. As a form of economic stimulant of course, not so he could scam Hervalle's citizens by taking the role of the house. No... definitely not that...
The bookie led Davim and Glendale over to a collection of lines each leading to a desk with a letter or two hanging above it.
He gestured to his left. "Here are the lines for the participant list. The participants are organized alphabetically based on the name they've chosen to register under. Each participant has a unique number next to their name in the registry. This number is unique to the participant even if their name isn't. When placing bets or when finding them on the tournament bracket you'll use their assigned number."
The bookie gave a moment for any questions. Seeing none were asked he continued.
"As for the bracket." A playful twinkle appeared in the bookie's eye, "Well, that's above you."
Confused Davim and Glendale looked up and came face to face with a glowing pattern of minute lines and numbers. Davim squinted but wasn't able to make out anything clearly.
"To see the bracket you can rent a viewing lens from the front desk. Understand the lenses are warded so if you remove them from the pavilion authorities will be alerted and you will be arrested. The books containing the tournament registry have the same safeguards in case you were worried about their safety as well." The bookie gestured to a table where a woman was sitting next to a box of seemingly mundane lenses and a rather full box of silver coins.
"Any questions?"
Seeing Davim and Glendale both shake their heads the bookie turned to Glendale.
"Great! Now come with me to place your bet. I'm curious to see who you have so much faith in. The rumored Crown Prince, the Senator's Chosen, the Maelstrom Champion, or is it someone more interesting?"
Davim watched Glendale follow the curious bookie further into the pavilion as they went up to one of the tables with the letters "P-Q" hanging above it. Glendale immediately flipped the thin tome to a specific page, Davim saw a look of surprise flash across the bookie's face for a moment before it returned to a more playful and composed expression once more.
It seemed like Glendale was betting on a known sleeper.
Sleepers were participants overlooked in comparison to their abilities. Everyone wanted to bet on a sleeper for the favorable odds and make a massive payout, but sleepers were indistinguishable from any other random participant until the tournament began and they "woke" everyone up with their surprising results.
A known sleeper wasn't quite the same thing.
Like any activity, tournament betting had its pros. They did their best to be informed, and often sold their information to more casual gamblers in the form of guides or power rankings. Davim assumed the Crown Prince and Senator's Chosen characters, whom the bookie had brought up earlier, originated from these well-circulated sources.
Unfortunately, for the casual masses who received their information from these professionals, they weren't receiving the great advantage they expected. Power rankings were well known. So well known that any participant who appeared on them had their odds adjusted to match their interest long before the first bets were made. The organizers running the bets wouldn't accept a loss so easily, they made sure bets on well-known participants projected to do well would return far less than an average participant so they wouldn't face a loss if a participant who was widely bet on went on a winning spree.
As for the professional gamblers who identified these obvious participants? Would they be betting with the same already priced-in odds with the masses? Of course not!
Although these professionals published some of their information to the masses they kept some morsels for themselves. Usually targeting less flashy participants, this information would be jealously guarded to keep the odds as favorable as possible and maximize the returns on their bet.
These high-return promising individuals not known to the public were called known sleepers.
Multiple professionals might come across the same known sleeper leading to a rush to place bets before the others to lock in the best odds.
These hidden betting wars between professional gamblers could be terribly ruthless, as being a minute late to place a bet could be the difference between amazing odds and terrible ones.
Seeing the flash of interest from the bookie, it seemed like he was a professional gambler on the side, not a bad gig for a bookie to have, and that he knew about the particular known sleeper Glendale was betting on.
With all the information, it wasn't hard for Davim to guess who this known sleeper was. For a professional gambler from the Church to know about them meant they were likely involved with the Church somehow. Given they were looking at names starting with a P or Q Davim felt pretty certain his professor acquaintance was betting on his charge, who just so happened to have a name that started with P and was currently holed up in the Gold Tower recovering under the Church's watchful eye.
Davim filed away the information mentally before walking over to the front desk where he exchanged a silver coin for a lens.
Next, he walked over to the desk with the letters E - F hanging above.
There he waited for a brief moment for the gambler currently looking at its contents to wrap up.
As he stood there he noticed there was a smaller engraving on the hanging the sign below the letters E & F. Looking closer Davim realized it was two numbers: 2400-2700. It seemed you could look up participants pretty easily by their number as well.
The gambler got up to leave and Davim took his spot panning through the book until he came to a familiar name.
2636 - Fluma
What an auspicious number Davim thought to himself. Leaving the book with his participant's number in hand he looked up at the pavilion ceiling with the lens to his eye. Searching the small text for a specific number in a sea of numbers and lines seemed rather challenging, but to Davim's delight there were five numerical dials on the outside of the lens. Spinning them to 0-2-6-3-6, Davim put it back to his eye to find the number in question was highlighted in his vision making it incredibly easy to find where Fluma was in the bracket.
Davim's gaze drifted deeper into the bracket where only eleven empty spaces stood in the way of Fluma's path to the top four. Otherwise known as the four winners of Hero's Tournament. It amazed him that it only took eleven one-versus-one matches to reduce over ten thousand participants to four.
It seemed like so little, but that was the glory of math that some merchants swore by. Davim wasn't as math crazy as some of his peers, usually leaving the brunt of the number running to his clerks, but he still saw the value in knowing how to run his own numbers. It was impossible not to when he had started as a one-man merchant crew running a food cart ages ago.
Looking back to Fluma's place in the bracket, he found she was facing a participant with the number 8293.
Davim went back to the books and found the one covering 8100-8400 under the sign with the letters N-O above it. The desk was empty so Davim quickly sat down and found what he was looking for.
8293 - Nicholas
The name didn't ring any bells nor did Davim remember it being on any ranking list, although even if they were he would only feel sorry for whoever had to face Fluma in the tournament. Fate was a cruel mistress to some indeed.
Satisfied with his perusal, Davim went to where Glendale had gone with the bookie to place his bet to place his own. To his surprise, Fluma's odds were already quite bad when compared to a normal participant. He would still make a grand profit when she won it all, but it was obvious from the current odds that a significant amount of money had already been bet on her.
Davim wondered for a moment if Rose or Diana beat him to it. Either way his betting amount wouldn't change. Free money was free money.
More than a few eyebrows around the betting desk rose when Davim began pulling out bulging coin pouch after coin pouch.
Modest with coin he was not.
After signing a document verifying he was indeed of sound mind, the betting tent let him leave with a paper receipt of his bet he could use to exchange for his earnings if his bet struck true.
Feeling upbeat just thinking about his imminent profit, Davim allowed a smile to grow on his face as he left the betting pavilion with Glendale.
Some days it wasn't so bad being the minion of a maniacal demon. No, some days it was actually quite good. Quite good indeed.