Chapter: 9

The train carriages had steadily become more packed as people joined from the stations they passed on their easterly journey.

They’d board, make a startled noise and their neighbors would begin to talk about their stat screens, a new interest for everyone.

Thankfully it took the attention away from Len and Rick.

Len watched the fields and forests they passed with a deepening frown.

Fields had gone fallow, not due to an inability to grow anything. Trees, bushes, and all kinds of things had taken root. Farmers had not planted nor driven rows into the dirt.

The fields were only tended close to the homes, communities, and the villages and towns they stopped at.

It spoke of people too scared or unwilling to plant far from the safety of their homes.

He saw it in their eyes—the fear, the worries, the stories. He heard them in the carriage. A wolf here, a deer there, creatures that moved faster than a horse and were as big as one.

Glowing eyes in the darkness, the world's forces turned against man.

Now the questions were linked to the arrival of the screens.

“Hunting is bound to be up this year,” one passenger said.

“I heard that murder has been climbing in the cities. People killing one another for levels,” another admonished.

Len leaned back in his seat. The killing had been rampant before the screens arrived as people understood they could kill living creatures to increase their levels and abilities.

There were countless atrocities people had carried out.

Both he and Rick had become quiet along their journey. Rick became steadily more tense the closer they got to Goran.

"Come on." Rick stood.

People shifted in the aisles, moving out of their way to take their seats as Len grabbed his packs, messenger bags and crates. Rick helped him, no longer caring about what others thought.

They scooted down the aisle to the end of the train.

The carriage was filled with people from all walks of life—fighters, farmers, and merchants. Every spare space had been taken up with some good to sell, some pack of belongings, or a person.

"Excuse me," Rick said, getting to the train door and pushing it open.

The noise of the train increased as Rick stepped out onto the iron walkway at the back of the carriage. Len stepped out behind him, holding the crate's hip height against the railing. Several carriages behind them had been turned over to supply food of different varieties as well as coal, coke, and resources that a city might run on.

"I thought you lived in a small town," Len said.

"Well," Rick tilted his head side to side, "kind of, I guess. Usually it's pretty small, but when the competition starts, the population explodes. Everyone comes from the surrounding towns, villages and cities to see the fights or try their luck in it."

"Why do so many people go to the competition?" Len asked.

"Remember how all of those sects and guilds used competitions to get people's attention or recruit people? This is just my family's version of that. There are very few ways to get more power or position within Plynthia. Merchants can sell goods. Nobles can grease the right palms. The common people, they can serve in the military and gain rank and accolades. Some could even become noble retainers, allowing them to retire in luxury. Others would at least get solid pay and decent conditions. For fighters, joining the Isendia family is a sure way to make a step up in life."

He leaned against the railing, looking at the fields rolling past on either side.

“My family has a long history of taking in people from all walks of life, teaching them how to fight properly with one another, and then leading them into battle and winning. It's one of the reasons we're so greatly trusted by the royal family. As our people come from all over Plynthia, it is rare for us to work against one noble's interests in favor of another. This also means that we are regularly taking on mercenary contracts that will bring coin into Plynthia, or those that will strengthen Plynthia internally. Gives us plenty of contracts to fulfill, we're well trusted, and we're always in need of new fighters.”

“So its all to weed out talent?”

“Yeah, it's one of the largest activities in the surrounding areas, which will mask our arrival and allow us to move without being known of, at least too soon," Rick said.

"And why do you want your family to be kept in the dark?" Len asked.

"Because my uncle is a piece of shit, and the main family are doing all they can to drive my sister and me out of here, while my grandma, the old matriarch of the family, has been in declining health ever since my mother passed away." Rick turned back to Len. "I found it odd when I was a child in my last life here how convenient it was for her to get so sick and then pass away, and how after she passed away, many in the family didn't seem too surprised. Instead, their actions became more direct, as they ushered out myself and my sister, while filling the coffers that they then distributed amongst themselves."

Something angry and terrible ignited in Rick's eyes, a tension coiling in his body. Len had seen it before, right before Rick jumped into a fight, but that had been cold and calculated. The expression of a veteran, this, this was raw, this was emotional.

"Since my mother and father passed, my grandma became invalid so our uncle looked after us as regent. He married off my sister and he used my low grades in the academy to push me from the family." Rick bit into the word, encompassing so much. “The leeches that sup on the gold that comes from the blood of our fighters. My aunt’s uncles and cousins. I have my own thoughts of what dear uncle Tyrus has done. Though this time I’ll be able to confirm it.”

Len didn’t press.

“All my life he’s goaded me into a duel. He pushed me constantly, shoving me in every direction to get a reaction. I might be hot headed but I’m not stupid. My mother and father taught me to fight, since they passed I didn’t get a single lesson. Anything I did to increase my strength my cousins would find me and bully me.”

“Keep you weak,” Len said.

“And as I got older they sent me away so I couldn’t threaten him. I figured he wanted to duel me so he could remove me as a threat. Might is the core of the Isendia family. A duel is seen as an honorable way to settle issues.” Rick gritted his teeth. “He was older and bigger, he had fighting training, but looking at it now. It was just what was able to get through his thick head. To a child though.”

“Impossible to overcome,” Len said.

Rick grunted in agreement and watched the fields go by.

The fields gave way to the city outskirts shortly afterwards, larger and larger buildings, the construction quality growing steadily better.

Side rails peeled off to yards filled with silos.

“Why are the chimneys cold?” Len pointed at a set of industrial looking buildings.

“My uncle in his infinite misguided wisdom sold that off so that we might have more money to pay off our debts." Len nodded absently, seeing the broken down and unused warehouses and other industrial locations.

"What does Goran export?" Len asked as the industrial and agricultural buildings were intersped with homes, most of them further away from the train track.

"Food," Rick said, pausing. "And blood. Weapons and armor are made in other places, and the guards can maintain them to a certain extent.” Rick shook his head. “We’re nearly there.”

He pushed himself back up to standing, tapping out a tattoo on the railing. He unlatched the chain over the stairs leading off of the carriage walkway. Holding onto a handrail, he leaned over the side, using his spare hand to cover his eyes against the wind.

Len spotted training yards among the buildings, with their large open spaces and people training within them. Horses were a mix of those used for work and those used for war. Patrols moved up and down the streets.

The steam engine gave out a great whistle. People returned in the streets to look over while those in the carriage started to rustle themselves. The engine started to quickly lose speed. The platform was filled with people, those to board and those to receive those disembarking. Others with carts.

They reached the edge of the stone platform.

Rick jumped from the stairs, landing on the platform before it had even come to a full stop.

Len hurried after him, Rick already moving for the station.

The place was basically uninhabited, only a few conductors on the platform that yelled in their direction, their words wiped out by the noise of the train braking.

Laborers waited, eyes locked on the train, carts ready behind them.

As the train settled they leapt into action, pulling open doors and dragging out crates of food as fast as possible.

The passenger carriage’s doors were thrown open as people flooded onto the platform.

Len looked back at Rick as they entered the blocky station. It was built of thick stone with an overhanging roof that covered the platform.

Three massive arches led into the station itself.

The inside of the station was simple. A chalkboard was on one wall with times and directions of the train, with seats in banks along the walls and between pillars that held the ceiling aloft.

The doors were mirrored on the city-side of the station, wide enough for four men to march through abreast, from street to carriage.

"If there's one thing that the family maintains, it's roads, trains, and transport," Rick said more for himself than Len as they exited the train station into the city proper.

Stalls had been shuttered and businesses closed, the city seemed almost empty. A cheer spread like a wave of noise through the streets in the distance.

Rick cocked his head, squinting. “They’re in the main arena, must be down to quarter, or semi-finals.” Rick picked up his pace. “I hope its not the finals already.”

They weaved through streets, the sound of people becoming louder as they reached squares filled with people eating and drinking.

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Criers on balconies were reading from sheets. Crews behind them were cranking on wheeled lines heading deeper into the city or throwing sheets into bags that were attached to other lines.

“What’s all of that?” Len asked, pointing to it.

“As the fights are going on, people there will transcribe in short hand, and then they’ll send out copies throughout the city. They throw it into bags and a series of pulleys move the messages throughout the larges squares for the criers to read out to the people. They finish reading and send it off to the next square or place a crier is located,” Rick said.

“Seems pretty ingenious,” Len said.

“Allows us to spread out the people. There was a brawl that broke out one year in the main square and people were trampled and hurt. Those further away from the city center will hear about it later, but they don’t have to pay as much and they’re at less risk. Plus we can have more people attending. Grandma was always one for figuring out the best way to wring a copper out.”

The streets started to get more packed up ahead.

“We’re getting close to the main square around the grand coliseum,” Rick said.

People were hanging out of windows, others were at stalls and restaurants, a festival mood in the air as bands played, quieting as the criers revealed the latest fights, adding their own flair.

“Why are we going to the grand coliseum?” Len asked.

"That's where my sister will be," Rick said, an opening in the crowd allowing them to walk beside one another. "That's where my parents met and made their debut.” There was a soft sadness to his voice.

We aren’t far enough back to save them.

Len raised an eyebrow. He knew Rick’s parents had died in battle, and that his Uncle had taken the regency, there was bad blood there. He'd never truly gotten the full story from Rick. Just pieces and parts here and there. Of his mother marrying a fighter, the two of them becoming unstoppable on the battlefield.

When Rick's grandma had grown sick and eventually died, the family had fairly fallen apart.

The ‘main’ family behind Rick’s uncle grew greedy, making their coin on the lives of others. Free of the old matriarch turned on each other in their schemes.

When the apocalypse came, the house Isendia was one of the first to fall. One of the strongest military families, they were split too far apart on too many battlefields and none close enough to defend their home.

There was clearly no love lost between Rick and his family. Though his sister, his sister he had adored and regretted not being there for her more.

Rick pointed to the Coliseum rising out of the city. "There it is," he said. It stood some twenty meters tall, arches atop one another, a large ovaloid building.

A cheer reverberated throughout the structure and reaching those beyond.

Criers around the building used horns to yell out what they were seeing.

“This way.” Rick diverted for a side street.

He reached a door, glanced around, holding the door he punched the lock, breaking the wood around it.

Rick pushed it open and waved Len inside, closing the door and pushing the lock back into place. An earth spell fused the wood back together without any visual sign he’d broken the door.

“This way.”

Rick led him down into a basement, it was a large space with all kinds of barrels and food stuffs. He pointed at a barrel as tall as they were. He pulled on a pin in the side and then the spigot. The barrel’s front opened revealing a hidden tunnel through it.

“What’s this?” Len said, half squatting to get through the barrel and out into a stone hewn tunnel. He could hear cheers reverberating down it.

“Tunnel leading into the Colosseum.” Rick said, closing the barrel door behind him and moving past Len.

“There are a lot of people that attend the fights. There are other mercenary groups coming to show off their fighting ability. Nobles and so on. Plenty of conversations are had here that few people know of.”

The bellows and yells resounded through the amphitheater above.

They were in the belly of the Coliseum now.

Rick led them up a set of stairs, his eyes darting around, undoubtedly looking through the stone.

“We have people listening to those boxes, learn what people are planning. If you go this way." Rick pointed in the direction they were heading. "You can get to the hidden spots where you can watch the fighters in the bowels of the arena and right up to the fighting grounds."

Rick continued for a while before gesturing for silence.

Len nodded, keeping up after him. The murmurings of conversation and the shifting and clanging of metal doors filled the air.

“Time to get ready,” a man said.

Rick paused, looking through a slit that illuminated the hallway they were in.

Len peered in too. The space beyond a staging area for fighters. Built of stone with painted iron hammered into it to create divisions and rooms.

Water poured constantly into a bucket below, filling and draining. Incense was heavy in the room, there were wooden training dummies, beaten up from years of use.

A young woman wearing a mask over her nose and mouth stood up from where she’d been sitting Her hair was hidden away under a bandanna. The woman nodded silently and fell into step behind him.

"Is that her? Is that her?" Rick mumbled under his breath.

Rick continued down the passageway, following the woman with his eyes. Guards opened a set of gates leading to a ramp. Len followed him.

“Weapons.” The man who’d collected the fighter gestured at a rack at the base of the ramp.

She drew two blades, wooden weighted things. She moved them around, testing their weight and balance.

She held them out to the guard, a practiced motion. He checked them and the other female guard gestured for her to open her arms. She grabbed the fabric and checked for hidden weapons and gear, finishing after the other guard with the swords.

“No hidden weapons,” she said to the leading guard.

The other guard passed the fighter her weapons. “Alright, you know the drill, as soon as the gate goes up its your turn. Good luck.” The trio left the ramp room and closed the door behind them, locking it.

“Has to be her.” Rick let out a soft snort.

The woman stalked up the ramp, stopping before the gates she rolled her shoulders, limbering up as she moved from side to side, squatting and doing knee bends.

Smarter than I was at her age. Not having knee pain was a blessing the youth didn’t understand. I missed you, knees. Len patted his knees, swearing that he’d do right by them.

Rick waved Len forward, past the slits into the fighter’s quarters.

A voice boomed through the arena as Rick stopped at a slit nearly knee height of the arena itself.

A cheer broke through the Coliseum, distorting the announcer's voice. Clank, clank. The gates started rising quickly, pulled by chains and gears.

The woman, stepped out into the sunlight, her swords out to either side.

"Not a good matchup," he mused. The woman's opponent had a spear, giving him much greater reach than her. "Also, being from before the apocalypse times, he'd have a natural higher endurance and greater upper body strength than her."

"She's fast and nimble, that one," Rick said, chuckling to himself. "Don't count her out just yet." There was an underlying anxiety to his words though.

The spear user watched the woman closely, the two of them wholly focused on one another.

She wore lighter hide armor while he had breast plate, helmet and bracers for his legs and arms.

They reached the middle of the arena, slowing to a standstill. The crowd grew silent, thick with anticipation.

The man burst into action, kicking up the sand of the arena. He drove his spear forward, grabbing it three quarters of the way down the shaft, giving him an even longer reach.

The woman ducked under the attack, slapping the spear to the side with the flat of her blade.

She went to cut in under his arms across his stomach and side, he threw out the butt of his spear, making her back away else catch it in the head, he turned, drawing the length of his spear in close and jabbed at her, holding further up the spear. She smacked to the side and jabbed at his face.

He hadn’t got his feet under himself and ducked his head back, unbalancing, he grimaced and threw himself backwards, committing himself to the fall.

He kept his spear close to his stomach, she chased after him as he dug his feet into the ground, turning his spear,

Her sword hit his chest plate as he brought his spear across his body, aiming the butt at her shoulder, she ducked under it in a feat of flexibility, his eyes widened as her sword raked across his stomach as she ran past.

He staggered back with a grimace but got the space he needed to reset his feet finally and get his spear levelled with her. She turned from her dash as he jabbed at her with a series of fast and quick jabs, the spear head shifted around as she had to back up, lest she get hit.

“One more hit,” Rick said from beside Len.

The woman ran forward with the spear as he drew it back, the spearman’s eyes focused. She threw her left sword at his head, he raised his spear to knock it away. She dropped to the ground and kicked both of her feet into his ankle, he threw out his spear so he wouldn’t fall on it and braced with his hands. He landed on the ground, the dull clack of wood on steel was the bell for the cheers that erupted from the crowds around the arena.

The woman removed her weapon, the spearman blowing away sand. She stood up and reached down.

He pushed himself around and took her hand, rising to his feet. He said something to her with a grimace. She must’ve said something back as he chuckled and shook his head before picking up his spear.

“Black thorn will advance onto the Semi-finals!” The crier for the arena yelled out, the cheers continuing. The woman glanced up at the arena.

Len followed her gaze to a box, the Isendia crest carved into the balcony before it.

In the center behind the main seats sat a man wearing armor. He wore it as someone familiar with it, but not used to its purpose. His skin that of one that spent his time indoors, no ruddy tan of one that spent his time outside. Not like the elder man to the side of the box. One playing at being a veteran, the other a veteran to his bones.

The fop in the main seat laughed with another of his family, toasting them and drinking deeply. Paying little attention to the fight itself.

He had the same sharp features of the others in the box. They had the bearing of nobles. Like the achievements of their forefathers has something to do with their own ability.

The woman grabbed up her sword, shaking off the sand, she raised it, getting another cheer before she stalked off across the sand to another gate that was opening for her.

"Has to be her,” Rick tapped Len's shoulder and moved back down the corridor they’d come through. “This way."

Len let out a sigh, adjusted his crates and followed. Looks like I did become the noble’s pack horse.

Rick led him through different corridors, pausing every so often before continuing, getting Len thoroughly confused.

Finally, Rick held up his hand, indicating for them to move forward stealthily. They moved without a whisper of voice or rustle of clothing. Beyond, Len could hear the noise of the fighting. They turned a corner.

‘Black Thorn’ had removed her headscarf and lowered her mask, watching through a slit identical to the one Len and Rick had been using. Rick leaned carefully against a wall, crossing his arms and hitching his knee up to look the picture of non-chalance.

"Well, look here. Got a little mouse in the walls."

The woman fairly jumped at the noise, whipped around into a fighting stance and drew a hidden dagger from her belt.

Her wariness turned into confusion as she rose out of her crouch, looking at Rick against the wall and Len holding the two crates in his hands.

"Rick?" she asked.

"My heart aches," Rick panned, clutching his chest. "For my dear sister does not even know my face." He held his face, his head as if he were some extravagant actor, pushing off of the wall

She rolled her eyes, standing up straight and slipping the dagger away.

"What the hells are you doing here? I thought you'd be halfway to another country by now, seeing all of the hell you raised at the academy." She tilted her chin towards the emblem on his chest.

"Well, the reason's a bit more complicated. You're excited," Rick said, pushing himself away from the wall and opening his arms. "But how about a hug for your big brother?"

She rolled her eyes, but abided, giving him a hug. Rick squeezed her tight, holding her firm. "I've missed you," he said in a quiet voice.

Lynn could see the bewildered tilt of her head. For her, it had only been a few weeks since she'd seen her brother last. For Rick, it had been nearly a hundred and twenty-five years.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"You could say that," Rick tilted his head to the side. "Though, well, we've got a plan for that at least."

Rick looked back at Len. "Something of one at least."

“Work in progress,” Len shrugged

"And this is?" Rick's sister asked.

"Oh. This here is Lenny. Or Len. Or Leonard. Depends on what you want to call him and how you're feeling in the day." Rick walked over and clapped Len on the shoulder.

Len took in a deep breath. "Len will do just fine." He held out a hand, balancing the crates under the arm of the other.

“Umm.” Lydia shook his hand, confused, trying to piece something together.

Len gave her a genuine smile. "I've heard quite a lot about you."

"Quite a lot about me, huh?" She looked at Rick in askance. He just shrugged.

She looked distracted.

“You get a screen update?” Rick asked.

“I’m not hallucinating? I didn’t think I got hit in the head that hard.”

“I don’t want to say it a dozen times, we’ll talk about it when we’re with Grandma. Come on.” Rick led, Lydia followed him, with Len trailing after her, as Rick walked them through the belly of the Coliseum. "I see you're still going with the two swords style.”

"Okay then and of course I am. I'm fast and nimble. You said it, mom said it, Grandma too. Heck, even Everett said it.

“I remember. I was there," Rick said. “Getting a compliment from the old sword, a feat in and of itself.” Rick’s voice became distant before snapping to the current.

"You have to remember you won't always be the fastest person out there. The nimblest one. You've got to train till you can feel them coming from behind you, from beside you. From every blind angle you can read every attack.”

"How am I going to do that?" Lydia said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Grow eyes in the back of my head?"

"There's a way," Rick said.

"I feel you're getting cryptic in your old age, brother." Lydia threw her hands out in exasperation, dropping them to her hips.

Rick let out a laugh. Len joined in too.

"How close you are with that little sister of mine," Rick said, walking past her, and patting her on the shoulder.

"So did you watch my fight?" she asked.

"I did," Rick said.

Lydia’s grin deepened. “He’s the beast spearman seen in five years they say!”

"A tricky match up for sure, though you pulled it off in style." Rick turned his head, not breaking his pace he winked.

Lydia's face spread into a big grin.

“Though you’re going to need more than that to win against your last two opponents,” Rick said.

“You been looking into my opponents? Aww you care,” Lydia cooed.

Rick reached a doorway, flicking open a peephole in to check beyond. Glancing to both sides, he flicked it closed, opening the door.

All three filed out, Lydia closing the door behind Len. In a few turns, they exited the Coliseum, returning to the afternoon sun.

"So why are you back here?" Lydia asked.

"To sort out things I left unfinished," Rick said.

“Wait, what is the Mana Integration System? Why can I see pages in the air?”

“I said that I’d tell you when we reached Grandma,” Rick sighed.

“There’s numbers for my body and mana?”

“Uhh huh,” Rick entertained her.

“Says I’m level zero and that I have seven in body?”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Rick said. “Your stat screen tells you how strong you are. Body is an overall stat that combines your strength, speed and such. Mana is how much mana you can store within your body and is related to how fast you recover it. Hold your questions till we reach Grandma.”