Shaking the young man's hand, I couldn't help but think that the old adage "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" holds true in this world as well. From Aun's perspective, he was proposing a deal - precisely as he had called it. Not a help out of friendship, not for some ephemeral purpose, but a deal. That's why I trusted him. Previously, he had been evasive, holding back, but now he laid it all out. I'm not pure and innocent, not a paladin waging war for all that's good against all that's bad. If Aun dies, either accidentally or by someone's hands, I, of course, will be upset, but to save him simply because I happened to be around... No, thank you. However, there is a nuance: the lad could actually be helpful to me. If his cousin provides even a little truthful information about the tournament participants, this will already be a fair exchange for me. Because I can't afford to lose, as losing will cut off my quickest route to the motto.
I also agreed to this deal because I'm confident that whatever threat Aun may face, it's not insurmountable. The son of the merchant is only of Copper rank, and yet he's escaped death three times without even suspecting possible demise. What's more, our agreement doesn't involve any oaths or penalties, so if Aun does die, it won't hit me. It will upset me, of course; despite his cheekiness, I like the lad.
The first possibility is that someone has cast a Dark curse on him, not a Shadow one, but a genuine Black spell. For instance, by performing the Ritual of Fatal Misfortune. Such magic, based on sacrifices and blood, reduces the luck of the one it's cast on to a critical threshold. A threshold beyond which, just by tripping on a flat surface, a person can easily break their neck. But Black rituals are complex; to use them, one needs access to a true Altar of Darkness, as well as very rare ingredients. Moreover, no matter how much the adepts of Darkness believe in their abilities, their rituals are not nearly as reliable as, for instance, a stiletto in the victim's heart. If Aun is indeed under a curse, then this magic was applied by an amateur, not a professional. This means that it's pretty easy to get rid of such a threat.
"Let's go." Nodding at the young man, I headed back towards the central square. "And while we're walking, tell me about this Alaya."
No, I wasn't interested in this topic at all, but Aun started chattering non-stop, and all I had to do was nod and occasionally agree. While the young man enthusiastically talked, gesturing wildly, I had time to think.
The second scenario is much worse. Perhaps the boy miraculously escaped three actual attempts on his life. If the unsuccessful assassin was clumsy, poorly prepared, and also low-ranked and did not want to be noticed, Aun might have unknowingly saved himself from death. The problem is that it's entirely unclear who could want the boy dead. Or, more accurately, there are too many options to settle on just one. His clan, inheritance, father's old debts, unfavorable contracts, long-standing blood revenge? One could list possibilities until evening and never repeat oneself.
The third scenario is the simplest for me. In this one, the lad accidentally skirted the edge. Accidentally and in one day. Three times. I understand that this is the most unrealistic scenario, but it's too early to write it off.
"Aren't we going to the Arena?" Aun wondered when I started climbing the Temple staircase for the second time today.
"Do you have a couple of gold coins on you?" I answered his question with a question.
"Why?" Barely keeping up with me, jumping over the steps, the boy asked.
"I don't understand." I abruptly stopped, towering over the merchant's son. "Do you want to live or not?"
"I do..." He squeaked quietly, like a mouse.
"So, do you have them or not?" I repeated my question.
With a subtle movement, the boy took out the money and handed it to me. He did it in such a way that even I, standing only a step away from him, didn't understand where his purse was stored.
"Follow me, don't interfere in anything, don't talk about anything unless you're asked. And do what I tell you. Got it?" I instructed the lad.
"I got it."
"That's good." Despite his antics, Aun is a very sensible and intelligent young man, so I hope he truly understood.
Passing through the entrance Arch, I briefly bowed to the Ascended Four; perhaps out of all the deities of Ain, I respected them the most. Finding ourselves in the Spiral Hall, we stopped for a moment. I needed a priest of a particular deity, and finding one turned out not to be very difficult. I simply had to look for the most haughty, arrogant, and contemptuous. Spotting such a figure, I approached him and bowed briefly. The priest in white clothes with golden trim looked at me tiredly and irritably, not even deigning to nod his head.
"May the Light be upon us," I greeted him.
"May it be, may it be," the priest of Antares replied, barely suppressing a yawn and looking as if through me.
"We need your help, Radiant One," I said, gesturing to Aun standing beside me.
"Antares never refuses to help the suffering," the priest recited the protocol phrase and immediately added, "Register with the servant, and maybe I'll have free time in a week."
If it weren't for my memory of the future, I would probably flare up now, saying too much, because it's perfectly clear that the priest is absolutely free and just trying to inflate his value. But "past me" had encountered the servants of the God of the Sun more than once, so instead of irritation and swearing, my lips silently whispered:
"Visualization."
At the priest's eye level, obeying my gesture, a Sign of Affinity with Light appeared, visible only to him. He examined the Symbol for a second, and then his face lit up with a warm smile. Not a false, not a formal, but a completely sincere one. The priest, taking a step forward, embraced me, and in this gesture, I felt warmth.
Priests of Antares are not haughty braggarts in the literal sense of the word; they are just absolutely sure that this world and its inhabitants are unworthy of the purity of their master's Light. And now, seeing the Sign, he took me as one blessed with a small portion of that Light.
"I'm listening," the priest's behavior had drastically changed, and now he was all sympathy.
"We need to perform a ritual on the traces of Darkness for this young man," I nodded at Aun.
"Do you have suspicions?" The smile vanished from the priest's face, his jaws clenched tightly, his cheekbones sharpened like a razor blade, and one of the combat spells of Light began to manifest in his palm.
"Yes, on the Black Curse," I hastily answer because I was misunderstood.
The last thing we need is for Aun to be considered "possessed by Darkness" due to my wrongly chosen words.
"Are you sure?" Relaxing a little, the priest carefully examined the silent boy.
"No, just suspicions," I admitted.
"In that case..." the priest sighed heavily. He clearly wanted to help me, but he was limited by certain rules too.
"I understand," I interrupted the servant of Light and placed the two gold coins I got from Aun into the priest's palm. "I am ready to compensate for the cost of the reagents for the ritual. But we would like to perform it as soon as possible."
As if by magic, the heavy coins disappeared from the servant's palm, and the smile returned to his face. No, not a greedy smirk - he was genuinely happy to help those blessed by his master.
Following the priest, we went to the small tower of Antares, where the servants, obeying the orders of the senior, began preparations for the ritual, after which they asked me to wait outside.
Already when I was sitting on the steps and waiting, it dawned on me that I might have just sentenced Aun to death. If the boy happens to have four or five Talent Stars in Darkness, the ritual will reveal it, and the priests will not let the young man out of the Temple! The chance of this happening is infinitesimally small, but it still exists. This thought made me feel uneasy, and for the entire duration of the ritual, the whole half hour, I spent it as if on pins and needles.
The appearance of the priest, along with Aun, brought great ease. If the young man has left the tower of Antares, it means he does not have four Stars in Darkness. The relief was as if a bag of stones had been taken off me. On the one hand, what do I care about this Aun? On the other, I still did not want to be the cause of his demise.
Having called me over, the priest let the young man go with a gesture and, turning to me, said:
"There are no traces of Darkness or Dark Rituals in the youth."
"Thank you." That means the first option is out. "That's all I wanted to know."
"But!.." The servant of Light raised a finger. "Did the young man recently lose someone close to him?"
"Yes, his father." I see no reason to hide it.
"Did his father serve anyone from the Pantheon?" Strange question.
"He sincerely worshipped Elai," I remembered.
"Then it's clear." The priest nodded with a slight relief as if he had gotten the answer to the question that bothered him.
"Excuse me, what is clear?" I quickly ask, or else the priest of Antares might just turn around and leave; he could do that.
"The youth is under the Dying Blessing." The servant of Light, casting a sympathetic look at Aun, said. "Apparently, his father asked the Higher Powers for intercession for his offspring before his death and... was heard. But, most likely, he was of low Rank and had a weak Core, so this Blessing won't last long. Truth be told, it's about to disappear soon - in two or three days, it will fade."
"And what kind of Blessing?" I had to squeeze every word out of him.
"Alas," the priest replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't serve Elai, and I can't say for sure."
"And if you guess?" I insist.
"If I guess?" He hesitates for a moment but still answers, "If it's Elai, I would say that there are traces on the youth that resemble a 'Blooming Clover'."
"A luck chant!" I froze for a moment; now I understand how Aun avoided death three times and didn't even realize it.
"Blessing! Not a chant!" The priest corrects me in a stern tone.
"Yes, of course." I agree with the servant of the light god.
Having said goodbye to the priest, I quickly leave the Temple, nudging Aun along. And as I descend the stairs, I hear a quiet:
"I heard everything."
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"No one was hiding anything from you." I shrug in response.
"Really?" The boy sounds skeptical.
"Of course, or do you really think you eavesdropped on a conversation of a Sapphire-ranked priest against his will?" My tone is laced with undisguised amusement.
"Oh…" The boy catches on.
"Exactly." I nod at his thoughts.
"So I have a blessing for luck on me?" Walking alongside, Aun speaks quietly, as if talking to himself.
"Don't get used to it. And don't forget that Elai is the Goddess of Summer and Life, so her luck is not about winning at dice."
"Really?" There's a slight disappointment in the lad's voice.
"So you've already made plans to restore the family fortune through bets?" I rib him.
"I certainly did not..." He starts but immediately realizes that this attempt to justify himself has completely given him away, and he changes the subject, "So you thought I was cursed?"
"It was the easiest thing to check." I shrug, not intending to hide anything from him.
"My clan... my clan worships only the light gods!" The boy informs me passionately, apparently thinking that I am accusing someone of his relatives of something.
"And what does that have to do with it?" I smile.
The lad puffed up as if ready for an ardent argument but changed his mind, once again proving that he was no fool.
"Besides, even behind the most noble and bright facade, there can be a dark closet full of skeletons." I lift my hands in a conciliatory gesture, adding, "I'm not talking specifically about your clan right now."
"But in your mind, you'll keep considering those possible 'skeletons'." The lad grumbles, frowning.
To which I respond with a Jack Sparrow-like tone:
"You savvy."
"But since there's no Black Curse on me, that means my clan is above suspicion." Aun tries to convince himself.
"Pf-f-f..." Instead of a detailed answer, I just shrug, leaving him with these heavy thoughts.
"Then I should tell you about my clan." The lad decides after some time.
"Later." I wave off his words.
"Huh?" He doesn't understand me.
In response, I point out that we're already standing at the main entrance of the Arena.
"You can tell me later. I have a business now."
"Oh."
"Exactly, and you should visit your cousin." I steer his thoughts in the direction I want.
"Cousin?" At first, he doesn't understand me, preoccupied with his thoughts, but then it clicks, and the lad smiles guiltily. "Of course. So I should go?"
"Go, but try to stay in sight all the time, don't be alone. We'll meet at the fountain."
"Alright." The lad responds very seriously, then disappears into the crowd.
There was a fair amount of people crowded in front of the central entrance. Most of them were onlookers, but there were also Arena workers. Following the signs, I went through a separate entrance designated for those who wanted to register for the Tournament. My passage did not go unnoticed, and dozens of pairs of eyes began to scrutinize me. I'm sure that as soon as I was out of their sight, they started discussing me. However, this wasn't that important, and I let it all pass by me, ignoring the heightened attention to my person.
On the open terrace of the second floor, where the signs led me, there were three tables. The left was for registering Iron rank participants, the middle was for Bronze, and the right was for Steel. While there was a queue of more than ten people wanting to register at the left table, there was only one person in front of me at the middle one. No one was at the far right table, and judging by the bored clerk, there hadn't been for quite a while. This disproportion can be explained by the fact that the higher the ranks, the harder it is to find someone who isn't registered in any of the Guilds. There are many such people at Copper and Iron, most have already decided their life path at Bronze, and there are very few people without a Guild at Steel.
While waiting my turn, I discreetly examined those wanting to register. At first glance, there were no professional fighters among them. Even the Bronze-ranked man in front of me didn't impress me, let alone those queued for the "iron" table. The way they moved and stood, disregarding the distance to their neighbors – it all clearly hinted that none of them were professionals in battling other people. Perhaps many of them were adept at killing monsters and beasts in various dungeons, but none were duel masters.
However, my observation didn't indicate the overall level of the future tournament participants. Today is the last registration day, and all serious contenders for victory probably already registered long ago. And those whom I'm observing now likely won't even make it through the first qualifying round.
When my turn came, a clerk dressed in the color of the Alchemists' Guild looked up at me and involuntarily smiled. Like Ender, he was a native of the west, born beyond the Great Ridge, and he was glad to see a fellow countryman now. But aside from this smile, he didn't allow himself any other liberties. He asked the standard questions, recorded the answers, and then asked me to confirm my rank by placing my hand on a magic crystal.
"The tournament will be held according to the White rules," said the clerk after I confirmed my Bronze rank. "Do you have a preferred weapon?"
The White rules mean that the organizers will provide each participant with weapons from a standard list. Also, any artifacts and armor are forbidden in this format. For me, this isn't the best option, as I'm well equipped for Bronze, and it's a bit of a shame that I won't be able to use this advantage. On the other hand, these rules are much fairer than the "red" ones, which allow any weapons, artifacts, and elixirs.
"Spear," I tersely reply to the asked question.
"Before the first round, you will be offered a choice of twelve different types," the clerk wrote down my answer, took a leather tag out of the desk drawer, and handed it to me. "Your number is Bronze forty-nine. The qualifying round in your rank starts tomorrow, two hours after noon. You should come an hour before that time. In case of being late, you will be disqualified. Loss of the tournament tag also means disqualification. Is everything clear?"
"Yes. Only one question."
"I'm listening."
"Can participants place bets?"
"They can, but only on the results of duels outside their rank. So you can place bets on the iron and steel branches of the tournament. The exception to this rule is betting on your victory, which is not forbidden. The betting department will be open tomorrow when the lists of all participants have been approved and presented for general review."
Thanking the clerk for his answer, I tucked the tournament tag into my belt and stepped away from the table. All this time, no one had lined up behind me or approached the registration for the steel branch of the tournament, but the number of Iron fighters in the queue at the left table had increased by two. Pretending to examine the arena's bowl, I took another look at the future participants but remained of the opinion that there were no experienced fighters among them. So I stood there for a few minutes, then left the terrace and, going down, stepped out of the Arena.
As I looked like a foreigner to the locals, I undoubtedly attracted the increased attention of the gawkers gathered at the entrance. Especially when they realized that I had registered for the tournament. Thanks to the active Perception aura, I managed to hear that the crowd was discussing me quite heatedly, although I couldn't make out the details of these conversations. However, I was ready for such a reaction. When you even outwardly differ significantly from the local population, you can't avoid special attention anyway.
So, assuming the most indifferent and independent appearance, I cut through the crowd of gawkers, like an icebreaker through thin spring ice, and confidently headed towards the fountain. But halfway there, I stumbled, brushed my shoulder against one of the passers-by, and almost sprawled on the cobblestones, only managing to regain my balance at the last moment. A few dismissive chuckles and comments sounded immediately behind me. Barely holding back a smile, I dusted myself off and continued on my way. This was the exact reaction I had expected to my stunt. At this stage, it's to my advantage that no one takes me seriously.
Approaching the central city fountain, I sat down on its edge, scooped up some water, and rinsed my face. The sun was already high, and since there wasn't a hint of a cloud in the sky today, it was getting hot. Summoning a street vendor, I bought a few pastries and, getting comfortable, started waiting for Aun.
This wait was quite lengthy. An hour passed, then another, and I started worrying if something had happened to the lad when I wasn't around. I had counted on the fact that whoever was threatening the boy wouldn't risk hurting him in such a crowded place. But such calculations are always quite speculative and inaccurate, and what if I was wrong? The further the sun moved west, the more my nerves became strained. I was just about to go searching for the boy when he finally appeared.
"My cousin was too busy," the boy guiltily shrugged, "and I had to wait until he was free. But I still managed to talk to him." He looked around and, after sizing up the street food vendor, suggested, "Maybe we should eat first? There's a decent place not far from here."
There was no reason to object to him, so I agreed; besides, I myself didn't really want to talk in a crowd of people. Aun's "not far" turned out to be a significant understatement. We spent almost twenty minutes walking briskly to get to the tavern the young man chose.
"Van Oy, that's my cousin's name," Aun began his story after we sat at a table and made our order, "he's not a very talkative guy. And we've never been close friends." The start of his speech, to put it mildly, did not inspire me, but I didn't show it and continued to listen. "He quickly understood the reason for my visit and immediately told me that trying to restore my fortune through bets was a very bad idea. I didn't try to persuade him otherwise, but I still asked him to tell me what he knew about the fighters. Unfortunately, Van Oy is in love with racing and almost indifferent to fights. But!" The young man waited until our hot food was served and continued when the server left our table. "Nevertheless, he still saw and heard something."
"Go on."
"The first news: Sanshi Vaul unexpectedly put his fighter in the tournament!" Having said this, the boy proudly puffed up.
"It doesn't tell me anything." I frowned, letting the boy down. "Why is this important news, and who is this Sanshi Vaul?"
"Oh! Sorry, I forgot that you're a guest in our city." The boy immediately began to chatter. "There are three martial arts schools in Tries, one of them is the 'Rising Dragon,' and it belongs to Sanshi Vaul. His fighters won the most on the Arena last year."
"And what's so unusual about a martial arts school putting up its participant?" I didn't understand.
"The thing is that all the fighters of these schools usually belong to some Guild and can't participate in the tournament. According to rumors, this fighter is a newcomer to the 'Rising Dragon' school; he just recently appeared there and immediately attracted the attention and favor of the head of the sect!" Aun lowered his voice and began to whisper. "In addition, no one has seen this fighter's face! He always wears a mask. Unusual, isn't it?! It's generally against the tournament rules to hide one's face, but the Alchemists' Guild, in this case, accommodated the respected school and agreed to the participation of a fighter in a mask."
"Interesting."
"More than that! Those among the Arena workers who are aware of the situation can't wait for the betting to open to bet on this fighter."
"Is he that good?" I asked for clarification.
"No one knows. No one has seen this mysterious mask in action." Aun shrugged. "But everyone trusts Sanshi Vaul's choice!"
And I have to admit that these workers are likely correct. If the one who constantly puts forth his fighters for duels nominates a contestant, it's definitely worth taking a closer look at that fighter.
"The Mask is registered for the Iron division of the tournament," Aun continued.
"Why couldn't you say this from the start?" I responded, a little irritated yet somewhat relieved.
"Oops. I forgot." But I could see he hadn't forgotten anything; he had deliberately structured his story to toy with my nerves. "If you meet with this masked one, it'll only be in the finals."
"Do you think I'll make it to the finals?" I innocently inquired in return.
"I've seen what Aig is capable of." The young man's tone changed; his voice became dry and somewhat detached. "The Boatswain of the 'Bloody Wave.' And even though I'm not much of an expert on duels, I'm sure this Aig could have knocked out any local Arena champions of his rank with one hand. And you... you killed him with one blow. So, yes, I think you can win."
If only I had his confidence. I killed Aig using a pretty unfair trick. A trick that I shouldn't repeat in the Arena, or I'll be disqualified instantly.
"Continue," I waved, not delving into the topic.
"There's also a favorite in the Steel rank. Want me to tell you about him?"
"Go ahead."
"Yesterday, Laore Tempai registered for the tournament. He's a fleet officer, quite a famous duelist." Aun lowered his voice again. "Rumors have it that he has problems with Core control and can't pass Elevation above Steel. That's why he registered for the tournament, even though in the fleet environment, such a thing is, mildly put, frowned upon."
"So he wants to win the main prize and thus Elevate to Wootz, despite his poor control?"
"That's exactly the rumors," Aun nodded.
"Anything interesting about the Bronze division?"
"They say there are pretty strong fighters gathered there. But Van Oy knows little about them." After a short pause, he added, "Except perhaps for one fighter."
The young man deliberately pauses to prove his importance, and I indulge him, leaning forward and uttering:
"Go on."
"The day before yesterday, Shiin Karim arrived in Tries! He's the Bronze champion of the Cisto Arena this year!"
"Cisto? Is that the city that competes with Tries for trading influence on the coast?" I clarify.
"Competes?" Aun's lips curl up disdainfully. "Only in their own thoughts! But people say they have a strong Arena. Van Oy heard that this Shiin Karim has intentionally not elevated his rank above Bronze for more than five years, honing his skills to become the best at this rank."
Those were the kinds of opponents I feared the most. Professional fighters who train twenty-four-seven.
"A dangerous opponent?" Aun clarifies, noticing the change in my facial expression.
"More than that, more than that..." I respond, not feeling the taste of the fried sea perch brought by the servant.
"So, if you come up against him, nobody will be betting on you?" The boy's eyes flash with greedy sparks.
"Stop!" I raise my hand. "Your cousin is right! Don't think about betting! You're a merchant; you should understand that it's a shaky path. You could lose everything you have left. You're young and can easily start your family business from scratch. Don't get into gambling!"
"Gambling?" The young man smiled lightheartedly and openly. "Maybe a little. But I found out today that I have a blessing of luck on me that will last for a couple more days, so I'm going to take full advantage of it!"
"What?" At first, I didn't understand, but then I did and slapped my forehead. "Are you an idiot? Divine blessings don't work like that!"
"Really?"
"Really!"
"But I'll try anyway!" His voice resonates with impervious confidence in his correctness, inherent to the absolutism of youth.
I was about to give him a sobering lecture when I suddenly realized it wasn't my business. If he wants to blow his remaining money on bets, what's it to me?
"Do what you think is necessary." I waved my hand, exhaling.
"Just don't mention this to mother Zian!" The boy caught himself.
"Alright, I won't say anything."
"Phew..." The young man smiled in relief at my promise.