For the second time, I stepped into the Tries Arena to fight, and for the second time after the battle, the stands sent me off with a deafening silence. If one can understand such a reaction to the outcome of the qualifying round, the silence of the spectators now slightly disappoints me. Yes, I understand that the battle did not end as the stands would have liked. Honestly, the duel did not end as I had planned, and even more so, not as my opponent thought.
But that happens.
It's like boxing. A world championship bout. Both athletes prepare for it for half a year, knowing their future opponent. And it's not just the fighters who prepare, but their coaching staff, made up of the best of the best. And the boxers themselves, since they go out to fight for the title, are clearly more than just good. And then it's time to step into the ring. The stands are filled and are anticipating an unforgettable twelve-round spectacle. The gong sounds. A couple of exchanges of exploratory punches, and then, unexpectedly for everyone, everything ends in the very first round, sometimes even in less than a minute. It ends with one precise punch. And such a finale is not because one of the fighters is far superior to the other. No. Simply one of them, despite all the months of preparation for this one particular fight, made a mistake. And everything ended with what is called a lucky punch in boxing.
Casting a fleeting glance at the spectator seats, I noticed that the VIP box, which had been vacant for two centuries, was still empty. Then, contrary to local tradition, without bowing to the stands, I turned on my heel with a perfectly straight back and headed for the exit from the sand. The fact that my victory was unexpected for everyone is evidenced by the fact that the steward only announced it when I was already approaching the grate of the small gate. And only after this announcement was the first applause heard from the stands - sparse, uneven, sounding in disarray.
A young servant hurriedly opened the gate and, with a slight but full of respect bow, let me off the sand of the arena. Passing him, I nodded to the boy, thus acknowledging his diligence. It seems that such a gesture is a trifle, but for the image that I was building, even such small details are important because it is from details that integrity and credibility are formed. Moreover, the image that I chose was largely consonant with me. No, in reality, I have never been so cold-blooded, and neither I've been so indifferent to the results externally that it was taken for arrogance - as if I knew for sure that there could be no other outcome but my victory. Yes, I have never been like that, but even when sports was my life, I always wanted to look like this. And now, in an alien world, I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of, if not being, then at least seeming so. And judging by the smile that is trying to break through my mask of coldness, I like this image and how I feel while playing it out. But a smile can't be let out, it will break everything, and I continue to walk through the dark inner corridors of the Arena with an externally indifferent expression on my face. Like that action movie hero who doesn't look back at the giant explosion behind him.
Having changed into my clothes, I asked a servant to lead me to the stands, to the section that was reserved for the tournament participants and their invited guests. When I emerged from the under-stand rooms and appeared in the light, I immediately noticed how the other tournament participants' attitudes towards me had changed, at least of those who were currently sitting in the spectator seats. They no longer looked at me as a misunderstood upstart. There was a certain apprehension mixed with a fair amount of deserved respect in the gazes directed at me. Even without the ability to read minds, I easily sensed the emotional atmosphere, which seemed to whisper: "I wouldn't want to draw this Raven in the next lottery."
It was impossible not to notice Aun, who was actively waving at me, indicating a free seat. I calmly walked forward, ignoring the looks of others. But before sitting down, I swept my gaze over all those who continued to look at me. Since it's considered bad form in local tradition to openly gaze at someone who you haven't officially met, almost everyone immediately looked away. Except for Paravi Malik, who, on the contrary, deliberately met my gaze as if challenging me right here on these stands.
Of course, I could have indulged in a staring contest with her, especially given her gorgeous, remarkably pure green eyes, the color of lush sedge. But now wasn't the best time for such a game. Yet to look away immediately would seem like a sign of weakness, so I tricked her. I demonstratively shifted my attention from her eyes to the deep neckline of her blouse, tilting my head a little, and widened my eyes as if to show how much I admired what I saw. I didn't have to pretend much, as this girl had a breathtaking figure. No matter how combative Paravi Malik's character was, no matter how ready she was to cross blades with me right now, she was not prepared for such blatantly sexualized attention. She withstood my gaze for about fifteen seconds, blushing more and more with each passing moment. After instinctively covering her neckline with her hand, she immediately realized she had been outplayed. Not wanting to show it, she snorted loudly, turned her nose up, and demonstratively turned away. I, on the other hand, with a light, feigned disappointment, sat down next to Aun.
Perhaps it's a professional deformation on my part, the result of many years of professional sports, but I am most attracted to such athletic, confident, yet sensual women. However, to make a move on Paravi Malik, the darling of the Tries audience, would be an incredibly foolish thing for me to do now. Especially since winning over this girl would undoubtedly be challenging. And if so, it would take a lot of time and energy. Ah, if only I didn't have to hurry, to rush forward along the Spiral, I would probably have stayed in this trading city for a week or two. But I really can't afford that. A pity... My daydreaming in the clouds of erotic fantasies was interrupted by a question from Aun:
"Master!" The boy's voice contains an unexpected mix of irritation, reproach, with a slight dash of anger, all stirred into admiration. "Why? Why did you defeat the favorite so easily?!"
"What are you talking about?" I ask, struggling to shift my attention from the tantalizing curves of Paravi's back to the boy.
"Why didn't you stretch out the fight?!" The lad throws his hands up in the air. "And now…" He shakes his head dejectedly. "And now our money is gone!" And before I get a chance to clarify, he continues in his usual rapid-fire manner, "Now, nobody will bet against you!!!"
"Nobody is an overstatement," I shake my head. "Those who think they're the smartest and bet against the favorite, hoping to win big, will never cease to exist. So, the odds won't fall below one to one and a half."
"One to one and a half!!" The merchant's son flares his nostrils indignantly. "It could have been one to three or even one to four!" I can almost see the calculations in his eyes, figuring out the potential profit lost.
"No," I shake my head in response to his genuinely upset tone, "there would never be such odds as one to four or even one to three again." Then, after a short pause, I explain. "Victory over the favorite would have halved the odds no matter what kind of victory it was."
"And yet…" The boy insisted.
Not wanting to hear what he wants to say, I cut him off, allowing a slight but discernible irritation to color my tone:
"It's pointless to regret what's done. It's already happened and cannot be changed."
The boy blushes slightly but wisely holds his tongue, which is undoubtedly a point in his favor. At this moment, the announcer declared the start of a new duel, and we shifted our attention to the arena.
At first impression, the Bronze tier of the skills tournament far outshone the Iron. Each participant here was genuinely skilled, at a level that even I found quite impressive. On a five-point scale, they'd all score at least three-plus if we consider Shiin Karim as the benchmark for a five. Consequently, unlike the Iron tier fights, watching these battles was interesting. Besides, it was beneficial for me to observe my future opponents. Assess their skills, strengths, and weaknesses. This allowed me to strategize in advance for future battles, and it was not something to be overlooked. No matter how confident I was in myself and my victory, this confidence was not only built on my skills and "future experience" but also on the fact that I try not to neglect the chances that come my way. And a preliminary analysis of opponents is precisely such an opportunity, one that, regrettably, doesn't come around often in life.
The only thing that distracted me from the duels unfolding in the arena was Paravi Malik. The girl turned out to be much smarter, craftier, and more vindictive than her sweet-looking appearance suggested. Fully aware of her beauty and noticing genuine interest in my eyes, the favorite of Tries' tribunes was now openly mocking me. She did it so subtly that no other spectator would notice. She changed her position to sit slightly ahead and to the side - so that I could clearly see her. Seemingly by accident, not intentionally, she started striking very seductive poses that accentuated her sculpted figure. She never allowed herself anything vulgar, everything within the bounds of etiquette and decency. But like an experienced fighter, this girl had full command of her body and knew she was beautiful. So, even a slight turn of her torso with a little lean forward perfectly highlighted her curves. Or when something unexpected happened in the arena, she would emotionally throw her hands up and slightly jump on the bench. As she was positioned half-turned towards me, I could fully appreciate the firmness and alluring outlines of her bust and the slender curves of her waist.
Damn! My "memory of the future" was silent about this, but apparently, as my Core developed, not only my strength, speed, and reaction improved, but also my desires. Or perhaps it's because I've gotten younger by more than a decade? This option shouldn't be ruled out, either. In the past Cycle, "I" was initially too busy surviving to think about women, then met Arien, one woman who was more than enough for "me." And then "I" got completely fixated on avenging the questers, and this revenge buried all other emotions and desires under its weight. Sure, the "past me" had other women in Ain apart from the future goddess of spontaneous magic, but those were all fleeting casual ties.
In general, the "memory of the future" had a major drawback. It was informative but carried little emotional or sensual color, with very few exceptions. Now, despite the almost unattainable goal of stopping the Invasion and the constant pressure from the questers, I have time to breathe freely instead of running like a hamster in a wheel, as it was in the past Cycle. Perhaps that's why I still have energy for emotions and desires stirred by the girl sitting on the bench ahead.
Enough! I'm an adult man, not an eighteen-year-old youth! I shouldn't fall for such provocations! With that thought in mind, gathering my willpower, I turned my gaze back to the arena, but as luck would have it, the fight had already ended there. Moreover, Paravi, to congratulate the winner, leaned forward and clapped her hands, which caused her skirt to lift up, and from my position, this opened up such a view that my breath hitched for a moment.
"This widow Talia..." I muttered, turning to Aun. "Show me her shop today."
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"But, Master!" The merchant's son widened his eyes. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the duels? The next round of the Bronze is the day after tomorrow, and then the fights will be daily, not..."
"It's not up for discussion!!!" I snarled angrily at the boy, who was really not at fault for anything.
This outburst of extreme irritation and some primitive, albeit relatively mild, anger brought me back to my senses. It jolted me, so to speak, clearing my mind, temporarily removing the feminine hypnosis cast on me by Paravi Malik.
"Just show me, that's all," I repeated, this time in a normal tone. Then I elaborated. "Sometimes, relieving stress is much more important than any other aspect of preparing for a fight." The more I speak, the more my mind switches to a different type of activity, and my desires retreat even further. "If you only think about the upcoming battle without switching to anything else, you can burn out. Where I come from, it's called 'emotional burnout.' And believe me: many champions have lost because of this."
I knew what I was talking about. And as if catching on to this nuance, the young man nodded in agreement. To distract myself, I started commenting on the battles taking place in the arena to Aun. I pointed out the strategies chosen by the duelists, explained their mistakes. I also asked the boy to make his prediction before each fight and explain it. To my surprise, this lad, who had spent his entire life preparing for trade activities, gave quite decent predictions on the fights. Moreover, when the boy followed his intuition, not the stereotypes embedded in him, such as: "On the Metallic Coil of the Spiral, mages are weaker than warriors" or "A warrior with two swords is cool," he was never wrong.
When all the fights of the first round of the Bronze grid had ended, the sun was already beginning to set. And by that time, I was completely convinced that all other participants were much weaker than the champion of Cisto, who I had already defeated. That is, I can lose only if I make some giant mistake. Of course, there is always a chance that someone among the participants at such an early stage of the tournament has not shown all their capabilities, hiding some trump card up their sleeve. Such a thing should never be discounted, and one should always be ready for surprises.
As soon as the leading steward announced the end of the tournament day, Paravi Malik immediately jumped up from her place and rushed past me like a meteor. Despite her passing very close, the girl didn't touch me, even though she had the opportunity. No, she acted much more cunningly, leaving the stand with a look that hinted to me very clearly: "You will never have me"! Some might say that this girl is "playing" dirty and dishonestly, using her beauty and sexual attractiveness as a weapon. After all, her entire performance today was staged just so that when we meet on the sands of the arena, I would at least for a moment doubt whether to strike her with all my might. And if it weren't an earthling in my place, used to the sexualization of everything and anything, from movies, cartoons, and screaming from every tv and radio advertisement, her trick might have worked. However, to be honest, I can't claim with absolute certainty that her performance didn't work against me. Somehow I'm not sure that if she accidentally opens up under the attack of my spear with her beautiful face or perfect bust, I will strike immediately and without hesitation. Oh, I'm really not sure. And in this, Paravi is to be commended. As an experienced fighter, she uses all the opportunities available to her. Even not-so-obvious ones, such as creating an emotional erotic pseudo-connection with a future opponent. Moreover, in her duel today, she defeated the one who was considered the favorite in her pair. Most likely, she is ready to squeeze everything and even more out of herself, her skills, her body for the sake of victory. And I like such an approach. I am against excessive moralizing when it comes to fighting.
The swift passage of the beauty nearby did not go unnoticed by Aun either. The young man froze, like a pillar of salt, and when Paravi's armored skirt, once again jumping over five steps at once, lifted up, the lad completely "melted."
"Hey…" I lightly flick the boy on the nose. "You have a beloved bride."
"I didn't..." The merchant's son blushed like a young maiden, stumbled over his words, and fell silent.
Yes, female beauty – it's like that. It hits hard and spares no one around.
Not wanting to delve into this topic, I switched the conversation to the discussion of the duels. Specifically to the discussion, not my analysis, because some of Aun's conclusions about what he saw seemed interesting to me. He has been prepared all his life for the role of a merchant. The boy, in essence, did not know which side to hold a sword, but he had a fantastic intuition. Besides, I needed to distract myself from the image of Paravi, which had firmly settled in my imagination, and such a dialogue helped well with this task. Thus, quietly chatting and in no hurry, we exited the Arena gates and began descending the wide staircase to the central square. And about halfway down this descent, Aun was hailed, with full mention of his family name. The young man first twitched and then, recognizing the one who called him, immediately calmed down and smiled sincerely.
"Master, I'll be right back," he said, scampering away from me.
A man around forty, unfamiliar to me, had summoned the young merchant. He looked respectable, even substantial by local standards. His clothes were rich but not ostentatious, the only obvious decoration being a narrow twisted belt with a golden plate. But the main thing about his appearance wasn't his clothes, but the symbol of a member of the city Senate that he wore on his chest. The man wasn't alone but stood surrounded by a small group of young people. He was the one who had summoned Aun, and by how the young man bolted towards him, they were clearly acquainted.
Not wanting to stand like a pillar and be the center of attention, I went down the stairs and settled on one of the many benches, which were overly abundant around the Great Fountain. Sitting on the bench, I stretched out, interlocked my hands behind my head, tilted it back, and found Seguna rising in the evening sky with my gaze.
I sat for about a minute and a half without changing my position, and then I relaxed a little. Here, in the southeast of the continent, people's notions of what's acceptable and the ethics of behavior are slightly different than on the other side of the Great Ridge. If I were sitting in the square of, say, Deytran right now, after my performances at the tournament, I wouldn't have been left alone so peacefully. There would have been at least two, if not more, bards who would have wanted to have a drink with me and find out my story. There are minstrels in Tries as well, but they behave much more quietly and don't pester people on the streets. And that's something I really like about this city! Because some curious bard will stick to you somewhere in the west and trail behind you for hours, and it's not always easy to shoo them away. Try shooing away a minstrel who's, for example, of Avalonium rank and just curious when you are at a Metal Coil! As Nate told the "past me," one such bard followed him around for a whole two weeks, and no persuasions or threats from the earthling could change the situation. It all ended only when the bard himself got tired of following the earthling everywhere. At this "memory," a smile flickered on my face as I "remembered" the facial expression the future God of War had as he told me this story.
By the way, when Nate himself grew up to the legendary Coil, he found that bard and, challenging him to a duel for a fabricated reason, tore off the annoying minstrel's head with his bare hands right on the main Arena of Deytran. And this is the case when "past me" didn't blame Nate at all for what he had done. Because some bards in Ain behave like the most unbridled, clingy, and immoral earthling paparazzi.
For a moment, I imagined such a bard as Larindel, not tied to his ship, following me everywhere in his insatiable desire to witness an "interesting story," and I felt a bit queasy. How would I ever get away from an impassioned elf? There's no way! Not until I myself reached Ruby rank. And then... Yes! I think I wouldn't deny myself the pleasure of screwing off the half-blood's head. These thoughts led me to reflect on the fact that, despite all the press from questers, things could have been worse. Much worse.
For a moment, I thought I saw Larindel's clothes in the crowd of townsfolk. But, thanks to all the gods, no, it's just my imagination! Well, curious glances are still cast my way, and when they think I can't see, they even point at me, but that is something I can bear.
"The rain will be here soon." After about ten minutes of waiting, Aun sat next to me and waved his hand toward the port.
"Rain?" I didn't understand him.
"Yes!" The boy nodded and more accurately directed his palm at the small clouds coming from the sea. "See the shape of the clouds? If they're like this, and the wind is blowing west, then in an hour at most, a real downpour will start."
If a local in Ain tells you that there will be rain, a blizzard, a storm, or some other natural phenomenon, it's better to believe them than to ignore the warning and end up wet or cold.
"Rain it is," I shrugged. "It won't interfere with our plans." I winked at the boy. "Show me the widow's shop, then lock yourself in the house and don't go anywhere."
"By the way..." The young man averted his eyes, studying the central fountain of Tries as if he were seeing it for the first time. "About tonight. Master Varti," he presumably means that solid senator, "has invited me over." My eyebrows shot up in silent question, and the boy started to babble. "He had a son this week, and he has prepared a feast that will take place tonight. And since Master Varti was in good relations with my father, seeing me, he..." Aun flinched and waved his hands. "Master, if anything's wrong, I can decline, citing mourning time! But the head of my family will be at this feast." The young man's face took on a serious expression. "And I would like to see his reaction to my appearance in public." He's clearly not telling me everything, and I start to drill the boy with my gaze. The young man can't withstand this look for long and, blushing, admits. "Also, Master Varti invited aunt Zian..."
"With her daughter?" I clarified.
"Yes..." This unbearable boy replies on the exhale, and I can barely hold back my laughter. "And I will be perfectly safe there! No one would dare attack me during the feast! And Master Varti offered me to stay overnight at his place, so I will be safe while you..." He stumbled and then finished: "Have a 'chat' with Madam Talia."
"Lesson." I snapped my fingers in front of his nose. "You can never be completely sure with women. Yes, judging by the reaction that Madam Talia showed, I intrigued her, but!" I raised my finger, emphasizing the point. "Interest does not mean she will immediately jump into...," I started, but managed to cut myself off before I said, "Jump into bed," rephrasing to, "start 'having conversations with me.' It's far more likely that when I show up in her shop, there will be a little flirtation, and that's all."
"But you just told me to lock myself in the house alone all night." The boy looked perplexed.
"That's what's called strategic planning!" Finally allowing myself to relax, I beamed widely.
"What?.." The merchant's son didn't understand.
"I'll explain another time." With that, I patted the boy on the shoulder and got up from the bench. "Shall we go? Don't you need to change? Or will you show up to the feast dressed so casually?"
As Aun had promised, it started to rain after an hour. At first, it drizzled lightly, but then it really began to pour. That, however, worked in my favor, as it allowed me to wrap myself in a cloak and pull the deep hood so far over my face that it was completely hidden. A person dressed like that in ordinary weather would attract suspicion and attention from passersby, but not during the rain. So I walked the quickly emptying streets of Tries, and for the first time that day, no one turned around to identify "that foreigner from the tournament."
On the way home, the boy explained how to find the shop that had caught my interest. Afterward, the young man changed into fine clothes, and I accompanied him to the central square. After that, pulling my hood over my face, I hurried back, hoping that, despite the late hour, the shopkeeper hadn't closed her little shop of herbs.
Having spent several days in Tries, I quickly found the house Aun had described. To my relief, the light in the shop was still on, and, already soaked to the bone, I burst through the shop door without knocking.
The bell hanging above the threshold tinkled, and the shopkeeper, who had been packing herbs into special alchemical cases, jumped. She spun around quickly and, seeing my dark figure wrapped in a cloak, bowed slightly and said:
"I'm sorry, but we are closed; please come back tomorrow."
In response, I silently pulled back my hood, all the while quickly contemplating how to start a conversation considering the woman's mood and posture. But before I could open my mouth, the young shopkeeper had slipped behind me.
Quietly, barely audibly, the latch on the door clinked shut. Thin, cool, but surprisingly strong and demanding hands slid under my cloak. A sharp command from the girl's lips - and a gentle wave of Wind magic extinguished all the lights in the shop.
"I knew..." Softly, with a light sigh, her lips whispered into my ear, and I could just barely sense, due to my active Perception Aura at such close range, the scent of arousal.
There definitely are some perks to women in Ain having not just formal but real equality!
For instance, they aren't shy about making the first move. And I definitely like that...