Despite us leaving the house a bit earlier than usual today, almost half of our neighbors were already waiting for us. Most of them were there to wish me victory in the semifinals of the Bronze tournament grid, but there were also those who tried to touch me. Just to touch me, as if by accident, supposedly unintentionally. And after doing so, the person would immediately step aside and, thinking I couldn't see, trace the Sign of Dairin. A common ritual in many places of Ain - a "communion of luck." Touching someone you believe is very lucky, you were essentially saying to their luck: "Pay attention to me as well." As far as I knew, it was just superstition, having no real power behind it, but many adhered to this custom.

While I listened to all the wishes and shook hands with those who wanted to, Aun managed to have a conversation with the street elder. When we left the boy's native quarter, I asked casually:

"What were you talking about with the baker?"

"Huh?" The boy's shoulder jerked at my question, "With Master Ylipp?"

"Yes, him. Did something happen last night?"

"No!" Aun dismissed it carelessly. "Master Ylipp was asking when I'm going to paint the gate, the one that leads to the back alley. I told him I'd get to it no later than a week from now."

"I see."

I immediately realized the boy was lying from the twitch of his shoulder at my first question. It's just not clear yet why he's lying. I pondered this question all the way to the central square. All this time, Aun was retelling me yet another city legend, but I wasn't really listening.

Only when we passed the Big Fountain did the boy fall silent, becoming more vigilant and studying people's faces. I'm sure he wasn't trying to spot potential killers. More likely, the boy was waiting for another message from his beloved. I suspect his conversation with Master Ylipp was on the same topic. For example, he asked the street elder to direct a courier from Alaya not to the front door but to the back gate so that I wouldn't notice or something along those lines. Unpleasant, but I'm to blame, insisting that he take me along to the meeting with his bride. Most likely, Alaya and everything connected with this girl is the only thing that can make the boy go against my opinion. I can understand him, though. Youth and being in love - it's a potent mix that sweeps any prohibitions in its path. He wants to meet his bride alone and blatantly ignores the potential threat from the still unknown killers at this meeting.

When we got to the main staircase, I stopped and turned to Aun:

"After the draw is over and you make your bets, I need you to go back to the municipality and find out details about the transfer of 'Bloody Wave' into the fleet."

"Details?"

"Which squadron are they transferring to? Or maybe the galley will be used as a courier ship? Who will be appointed captain? And so on." In reality, I was only interested in the last question.

"Master, honestly, I don't understand your interest in this galley!" Aun threw up his hands.

"Sometimes I don't understand myself," I replied with a light smile.

"Alright, master, I'll go ask, but don't expect too much," the boy nodded.

With that, we parted ways. He, as usual, headed towards the main entrance of the Arena while I made my way to the service one. Apparently, due to the fact that the final was getting closer, today's security, comprised of the Alchemists' Guild's mercenaries, was reinforced, and instead of a pair of guards at the entrance, there were four. However, they let me through without any questions or, moreover, inspections.

As usual, the moment I crossed the threshold, a familiar steward greeted me and led me to an available changing room. As I requested yesterday, all my tournament attire was washed and neatly piled up on the wooden bunk, while the spear was placed in a separate rack at the south wall. In addition, the room held a crude stool and a jug of clean spring water. Unhurriedly, without any unnecessary fuss, I changed my clothes, took the spear from the rack, and performed a few simple katas, after which I sat down in the lotus position on the bench and plunged into a light meditation designed to stir up the energy flows. For the first time during the whole tournament, I arrived at the Arena long before the fights and decided to prepare for the upcoming duel properly. Not because I was afraid of my future opponent but because this was, in general, the right thing to do from the first day. After finishing the first round of meditation, I stood up, gripped my weapon in a combat position, and assumed one of the fighting stances, preparing to execute a new training routine, when someone knocked on the door. Insistently.

"Enter," I invited, placing the spear on the weapon rack.

A woman of about forty, whom I didn't recognize, entered the room assigned to me for preparation. Her stride was confident but calm and measured at the same time. Dressed by local standards, formally, neatly, and expensive. On her neck, a silver medallion embedded with Reardane hung on a long chain featuring a stylized number nine.

"Guest of the city, Raven?" The unexpected visitor addressed me with a clearly formal question.

"Correct," I responded with a slight bow. "With whom do I have the honor of talking?"

"Oma Ai Tahayasi," the lady uttered, giving a barely noticeable nod, "the Ninth Praetor of the free city of Tries."

"Oma" or "om" is akin to Earthly prefixes like "von," "de," and the like, indicating that the one who introduces themselves in such a way stands on the Precious Coil of the Spiral, that is, they are "noble" by local standards. Similarly, the address "ger" or "gera" is used for those who have reached the Legendary Coil, like, for example, Ger Varti - a senator with whom Aun spent a day and a half at the festival. Moreover, the Ninth Praetor is a high position in the city. I do not like such unexpected visits from influential people.

"I am at your service, Mistress Praetor," I elegantly bowed to the lady of the Emerald rank.

"Don't worry, young man. I'm here on a formal visit." I gestured for her to sit on the stool, but she ignored this offer. "Please be informed that from tomorrow, all tournament participants and related individuals are prohibited from betting. This decision of the city council is final and not subject to appeal."

"Even bets on myself?"

"Any." The stern woman cut off.

"Accepted." After the restrictions announced yesterday, it's not such a great loss, so I'll survive it.

"The same applies to bets made through third parties." The Ninth Praetor added.

"One question." I raise my hand like a schoolboy, and this gesture clearly pleases my interlocutor; she nods benevolently. "Can my friend, a citizen of the city where I am temporarily residing, who is not linked to me by any other bonds except friendship, make bets in his own name?"

"Citizen Aun Duan," she demonstrated her excellent knowledge, "can, but only on your victory and nothing else, and within the previously announced limits."

"Thank you for the clarification. I understand."

The city official smiled formally, nodded, and stepped towards the door but suddenly stopped and turned to me:

"Young man, you are a guest of the city, so I'll explain. The fact that such an order is brought to you by my mouth, the mouth of a praetor, rather than through a minor official or a courier, means you've been shown considerable respect."

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"I understand," I really did, "and I accept."

This time, the smile on her face is informal and seems sincere.

"Raven, I have followed each of your fights. I must confess, you impressed me." The stern lady adjusted her token and continued, "So, I will explain, but explain only for you, confidentially."

"I'd be grateful."

"Last night, the head of the Alchemists' Guild held a long and secret meeting with the head of the 'Rising Dragon' school. We don't know the subject of their conversation, but when the organizer of a big tournament meets with the head of a school, whose fighter is participating in this tournament..." The woman lowered her head, and I nodded understandingly, after which she continued, "The city decided to take precautions in case of foul play."

"Thank you for the explanation."

"It's for you and no one else."

"I understand."

"Then I wish you luck, Raven, and I hope to see you at the celebration in honor of the winner."

"So be it." I calmly reply.

"Ahh, youth..." Oma Tahayasi dismisses my words and quietly leaves the room.

A complete ban on betting – it's still unpleasant. Yes, I wouldn't have earned much on regular fights anyway, but I planned to get at least another five hundred wealthier in the grand final. After all, a lot of bets will be placed on Ronin, maybe even more than on me. Damn, this visit threw me off. Now I have to think about why the head of the Guild met with the head of the 'Rising Dragon' school. Although... I think I know the answer. Most likely, they were bargaining. And the subject of the bargain was Ronin. Apparently, the Alchemists are very keen to see such a promising fighter in their ranks. Yes, most likely, this is what the meeting was about, not how to cheat the city with bets. However, the city authorities can be understood, they had to take precautions, and they did.

In the last Cycle, Ronin joined the Artifactors' Guild, but it didn't benefit him much, as he spent more time on his fencing school than searching for lost relics. So, if Sanshi Vaul agrees to negotiations between Ronin and the Alchemists' Guild, I think the fencing master will likely accept the Alchemists' offer. Having considered this possibility, I concluded that if Ronin sets up a combat school for earthlings in this Cycle as well, access to unique alchemical potions and pills will be a plus, accelerating training. So, if I'm not mistaken in my conclusions, the stern lady Oma Ai Tahayasi has brought me good news.

I approached the draw with a light smile on my face.

There were very few people standing in the arena sand today. Only twelve people, excluding the lead steward, who had already taken his place on the portable stand. My active Perception aura told me that before the draw, only two of the twelve were calm: me and Ronin - the rest were nervous, although they hid it with all their might.

The lead steward called my name, and as I ascended to the stand, I seemingly accidentally touched his staff, and the Light of my Affinity reached out to the artifact. The response was strange, not what I expected. The lead steward's staff was not fully a true artifact of Antares, but it wasn't a recent creation either. Most likely, it was made based on or from fragments of a divine relic but still created by human hands. A mighty Reardane rank object, but whether it's suitable for the embodiment of my idea, alas, is unclear, and I won't know until I try. Raising the second plate above his head, the steward announced to the whole Arena:

"And fate has chosen for Raven from Seattle in the semifinals of the Bronze branch of the tournament... fate has chosen... Tarroy of Khetno!"

Hearing this, Paravi Malik clearly relaxed and even allowed herself a smile. As for my opponent today, he, like me, was a guest of the city. From what Aun managed to find out, this Tarroy served in a trading house of Khetno, a city allied with Tries. Judging by the name, he was not from a noble family and achieved his position by himself.

Unlike Tries, Khetno was not a pseudo-democracy. The same family had ruled the city for many centuries - the Geindzi family - or, in other words, the dictators of Khetno. True, no one on Ain put particularly negative meanings into the word 'dictator'; to the locals, it was just another analog of such terms as king, tsar, ruler. According to Aun's stories, if you weren't nobility, then in Khetno, your place was at the very bottom. Apparently, this Tarroy was an outstanding man, having managed to achieve such a prestigious position as a commoner. Besides, he was the only one among all the participants who posed a small but intriguing mystery for me. I simply didn't understand how he won. Yes, he was a good fighter, but he was not exceptional. His sword technique was correct, but no more than that. In all the fights, he didn't surpass his opponents but somehow won. If we judge by skill, then Tarroi, like Paravi, shouldn't have made it to the semifinals. They both aren't that strong, but apparently lucky enough to climb so high. Moreover, it should be remembered that I knocked out the most challenging opponents on Bronze, leaving these two with simpler adversaries. The champion of Cisto would have gone against these two at once and won without even losing breath.

At the end of the entire draw, junior stewards approached us and informed us that we had two hours to prepare. Such generous time was allotted because the Alchemists' Guild auction was supposed to start now and would last those very two hours.

Since I didn't plan on spending money and battling temptations, I didn't stay for the auction but went to my room, where I devoted all my time to meditation and warm-up. I only left the room to watch Ronin's fight. A fight in which the fencing master surprised me again. Although not only me but all the spectators. We had already gotten used to the earthling's show, his artistry, and theatricality. Everyone was waiting for something similar, but the fencing master deceived everyone's expectations, including mine. He stepped into the sand and ended the fight with one strike, then immediately left the arena.

And. It. Was. Wonderful!

Because true art should be unpredictable!

I was seeing off the earthling, standing and applauding. To my great regret, the main mass of spectators couldn't appreciate what Ronin had shown. Besides me, no more than a dozen people genuinely applauded the earthling, and that's among almost twenty thousand spectators! The others were either silent or humming discontentedly.

I entered my fight with a light sense of irritation. First, because the spectators didn't appreciate the fencing master's duel, and second, because, after the draw, I had planned to end the fight quickly. But now it would be wrong, as it would look like a poor copy.

Tarroy of Khetno was a versatile fighter, equally skilled with a sword and Water magic. His movements were smooth, flowing, but sometimes they exploded in a rapid whirlwind of attacks in the style of his favorite school of fighting – the Otter school. If we had been fighting by a riverbank or on a seaside beach, or if it was raining now, perhaps Tarroy would have been a formidable opponent, but on the sandy arena, his full magical arsenal was unavailable. To stir up the crowd, I allowed the opponent to land several attacks, which I blocked while retreating. Then I counterattacked, driving him to the wall, then again let the opponent take the initiative. I was slightly curious about how he had reached the semifinals. But the longer our fight lasted, the more clearly I understood that Tarroy had no secret. He was simply lucky in several fights, and he reached the semifinals, where his luck ended upon meeting me. Fighting such an opponent was frankly boring, but I held back a yawn and performed for the audience, although this, in light of the banned bets, was no longer necessary.

Nevertheless, I have to give credit to Tarroy of Khetno. Understanding where everything was heading, he didn't lose his composure, maintained calmness, and continued the fight. By doing so, he earned that after ten minutes, I allowed him to seize the initiative for the last time and show off in front of the stands.

The opponent seemed to have been waiting for this moment, immediately launching a rapid attack. Rapid, sharp, but for me, utterly predictable. I allowed Tarroy to come within half a step but, at the same time, completely blocked any chance for his further attack. We froze in a balance of power, drilling each other with our eyes. Such scenes are beloved by spectators. A few seconds of ostensible struggle - and, with my next move, I would have swept the opponent's legs and then made a formal finish. But before that happened, my opponent whispered very softly so that only I could hear:

"Actually, I'm the youngest heir to the Geindzi family!"

Immediately a dense but invisible wave of mental magic, which should have completely disoriented anyone hearing these words, struck me. Without losing a moment, Tarroy launched an attack, and his sword almost reached my throat.

Almost.

Only to his misfortune, I am immune to Sacred Barriers. And it was this magic, moreover, the magic of the Precious Coil, that hid the truth about Tarroy's real family. And anyone who heard this truth immediately received a "brain scramble," as Ender aptly noticed. Apparently, it was by such a vile trick that Tarroy won his previous fights.

Previous.

Not current.

His sword stopped a hair's breadth from my throat, blocked by the haft of my spear. Our eyes met, and I said:

"Tch, what a rat."

Simultaneously with these words, my elbow imprinted itself on the scoundrel's jaw. After that, the haft shattered his knee. Then my left palm hit the throat, crushing the trachea, and my right knee turned his groin into a patty... The beating was only stopped by the activation of the magical bracelets on my wrists.

"Winner, Raven of Seattle!" echoed over the Arena.

When the steward approached me and loosened the bracelets, I had already calmed down and regained control of myself.

"You didn't have to do that; you could have won without all this," the representative of the Alchemists' Guild shook his head.

"If he had kept his mouth shut, everything would have been fine," I explained.

"Did Tarroy of Khetno say something unacceptable and offensive to you?" the steward asked for clarification.

"Unacceptable, yes." To tell the truth would be to reveal that I am immune to Sacred Barriers, and such a trump card is better kept up one's sleeve, so I get away with general words.

"Understood!" The alchemist nodded. "But keep in mind, we are giving you an official warning. Intentionally maiming your opponents in our tournaments is forbidden."

"I understand."

"I hope so," the steward said in a tired voice and deactivated the bracelets.

For the umpteenth time, I left the arena sand to the complete silence of the stands.