A pair of guards looked me over, quickly assessing the value of my clothes and my unusual Western appearance. They then smiled amiably and opened the doors for me. Even the fresh bruise on my cheek didn't bother them. However, this was probably the right approach on their part, as it didn't matter what a client had been up to as long as he could pay now.
Although Aun had said that life in the "Western Bastion" was bustling around the clock, I was still a little surprised when, after crossing the threshold of the inn, I saw how many people were sitting inside despite the late hour. A large hall with twenty tables, each of which could seat eight people, was more than two-thirds full. But surprisingly, despite such a large number of visitors, the hall was relatively quiet. This detail was apparently due to the fact that in this establishment, making deals was the priority, while drinking and eating were secondary.
After explaining to the young, tired-looking servant that I was waiting for one of the patrons, I followed him to the bar counter. I was seated on a tall stool, after which a stocky, broad-shouldered, and bearded server, whom I initially mistook for a dwarf, offered to pour me something. The appearance of the local bartender was so peculiar that I ordered a large mug of dark beer, although I initially did not plan to drink.
I spotted Aun as soon as I entered the hall, but I didn't let on that I knew him. The young man also saw me, but he was engaged in a conversation with three gray-haired, clearly non-local traders, judging by their multicolored robes. And it seemed to me that the youth was really discussing some deal and haggling persistently. But even from the side, it was evident that experienced steppe merchants saw in such a young potential client a rather naive victim.
Taking a couple of sips of the local porter, I barely managed not to spit the drink out onto the floor. The appearance of the bartender misled me, and I had hoped that the beer here would at least vaguely resemble what the under-mountain masters brew. Alas, I was grossly mistaken, and what I was served could only be drunk by force. Yet I had to keep drinking so as not to draw unnecessary attention to myself. The bitter aftertaste of burnt sugar, which lingered in my mouth after each sip, further dampened my mood.
When Aun, having finished his "negotiations," came up to me, I was relieved to set aside the half-finished mug and got up from the stool. Silently, without saying a word to each other, we paid and went out into the fresh night air. And only after we had walked half a block and turned onto another street the young man asked:
"Did something go wrong?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Your mood is clearly gloomy," the boy shrugged and continued. "And there's a bruise on your cheek..."
"What's wrong with it?" I retorted listlessly.
"On the galley, you practiced healing. This means that you could have healed such a minor wound at any moment. And since you're not doing it, there must be a reason. And usually, such reasons do not arise from joyful news."
Sometimes, when your interlocutor is overly perceptive, it can be annoying. But the boy is right - a slight nagging pain from a scrape served as a gentle reminder, preventing me from fully immersing myself in my thoughts. That's why I didn't remove it immediately.
"How are things on your end?" I answer the boy's question with a question. "It seemed to me that you were really bargaining with those grey merchants in colorful robes."
"Ha!" A smile slid across the boy's face. "At first, I was just throwing dust in their eyes." He cast his eyes down a little and added, as if apologizing, "I had to pass the time somehow while waiting for you."
"At first?" I nudged him into continuing the story.
Aun's chatter distracted me from heavy thoughts much better than the scrape on my cheek.
"Yes, it was even fun to bargain, knowing that I really didn't need any goods from them and didn't need any deal. Without realizing it, the boy was already smiling from ear to ear. "Those merchants from the Marmaha Pass were so eager to swindle me! They tried so hard! They deserve credit; if I really needed something from them, they would have twisted my arm. But to their misfortune, I didn't need anything. And watching them, I got a useful trading lesson." He even raised his index finger.
"But that's not all." He was clearly not telling everything.
"Um... Yes..." Looking around like a spy fearing to be overheard, the boy switched to a whisper. "Their main product is wool and leaves of steppe medicinal plants. I know where to place and resell it. But they set such conditions that I would not have benefited from this deal." He clicked his tongue and continued. "But they also had a small batch of Chestoran wine. The wine itself is so-so, too sour, and we in Tries do not like such. They actually tried to sell it to me, which suggests that even in the 'Western Bastion,' no one wants to buy this vinegar."
"And what interested you about this wine?" People do not tell so much about uninteresting things for no reason.
"And you, Master Raven, would make a good merchant," the boy seriously stated. "You notice the details."
"If you don't want to, don't talk." I shrug my shoulders.
"You are not a competitor to me!" Aun exclaimed immediately and, lowering his voice again, began to chatter. "The wine itself is uninteresting. But Chestoran is delivered in amphoras made of white clay." With this, he winked at me, but noticing the complete lack of reaction from me to this news, he explained. "There are no deposits of white clay in and around Tries. And we have no masters working with it in the city. And the demand for such a product from the citizens is almost absent. But!!! My father often dealt with the priests of the Temple and found out that the oils for incense in the Temple were usually kept in amphoras made of white clay. And no one is more devoted to traditions than priests! Moreover, for five years, Tries has had strained relations with Chestor, the only city on the coast where they work with white clay, and there is no direct trade... " The boy raised his gaze to the night sky. "I think if you buy the whole batch from these Marmaha merchants, then, even if you pour all the wine into the sea, you can double your money by selling the amphoras to the Temple."
"Did you strike a deal?" I was surprised by the boy's resourcefulness. I left him to sit here for a while, and he managed to find a profitable opportunity.
"No." Aun shook his head. "I have limited working capital. I can't take risks. First, I need to ask the Temple servants and find out if there is currently a shortage of amphorae. That will take some time. And if during this time the Marmahans do not sell their wine, and the deficit really exists, then the price for the batch can be significantly reduced, which will bring even more profit."
"And what if someone snatches this promising deal right under your nose while you're finding out all this?" I was really curious.
"So, it wasn't meant to be," Aun shrugged easily, almost indifferently.
It seemed to me that the deal itself, as a goal, did not interest him as much as he was trying to show. As if he was forced to play the role that fate had given him at birth in a trading family.
"You won't tell about yourself, will you?" The young man asked.
"And where are we going?" I once again didn't answer his question. "Your house, it seems, is in the other direction."
"I thought you needed some fresh air, and the Marble Quay is not far from here, and the water near it is full of sea fireflies. It's beautiful. It can distract you and set your thoughts on the right track."
"Okay." I didn't argue with him, especially since I wouldn't fall asleep quickly after all that had happened, and a walk wasn't the worst choice.
In silence, we walked two blocks and came out onto the broad marble-paved quay. The young man wasn't exaggerating: the sea, or rather the narrow strip of coastal waters, was softly glowing as if someone had thrown a million Christmas garlands into it.
Indeed, it was beautiful.
"Sea fireflies glow only in the deep night; you won't see them after two hours before dawn," Aun explained. "I heard that some mages tried to catch and adapt them for city lighting, but they didn't succeed."
The sight of these unusual dimly glowing waves, their light shimmering, indeed made me smile, chasing away the heaviest thoughts.
"You're right," I broke my silence. "I didn't get what I wanted." The young man fell silent and seemed to turn all ears. "I found what I was looking for but ran into some problems." Aun pointed at my scrape. "No, it's just a street fight." I brushed him off and, in confirmation of my words, healed this minor wound. "Drunk sailors, nothing unusual."
"Then what's the problem?" Aun asked innocently.
"I expected to get stronger," I answered a little angrily and sharply, "but nothing changed."
"Nothing changed?"
"Yes."
"Then it's nothing terrible." The young man shrugged carelessly. "You can handle everything even without getting stronger!"
I wish I had such faith in myself as he has in me. Nevertheless, the boy's reaction significantly improved my mood.
After standing on the quay for another ten minutes, watching the illuminated waves, I really calmed down. And all tonight's twists and turns began to look not as disappointing as they seemed to me just half an hour ago. Aun's company and comments are clearly beneficial to me, but I should not get used to it. If everything goes as planned, I will leave Tries quite soon and never meet this young merchant again.
With that thought, I detached myself from the railing and, waving at the boy, took a step away from the sea. But no sooner had I done this when something loudly and resonantly boomed behind me. At first, it seemed that the rumbling was somewhere at sea. But Aun, who, unlike me, was looking towards the waves, pointed towards the port. There was not a trace of fear on his face, just curiosity.
"The military is up to something again," the youth remarked.
As if to confirm his words, a fire bell echoed from the port.
"And as usual, something has gone wrong for them!" the boy smirked.
As if in response to his mockery, we noticed distant flashes of fire over the rooftops of the port warehouses.
"Well, there you go, yet another fire they've caused..."
"Yet another?" I asked. Usually, a fire in the city is a big disaster, and he reacts to it way too calmly. "Isn't a fire at the port dangerous?!"
"Well, it's not the commercial port that's on fire, but the fleet's territory!" Aun dismissed. "And there, even at night, there are enough elemental mages to deal with the fire promptly." He scratched his chin and added. "Well, there's definitely an on-duty elemental mage there!"
"Let's go." Tugging the boy by the sleeve, I briskly walked along the quay.
"But my house is in the other direction," the youth caught up with me, surprised.
"We're going to watch the fire," I didn't bother to make up any excuses and said directly.
"It's a third of an hour's walk from here!" the youth rolled his eyes. "By that time, they'll have put it out! And even if they haven't, nobody will let us into the military port territory at night and without a permit scroll."
"We're going anyway," I insisted.
But the boy was right about everything. When, about fifteen minutes later, we reached the fence separating the military port from the commercial one, we found ourselves in a fairly dense crowd of onlookers who, like us, had come to find out what had happened. Of course, none of this crowd was allowed beyond the fence. A tired, clearly sleep-deprived naval officer, standing behind sailors who had closed ranks with their shields, loudly repeated:
"Yes, there was a fire. But it has been extinguished. There is no danger to the city. There is no danger to the port and goods either. Disperse; there's nothing interesting here. I repeat, there is no danger to the city. Go home, don't interfere with work."
"But how can there be no danger!" Someone from the curious crowd shouted. "I saw something big burning, and the fire reached the sky!"
"The on-duty mage of the precious rank has already extinguished the flame," the officer dismissed these shouts. "Respected citizens, there is nothing for you to worry about."
The calm, monotonous, tired, and even bored voice of the naval officer did its job. There were a few more shouts, but with each time, the crowd of curious onlookers became calmer. It wasn't even five minutes before people began to disperse.
"I told you. Nothing interesting," Aun whispered to me, yawning widely. "Shall we go home?"
"I have a bad premonition," I explained.
Upon hearing this, the boy's sleepiness instantly vanished.
"A premonition? That's not good... But we really won't learn anything now," the lad shook his finger. "However, there was a fire, and many people saw it, which means the fleet will have to report to the city officials. Tomorrow I'll ask my acquaintances from the Scroll and Calligraphy Brotherhood if there's anything unusual; they'll definitely tell me. But standing here right now really doesn't make sense. We'll only attract unnecessary attention."
"Alright," I let Aun persuade me.
"By the way, is it okay that we've been walking around town almost until midnight?" the young man asked as soon as we had left the crowd of onlookers and exited the port area. Saying this, he yawned widely, so contagiously that I couldn't help but yawn too. Then, the merchant's son explained his question. "The qualifying round starts tomorrow. Shouldn't you have rested and prepared?"
"Well," a slightly sad, somewhat sarcastic smile flashed across my face, "I actually planned to strengthen and prepare myself this night... But it didn't work out. Nevertheless, you're somewhat right - let's go home; a full night's sleep before a fight is not something to neglect."
The beginning of this night had been very eventful, so while we were walking to the district where Aun lived, I was slightly tense. I constantly maintained my auras and looked closely into especially dark alleys, but I didn't notice anything suspicious. To my great relief, we reached home without any adventures. As soon as we got inside, I checked the markers I had left but found no traces of intrusion.
"Interesting..." Aun yawned widely, watching me tiredly. "Just bits of threads, a line of dust left, not a grain of magic. But really, if someone had broken in, you'd know from these traces you left that someone else had been inside."
He's right, the locals rely on magic, power, skills, and spells, and such simple methods are forgotten and no longer used by them. A thief or murderer, breaking into someone else's house, would be looking for artifact ties or traces of spells, not how the dust lies on the windowsill or what that "randomly" snagged piece of clothing thread on the door is.
Just in case, I told Aun not to undress for the night, and I myself lay down in my clothes, hiding a wootz dagger under my pillow and putting my spear on the floor next to me. I don't think I'm being overly cautious, someone clearly wants to remove the boy from the picture, and this "someone" will surely attempt to kill him again, so we need to be prepared for this.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Stretching out on the bed, I pushed myself to a bone-cracking stretch and turned my head to the lad to ask about his acquaintances in the municipality. To my surprise, the boy was already fast asleep! How did this happen? Just a minute ago, he was unhappy about having to sleep in his clothes, assuring me that he would never fall asleep like that. But the moment his head touched the pillow, he was knocked out cold. I thought he wouldn't be able to sleep at all after today's rollercoaster, but he was out like a light in an instant!
This seemed odd to me, so I got up from the bed, amplified my perception with the Aura, and, relying on the Shadow, circled around the boy, but I found no traces of a curse or a sleeping spell. The lad's breathing was normal, not excessively deep and steady as it happens under the influence of magic. Apparently, his nervous system had reached its limit for the day, and as soon as he felt safe, it knocked him out.
Reassured, I returned to my bed, which was positioned so that if anyone tried to infiltrate our room through the window, they wouldn't be able to get past me. Slightly turning my head, I watched the slowly drifting clouds in the night sky through the window, barely lit by the ghostly reflected light of Seguna. How can I earn the "forgiveness" of the Echo of the Night Sister? The trouble is, Shadow doesn't need regular and ordinary offerings. She is the border between Light and Dark. The Shadow is ephemeral and unstable. Material sacrifices interest her little. Shadow embodies the realm of the unsaid, the unfinished, the half-tones, and hidden meanings. To earn Her forgiveness, I need something other than ordinary, even the most sincere prayers, reinforced by generous gifts.
Lying in bed, I looked out the window at the distant Seguna as if waiting for her to give me some hint as to what I needed to do. But no matter how I stared at the visible semi-circle of the Night Moon that night, I felt no response from Her.
Of course, I could easily spend this night without sleep. Morning meditation would effortlessly remove all the consequences of this decision. But it wouldn't replace proper sleep.
I don't think I'm in for a serious challenge today in the form of a group stage, but I still shouldn't take it lightly. I'm confident I'll pass the general "dogfight" with ease. The logic here is simple: if I encounter any difficulties at this stage, then I shouldn't even think about winning the tournament. Nonetheless, anyone can lose due to a simple underestimation of opponents and excessive self-confidence. I've seen such losses more than once, not just in my "past future" but also on Earth. Before my very eyes, more than once or twice, those considered favorites in competitions failed in the qualifiers or were eliminated in the first stage. They failed because they were too self-assured and didn't even consider the other athletes as competitors. The one time I took a winning place on the international stage, it happened for a similar reason. One of the favorites didn't even bother to warm up before the apparatus and pulled his lats on the parallel bars. After which, he predictably dropped out of the tournament, practically already on the podium, and his place, to my own surprise, was taken by me. However, that bronze in the Grand Prix in Dubai didn't secure me a permanent place on the team, and I quit sports a year later.
These memories now felt so distant, as if they had happened not to me but to someone else who just resembled me very much. The recollections of the "unrealized future" felt much more "real" at this moment than the life I had actually lived on Earth. And it was a bit frightening. It brought about an unpleasant chill between my shoulder blades. As if afraid of losing myself, I started frantically remembering my earthly life. And annoyingly, instead of pleasant and joyous moments, my mind, as if to mock me, threw up only the most disgraceful and failed moments of my earthly life this night.
When the flow of memory replayed the moment in front of my inner eye when I disgraced myself in the fifth grade in front of the whole school... When instead of demonstrating my skills, honed during sports training, I fell flat in a huge puddle in front of everyone... I realized that it was time to stop with the sentimental reminiscing. How many years have passed since that case?! I'm not even on Earth anymore but in another world! In a world where there's definitely not a single witness of my disgrace. So why am I still ashamed of that incident?!
When, about an hour after sunrise, Aun woke up and opened his eyes, he saw me not sleeping but training. Yes, I couldn't sleep. And not because this night I went through the Battle of the Origins, the Discontent of the Deity, and a meeting with a priest of Ruby. And not because today begins the Tournament that will determine my life.
No!
The cause of my insomnia was some ancient childhood memories!
But there was something good about it. That mass of failures and mishaps, which my troubled mind reminded me of, completely knocked any thoughts of underestimating anyone out of my head. I got myself so wound up that even if Aun were up against me, I would have taken him as a serious opponent. Which, of course, was largely overkill.
"You'll easily get through the group stage!" Watching me perform another kata from the Crane style, Aun, sitting on the bed, spoke fervently.
"I will." Calmly, without losing my breath, I answer, continuing the exercise.
"Then why do you look so thoughtful?" Noticing the expression on my face, the boy, stretching sweetly, wondered.
"One can win in different ways." Saying this, I changed the amplitude of the movements to a sharper one.
"Oh!" The boy's eyes widened. "One can win in different ways." He repeated my words, slightly drawling. "Interesting!"
But to my mild surprise, he didn't pester me with questions about what I meant. Instead, he got up from the bed and ran downstairs to the first floor to wash up and tidy himself up.
When, a third of an hour later, I finished the entire set of exercises and also went downstairs, breakfast was already waiting for me on the table. Nothing special: three boiled eggs, half a loaf of white bread, and a few slices of hard cheese.
"Aren't we in a hurry?" Watching me leisurely cracking the eggs, Aun wondered.
"I need to get to the Arena an hour after noon." I shrug. "And there's still more than four hours left until then."
"Are we not going to watch the Iron rank qualifying round?" The merchant's son asked curiously. "There should be over a hundred participants! And only sixteen will make it to the main tournament! It should be quite a skirmish!" Aun rambled on, rolling his eyes. "And this challenge starts in just an hour!"
"Not interested." I shrugged, biting off half an egg.
I really am not interested. I roughly imagine the overall skill level of the fighters of Iron, and for the most part, there's not much to see. Of course, there are masters on this rank, but I'm sure if any such turned up for the tournament, they would be among the sixteen "seeded" competitors, like the new champion of the "Rising Dragon" school, and they wouldn't need to go through the qualifying stage. And even if I'm wrong, and a worthy fighter is found among the crowd, they will still show themselves during the matches in the main bracket. Besides, for the entire tournament, I'll only face one Iron fighter - the winner of the Iron branch, so I genuinely wasn't very interested.
Most earthlings wouldn't miss a spectacle like this. Actual mass gladiatorial fights in reality, not on TV! But thanks to my "memory of the future," I "remember" the fights on Deytran's Championship Arena between masters of Mithril rank! And after such a spectacle, watching Iron fighters scramble around is of little interest. Unless, of course, you're a fencing fanatic like Ronin, or you love fights in all their manifestations, like Nate.
"Really?" Aun seemed a bit disappointed by my answer. "And I thought we were going to watch."
"Don't you have plenty to do today?" I asked theatrically, raising my left eyebrow at the lad.
"Things to do?" He repeated.
"First, it's to visit your cousin, find out something about those Bronze fighters participating in today's group stage, and get that information to me before I set foot in the Arena sand. And second, weren't you planning to visit the municipality this morning to find out about the fire that occurred in the Fleet area last night?"
"The second one can wait." Aun dismissed my words carelessly. "Most likely, the Fleet will send some sort of meaningless reply in the morning. And an accurate incident report will only be available after lunch when the city threatens an inspection." Noticing my skeptical look, the lad added. "That's how it usually works here." He shrugged and finished. "Tradition..."
"You would know better." I didn't argue with him.
I'm not sure why this night fire at the port is bothering me so much. There seem to be no real reasons for this concern. But something at the edge of my consciousness is nagging at me. Most likely, it's just my nerves acting up, but I'll feel better when Aun finds out what happened.
"Aren't you afraid to leave me alone?" The boy asked innocently but with obvious tension in his voice.
"Inside the Arena?" I asked, tilting my head, and after receiving a nod, I replied, "I am not. Everything is under the control of the Alchemists' Guild there now, and you have to be a madman to try and kill someone secretly there. Firstly, they'd probably figure out the killer in advance because the Great Guilds are adept at espionage and covert infiltrations, able to track unwanted individuals who appear in their area of interest. Secondly, even a very lucky killer wouldn't make an enemy of a Great Guild by committing a serious crime in their area of responsibility."
After a little thought, Aun nodded and immediately asked another question:
"And the municipality?"
"You have 'the rule of the worthy' in Tries, right?"
"Yes."
"Then I won't be wrong if I assert that in your municipality, everyone is dreaming of outmaneuvering, ousting, or otherwise eliminating a competitor in power. Any killer, unless he is a top-rank professional, would be identified and taken care of instantly there, even without asking who they actually came for. That's how it is in such a snake pit. Plus, the number of guards and bodyguards there must be off the scale."
"Yes, there really are a lot of guards," the boy agreed, as if recalling something.
"Besides, you'll be relatively safe for a couple of days," I added.
"Elai's Blessing?" the young man clarified.
"Exactly. You shouldn't rely on it entirely, but you shouldn't discount it either."
Calmly and without fuss finishing my breakfast, I waited for Aun to wash the dishes, then asked him where the nearest alchemical shop and vegetable market were located.
"Oh! Do you want to buy enhancement alchemy?" The boy asked, his eyes wide. "But it's banned under the tournament rules!"
"Look here," I nodded towards the cooling teapot. "Good tea invigorates?"
"Yes..." Feeling a trap, the boy softly answered.
"Then tea is also banned?"
"No."
"Exactly. There are some permissible compounds, almost like this tea, but they can give not only vigor," I winked at Aun. "Besides, if you prepare the compound yourself, the Guild will turn a blind eye to its use."
"But why now?" The boy threw up his hands in confusion. "Shouldn't you have taken care of this in advance, not a few hours before the tournament?!"
"First," I demonstratively raised my index finger. "I didn't plan to resort to this because this compound has a very unpleasant aftereffect. And secondly, this drink is made from fresh products, some of which must be plucked from the bed that very day. And you have to drink it immediately and hot. It cannot be prepared in advance, and the main ingredients cannot be bought a few days ahead."
"What does this compound do?"
"It does little, eases the maintenance of Auras, and calms the flows of Spirit and Mana. It's a trifle, really, which under normal conditions is not worth the effort."
"But you want to be safe?" Aun clicked his tongue.
"Something like that, something like that," I vaguely answered the boy without going into details.
In reality, I didn't need anything like that to proceed to the next stage. But this sleepless night, I decided to use this Tournament not just as a necessity to earn the Motto but also to lay the first brick in my future reputation. And for that, I had to do more than simply advance to the next round - I needed to do it dramatically and memorably. Yet, I also had to avoid revealing my true abilities too early. If it weren't for the need to combine these two opposing conditions, I would have never considered the "Swamp Lily." That was the name of this obscure alchemical potion. It worked as a good sedative and gave no real advantages in battle except for near-absolute calm. Whereas the backlash was rather unpleasant: several hours of paranoid anxiety. But I considered it worthwhile for today. Besides, locals don't consider a substance that doesn't provide any enhancement, whether it be of magic, body, or spirit, to be illegal doping in tournaments.
I personally think that for my fighting style, the "Swamp Lily" is even harmful as it prevents me from going beyond my current skill level. It won't let me leap higher than my abilities. I will have to rely only on what I already know and can do instead of depending on the talent of the Five Stars and improvisation. But my current skills should be enough to pass the group stage. However, tranquility, especially the outward one, the kind that would be noticeable even from the spectator seats, as the first brick in my future reputation, won't hurt. Maybe I could have managed it without the aid of alchemy, but I'm afraid I might start to smile if everything goes as planned. Because if everything goes as I've envisioned, it will be hard for me not to burst into laughter at the end. And to guard against such a "failure," I need the "Swamp Lily." The word "need" is perhaps too strong; a more accurate term would be "it won't hurt."
The main ingredient for this potion is ordinary cabbage. The only condition is that this cabbage must be uprooted from the ground on the day of the potion's preparation. After quickly buying two fresh heads of cabbage at the market, we visited an alchemical shop, where I acquired everything else: a bunch of swamp herbs, a few soaked belladonna berries, and a dried bud of the swamp lily. In the same shop, I also bought a potent sleeping potion that could knock out an elephant for a couple of hours.
I know how to brew this potion for one reason only. Once Dice went off the rails and drank excessively, even by his standards, and had no intention of stopping. We were looking for a way to calm him down and sober him up. The "Swamp Lily" turned out to be one of the dozen recipes we tried and the only one that worked. However, afterward, Dice made everyone who participated in that "sobering operation" drink the "mixture" themselves and experience all the "joys" of its backlash in their right mind. It was unpleasant.
The alchemical concoction should be brewed over a low flame unhurriedly. Nothing complicated, but it requires precise knowledge of the recipe and strict adherence to the times when to add each ingredient to the pot.
As I had calculated, I finished right at noon. Having completed the preparation of the mixture, I made an extract, which I then, while it was still hot, swallowed. Then I purposefully ran my palm through my hair and poured the remaining dregs down the drain. After that, I thoroughly washed the pot and cleaned my hands.
"Don't look at me like that," I winked at Aun. "The alchemy will only take effect in an hour and will just make me calm. Very calm."
"To me, you're already the embodiment of calm!" The young man threw up his hands. "But I won't argue! You know better if you say so!"
As we walked to the Arena, the boy clumsily tried to get under my skin, trying to anger or amuse me. Apparently, he was trying to see how the alchemy was working. But I didn't give him any food for thought, simply ignoring all his jabs and strained jokes.
The central square was much more crowded today than before. The first qualifying round for the Iron rank fighters had already ended, and viewers were actively discussing its details. As we made our way through the crowd, I listened to what people were saying and only confirmed that I was right not to go watch. None of the competitors showed anything interesting. If someone had really stood out from nearly a hundred participants, the whole crowd in the square would have been talking about it, but there was nothing like that.
Almost fifty meters away from the entrance, Aun said goodbye to me and ran off to find his cousin. I hardly reacted to the boy's departure. The "Swamp Lily" had already started working, and the whole world seemed to me somewhat unreal, toy-like, and insignificant.
Absolutely insignificant.
It seemed that it was not I who was walking through the crowd of people, but my body - just a puppet obeying the mental commands of my puppeteer mind. And I, as a personality, was not here, but somewhere far away, as if in an auditorium, and I was watching the performance from the side.
A boring one. A very boring performance.
Presenting my Tournament participant tag to the guards at the service entrance, I entered the interior premises of the Arena. One of the junior acolytes of the Alchemists' Guild immediately appeared next to me and led me to a rather large hall. A hall where the final briefing took place. All future participants were told about the inadmissibility of deliberately inflicting lethal blows. The organizers expressed understanding that incidents and deaths may occur, as real weapons will be used, but they will not allow deliberate killings in the Arena.
After that, each of us was assigned two stasis bracelets. These artifacts, on the command of the alchemist in the arena, could instantly "freeze" the body of any tournament participant and thus eliminate them from the battle in order to then provide them with the necessary assistance. And considering the development of healing magic on Ain, you could only die in this tournament if you were a very big loser or if someone deliberately dealt you an instantly killing blow. Those very blows that the organizers have forbidden to use. If someone is caught trying such an attack with clear intent to kill, they will instantly freeze such a participant and remove them from the Arena, after which this person will naturally be excluded from the Tournament. And considering that the participants of the future battle are at the Bronze rank, and the observers from the Alchemists' Guild are fighters and mages of Precious levels, these observers will easily neutralize the rampaging bronze one before he can strike his blow.
After the bracelets were attached to my arms, there was a color lottery. I got red with orange. I took this random choice quite calmly and did not protest, unlike some participants who said their colors did not suit them. I didn't care what to perform in. And when they brought me red clothes with an orange belt, I changed into them without any objections.
Then they took us to the local arsenal, where I chose the usual spear, as similar as possible to the one I had and was used to - it was just at the rack right at the entrance. From the side, this probably looked a little strange. A large crowd was bustling in the arsenal, choosing weapons, and only one person calmly entered, went to the very first rack, took a spear, and left. It was as if this person didn't care what weapon they were going to participate in the Tournament with.
As soon as I left the arsenal, one of the senior alchemists blocked my path. Bringing myself to a minimally polite distance, I stood as if rooted to the spot, silently looking at the Emerald mage standing in my way. We played a staring game for almost half a minute, after which the Precious rank mage touched the tips of his fingers to my hair, then sniffed his fingers. His eyes gleamed maliciously immediately, a flash of light - and I was already completely paralyzed.
But I don't care.
I'm not worried.
It's even good.
Although, I don't give a damn about this "good" either.
"Alchemy Recognition!" - The activating spell command comes off the lips of the Guild representative.
For almost three minutes, the mage examines the result that the diagnostic spell has given him, after which he snaps his fingers, and the paralysis releases me.
"Participant Raven," my ears hear, slightly irritated from the mouth of the Emerald mage, "do you think the 'Swamp Lily' will give you some advantage in the upcoming trial?"
I really dislike the word "trial"; it somehow provokes anger in me, but now this anger seems to pass by, not touching my soul, and my voice is dry and indifferent:
"Advantage? No. Limitation. Yes."
"Did you prepare the composition yourself?"
"Yes."
"Well, 'Swamp Lily' is not prohibited." The mage scratched the back of his head. "I can't even imagine someone deciding to take this extract before a battle! There are far more effective and easy-to-make pills for the same purpose of combating fear."
He apparently expected me to respond, but I just stared straight into his eyes.
Without blinking.
"Are you sure you took this extract voluntarily?" The mage persisted.
"Sure."
"Participant Raven, follow me." With those words, the alchemist put his hand on my shoulder.
This is a bit off-plan, and I can see Aun out of the corner of my eye, apparently bringing some news, but he won't be able to approach me while there's a guild representative nearby. But arguing with the mage is also unwise, so I bow my head in agreement.
"That's good." The alchemist nods, then mutters under his breath, "If I tell anyone that someone willingly overdosed on 'Swamp Lily,' they'll laugh at me!"
Then he nudges me forward.
"You'll be under my supervision until you step onto the Arena."
His tone does not invite objections.
But I don't intend to object.
I don't care...