“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.”
-Sun Tzu
The morning sun filtered through the tavern windows, casting a warm glow over the wooden tables and empty tankards scattered across them. Mengus slowly opened his eyes, greeted by the harsh reality of daylight after a long night of drinking. His head pounded like a blacksmith's hammer on an anvil. A sense of regret settled over him like a heavy cloak.
Trying to remember anything of the previous night, some memories started coming back. Mengus groaned, recalling the tankards raised in celebration, the laughter echoing through the tavern, and the bard's whimsical tale of mystical chickens. The Heavy Knight Lance, now a pouch of gold, the departure of the sword sisters and the brutal death of Saraphine.
Slowly dragging himself out of bed, his limbs felt heavier than usual. Stumbling down the creaky stairs, he entered the common area of the tavern. The bustling activity of the morning contrasted sharply with his own poor state.
A barmaid approached with a knowing smile, offering a mug of water. "Looks like you had quite a night. On the house, to help with the aftermath."
Mengus accepted the water gratefully, realizing the extent of his hangover. The cool liquid provided a momentary respite from the throbbing ache in his head. Glancing around, he noticed some of his party members nursing their own hangovers at a nearby table.
Garai, the archer with a penchant for mischief, wore a corner smile. "Good morning, or should I say, afternoon? You were the life of the party last night, my friend."
Mengus grunted in response, attempting to piece together the events that led to his current state. The bard's tale of mystical chickens and Mengus pretending to throw gold during the imaginary chicken-shitting performance flashed vividly in his mind.
Berro, the infantry, chuckled. "You made quite the impression with that gold-throwing act. Who knew you had such a talent?"
Mengus rubbed his temples, his memory hazy. "Let's not talk about it. Where are the others?"
"Ria and Janek went out to explore the town, and Thalen is still asleep upstairs. Seems like he indulged even more than you did," Garai explained, a mischievous glint in his eye. "About the rest of the party, no idea probably in some other tavern."
The aroma of breakfast filled the air. The tavern's wooden tables were adorned with simple, rough-hewn tableware, each setting telling tales of countless shared meals. The morning sunlight streamed through small, leaded windows, casting a warm glow on the worn surfaces. Mengus settled into a sturdy wooden chair, the creaking protest of the aged furniture accompanying his movements.
A server approached, the same one that gave him the water earlier. With a welcoming smile, she put a wooden trencher down on the table. On it were a big chunk of coarse bread, its crust browned and crackling with a satisfying texture. Next to it a small bowl of salted butter and some grapes and cheese.
Mengus tore a piece of the crusty bread, revealing its soft, porous interior. The scent of freshly baked grain enveloped him as he took in the simple pleasure of breaking his fast. The cheese bore the markings of an aged wheel, its outer layer developing a robust flavor that promised a great taste.
A pewter mug, dented from countless toasts, held a frothy concoction of ale. The effervescence rose to the top, tempting Mengus to take a sip. But just thinking about it made his head hurt, so he put it aside where he won't have to look at it.
Having replenished his strength with a good breakfast, Mengus found himself thinking about his next move.
"Does any of you know where the next arena is?" He asked his party members that were sitting next to him.
Mengus learned that two arenas awaited him on his journey—one in the northern town of Polifen and the other in the southern town of Recujal. Both locations promised fierce competition, but Polifen, with its reputation for drawing skilled warriors from the north, piqued Mengus's interest. Recujal on the other hand, positioned in the south, whispered tales of unique combat styles and formidable opponents.
After weighing the options, Mengus decided to venture northward toward Polifen.
Polifen was a minor imperial port that became a haven for seafarers of the northern oceans. Some of the first Valdians settled in the back alleys of this town.
Mengus' journey to Polifen proved swifter than anticipated, the well-trodden path leading him through rolling hills and dense forests. With efficient travel and favorable weather, he arrived at the city gates in a mere two days. The bustling sounds of city life greeted him - a big contrast to the empty roads he traveled to get there.
Mengus made his way to a welcoming tavern within the city walls. The aroma of hearty stews and freshly baked bread filled the air as he stepped inside. The tavern's interior was adorned with wooden beams and warm candlelight, creating a cozy atmosphere.
Mengus settled into a corner table, and he noticed some guy walking towards him.
"Word travels fast in these parts, doesn't it?" the mysterious guy said while taking a seat across from Mengus.
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"And who might you be?" Mengus asked.
"Beron, at your service—or perhaps not. Depends on the circumstances," Beron replied with a chuckle. "Impressive win in the arena, I must say."
"Thanks, so you want to join my party?" Mengus tried to read Beron.
"Yes, you see, I am leaving my old life behind and want to start a new one, in the arena." Velanor explained.
"But that would mean we are opponents."
"Not necessarily," Beron jumped in, "We can travel together, train together, and let the best man win in the arena."
"That doesn't sound too bad." Mengus thought to himself.
"Tell me something about yourself Beron, before I let you join me I need to know you."
"Me and some good lads from my village," Beron started talking, "we thought we'd run away, and join some other lads who were making their living on the roads, if you know what I mean. Didn't feel like working in the dry fields for the rest of my life like my old man did. But I was young and foolish. Bandits are real animals. Always drunk and stabbing each other in the back. Always too drunk to feel cold so they catch the plague and die, or drunk and asleep when patrol comes so they end up on the gallows - you get the idea. That was no life for me. I ran away, gave some money to some of my friends to get my name off the outlaw list, and now I am just a normal law-abiding citizen. Beron the Robber is long gone."
"A wise decision."
"Life is better here in the city, but I want a new challenge, it becomes boring after a while."
His stats were not much, but much better than most of his companions.
"Well, you can come and join me Beron." Mengus offered him his hand that Beron immediately shook. "Welcome to the party."
Beron the Robber
LvL: 15
One-Handed: 107
Two-Handed: 1
Polearm: 2
Bow: 3
Crossbow: 2
Throwing: 96
Riding: 1
Athletics: 96
Smithing: 4
Scouting: 4
Tactics: 5
In the arena, eight groups, each consisting of skilled fighters from various backgrounds, awaited their turn in the 1v1 duels.
Reward: Cervelliere over padded cloth
The initial rounds unfolded with a series of intense duels, each combatant striving to prove their best in the quest for victory. As the tournament progressed, Mengus faced increasingly formidable opponents, but he managed to beat them all. Beron, unfortunately lost in round 3 to some infantry soldier.
The cheers of the crowd echoed through the battleground, Mengus used it as fuel to press forward.
In the quarterfinals, Mengus faced off against a seasoned archer known for their deadly accuracy. The arrows whistled through the air, but Mengus, with a blend of agility and strategic brilliance, closed the distance swiftly. His opponent, caught off guard by Mengus's relentless assault, succumbed to the melee combat, and Mengus emerged victorious.
The semifinals presented a more challenging opponent—a masterful polearm wielder with a reputation for swift and lethal strikes. The clash of weapons reverberated through the arena as Mengus moved around the deadly reach of the polearm. With precise timing and calculated maneuvers, Mengus exploited the gaps in the opponent's defenses, securing his place in the finals.
The tension in the arena reached its peak as Mengus faced the final opponent, a formidable two-handed weapon specialist with a history of crushing victories. The crowd's roars and cheers filled the air, Mengus started exchanging blows with his opponent.
In the decisive moments, Mengus executed a brilliant feint, leading his opponent into a vulnerable position. With a swift and precise strike, Mengus disarmed his adversary, the weapon clattering to the ground. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause as Mengus stood victorious in the center of the arena. The herald announced Mengus as the champion of the tournament, and the reward, a Cervelliere over padded cloth, was bestowed upon him. The cheers and admiration of the crowd washed over Mengus.
LvL Up!!
LvL: 4
One-Handed: 33
Pick a new skill:
1) Bash (+45% damage and longer stun duration with shield bash; +5% damage taken by infantry while in shield wall formation)
2) Wrapped Handles (+20% handling to one handed weapons; +30% combat skill to troops in your formation)
Mengus picked the second option.
Polearm: 27
Pick a new skill:
1) Cavalry (+2 damage with polearms while mounted; +2% damage by cavalry in your formation)
2) Pike (+2 damage with polearms on foot; +2% damage by cavalry in your formation)
This time Mengus picked the first option.
Athletics: 28
Pick a new skill:
1) Morning person (+3% combat movement speed; +5% combat movement speed to troops in your formation)
2) Heavy Hitter (+5 hit points; +5 hit points to foot troops in your party)
He went once again with the first option.
Mengus enjoyed in the triumph of his victory, feeling the surge of energy that came with leveling up. As he made his choices for new skills, he envisioned honing his abilities to face even greater challenges in the arenas ahead. With his new skills chosen, Mengus continued to enjoy the cheers of the crowd. The Cervelliere over padded cloth, the reward for his championship, was a welcome addition to his gear.
As the cheers subsided, Mengus noticed Beron making his way towards him, a smile on his face despite his earlier defeat.
"Quite the show you put on there," Beron remarked, clapping Mengus on the shoulder. "I may have fallen short, but you carried the day. Let's learn from each other, shall we?"
The tavern in Polifen buzzed with activity, and Mengus decided to treat his companions to a round of drinks in celebration. As the tankards were raised, a bard in the corner struck up a lively tune, setting the tone for a night of revelry.
"Not the shit chicks in this town too, I don't wanna get wasted again."
That night, Mengus drank even more.