“What’s your name, kid?” Jocasta asked.

Jon was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but he answered.

“Jon…”

“He seems to be a farmer,” Marsha noted.

“No, uh, duh.” Jocasta gestured towards Jon. Jon wondered if it was his gun or his overalls that made him stick out as a farmer in this side of the land.

Marsha looked awfully disappointed from behind her headwrap.

“Perhaps he killed a farmer and stole his equipment,” Marsha suggested.

“You’re crazy.” Jocasta beckoned to him. “Come on, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Jon didn’t believe her, but he got closer anyway.

“Now, Marsha,” Jocasta began, “how do you think we should drape the walls?”

“That is not my area of expertise,” Marsha said simply.

“Jon?”

“Purple,” Jon grimaced.

Jocasta nodded. “I agree! That’s why I got it.”

“He’s not specialized either…” Mahsa sighed and shook her head.

“That’s fine. Jon, can you help Marsha and the other workers pull up the fabrics?”

Jon nodded.

“Come on, Jon. I shall show you the way.” Marsha trotted towards the end of the arena, where a light blue fabric was being set by two people.

Marsha ran up the side of the arena until she was on a ledge just above them. She leaned over and held her hand out for Jon.

Jon ran up and grabbed it.

Marsha pulled, and Jon helped himself up by stepping up onto the wall. It was quick, both of them working together to climb up. Jon found it odd. He was rather used to someone of Mercy or Hector’s strength just hauling him up without his help.

He was quite proud, but Marsha was already leaning over, beckoning to the people below her.

“Throw that side of the carpet up!” she asked.

The workers threw the carpet up, just coming short of Marsha’s hand.

Marsha sighed.

The next toss was a success. Marsha reached out and caught the large banner with one hand. Jon bent over and grabbed the other. They pulled up the large fabric.

“Thalia could have pulled more of her own weight!” Marsha groaned as they spread the fabric out so that it hung nicely over the wall. “She could scale this wall with ease, but…”

Marsha held her hand above her head. “Nails!”

A small pouch was tossed into her hand from below.

“Hammer!” She called next.

A hammer came up, and she caught that one with her other hand.

Jon watched with awe. Marsha was under Jocasta, but she made orders with ease. No wonder she was so surprised when others didn’t listen to her. Jon held the fabric still as she hammered down the corners and continued her light complaining. “But Jocasta seems to like letting her do whatever she wants.”

“Would you suggest I give her more responsibility?”

Jon and Marsha looked down below. Jocasta was standing at the bottom of the wall, watching them.

“Ignore my petty squabbles!” Marsha begged, before returning to hammering.

Jocasta smirked and walked away.

Jon thought it was odd. At first, he believed them to have a dynamic similar to Hector and Mallory. However, in this relationship, more of the balance seemed to fall in Jocasta’s favor. Marsha felt subservient in a way Jon had a hard time defining. Then again, everyone seemed to be subservient to Jocasta. Even someone as commanding as Marsha. He shuddered. Just another reason to fear her.

“Thanks,” Marsha said when she was finished. She didn’t seem to be aware of Jon’s anxiety. “On to the next one.”

Jon nodded.

They moved over to the side, and the workers underneath them also brought some of the fabric over, this one being purple. Jon tried not to think so hard if any of them might have been former purple jackets.

They worked smoothly, and soon, one half of the arena was finished, with large blue and purple banners hanging from the sides.

Jon thought it looked quite nice, now that everything was put together. He was sitting on the side of the wall now, observing their combined efforts while taking a breath. He even felt a little proud, until Marsha started speaking again.

“You seem nervous.” Jon hadn’t even noticed that Marsha was sitting next to him.

“Jocasta is fine,” Marsha explained once she fully had Jon's attention. “She doesn’t truly mean harm to anybody who she doesn't think deserved it.”

That wasn't what bothered Jon. Mercy was definitely capable of hurting people who she thought deserved it, but while that was scary, he never felt like his safety and wellbeing was jeopardized by her presence. Like what was happening here.

“You did good today,” Masha continued. “With as much anxiety as I feel from you, I can also tell that you’re a quiet spirit underneath it all. It’s quite understandable that someone like Jocasta would have an effect…”

Jon was casually kicking his legs off the wall and listening to Marsha when he watched Hector push the purple curtain at the entrance aside and stick his head through in curiosity.

Hector?

Jon’s momentary glee was quickly dashed away when he realized that he wasn’t in proximity of either of the teenagers.

Jon immediately dropped down from the wall, just barely catching himself on the floor. There was a bit of a pain, but nothing debilitating. He jogged over while both Hector and Mallory explored the inside of the arena.

“Hey, there’s Jon!” Mallory said, pointing.

“Oh, right.” Hector looked at Jon, who stopped in front of him.

“Hector!” Jon yelled quickly. His brain was racing so fast with so many details he couldn’t tell which detail to start with first.

“Where are the kids, Jon?” Hector asked.

Jon felt a pang in his heart. What would he say?”

“You just saw Milo fly off in the distance, right?” Mallory asked to Hector.

“Yeah, I know,” Hector replied. “I saw him flying from this area. I just wanted to know if Jon knew-”

“I’m sorry!” Jon cried.

“I’m sorry?” Hector raised his eyebrow. “We came because we were worried. Mallory said that he could feel some sort of disconnect and we wondered if-”

“And who are you?” Jon's back stiffened, and he stepped out of the way so that Jocasta could meet face to face with Hector.

“Excuse me!” Marsha began, finally jogging up to the pair. “But the arena is not-”

“Stuff it, Marsha,” Jocasta said. “These people aren’t here to fight.”

She tilted her head to the side, teasingly. “Or are you?”

“Why would we be here to fight?” Hector asked. “We… we…”

“High altitude, buddy,” Mallory said quietly at Hector’s side.

Hector’s face got a little rosy. “We came here because we were checking on our friend- companion- comrade, Jon. We don’t have any business fighting. Unless you think we should?”

“Maybe,” Jocasta replied.

Hector’s composure returned to him by the end of the sentence. Jon had always known that he felt safe around Hector, but it wasn’t until now did he see what it really meant. It was like a clash of auras. Hector’s straightened posture and lowered eyeline demanded that you feel as confident and assured as possible when speaking to him. Jocasta’s sagged shoulders and loose movements felt like she wanted people to bend over for her when she was around, and that some people actually enjoyed it.

Jon underestimated the way Hector made him feel confident enough to tackle anything and expecting nothing less. It gave Jon the courage he needed to do things he might have otherwise avoided or even failed. Jon was now beginning to see the irony of Hector’s own self-doubts creeping up to him. Who would be the one to look Hector in the eyes and tell him he was good enough to do anything?

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“What even is this place?” Hector asked, swiveling his head. “Not that it matters. Jon?”

“By the way…” Jocasta’s gaze lowered onto Hector’s body. “...that armor you’re wearing. How much does it sell -”

Mallory clicked his teeth twice and pointed at Hector’s face. “Hey, eyes up here, Missy.”

“Oh, pardon me. I think my shoe’s loose.” Jocasta knelt down and pulled at the laces on her intimidating boots.

Jon watched both Mallory and Hector look down and stare at her in awe while checking her shoes.

Jon wanted to know what it was they were checking out, so he followed their gaze, at least until he realized that he could see deep into her low-cut shirt, and slowly averted his gaze back to the men to not make his gaze obvious. He heard another exaggerated sigh from Marsha.

“Okay, Now, what were you saying about eyes?” Jocasta asked, standing back up.

“Careful, Hector, this chick plays dirty!” Mallory half whispered.

Hector caught Mallory’s hand in his face and pushed it aside with uncertainty. “I… This thing, it’s a family heirloom. I’m sorry, it’s not for sale.”

Hector seemed genuine in his reply. Jon wondered if losing his jacket had given Hector more respect for it, despite his feelings from his father.

“I wasn’t directly asking to buy it,” Jocasta said. “I just wanted to know where I could get something like that. It would make a good prize for the tournament.”

“Tournament?” Hector’s eyes widened. “There’s a tourna… not. Um, sorry, I had to fight for this…” Hector coughed uncomfortably then looked around. “Is that what this is?”

“Well, it’s a part…” Jocasta started. “I want to make this some sort of official event. A palace where people all over the world, from all different cultures and livelihoods and places get to come and knock the snot out of each other!”

“That sounds…” Hector went red, but Jon couldn’t tell why. It was odd.

“Tournaments are already a thing,” Mallory said.

“Yes, but they’re all for the privileged. The powered. The rich! This, here?” She spread her arms wide. “This is for everybody!”

“Why are you explaining your plans to these men?” Marsha asked with her arms crossed.

“Because, I’m always looking for investors.” Jocasta raised her eyebrow in succession. A very Avery-esque move, Jon noted.

“You can’t just have a tournament of untrained people fighting each other?” Hector said. “You know who could get hurt? In fact, you could probably start a riot if you’re not-”

“And who decides that these people aren’t trained enough?” Jocasta cut in. “Wouldn’t having a palace for people to come fight be the training they need in order to develop good foundational skills?”

Hector lost his words. “I…”

“You look like a strong guy,” Jocasta began. “But you also look like you have a lot of money. Wouldn’t you like to invest any of it into having the proper facilities?”

She began to pace to the side. Hector turned with her.

“I… My family is well off, but we don’t have that type of money to-”

“Wealth,” Jocasta began. “What you have is wealth, right? Your family has enough wealth to hold on to this family heirloom, but they still send their child out to fight? Why? Why even give this to you if you already had it?”

“My father gave it to me after winning a tournament,” Hector answered. Jon felt Hector’s arms begin to tense up.

“Exactly. You got that armor after you won. What do other contestants get when they win? Glory? Money?”

“None of that matters to me,” Hector answered.

“Of course, it didn’t,” Jocasta continued. “Why would someone who already has the resources waste time in a tournament with a whole bunch of other losers if he already thought he could win?”

Jon reflected Mallory’s grimace. It was sudden, but somehow, Jon felt one of the probable answers that Hector was thinking. It was the same reason Jon took the test every time, even if he knew that he was probably going to fail.

Father’s approval.

“You did it because you think fighting’s important!” Jocasta answered. Jon decided that answer also wasn’t off by too much. She continued.

“You were willing to throw yourself down with the rabble and stay humble while doing it.”

She put her hand on her chest. “You know why I dress the way I do?”

“Don’t answer that!” Mallory said quickly as he grabbed Hector’s arm. Hector closed his mouth.

“When I dress like this, I give people, mainly men- but even some women, the illusion of power. They see me dress like this and they think they have control over me. They can see it! You’ll be surprised how many yeses I get because people think I’ll bend over and do whatever they want!”

Marsha rolled her eyes and shook her head. However usual this was to her, it was still captivating to Jon.

“What they don’t realize is that it’s me who has the power.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” Hector said, scowling. Unlike his usually dismissive questions, Jon felt that Hector was actually burning for an answer inside.

“Because you, for all it’s worth, have spent the entire time not looking at me.”

“I… pay attention!” Hector went red.

“I'm not talking about a peek, everyone takes a peek.”

“That’s 'cause you leave those babies hanging-!” Mallory coughed and covered his mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, continue,” he muttered.

“Wearing this thing means I’ve gotten really good at catching where people’s eyes are looking.” For emphasis, she tapped the side of her temple. “And you’ve been nowhere paying attention to me.”

“That’s not… I’ve been listening this whole time!” Hector demanded.

“Listening, yeah. But when most people avoid staring at me, it’s because they’re afraid of me and my reaction and what I’ll do to them. But not you.”

Jocasta finally walked up to Hector. “You’ve been watching everything. My men. My woman, Marsha over there. Oh, you’ve been super concerned about her. You’ve been looking around the arena, probably for escape plans, or to see if there’s any traps.”

The closer Jocasta got, the more Hector focused on keeping eye contact with her.

“And especially… your friends,” she said, stepping up close to Jon.

She stood right in front of Hector. And that was when Jon saw it.

Hector’s eyes made a quick flash, over in Marsha’s direction.

Jon took a peek in Marsha’s direction as clandestine as he could, and he saw that even if her arms were still crossed, Marsha was more tense than she had been earlier.

“You're worried about your friends.” Jocasta stepped in between Hector and Jon.

This was what finally caused Hector to make a step himself, establishing his eyeline with Jon.

“I’m not worried about Jon,” Hector said, his eyes focusing back on her.

“You’re not. You obviously trust him. I can tell these things.”

Jocasta tried to take a step forward towards Mallory. Hector quickly stepped back so that he was in her path.

“We could use someone like you in the arena,” Jocasta told him. “Come on Help me out. I can tell you care.”

“I… I’m here on a mission,” Hector said. “And as long as you don’t interfere with it, then I don’t have any business with you.”

“What! It’s that punk!” Milo’s voice echoed from above. He soon eventually landed in the middle of the arena.

“Hey, dunce, what are you doing here?” Milo asked.

“Leaving,” Hector muttered. He didn't move yet.

They might have been similar heights, but Jocasta seemed like she was standing over Hector. Hector, however, wasn’t one to back down.

“Let’s go,” Hector said, turning and walking away.

Milo kicked at the floor. “But I just finished running errands for this woman and-”

“Let’s go!” Hector turned swiftly and yelled at Milo.

This was the first time since the tournament Jon saw Milo get scared straight, but even then, it had been Mercy, and not Jon.

“Hector…” Mallory began.

“It’s… it’s getting late,” Hector said quietly. “You know how Callach gets. He says he doesn’t worry but…”

“You’re right.” Milo crossed his arms. “I’m finished being in this witch's presence for one day. No offense.

Jon saw a swift smile on Jocasta’s face.

She’s… happy?

Hector began to walk away first. Thalia stopped by Jon’s side.

“We’re leaving,” Jon said to her simply, not sure what she would make of it.

Thalia turned and bowed. “Bye, Marsha. Bye, JoJo.”

“Bye, little one,” Jocasta said with a sweet smile.

“I’m not that small!” Thalia replied. She looked at Jon.

Right. I have to leave.

Jon looked at Mallory. Mallory cocked his head in Hector’s direction.

“Hey, kid, don’t forget this!” The voice cue was just enough for Jon to reach up and catch a small bag.

Jon opened it. There were a bunch of gold coins.

“You did good work today!” Jocasta said. “And Marsha isn’t begging me to kill you. You can come back whenever you want!”

Jon couldn’t have imagined wanting to ever come back, but he was happy to have something for his troubles. He muttered a quiet “thank you” with a nod and went up to Mallory. Before he turned, he saw Marsha run up and whisper something else in Jocasta’s ear.

Hector had gotten to the purple entrance curtain when his Jocasta called out towards him.

“Thank you for your presence… King errant Lord Hector of Resden…”

Hector stopped before the curtain. Mallory lost his breath next to Jon.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hector stepped through the curtain.

Both Jon and Mallory began to breathe again. Jon didn’t know what it meant that Jocasta had this information. He was still trying to understand just how well Hector was known in this sides of the land.

When Jon, Mallory, and Thalia stepped through the curtain, but Milo and Hector were waiting in the alley, they weren’t paying attention to the new arrivals.

“She just invoked your name and title like it was nothing!” Milo called out. “You’re not gonna do anything about it!”

“Shut up," Hector growled.

“But dude-”

“Don’t interact with that woman!” Hector yelled finally.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Milo responded, raising his voice in kind.

“Milo-”

“Why should I listen to you!” Milo added.

Hector began to yell when he finally made eye contact with Jon. Jon wasn’t ready to contribute anything to the conversation. He expected a question from Hector.

Hector took a breath. “Because, Milo, this woman. She… she makes people do things they want. Even when they don’t think they’re doing it.”

“I don’t listen to anybody-”

“Milo, I’m serious!” Hector growled. “You can’t… she-”

“This is my city!” Milo declared. “My library! Not yours! I decided how I deal with this woman!”

“Milo!” Thalia cut in. “He’s trying to-”

“No!” Hector held up his hand in protest. His other hand was caressing the bridge of his nose. “No. You’re right. Just please, Milo, be careful around her. Promise me.”

Hector’s voice had returned to normal again, if not having become quieter. Milo looked shocked by this.

“Uh… sure… I mean, I was gonna do it anyways… but I promise… because I was gonna…” Milo went quiet.

They all stood there in silence. This seemed like the right move for Jon. He didn’t want to set off either of them, and he felt that was the same sentiment for the rest of the group.

“Doesn’t she ever get cold dressing like that?” Hector uttered.

“Right?” Milo added. “I mean, really.”

Mallory’s palm landed hard on his face. “You guys…”