The city was a forest, and that forest was of string. From the cores of the unaware, the soul strings did rise out towards the heavens before bending about to reach their other end of their tethers. A forest whose pillars ranged from shining whites to dreading blacks. Each string painting the deep interconnectedness of its citizen. The strings whispered of friendship and rivalry, bias and admiration. Each bounded soul shared a connection and the strings told of it all.
A forest could speak for those who listened, and Arete was listening. She had never been one much to enjoy festivities, but their congregations of knots always proved useful to insights: and that’s what they were, not humans, not people, not individuals with dreams and aspirations, loves and hates, but simply knots in the grand weave of the soul strings. Something easily untied and rebound anew, a task trivially simple when the strings proved so tangible to her fingers.
Arete sat, her legs pressed upon her chest and her fingers strumming across a few winding strings that past her. She played upon the strings like a harp, their vibrations played soothsayer to her melancholic malaise. She played her song upon the strings and a pair of lovers became indifferent, a passing smith suddenly deigned to adopt a begging orphan, a rich heiress was inundated with a chronic depression, the drunk became enlightened, and the scholar forgetful.
The changes were so easy for her to make, the path of fate so fragile, uncertain, what was one to do or become? Fate was indifferent, a misnomer who lazily altered her tune with the idle play of a single spiteful mokoi atop a thatch roof.
She was spiteful, these knots were an irritant. They were arrogant and greedy; they hoarded the bounty of Trammel and derided the mokoi who pleaded for a simple share. Their hearts were poisoned yet those strings of fate somehow managed to make such spiritual rot beauteous.
Arete was suddenly disrupted from her daydreaming upon sighting a disturbance in the forest. A grand coil of soul strings bulged outwards and arced around in inefficient curvatures before returning on their paths. There was something there in the city which caused the soul strings to almost recoil away. Arete found jealousy envelope her over that power.
She adorned her mask, rose from where she sat and began making her way towards the anomaly, unable to contain her curiosity.
As the monarch of humanities greatest enemy, one would think that it would be difficult to casually stroll about the human infested city without a care, but it was times like these in which Arete had to begrudgingly appreciate the ease which with the soul strings bended to her. A simple tug at those wiggling strings and the bystanders would ignore her as being just as uninteresting as the rest of the pathetic masses. An extra tug or two and she could even part the throng of people saving herself from the irritant of possibly brushing shoulders with these savage apes.
With her subtle nudging influence Arete managed to find herself at the anomaly in no time at all though now that she arrived, she wished that it could have taken her longer. It was that wretched animal, the grotesque fox nearly unbound by strings, and it was her upcoming opponent.
The fox, or rather as the tournament deigned to call it, the Animal, was standing upon its hind legs to reach up onto a counter, its nose twitching gleefully as it whiffed the freshly baked bread. The odd creature with seven eyes didn’t seem to disturb the happy baker who treated the creature with the odd ends of his baked dozens. Not even that horrible gash that ripped the fox’s odd seventh eye closed granted the slightest wince from the man. The Animal’s unreasonably long tail wagged giddily, bellowing up clouds of dust as it gorged on a particularly buttery pastry.
Disappointed—and slightly annoyed—Arete supposed she may as well make her trip worth it and try one of these blessed scented foodstuffs. She released her grip on the surrounding soul strings ignoring the sudden jolt of fear by everyone around her and approached the food stall. As soon as the rotund baker spotted his newest customer, the smirk fell from his face and his body stiffened tight. Once more, Arete ignored the unspoken insult and spake, “How much for one of what the fox is eating?”
The man yipped in panic at the sting of her voice, but with a few focused breaths reclaimed his calm. He had to remind himself that the same reason that this monstrosity could stand before him without the entire city’s guards bearing down upon her was also the reason he need not cry at her every move. The protections of the Tournament were as much a shackle upon her as they were a shield. The man clenched his fists and steeled his will. He tried throwing her his best glare, but it faltered limply against the indifferent porcelain mask; regardless, he spoke with as much authority as he could muster, “We don’t serve animals here.”
The fat baker’s surety fell to a whimpering cowardice at Arete’s irritated growl. A guard off to the side kept his sweaty hand on his hilt listening worriedly to the interaction between the two. The guard waited with baited fear for the mokoi to break the rules first and grant him permission to slay her where she stood, as if there were any possibility of him ever succeeding in such a feat. Arete put her hand in her coat’s pocket ignoring the sound of unsheathing iron to her side and was about to pull out a few coins of copper until her motion stilled as a wet poke pressed against her side. Arete turned to look at the odd sensation and found herself staring at the Animal eye to eye… to eye… to eye? Arete’s seven-eyed enemy then nudged the remainder of its pastry towards her. The partially mangled breaded good was now cold and dewy with slobber, any butter which had once adorned the pastry having been cleanly lapped away leaving only the carved troughs of an overzealous tongue in its wake.
Arete watched her adversary’s act of goodwill and only found herself more bewildered by the creature’s inexplicable behavior. This creature had somehow been lucky enough to find itself untethered by the wretched manipulations of the soul strings. There was no person, thing, or event that could manipulate or cheat it, and yet it willfully of its own volition chose to forge its own string of fate. It was the only soul string that Arete could see binding to the Animal, but still she had never seen such a thickly weaved bond before.
Why would someone who had found the secrets to cutting themselves free of the web of influence then choose to keep the worst offender tied? Why would someone when confronted with an uncaring rival give that rival a pastry? It was clear by how friendly the Animal was with the city’s residents that it had allied itself with the humans, but as Arete retained that eye contact she saw no malice or fear in the Animal.
Arete broke off their staring contest and looked at the red string of fate spool out of the Animal’s one mangled eye and rise up, its tremendous weight enough to push all other soul strings aside and wander off to connect to another soul somewhere out there.
“Thank you.” Was all she could think to say, and she took the offered gift without any intention of eating the disgusting leftovers. The Animal yipped back happily and sauntered away to accept ear scritches and treats from some other merchant. Her mind too distracted, Arete didn’t even bother to hide herself from others. She ambled her way back towards the arena completely ignorant of the fearful whispers and insults that followed her. She was thinking of that red string, so thick, she found her mind refused to even think of it as a string; it was far too large, too grand.
Once having returned back at the arena, Arete’s mind finally registered that she was still carrying that soggy piece of sickly bread. She gave the snack a testing whiff and with the sudden assault to her nostrils she promptly threw the grody gift into the trash.
After that irritating encounter with the Animal and missing out on what looked like a genuinely delicious pastry because the chef was a racist, Arete was ready to call it a day and just be happy she didn’t accidentally start a war. Sadly, that incessant irritant called fate had other plans.
“Ah, Arete! Vonderfull to zee you.” Arete could already feel the migraine before she even finished tuning to face the source of the voice. “I vas actually looking for you. You zee, Zobriquet and I vere reminizing about Allons-y and ve vere vondering how she haz been?”
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Arete swallowed her rage and simply replied through gritted teeth, “She’s dead. Killed in action during the second human-mokoi war. She was trapped in the rain theatre when you refused to send troupes to help.”
Arete felt as if she was mere seconds away from murdering the Vampire; meanwhile, he pondered over her answer completely unaware of her roiling emotions. “Vhat a shame; She vaz a good lay. You know if ve had met a few yearz later I could have been your father.” The Vampire laughed at his little joke, Arete was less than pleased.
Her tail tightened around the whip hidden under her red coat when in a sudden bout of uncomfortably perfect timing, Dionysus turned the corner, a few mouths on the back of his head letting their hushed conversation fall to silence as he noticed them. “Well, if it isn’t my two most troublesome contestants! I hope you two aren’t planning on overthrowing the government and restarting the war.” Arete opened her mouth ready to deny any such thing, but Dionysus spoke again before she had the chance. “Just kidding, I don’t actually care.” Dionysus continued walking by oblivious to Arete’s tension, or perhaps just indifferent, and left.
Arete turned back to the Vampire, finding that hating him alone was more effort than it was worth. “You know what, I have a match to prepare for. I know preparation is a foreign concept to you, so I hope you’ll be too dead to learn your lesson after your match. Goodbye.” She swiveled in place and left.
She remembered that after the first round of the Tournament, a team of wizards had gone to the arena to clean up any damages and return it to pristine condition for the next fight. Given that fact, why was there a massive tree covering almost the entire arena grounds?!
Dionysus’s many mouths echoed out to the gathered audience. “Welcome back, it has been a long and tiring week but fret not for we have an exciting match today! As many of you have likely noticed, there has been an adjustment to the arena grounds. A side effect of having the sixty-four most powerful people in the world combat one another is that sometimes our staff cannot match their strength and repair the damages. Though we have tried, it would appear that this tree has been magically imprinted and are now a permanent feature of our arena!” Dionysus exclaimed trying to be a showman but coming out more as exasperated. “Thank you to the Game and the Topiary for your contributions to the Tournament.” He deadpanned, collecting a few shadenfreudic chuckles from the crowd.
Dionysus marched on regardless, “Today’s fight will be extremely… interesting shall we say. We could not have two more conflicting personalities battle. First of all, we have a creature who my professional analysts claim is a baffling anomaly of inexplicable terror!” The crowd gasped in shock. “When I asked them if I should make protective countermeasures for the city, they told me it wouldn’t be necessary since it was too cute to be a problem, I welcome the Animal!” The audience cheered and clapped on but when they saw the small fox with the beauteously large tail trot on stage the cheers turned to cooing awes.
“Next we have a very special contestant with us which I feel requires a small disclaimer.” Most of the crowd stopped fawning over the Animal focusing on Dionysus, both intrigued and confused by what he meant. “I would like to remind everyone that the Tournament is a contest done in jovial rivalry, it is neither political, nor opinionated. The Tournament Corporation cares only to show you—our precious audience—the most powerful fighters the world has to offer regardless of origin.” The audience was now beginning to feel a little fearful.
“With that in mind, I now have the unique opportunity to perhaps introduce the most important figure of my entire career as director. She is one of the most accomplished individuals of the second human-mokoi war, she is unarguably one of the most pivotal members to its end, and one of those to find the most success from its results. I introduce now to the world for the first time… The New mokoi khan: queen Arete the Curio!”
Arete really wished that the director could have at least tried to not paint the largest target possible on her back. She walked on stage being greeted with a mixture of horrified gasp, angered jeers, and tossed food goods, one of which she noticed was a better conditioned version of the pastry gifted to her by the Animal.
Dionysus on the other hand was loving the reaction. “Clearly everyone is very eager to see the match’s results. So, I won’t hold you any longer. Let the match begin!”
Arete jumped backwards building distance between her and that canine challenger. She drew herself into a tight focus, shut her mind off from the jeering crowd and watched only the enemy. She watched in bewilderment as the Animal jumped, span in midair about a half circle and landed, where it then proceeded to circle around Arete rear pointed first, swiveling its head around its forelimbs so it could peer backwards at her. The fox swished its tail aggressively as if the soft appendage could somehow damage her. She really wasn’t sure how to respond to her opponent, the only reaction she found suitable being to simply tilt her head confused at the sight of the Animal bending its head down to peer backwards through its legs at her.
Testing her opponent, Arete slowly pulled her tail out from under her red frock coat, and with it unsheathed her bladed whip. The Animal visibly flinched at the provocation, but rather than remain passive it lunged towards her hind first and violently scratching with its back claws.
The awkward backwards movement was easy to dodge, and she riposted with a heavy swing of her whip, its path carving a void of destruction tearing through reality itself. Already facing away from her, the Animal quickly jumped out of reach. Arete lunged ahead and cracked her whip at the fox again who simply kept running away. She chased further but it wasn’t long before the Animal jumped on to the tree and with its sharp claws clambered straight up it with concerning ease. Arete ended her chase and watched as the Animal too stopped, perching on a thick branch high up and peering down at her.
With a running start she lunged towards the tree kicking off its trunk and trying to wedge her feet against any branches gunning for the straightest path to her prey. Regardless of her nimble assault, the Animal was too fast. Its claws were able to navigate the magical woods with near flight like grace. Trying to outwit the inferior species, Arete dashed to the side attempting to catch her opponent by surprise on the other side of the tree. Spotting her in front of it, the Animal swiftly turned around so that its rear remained facing her. She dashed back to the opposite side of the tree and flank again but instead watched as again the Animal aimed its rear at her.
Arete relaxed her posture and waited; however, the Animal never initiated an attack. Unable to find threat in the soft tail and bum facing her, she took a moment to think. Wanting to test her new theory, Arete leaped up to a higher branch and dove over her opponent to land right in front of it. As soon as the Animal caught sight of Arete’s maneuver it scrambled around tumbling over itself, nearly falling off its branch, so that by the time she had landed it had already turned bum pointed. Once she landed, the Animal welcomed her by lunging rear first towards the branch she stood on and kicking her off. Arete prematurely ended her fall catching a nearby branch with her tail and used the gathered momentum to launch herself around the Animal trying to circle towards its face.
By this point in the fight the audience was now watching one of the most feared beings in the world, queen of their eternal enemy now running circles around a tree with a small canine that continuously pointed its butt towards her. The crowd which had just a few minutes ago been jeering and tossing rocks at the mokoi were now laughing at the comedy at hand.
Arete felt the temptation on her face, the mask calling to be used. She shook away the thought, it was too early to reveal so much. Instead, she stopped her pointless goose chase and reached out towards the Animal’s string of fate. The second it saw her reach for it and that string so amicably pull towards her it bellowed out a thunderous howl that shook the city and ruined any raucous moods in the stands. The whole tree that the opponents stood on vibrated and shook free many a leaf. Being so close to the booming sound, Arete was sent cringing to her knees.
“Why!?” She shouted back to the creature both flabbergasted and annoyed, a little blood leaking from under her mask. “Why do you care so much about that stupid string?” The fox barked back almost intellectually, if not still incomprehensibly. “Its just some useless human! She probably doesn’t even remember you!”
The fox’s returning bark was confident, uncaring, as if whether its deeds went appreciated were irrelevant to the very deed’s value. Arete hated the fact that she could gleam so much from the bark just as much as she did what it meant. “How many times? Over and over again, you protect that string, you do so much for so many, and how many times was the favor returned? Do people even know your name? Do any remember Basal or are you just an Animal?”
The Animal turned around so it faced Arete truthfully, its neck up high and proud, and it barked powerfully. Despite the linguistic barrier, everyone knew the words, felt the declaration: It was Basal.
“You’re a fool! You’ll stand by that string and keep being beaten down, punished for your honor until one day the punishment leaves you unrecoverable.” Basal barked back uncaring, it mattered not. Basal was fulfilled enough by its efforts.
“Fine, if you want to destroy yourself then who am I to stop you!” Basal did not respond so Arete stood and approached the irritating Fox, but it did not flee, or ready itself for a fight. “Is that really what you want?” She asked softly almost pleading for it to find sense.
Basal nodded.
“It will be your death.”
Basal barked accepting.
Arete reached her arm towards Basal’s string of fate, but it did not retreat. She clamped her arm around the red string pooling out of its eye and raised an uncertain bow at the creature. “Are you sure? Last chance.”
Basal barked.
Arete pulled the string.
The Animal was no more.