“So, what skills do you have?” Ira asked Saren who was following him and Avery to the Colosseum.
“I am an expert in the spear, dagger, sword, bow, and hand to hand combat. I’m proficient in hunting, cooking, tracking, equestrianism, and spearfishing. I’ve also studied military strategy and served in the Imperial military for twenty-five years.” Saren said.
The way Saren had spoken to Ira had changed a lot from when they first met. When Saren approached Ira at the Banquet, he was polite and sincere. After learning of Ira’s true nature, Saren basically turned into a kid meeting his hero for the first time. No, it was even deeper than that, he listened to each one of Ira’s words as if his life depended on it and followed each one of his instructions to the letter.
“Why?” Ira asked.
“I’m sorry, Keeper?” Saren expressed his confusion.
“I meant why did you learn so much?” Ira elaborated.
“My sister is going to be the future Queen of the Dark Elf Empire, and I am to be her guard. It’s necessary to learn a variety of skills to plan for any possible incident. Then there is the fact that our estimated lifespan is eight hundred years, during that time any of those skills could become necessary, Keeper.” Saren explained.
“So all of you live that long?” Ira asked.
“No, Keeper. Only certain lineages are blessed with longevity, those that do usually can't conceive until they have reached five hundred years of life.” Saren answered.
“Wait...So, how old are you?” Ira asked curiously.
“I will be eighty this year, Keeper.” Saren said.
Ira stopped to look at the Dark Elf Prince with an evaluating gaze. “Really?”
Saren looked to be similar to Ira in age, at least 18 or 19 years old. The truth was that Elves who held longer lifespans didn’t fully mature until they were at least 100 years old.
“Yes, Keeper. Although I am quite young, I am confident that I won’t fail your expectations.” Saren said with a solemn and devoted look.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Ira said as he spotted a stand with dozens of pastries on display behind glass containers. “You want anything?” He asked Avery.
“I’m fine.” Avery responded as she watched him approach the owner with erratic eyes.
“How much?” Ira asked with an excited smile.
The Free City was far different from the Capital, the variety of pastries alone made Ira appreciate the city a bit more. Then there was the fact that it was a place that celebrated culinary advancements so the quality of the food would have to be good to not be outdone by competition.
The middle-aged woman running the stand saw the joy in Ira’s expression and decided to give a discount, “Ten Kroen.”
“...Kroen?” Ira looked completely lost.
“Are you not from the Free City? Kroen is the standard currency used here.” The woman explained.
“So you don’t take Gre?” Ira asked.
“It’s a hassle to exchange, but this time I’ll make an exception.” The woman said with a smile.
“Great.” Ira said with a laugh as he waved his hand and dropped a several dozen Gre onto the stand. “I’ll take everything.”
“That’s not enough for…” The woman realized that the several dozen Gre was actually worth one thousand each. “T-This is too much!” She hurriedly said.
Ira waved his hand over each pastry. Cakes, cookies, pies, muffins, everything he could get his hands on vanished into thin air until only an empty stand was left.
“Keep it, lady.” Ira said as he walked away with a satisfied smile.
Avery shook her head at Ira’s obsession with sweets, while Saren made a surprised expression before nodding to himself.
“The Keeper likes pastries.” Saren said as if attempting to memorize that piece of information.
…
The Colosseum was a huge stone structure that could fit thousands. In the center of it was a large area filled with sand where the fights took place. High above the spectator's stands were specially constructed booths that were large enough to hold the diplomats and attendees from each country. Then there was a separate booth where the monarchs and leaders sat together, far away from the eyes of their subordinates. The stands were filled with Free City inhabitants who paid ten times the normal amount to witness the battle between each country. The amount of revenue being generated was almost enough to construct a second city.
There were a few random people fighting each other in the arena, but the crowd showed a lively response, mostly because they were excited by what was to come.
In the large booth that all countries shared, Leonard constantly looked around for Ira.
“It looks like your friend is too scared to fight. It seems that you and the Dark Elves put too much faith in him.” A Parvian man sighed regretfully.
Leonard remained silent under the provocations, but his brothers looked happy to see him being taunted.
“Why would that Ira fight for someone who let his assistant die? Irving was like family to you and you ran away while he was murdered, it's pitiful.” The Second Prince taunted.
The Third Prince laughed, while the First Prince quietly smiled. Leonard clenched his bandaged hand tightly but didn’t respond.
“Fourth Prince, if your Kingdom were to be entrusted to you, wouldn’t you abandon your own people for safety?” A Tel’vian official asked. They looked down on nobility and royalty greatly, preferring their own authoritarian method of ruling instead.
The laughter, insults, and taunts never ceased, but Leonard did his best to remain stoic.
Down near the Colosseum stands, Lowell oversaw the announcements of the bout. “Next up, we have the third-ranked mercenary from the Grenitian Kingdom versus a highly decorated officer from the Tel’vian Empire.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Leonard glanced at the fight with disinterest but a little while later the Second Prince slammed his hand on an armrest in frustration. Carter had lost the fight with the Tel’vian Officer, but it wasn’t an easy win for the latter. In all honesty, the Second Prince should have been completely fine with it.
“You were quick to insult me, but at the very least I know Ira won’t lose so quickly.” Leonard said.
The Second Prince puffed up with anger but settled down soon after. “Say what you want, but Ira isn’t here.”
The Fourth Prince ignored him and just looked on.
Next up was Rhys and an Elf from the Great Forest. What happened next couldn’t be called a fight as Rhys easily incapacitated the Elf with a bolt of lightning. The crowd went silent before cheering loudly. The matches progressed on until the most anticipated time came to pass.
“Now, I’m sure many of you came because of rumors you might’ve heard. I can now say that there is some truth to those rumors, Cyprian Aurell, The Sword Saint, and Ira, the highest ranked Grenitian Mercenary, have decided to settle their differences. Not only that, but both the Tel’vian Empire and the Elves of the Great Forest have animosity with Ira.” Lowell in an attempt to stir the crowd.
It was clear that his attempt worked as the crowd erupted into a frenzy following the pieces of new information coming to light. Of course, the “rumor” of the fight happening was intentionally spread out by the Merchant’s Circle which also served to justify the price of spectating.
Cyprian appeared in the arena with a plain looking sword in hand and a set of white robes. Cheers resounded from all around as a lot of people in the Free City were aware of Cyprian’s exploits.
Cyprian didn’t react to the praises of the audience, he just kept his serious composure. He was aware that Ira was no easy opponent and if he were to become arrogant and prideful he would be the one to suffer. After Ira mentioned his ability of control over the Red Moon he had some people look into Ira’s background. Only two conclusions could be drawn from the information gathered and that was, Ira was incredibly strong and incomprehensibly unpredictable.
After a few minutes, everyone noticed that the man in question had yet to appear and the crowd began to stir with dissatisfaction.
Lowell’s expression began to deteriorate by the second as he thought of what would happen if Ira didn’t show up.
“Sir Cyprian, would you like to say a few words to Ira.” Lowell quickly said. A few insults toward the absent party would prolong the anger of the spectators.
Cyprian nodded before a translucent cloud of spirit energy formed under him and carried him upward toward the podium.
“Ira…” Cyprian’s somber voice echoed throughout the Colosseum. “If you are not here then I apologize for speaking ill of you, but if you are here...You are a coward. The Dark Elves revere you...They see you as some sort of prophet, but if you hide away then it shows you are completely undeserving of their admiration.”
The crowd burst into cheers and hurled insults at Ira, whom they had never met when Cyprian finished.
“Yeah, fuck that guy!” An abnormally loud voice shouted before it was met with agreement.
“Coward!”
“Bastard!”
Huddled between the crowd was Ira seated in the stands having an entire cake to himself, and was the first one to yell insults at...himself.
“Keeper…” Saren made a complicated expression.
“It's hard not to get caught up in the atmosphere, Saren.” Ira said with a smile as he closed his eyes and took everything in.
Avery sat next to him without commenting much. Honor to a Valkyrie was useless, they preferred to let the battles speak for themselves. Instead of dying honorably, they would rather fight till their last breath and die without grace. That being so, Avery was more than confident that Ira could win against anyone attending the Summit.
…
Far off in some corner of the Colosseum, The Tel’vian soldier who wanted to fight against Ira sat in a room with his friends and those who wanted to gain his respect. He had a strong physique and a face covered by a thick beard. His hair color was, of course, the predominant blonde color found throughout the Tel’vian Empire. His name was Dimitri, and he was a soldier who had become quite famous throughout the recent days in the Empire.
“Dimitri, there is a messenger here for you.” A Tel’vian man said as he came to his side.
An average looking man appeared in Dimitri’s view and bowed politely before he spoke, “I know of a way you can get Ira to fight.”
Dimitri’s expression didn’t change as he looked at the messenger. For some reason, he felt that he needed to be cautious, but ignore the feeling as the messenger clearly wasn’t a threat.
“Why would I want that?” Dimitri asked.
“If you were the one to draw Ira out wouldn't it show everyone the might of the Tel’vian Empire?” The messenger asked.
“What do you want?” Dimitri questioned with an unshifting expression. He wasn’t stupid enough to fall for persuasion or flattery.
“The one I work for only wants you to consider us if there is ever talks about the Airship, that's all. This is really more of a personal grudge toward Ira, but we aren’t in the position to take action against him, so we can only make act through cowardly means.” The messenger spoke with a humble bearing with no clear hint of a falsehood.
“...Fine. Tell me and I’ll decide on what to do.” Dimitri said as he narrowed his eyes.
…
The insults appeased the crowd for a few minutes, but after Ira didn’t show frustrations began to surface. Lowell began to curse at Ira in his heart as he watched the mood fall. He spoke to several people about getting the Elf to fight against Cyprian, but they expressed how impossible it would be.
“Ladies and Gentleman…” Just as Lowell was about to start his attempt at controlling the backlash, Dimitri came out into the arena and straight to the podium.
“...I believe Sir Dimitri has something to say.” Lowell gestured toward Dimitri as if to deflect some of the tensions.
Dimitri walked up the stair of the podium and smiled proudly before he spoke, “Ira…”
The crowd fell into silence as they waited for Dimitri to say something that would draw Ira out.
“...Aren’t you just hiding behind your wife? Maybe someone should challenge her to a fight instead.”
Dozens of diplomats began panicking, especially on the Grenitian side. Testing the limits of the Valkyries wasn’t a good idea at all. Even the Tel’vians showed some disagreement with the way Dimitri went about things.
…
The spectators stayed silent as if waiting for Ira to respond, but all they heard was a loud laugh that spread around due to the lack of sound coming from the crowd.
“Alright.” Ira said loudly before he stood up drawing the attention of everyone present. “I’ll fight… but only if it’s all three of you.” He said.
Lowell was the first to speak during the eerie silence, “D-Do you agree?” he asked Cyprian and Dimitri.
“If that’s the only way for him to fight me, I agree.” Cyprian said with some unwillingness. It went against his own morals, but Ira asked for it himself.
Dimitri nodded with interest, unaware of how much Ira cared about Avery. One would’ve thought that the Parvian noble was a clear example of where Ira stood on matters of insults toward Avery. Most assumed that because the Parvian was a minor noble that Ira dared to injure him, but if they knew the truth they would exercise more caution. In fact, if Dimitri knew he would be able to realize that someone was using him as a pawn.
Athal also stepped into the arena, “I agree.” He quickly voiced his agreement as if he was afraid Ira would change his mind.
The crowd responded with pure excitement as the moment they wished for exceeded their expectations.
“You’ve heard them, Sir Ira. Do you still wish to challenge them?” Lowell asked.
“Keeper...You don’t need to fight all three.” Saren said with an urging tone. He was aware that harm could come to Ira and that the Dark Elves chance of a future would follow it. He just wasn’t aware of Ira’s abilities.
“It’s clearly a scheme, Ira.” Avery said without worry.
“So what should I do?” Ira asked.
“Kill the Tel’vian. Then we’ll find whoever decided to send him out as bait and kill them too.” Avery responded indifferently. "You're also more than welcome to hurt the other two." She added.
“...I really love you.” Ira smiled brightly at Avery before he vanished from sight.
The spectators weren’t even able to express their shock as he appeared in the arena before they had a chance.
“Remember, you all agreed to this.” Ira said before drew his sword and planted it into the ground.