On the Promised day, Wallace woke up early, hurriedly rousing his brother and new sister-in-law.

As they left the lodging house, they were met by more than a few of Wallace’s friends, who were similarly aware of the fact that today was a special day.

Palmas kingdom, in which the Otmar and Einrode lands lay, was one of five countries that were lorded over by an alliance of three great sects.

The Ironblood-Kings, The Radiant Orrichalcum Gardens, and The Courts of Steel and Amber.

Since finding good talents amongst the common folk, was as difficult as finding rare medicines amongst the prairie grass, it became common practice for these three great sects and the many minor sects that were allied beneath them, to regularly recruit good prospects from the local populace.

Every four months or so, the three great sects would hold a festival one that ended with a tournament for the younger generation of warriors and mages to take part in and a chance at testing one’s attainments with alchemy and essence control.

Today was one such day, a day that Wallace vis-Oddmund had been waiting for. He took his little brother and his sister-in-law down to the heart of Vignale, where music was pumping out into the streets and the common folk cried and roared.

Seeming to go mad over the dazzling sights that their local cultivators had brought out on the display for them.

Be it the sellers of marvelous medicines. Be it the hawkers of mouthwatering delights. Be it the trinkets and toys and weaponry that were being openly traded in roadside stalls. It would seem that almost overnight the affluent city of Vignale had been transformed into a rapturous fantasia.

One complete with radiant fairies, that could entrance any man or women who saw them and men who flew through the air like birds. Unfettered and free, playfully fighting amongst themselves,  in floating arenas.

Carrying on airborne exhibition matches, that were being broadcast via magical projection, to almost the entire city. And anyone who happened to look at Vignale’s sky that day.

“So what are we doing here, exactly…?” said a sleepy-eyed Edwin. Seemingly unmoved by the grand spectacle that was taking place all around him.

A question which got both him and Wallace some odd looks from the crowd they’d come in with.

For her part, while Van had an inkling of what was going on, she was mostly content to observe while carrying on a conversation with Patricia, who’d spent most of the walk over, trying to plumb her for details on what Wallace had been like when he was younger.

“You’ll see.” said Wallace. Slinging his arm across his brother’s shoulder and pushing the two of them through the crowd, like a large bore needle, through heavy cloth.

At some point they all stopped by a cart to buy some kind of glazed meat skewers.

The meat was either lamb or goat, what it was exactly didn’t matter, what mattered was that it had been cooked to perfection. Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside, a melt in your mouth strip of animal flesh, covered in sumptuous, spices, onion crumb and honeyed-glaze.

“Mhm...so good.” said Patricia. Satisfied with the five skewers that she’d quickly dispatched, and almost wishing to go back and go back and get five more.

“Oi...that one was mine, you blighter!” cried one of their crew. Giving the one named Otto, a light kick in the shins.

“Ow, what the fuck?!”

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“You don’t eat another man’s meat, man!” said the incensed Jotun.

“Tch...whatever. You knew what you were getting into when you asked me to hold it for you.” said Otto. Unrepentant, with a smear of sauce from the purloined skewer still on his lips.

“I’d asked you to hold it for me, because my shoe was untied!”

Taking a long route around, so they could see the sights, but keeping a hurried pace, to keep from being too late, Wallace and company eventually reached their destination. The city’s grand arena.

Instead of walking through the open gates they stopped at the booth that would normally have held the ticket-sellers.

“Oh, so that’s what’s got you so on edge today...you just really wanted to see the sights.” said Patricia. Nodding as she was finally able to make sense of her friends pushiness throughout most of the day.

Wallace smiled, eyes bright, brows narrows.

“Right in one, Patty Cakes. There’s a fighter I’ve just been dying to see in action.”

Patricia glowered, she hated that name. Still she said nothing, merely reminding herself to make the man pay for it.

Wallace on the other hand, was too preoccupied to pay the flicker of emotions that played across the young ladies orange visage, any mind.

He took his brother by the arm and absentmindedly called out to the rest of the group.

“Er, you guys go ahead...I’ll catch up.”

“Yeah, man…We’ll save you a seat.” said one of their crew.

“See you there, dude.” said Otto.

Van and Patricia noticed that something was up, while the rest just went ahead to go find seats for themselves as they’d been told to do. Anxious because had they been a little bit slower in their journey through the city-wide festival, they might have come to find the arena closed out, with all its seats already taken.

*****

Cornell Takao, of the Courts of Steel and Amber, and Leon Skinner, of the Orrichalcum Gardens were both elders of the outer-circles of their respective sects.

This was perhaps the twentieth time that Cornell had come out to over his juniors as the represented their sect and tried to recruit from the populace.

While Leon was experiencing this for the first time, having spent most his prior years working within his sect’s medicinal gardens.

Having met, here and there, during other non-related events, and while they happened to be out on their spare time, the two were somewhat friendly.

Thus having found some time to spare, they stood chatting in the hallway as they saw two young Jotnar pass them by.

Green skinned like most other people in the continent of Harta, but with one horn instead of the usual two.

Normally the two wouldn’t have caught the pairs attention, since there’d been countless people passing by in the last few hours or so. However since these two youths happened to stop nearby, it naturally drew the eye.

“Okay, here we are...Now all you’ve got to do is make a good showing, alright?” said the older of the two.

The younger jotun just nodded, seeming sincere enough, but still not really seeming to take the issue seriously.

“Come on man, remember that you’re doing this for the family. For Mom and Dad and Egon and me, hell remember when you’re out there that if you win you’ll be winning for you too. So go out there and show them what you can do.”

“Sure…” said the younger one. His answer slightly milquetoast.

The older jotun, slapped his brother on the arm and strode off. Stopping midway to give his brother a double thumbs up.

“Win little brother...I know you can do it!”

Then the two parted ways. With the younger jotun heading down the stairs that lead to the underground arena where the elimination tournament that was always held before the main event was held. While the older jotun, walked down to the end of the hall hooking a right and heading towards the seat of the aboveground arena.”

Cornell looked at both ends of the hallway with an amused look on his face.

“Can you believe that shit?! So dramatic...”

His friend rolled his eyes, snorting at his friend’s loft manner.

“Yeah, I hear you, man. I imagine that you weren’t the least bit melodramatic when it came to your turn to try out for your sect.”

Cornell shrugged. His beard and skin color hiding the blush that rose to his cheeks.

“Well, not really...my granddad was an advisor for one of the sect’s inner-circle.”

Leon sighed, shaking his head at his friend’s blithe response.

“Wanna make a bet?” said Cornell. Rocking on his heels for a bit, his arms hidden within his robes, letting those voluminous sleeves of his, hang free.

“What?”

“I bet you fifty essence crystals that we don’t hide or hair of that sleepy-eyed doofus, when it comes time for the real show to start.” said Cornell. A bit of wickedness entering his gaze.

Leon closed one eye as he regarded the other man.

“Low level essence crystals, or medium?” said Leon.

“Pft...are we in fucking kindergarten here? Do I look like some tiny sect junior. Medium of course.” said Cornell.

The old cultivator turned thoughtful before giving his response.

“Okay. It’s a bet.” said Leon.

“Okay? You really have money to waste man?! If so, I’m going to have to demand you pay the next time we go out drinking together.” said Cornell. Slightly taken aback that his flippantly offered had been accepted.

“First off, fuck you…. Second, I’ve got a feeling about that kid…Who knows, maybe you’ll end up having to pay this,... your poor broke brother-in-arms,... a little something-something, after all.” said Leon.