Chapter Eight: Broken ideal

The days passed by a dreary haze for him, the world seemed to pulse and change constantly yet he remained constant still unmoved, another three months had passed him by since the attempt, and soon Sol found himself in the middle of Sangeil city. His memory felt somewhat hazy like he’d been living in a dream world and only just woken up. He’d started to get over his failure and was making peace with it.

People moved and walked in clamour, for the tournament was today, competitors, traders and spectators alike bustled in urgency. The tournament also marked nearly half a year since the game began and was drawing a large crowd from the ‘blessed ones’. Sol smiled easily as he watched the world go past. Perhaps magic wasn’t real, he had to accept that, for no longer could he feel that same thrumming in his body that once enlivened him, perhaps it had always been in his mind.

“Damn this crowd!” The old man yelled, slamming his fist into the cart mired in the midst of a sea of comers and goers unable to move an inch “You there hurry up, or I’ll feed ya to my mule!” He roared, the young woman passing in front of the cart, who seemed to be the focus of his ire, glared at the old man and continued on.

“Very tactful Telmin, very tactful.” Sol chuckled.

“Why am I here in the first place?” Lillan questioned looking to the old man, the traffic wearing on her.

“I didn’t ask you to come.” the old man retorted crossing his arms. “What about you boy, you ask the little lady along?”

“Nope.” Sol replied grinning at the little display.

“It’s not my fault, Jill asked me to come along. Sol you’re one of those people who get dragged into problems wherever they go, and Telmin you’re one of those people who create problems wherever they go. Having you two together is like locking a chicken and a fox in the same room and asking what can go wrong!”

“Then you have you’re answer!” The old man declared clapping his hands with glee.

“Don’t mock me!” Lillan yelled waving her spear through the air like a loon.

“But you make it so easy.” Sol complained with a shrug.

“I’m just here to look after the two of you, you could at least make my job easy and show me some respect!” She shouted stamping her feet against the bottom of the cart drawing eyes to them.

“Hey boy, don’t you think this journey will take for ever, with this slow moving herd of sheep brained cattle, in our way, why don’t you go ahead and setup the booth; to the north of the city.” The old man advised.

“A sound strategy!” Sol declared leaping up grin plastered to his face. He reached down and grasped the supplies they had brought in his arms, a large crate full of weapons and armour and another with knickknacks and enough tarps and poles to build the booth along with a fold up counter and a bag of small change. He leapt from the side of the cart in a single movement laughing.

Maybe there was no magic in this world but moments like those were magical in their own right. Sol laughed as he walked away.

“Sol, you bastard, I’ll get you for this!” Lillan thundered

Sol sighed leaving his friends behind. The last couple of months had been hard on him, and them as well. His failure had prevented him from even feeling magic in his body and for quite a while he’d just moped around occasionally trying an experiment to restore his power. But it all amounted to naught, without his goal, his zeal for study had died. He no longer theorised or thought and just ended up running the shop most days. They’d tried numerous things to cheer him up, but it was a wound only time could heal. If he were honest with himself he still felt bitter over it, even now he carried his not book under arm, and on occasion he thought of how to create magical phenomenon and regain his power, idle thoughts that came and went without his notice and left only a bitter taste of abject failure in his mouth. But with time he began to feel freer; he was spending his days enjoying the company of others, and for now that would be enough.

He looked around heading for the northern gate pushing through the crowds of men and women gathered in the streets, moving in pulses and flows with deep undercurrents that were impossible to read. The cities buildings rose high, to tower over those passing below that said they were only two stories in height, which was rare anywhere else. Though not as rare as the castle in the distance, along with the adjoined cathedral could be seen even now, for the city itself was built upon a hill and those two structures towered high above the others, a statement to the world. As Sol approached the northern gate he viewed the walls. They were low, low for medieval walls let alone fantasy walls. For the fantasy genre walls were a point of pride, bulwarks against the forces of evil and boredom, towering far above necessity. This wall stood through three metres high enough to fend off men with swords but would stand no chance against siege weapons or a determined miner. The northern gate itself was set in the wall a wire frame with a portcullis above ready to drop down in times of need. The guards standing by seemed completely at ease and seeing as any force that dared attack them would be sighted miles away with their terrain they had no reason not be. Well except for the pickpockets running amuck through the crowd.

Passing beyond the wall Sol saw a sea of bright colours assaulting him, they swayed in the breeze fluttering and flowing, it was early in the morning so few stalls had been set up but everyone was moving fast and hurrying to claim the best spots and earn the most money. Sol heaving up his wares began to jog searching for the best possible section for the stall.

He made a quick descent as fast as his feet would carry him, eyes constantly gazing over each and every stall that was being set up, their seemed to be a large variety. Here and there a couple of guards directing people where they should and should not put up a stall, to keep the whole area from turning into a winding labyrinth. It seemed all the best positions on the main row to the arena were taken, so Sol decided to move to one of the smaller circles of stalls that had been set up.

The area he selected seemed more geared towards food produce; somewhat like a farmers market except most was precooked or cooking. Though not all Sol could even spy a few live chickens. He stopped by the stall looking at the chickens in their cage.

“Fresh meat tastes better.” The owner replied tapping an oversized knife. Sol nodded slowly, not wanting to anger the man, before moving on with a small smile. Finally he found a vacant lot and settled in. It took him a while to decide which pole went where in the tarp and how to assemble the back wall from the wooden boards he’d been given especially when it came to attaching the weapon racks but it was worth it. Because now he could pull up a stool and take a nap. He checked his pockets to see if he had been pick-pocketed on the journey. Sol found only his notebook inside; he laid it on the counter deciding to use it as a pillow, seeing as it was a slight improvement on the hard wood counter. He yawned settling in to slumber, no pickpocket was smart enough to outwit Sol; he thought chuckling to himself, thinking the line would have been better if he had a last name.

Zenna Zelday

The festival markets were bustling with people now, they had only been open an hour and the crowd was currently small but it was enough to make her uncomfortable, she was used to the wide open hallways of the palace where but a few servants and members of state would pass by on occasion and she was otherwise free from her tormenting family. But it wasn’t so bad she guessed, most people could clearly see the crest on the chest of her cloak and the fact her hood was pulled down over her head, the peculiar shape it formed, identifying her as both a member of the royal house and a mystic, they left her alone a wide berth that none would pass. She entered a food district with the intention sweet snack before the tournament began.

She stopped amid the circle of merchants selling various kinds of food when she noticed a young man reaching into a stall. He was dressed in black and his behaviour was at the very least suspicious.

“Hey!” She called jogging over. The thief turned grinning to her before running off a fist full of gleaming trinkets in hand.

Zenna sighed looking at the stall, at first it seemed abandoned, by its owner who had left for a trip to the nearest lavatory or something similar. Instead she found a young man napping atop the counter. Smiling she looked over the stores only occupant, it was clear he had no idea what he was doing, probably just some merchants assistant who had screwed up. She felt a stab of pity, not only had he set up in the wrong place, according to the usual merchant convention, but he’d also had roughly half of his merchandise stolen. She looked down on the slumbering boy; he looked a year or two young than her and was drooling over the counter head resting on a book.

“Wake up.” She prompted leaning towards him, the boy remained still. She reached out and shook his shoulder. The boy grumbled looking up at her.

“It says the prices over head.” he grumbled looking at her with bleary, grey, eyes.

“I think you’ve been robbed.” She replied trying to hold back a chuckle. The boy turned around and saw, or rather didn’t see, all the missing goods that should have been there. She snickered lightly beneath her robes so he wouldn’t notice.

“Would you believe I’m just that good a merchant?” he questioned looking at her with a weary smile. She laughed grinning at the boy.

“I would if I hadn’t seen one of the thieves running off.” She gave her response looking through his merchandise the boy groaned leaning backwards and nearly tumbling off his stool.

“Here, how about I buy this then.” Zenna smiled pulling out a bag of thirty silver coins, more than enough for covering all the missing items. She picked up the boys book and rushed off in the direction of the arena.

She prided herself on being fast, she had a speed stat of fifteen, but the boy had already leaped over his counter and was chasing after her. She pushed on but he continued to gain. She was surprised for a moment but had decided on her path.

Suddenly a strong had grasped her shoulder. She turned around to see the boy panting behind her.

“I can’t accept all this.” he tried to hand the bag of coins back to her. She smiled to him

“I think you’re being robbed again.” she pointed behind him to his stall.

No one was there.

But by the time he realised this she had invoked one of her divine arts and was already at the entrance of the arena. “Call it payment for making me laugh!” she waved turning to enter the noble section of the stands.

Of course she was not allowed to sit in the royal box, or the noble box, instead her seat was reserved in the commons box. A box where those who had risen from being a simple freemen to heads of state sat. It was a difficult criterion to meet were probably why only four people, including herself, were allowed entry. The first being Dast who sat at the front and the other two being a pair of army officers whose ranks she did not know. She immediately labelled them one and two. It seemed that the competition was already near over, she hadn’t wanted to come anyway, it was just a formality, since she was being given away as one of the prizes, the tournaments senseless violence didn’t agree with her.

The King had decided that while she was not of the Zelday blood, she held the same name and this made it perfectly reasonable to force her into a political marriage. It had been decided without a word of input from her.

As she entered the booth she noticed that the officers were talking in raised tones. “If the Blessed ones are good for anything, they are good for fighting, the addition of that White light guild to the army has been a huge aid.” number one declared, “Aye, but ya must also admit that they’re very clever. Did ya, see the new invention The Seekers brought out. ‘Twas a sight to behold! Imagine if we had that in battle, na man could withstand it, what did they call it again… a cruss balt” number two supplied.

“I still say they make better warriors, and the rate at which they learn is incredible, they fight without fear or apprehension. And the Wildhunt guild has been keeping monsters at bay so it makes our jobs even easier.” Number One pushed his point waving a flask of ale through the air, despite the fact that fine wines had been provided for them he’d brought his own.

“Why da ya think they do it?” Number two questioned leaning forwards.

“It’s because they think it’s fun.” Zenna replied sitting down in one of the chairs near the front on the other side of Dast from officers one and two. “They are a barbaric group who find joy in fighting, and showing just how much better than us they are, all they care for is fame and glory, they have no mind for ‘lesser’ things.” She shook her head in dismissal.

“My lady, do not be so disheartened, I happen to know that some, a rare few mind you, are good people who do not seek those things but came only to escape the woe and pain of their old world and lead simple lives here with simple jobs.” Dast tried to comfort her “take the leader of White light, I have never met a more earnest man. He is set on overthrowing injustice, it is his personal mission to destroy the slave trade in every nation and eradicate discrimination, his raison d’etre. Though if I’m honest his intelligence is a few points below the mark.” As Dast finished his little remark. The official overseeing the match began to speak.

“The finals will now begin, Mons, the monster guild, verses, White Light, the justice guild. Begin!”