Chapter 343: 343. The Morning Before

Returning to the real world was sudden. Dallion didn’t have a moment’s time to prepare. From his point of view, it felt more as if he’d entered another realm rather than coming out of it. After going through such an experience, one could truly appreciate the story of the monk who, after having a dream of being a butterfly, could no longer be sure he wasn’t a butterfly dreaming of being a monk.

Get a grip! Nil shouted bringing Dallion to the here and now. Leave quickly or you’ll get caught!

Wheels started turning in Dallion’s mind as he slowly remembered where he actually was. It had been a few seconds since he had run up the staircase, leaving Vend and Spike to deal with some problem outside. Officially, Dallion was supposed to have come here to practice his whip blade attacks.

And no splitting! The echo added.

I know, I know. Dallion lied as he rushed for the door. Any splitting would be noticed by Vend and lead to further questions. Please don’t creak, Dallion thought as he opened the door. To his relief, neither the hinges nor the door made a sound. Thanking the door mentally, Dallion then rushed back to the second floor.

Relax your breathing, Nil said. And straighten your clothes.

Right, Dalliuon did as he was asked.

You really have to work on that area. The more you keep your opponents guessing the better and you can’t keep them guessing if you’re as noisy as a swarm of shardflies.

Ahem, Gleam said.

For half a minute, Dallion leaned against the staircase railing, waiting. Dozens of scenarios went through his mind. What would Vend do when he returned? Would he suspect anything? Could Dallion remember the conversation they were having? That remained the greatest problem with spending long periods in the awakened realms. Even when Dallion tried, there would be small details he missed or even important ones. When Dallion had initially gone to the guildhall, he was wrecked. Now, he couldn’t even remember the exact reason he was upset with Eury. He still missed her, but he had come to accept the almost certain breakup. In a few hours, the whole thing would likely be put to rest.

Loud arguments escalated to shouts. Apparently, a group of drunk tourists were set on entering the Icepicker guildhall, thinking it was a tavern. Considering how drunk they sounded, explaining that they were mistaken was bound to fail under the best circumstances. Having Spike attempt it was a recipe for disaster. Part of Dallion suspected that he would only escalate the situation to “legally” start a fight. Thankfully, soon enough, things started to calm down. Dallion was able to distinctly hear the city guard being mentioned on a few occasions. Another minute later, the door opened again and the two Icepicker elites went back in. Taking the initiative, Dallion went back down.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The usual things,” Spike replied. Dallion could feel the disappointment emanating from him. “Some drunks wanted to go in for a drink. That’s what we get for buying a tavern for our guildhall.”

“This was a tavern?” Dallion blinked.

It was a financial decision, Nil said. The guild isn’t particularly flush with money, as you’ve probably noticed. Having to decide between this place and sharing a guildhall, the guild master decided to go for this. The downside is that every now and again, we get people thinking that we’re in a tavern.

Dallion wouldn’t have imagined that, but it explained the feasting area in the garden outside, as well as why the Flameforge guild looked so much more corporate.

“Supposedly,” Vend replied in an annoyed voice. “Was before my time.”

“Any chance there’s some food hidden about?” Dallion asked. “I could use some after training.”

Both the elites looked at him, after which Spike laughed.

“Come along then, let’s get you some food.”

The food turned out to be the equivalent of an order. Apparently, Spike, of all people, had echo rings in several pubs and taverns. For the most part, they served as an early warning system to get the staff and patrons to prepare for a potential ruckus. However, the elite had also gotten into the habit of using them to request food be sent to wherever he was. With the festival in full swing, a large number of taverns were open twenty-four-seven, so it was no issue to get them to make a delivery.

Ten minutes later, Dallion, Spike, and Vent were sitting in the designated guard room, enjoying a spread of seafood.

“That’s one thing about the festival,” Spike said, mouth half full. “They always ship in food from the entire empire.”

Considering the price tag, there was no other way to put it. For many businesses, the festival was the same as Black Friday back on Earth.

“So, are you ready for your next fight?” Spike asked.

“Pretty much. I’m still trying to get the hang of this.” Dallion tapped the hilt of his whip blade.

“A whip blade, eh? Give it here for a moment.” He reached out for it. Since he had agreed to pay for the food, Dallion felt he couldn’t refuse.

The elite stood up, then waved the blade about. On several occasions, Dallion saw him split into instances and attempt some rather unsafe swings. In one of those, some serious damage was done to the room, though not to any of the people inside, thankfully.

“Nice weapon,” Spike said, looking at it closely. “You can’t even tell where the seams are.”

“Don’t get too attached to it,” Vend said. “Where did you get it?” He turned to Dallion.

“I made an arrangement. If I manage to level it up, I get to keep it for my fights in the tournament.”

“A lot of trouble for a simple loan.”

“Give the kid a break.” Spike made a few more swings, then handed the whip blade to Dallion, hilt first. “The weapon is worth it. Maybe it’ll get it to the next round.”

“Doubtful,” Dallion said with an icy cold expression. “But not impossible. Who will you be fighting next?”

“They haven’t told me yet. Probably someone from the big five.”

“Spike?” Vent asked.

The other nodded, then took a small pouch from his belt and opened it. There were over two dozen coins inside. However, by the way the man was handling them, Dallion could tell they were more than coins. If he had his kaleiderzisto handy, no doubt he’d see an echo in each.

“Elvira,” Spike said after a few moments. “Not the best matchup, though, could have been a lot worse.”

“Do you know her?”

“Yeah, I have a bit of history with her.”

Instinctively, Dallion leaned forward, curious to hear more. No sooner had he done so, than Vend grabbed Dallion by the shoulder and pushed him back into the chair.

“She tends to drink and break things a lot,” Vend said. “Which makes her move in the same circles as Spike. That was before she became a caravan bodyguard and had to sober up. Merchants don’t usually like bodyguards doing more damage than the things they are hired to protect against.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike waved a hand. “That was a sad day for all of us. The thing about her is that she fights with chains. That makes her more dangerous with each next round. Bottom line is, she’ll go for you the instant the fight starts. Split into as many instances as you can and head right for her. Your biggest chance is to beat her in close combat. It’ll be tough, but you don’t have a prayer at long range combat.”

Chains were quite the exotic weapon. Dallion had considered learning to use them at some point, mostly because of what he had seen in comics and movies. He hadn’t expected he’d end up facing someone with such skills.

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“What skills does she have?” Dallion asked.

“Look at you.” Spike asked. “Asking the right questions. Can it be that our little Dal has fully grown up?”

“Hardly,” Vend replied, ruining the moment. It remained unclear why he remained so displeased with Dallion, though lately there was a lot of that going on.

“She’s got the basic four, so no surprises there,” Spike continued. “The one you really have to look out for is carving.”

Upon hearing that, a quick flashback went through Dallion’s mind. The only person he had seen use carving in battle was a mirror pool leader. Back when Dallion had gone to reclaim the weapons stolen from him by Cloud, the tavern owner at Grey Harbor had made quite the display. It was definitely enough for Dallion to feel uneasy. He had music and his forging skills, but those weren’t as useful in direct combat.

“Chains and carving?” Dallion asked.

“She’s a mercenary, she’ll have daggers. If you remain too close, she’ll switch to those.”

“So, staying too far is a problem and getting too close is a problem.”

“Other than that, you’re pretty much fine.” Spike laughed. “Oh, and don’t let your guard down. She’s a mercenary, so she’ll play dirty.”

During this whole time, Vend didn’t bother giving a single piece of advice. Instead, he just sat there, calmly eating his food, and gageing Dallion’s reaction.

Is this another test? Dallion asked.

With him, it’s always difficult to say, Nil replied. However, I’d caution you against relying too much on either him or Spike.

You think the information’s wrong?

On the contrary, I fear it might be spot on. How he obtained it is of far greater concern. If the organizers wanted to let the participants know who they’d be facing, they could have announced it openly. Respectively, if your strategy is too spot on, that would pose questions.

A sudden chill went through Dallion.

Am I in trouble?

A single fight doesn’t make a pattern. Some people adapt better than others. Maybe you were just lucky or maybe you had faced similar fighting styles before. If you run to Spike before each battle for information, however, it will become noticed. And trust me, if there’s one thing that nobles hate most of all, is anything to ruin their entertainment.

The conversation moved to the guild tournament, which was the highlight of the event. Once the arena winner was acknowledged, members of all eligible guilds would engage in a city-wide free for all, during which each guild aimed to “eliminate” all members of the opposition, becoming the sole power remaining. There was no time limit, but based on past instances, the whole thing never took more than three days to end. The winners would receive recognition from the countess herself on the day of parting—the closing ceremony—before she left Nerosal, bringing the festival to an end.

After the snack was over, Dallion went back to the basement, where he went on training. Gen had made a replica of the fighting field based on the first day of fights, the space being twice as large as before. Dallion’s focus, however, wasn’t on the whip blade alone, but rather his handling of the Nox dagger. Twenty hours later, Dallion took a break, then repeated the whole thing three times more. An hour before dawn, Dallion had done the equivalent of a month’s regimen. In many aspects that was good, though when it came to hunger, he felt absolutely famished.

Six fights remained till the top eight—six fights he had to win. And then there was the matter of the birch protector. Dallion still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to tell her. The reason he persisted with his solo expedition was to find out what the Star wanted there. Something told him that wasn’t the answer the dryad wanted to hear. It didn’t help that the shield wasn’t feeling cooperative on the subject, either.

You must eat, dear boy, Nil reminded.

Lots of places are open by now.

And plenty of people are awake and eager to have a bite before the tournament.

There was no denying that. Faced with the prospect, Dallion went to the only place he knew that he knew would have enough free space to serve him. The only downside was that it was going to cost him quite a lot. For the moment, money wasn’t a huge issue, but if Dallion continued to spend as he did, it could well become so.

“Welcome, sir,” Dallion was greeted the moment he entered the inn in question. A combat split flashed. “Your food will be with you in a moment. And let me congratulate you on your success during the first fight. May the Moons grant you victory today as well.”

“Thank you.” Dallion took his seat. “I’ll do my best.”

Before he could ask whether there were other tournament participants, the woman had gone. So much for a nice conversation. Not knowing what he had ordered felt somewhat unnerving, but at least Dallion could relax that it was something he’d like. And soon enough, three large plates were placed at his table. However, that wasn’t the only surprise. As Dallion started eating, someone else sat across him—someone Dallion had an unpleasant experience with.

“Spectacular victory,” Alien Eval said. “Especially considering that you weren’t supposed to use familiars during the fight. At least no one bothered to consider you could. That’s the problem with the people of this world—so little imagination.”

Dallion stared at him. The mage who had warned him to back off was at the very same table, sitting calmly as if the two of them were good friends. Dallion could see him shimmer, indicating that he, too, wasn’t from this place.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the mage said. “If I wanted to do anything, I would have already. You’re lucky that the imperial found you amusing. He’s eager to see you fight, possibly even make it to champion.”

“I’m eager to become champion as well,” Dallion tried to sound more confident than he was.

Stay calm, Nil said. He won’t do anything here.

How can you be sure about that?

“Maybe you’ll get there.” All sounds beyond the table suddenly ceased. “You were warned not to persist with this. You neither have the skills nor the strength, so keep away.”

“You want me to quit the tournament?”

“I don’t care about the tournament. I don’t want you messing with the Star or the countess, and you’re doing both. Since you didn’t get the hint last time, let me make it clear. Keep away, or you’ll end up like your grandfather, and we both know what that means.”

Dalllion jumped up to his feet. Everyone in the vicinity looked at him, confused. Several people split, creating instances of themselves to check out the situation. Since Dallion remained calm, the situation didn’t escalate. More alarming, though, the mage had vanished, as if he had never been here.

No waiter approached Dallion—more than likely they had already done so in an instance and since Dallion hadn’t done anything rash, they had decided to maintain the calm atmosphere of the place. The only reasonable thing to do was for Dallion to do the same.

You saw him, didn’t you? Dallion asked.

He was with you at the table, dear boy, there’s no doubt about that.

And he’s still eager to stop me.

I wouldn’t be surprised if noble politics are involved. That doesn’t explain why he’s so focused on the Star or the countess. In the grand scheme of things, being the ruler of a county doesn’t make her remotely important, not as far as the Academy or the Imperial family are concerned. The only thing I can say is that you’re not the target, although somehow you seem to be a potential obstacle.

So, what do I do?

For the moment, keep your distance from the Star, and that means no more expeditions in the sword. At least until we figure out more.

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