Chapter 298: Chapter 296: Pride, Meet Hubris

Chapter 296: Pride, Meet Hubris

 

  Stryg rested his back on the round walls of the northern tunnel, one of four tunnels that led into the coliseum’s sandy arena. The tunnel’s gate was shut, but the sounds of the crowd's anticipation were clear even from here.

  Freya stood a few paces away, busy checking her leather armor for any holes or loose straps for the 3rd time in the last ten minutes. 

  “I think your armor is fine,” Stryg said playfully.

  “Just making sure…” Freya’s voice trailed off, her eyes focused on a smudge over her beige leather boots. She pulled out a handkerchief and tried her best to wipe the smudge off. She sighed in frustration, “I wish Callum was here.”

  “Have you forgotten that man is still bedridden from his last match?” Stryg raised an eyebrow. “Plus, he’s got Sylvie doting over him. I really doubt he wants to be anywhere near this place.”

  “Meh, true. But our professors aren’t allowed here. So who else am I going to rely on for fashion advice? You?” Freya laughed incredulously.

  Stryg frowned, “Fashion advice? This isn’t some party.”

  “No, this is my debut as a mage duelist on the world stage. It will be memorable, whether I want it to or not. Might as well look amazing while I’m at it.”

  “I’m glad our team captain has her priorities straight,” he said dryly. “You do realize who you are fighting right?”

  “Yeah, Kalliste’s lackey.”

  “She’s Cornelius’ niece.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And Cornelius is the one who taught me green and brown magic–”

  “So you want me to go easy on her?” Freya grinned, “I never took you as the sentimental type.”

  “Shut up and let me finish,” Stryg said pointedly. “Cornelius is cocky, self-centered, and he talks a lot, much like you.”

  “Hey, that’s not true–!”

  “Let me finish. Cornelius used to blabber on and on about his magical skills and his family’s greatness all the time. At some point, I ended up looking into it and he was right. His family is well known for producing powerful mages. Even Lord Noir approved of him.”

  Freya sighed and looked at him, “I know. The Great House of Rotrusk is a mage family whose lineage is almost as long as the Goldelms. They are well respected and feared in Frost Rim and for good reason.”

  “You already knew? Then why are you acting so nonchalant about this fight?”

  “How else should I act? Anxious? Worried? …Because I am,” she admitted softly.

  “Freya…” Stryg’s eyes softened. “Look, Cordelia is a true mage. She has unique abilities that make her more dangerous than others. But she’s still a black mage; she won’t want to fight at close-range. Black mages prefer to hide in the shadows and let their undead creations fight for them instead. Something like a duel in an enclosed arena, where there are no shadows to hide in, is incredibly disadvantageous for Cordelia.”

  “Hm, you’ve thought about this,” Freya stared at him with mild surprise.

   “I always think about how to deal with my enemies,” Stryg shrugged, “It’s how I was raised.

  “Well, Mister son of the Blood Fang Tribe, what do you suggest?”

  “Cordelia most likely has very little training in close range combat. She’ll probably try her best to keep you at a distance. Your goal should be to close that gap and end her as quickly as you can.”

  “That,” Freya hefted her hammer and buckler in her hands, “I can do.”

  Stryg walked over and admired the enchanted hammer’s sleek design, “It’s good craftsmanship, almost as good as Nameless.”

  “Pfft, since when did you become a smith expert?”

  “I’m not, but I can read the arcane language well enough. There are a lot of enchantments on that hammer.”

  Freya nodded proudly, “House Goldelm spares no expense in arming their members. My father made sure I had the best armaments gold can buy.”

  “I see,” Stryg muttered. The hammer was quite impressive, however, compared to master Gian’s longsword Primoria, the hammer seemed rudimentary. Stryg saw no point in bringing it up though.

  “Do you think Cordelia has an enchanted weapon too? Probably, huh,” Freya mumbled under her breath.

  “Maybe. I’d be more worried about her undead creatures.”

  “Undead? Since when can you bring the undead to a duel?”

  “They have a crafting room for each team next to their training rooms, right?”

  “You mean that room Callum was fiddling with his potion brewing in?”

  “Uh-huh. That room is equipped with a small forge and a whole storage cabinet filled with alchemy ingredients and preservation elixirs. It also has several cauldrons, vials, and a bunch of other equipment. In other words, all the tools a mage might need for necromancy, enchanting, or alchemy.”

   “I never noticed…” Freya mumbled.

  “You never needed to, you’re an Orange and White. But for Red, Black, or Brown mages the crafting room is our prep room. So long as you can make something yourself during the tournament, you can use it in any of the Challenges. Including raising the dead.”

  “So you're saying Cordelia probably has some undead drows or something on her side.”

  “Probably.”

  “Wait a sec,” Freya furrowed her brow, “If that crafting room exists, then why haven’t you raised any undead? Or brewed potions or etched any enchantments for that matter?”

  Stryg shrugged awkwardly, “Those spell-forms aren’t really my strong points...”

  Freya’s lips curled in a wide smile, “Hehe, so there are some things that even you’re not good at.”

  “I just haven’t had time to practice those spell-forms,” he growled. “If I had some time I could definitely brew a powerful potion or something!”

  Freya placed a finger to her smiling lips, “Hmm. I don’t know… Now that I think about it, didn’t Kitty once say you were terrible at necromancy spells?”

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  “T-that’s different,” Stryg said, flustered.

  “Is it though?”

 

  “AND FROM THE SOUTHERN GATE WE HAVE CORDELIA ROTRUSK OF FROST RIM!!!” the Stemme heralds’ voices echoed above the coliseum.

 

  “I guess I’m up,” Freya took a deep breath.

  “Are you ready for this?” Stryg asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am,” she smiled warmly. “If even the prodigy Ebon Aspirant himself isn’t perfect at everything, then this Rotrusk girl surely has some weak points.”

  Perfect at everything? Stryg frowned, “I never said I was perfect. And I didn’t call myself a prodigy either.”

  Freya looked at him as if he was crazy, “You’re the Ebon Aspirant, the first one in two centuries. I’d be surprised to find someone in this city who thinks you’re not a prodigy. Have you not seen the way some of those people look at you? Even in the Katag’s villa; they idolize you.”

  Stryg blinked, “I… I never thought of it like that.”

  Freya shook her head, “You know, for someone who seems so perceptive of his surroundings and enemies, you’re pretty blind about yourself. Open your eyes and take a good look in a mirror and see what everyone else already sees; you’re not just some Sylvan folk anymore.”

 

  “AND FROM THE NORTHERN GATE WE HAVE FREYA GOLDELM OF HOLLOW SHADE!!!”

 

  The tunnel’s gate lifted up at the sound of the heralds’ announcement.

  “Time to show the world how amazing I really am,” Freya smiled, gripped her hammer tight, and ran out without another word.

  Stryg stood still and watched her leave in silence. “…If I’m not a Sylvan, then what am I?”

~~~

  Freya entered the sandy arena to the applause and cheers of various fans, many were even drows from Undergrowth. She held her head up high and smiled, simply taking in the glory.

  “Look at this bitch, she really thinks she’s special,” Cordelia called out.

  “What was that!?” Freya glared at the dwarf a few dozen paces away.

  Cordelia’s dark hair was tied in a ponytail, but the golden beads flowing through her hair were shining clearly under the sunlight. And to Freya’s delight, her opponent had fewer beads than her.

  Cordelia was dressed in similar garments, light leather armor, a common battle apparel among mages. However, there were no weapons on her belt or strapped to her back.

  Just like Stryg thought. She isn’t good with close combat, Freya thought.

  “You really think all those people are cheering for you?” Cordelia laughed. “They’re not. They’re just Undergrowthers cheering against Frost Rim. Because at the end of the day, they’re all a bunch of spiteful commoners who want nothing more than to see us outsiders kill each other.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” Freya nodded. “Or. Maybe I am just that fucking special,” she winked.

  “You really do live up to your family’s name,” Cordelia sneered. “The Great House of Goldelm. You act so pridefully because you believe you’re above everyone. But guess what? No one back home remembers you like that.”

  “And you act as if I give an ounce of thought on what you think about my family,” Freya snapped.

  “Your ancestors would roll over in their graves if they knew how low ‘The Golden Hammer of the North’ has fallen,” Cordelia winced dramatically. “You were once one of the most prominent Houses in all of Frost Rim, the eldest dwarven House in all the Ebon Realm! My family looked up to the Goldelms, the greatest dwarven enchanters in the land!”

  “You act as if we still aren’t,” Freya raised her hammer proudly.

  “You lost that title long ago,” she scoffed. “Your family chose to pursue riches and wealth over the power that flowed in your blood. Tell me, did one of your family members forge that hammer or buckler you carry today? Did they enchant it?”

  Freya lowered her hammer and swallowed, “T-that’s…”

  Cordelia clicked her tongue, “Your family is a far cry from the days where just whispering the name Goldelm would strike fear into the heart of any man. Gone are the days where people would dare not tread in the path of a Goldelm for fear of Oginum falling down upon their heads.”

  “I may not wield Oginum, but my hammer will crush your kneecaps just the same,” Freya snarled.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Cordelia laughed. “The Goldelms and the Veres abandoned Frost Rim. You abandoned your people and chose to follow the Ebon Lords to Dusk Valley. And what do you have to show for it? Some pieces of gold? No, all you truly have is a stagnating city and an empty shattered throne.”

  “You really like talking a lot don’t you?” Freya clenched her jaw, “Hollow Shade is not what it once was, sure. But at least my family was brave enough to venture out from the safe confines of Frost Rim. We took a chance where cowards like the Rotrusks never even dared!”

  “Maybe. Maybe you’re right, I really don’t know,” Cordelia said calmly. “But what I do know is that your family took that chance and lost dearly. Your House has fallen low, it is as broken as the city you now call home. I hear that the golden light of Oginum no longer shines upon your family. Even your own ancestral weapon does not find your family worthy. House Veres is no different; they lost Krikolm and their main family line has died out. So is it finally starting to sink in now?”

  “I think it is,” Freya nodded with a smile. “You’re saying that if someone like Callum Veres managed to defeat your beloved Kalliste Lilith, then I’m about to show you a whole new world.”

  “You cocky idiot, I’m not afraid of you!” Cordelia glared. “I am a Rotrusk! We have far surpassed the Goldelms!”

  Cordelia raised her arms. Two undead frost giants stepped out of the southern gate. Each one stood 9 ft tall and dragged a large ax behind them.

  Freya’s eyes widened at the sight. She had expected a few drows at best, but this? This was different. A cold feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Memories of last year’s encounter with undead trolls flowed fresh in her mind.

  Freya smiled shakily, a wild glint of madness in her golden eyes, “The bigger they are…”

 

 

 

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