Chapter 35: The Tournament Begins
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Chapter 35: The Tournament Begins
Enarion was having a good day. In fact, he was having a very good day. Ever since taking over the kingdom after his brother's dragon-related removal, he had done his best to undo the economic damage his brother had done while smoothing relations over with neighbouring countries. He wasn't about to grovel or anything like that, but letting everyone know that he had no intention of pursuing his brother's ambitions was important. A merchant king could make for a fine neighbour, a warlike king with conquest on his mind was another matter.
Naturally, his reign had not gone unopposed. However, Doomwing's support had provided him with the proverbial big stick required to get started. Obey me or the gigantic dragon comes back and murders everybody was a wonderfully persuasive argument. The remaining members of the royal guard had all pledged their loyalty to him, but he had made sure to add as many of his own supporters and loyalists to their ranks as possible.
Of course, most the royal guard hadn't really been loyal to his brother. They'd been loyal to the coin and influence he gave them. As Enarion's reforms had come into effect and his overtures to other kingdoms had been accepted, he had made sure to pass on the monetary benefits while making it clear that the extra gold in their pockets was all because of him.
It would be a stretch to say they loved him, but they did love gold. As long as the kingdom's finances continued to improve and their pay continued to impress, they would obey. Eventually, though, all of the old guard would retire, and only his loyal supporters would remain. Maybe then he wouldn't have to watch his back so much.
Nevertheless, the upcoming tournament was an important occasion. His brother had used it to identify promising talents, so he could recruit them. Enarion planned to do much the same. However, he also had an ulterior motive. Thanks to his own spy network and some assistance from Doomwing, he had become all too aware of various plots to assassinate him and his family. Few of the conspirators had the ability to legitimately threaten him, but the tournament would give them a chance to go after his niece.
Which was perfectly fine with him.
If even half of what Doomwing had told him of Antaria's progress was true, then his niece was the perfect way to deal with those would-be assassins. Let his enemies hire their finest assassins and enter them into the tournament. Such individuals were the product of a lifetime of training, with the very finest organisations committing untold resources into honing the perfect instruments of death.
If they just so happened to die horribly in the tournament while trying to assassinate his niece, then too bad. And while they struggled to train successors, he would have the perfect chance to strike back. The fact that dealing so decisively with their enemies would garner Antaria the fame she needed was even better.
Because if Antaria planned to recruit people, then she needed to be famous, not just as a princess but also as a warrior in her own right. The people of the kingdom had a fairly martial attitude. A king didn't have to be the strongest, but he couldn't be weak. A princess who could flatten anyone in her path was exactly the sort of leader that potential recruitment targets would look favourably on.
And there were a lot of potential recruitment targets.
Amongst the nobility, it was customary to have at least four children. The first was the heir, the second was the spare, and the third was to seek high office as a soldier, priest, mage, or administrator. As for the fourth? Well, the fourth was there in case some horrible stroke of bad luck wiped out the others.
Enarion was personally aware of many talented fourth children. Even if they managed to rise to a high rank outside their family, there was little chance of them ever holding lands of their own. But Doomwing had a lot of land and not all that many people. He could give those people the lands they wanted, and they could use their talents to help those lands prosper. Having Antaria to rule over them in his name granted the whole thing an air of legitimacy.
There were also commoners who were skilled in different areas whose humble origins made it hard for them to rise too high in the kingdom where bloodlines mattered and lineage was so important. A powerful warrior might be able to buck the trend it wasn't unheard of for commoner members of the royal guard to be made into minor nobility but what of a skilled blacksmith? No matter how gifted, such a person would always be viewed as lesser than a noble, scarcely better than a labourer.
Doomwing did not view matters in that way.
"You are all the same to me," Doomwing had told Enarion when they had discussed the subject. "What are your petty lineages and young bloodlines to me? I am a primordial dragon. All that matters to me is power, wisdom, knowledge, courage, and cunning. I want those who can serve me well. I do not care if their parents were farmers or kings. I know better than any of you that a son of farmers may be a father to kings in time."
Although Enarion would not have put it so bluntly, he shared Doomwing's opinion. Some of his most useful and loyal supporters were merchants, men who had risen high not because of their ancestry but because of their cunning, wisdom, and courage. And too many of the backbiters and lickspittles who had plagued his brother's reign and who continued to plague his were lesser sons of far greater sires. At least those greater sires were dead. He could scarcely imagine what some of them might think if they could see their present descendants.
But why was he having a good day?
It was because Antaria had arrived upon a flying ship, along with a newly crown dwarf king. It had been quite the spectacle, and the entire city had turned out to gaze up in awe at the flying ship. It was a splendid thing, a relic from a bygone Age that had been lovingly restored by exquisitely skilled craftsmen.
To have a dwarf king with such a treasure under his command attend the festivities had been a feather in Enarion's cap, especially when that same king had greeted him warmly and extended a hand in friendship. It was all carefully orchestrated, of course, for both he and Harald served Doomwing. Nevertheless, Enarion had certainly enjoyed his time speaking with Harald, and he was very much looking forward to speaking with him more when the opportunity arose. There was much their two groups could gain from each other.
As for Antaria
His niece had changed. Or perhaps not. He had always thought his niece to be quite free spirited under all the royal decorum she had learned. She had dreamed of being an adventurer as a child, of facing monsters and becoming a hero. She had set those dreams aside as she grew older and came to understand the full weight of her father's actions. Instead, she had aimed at become a just and fair ruler, one who could bring an era of peace and prosperity to the kingdom.
Her time with Doomwing had changed her or perhaps brought out who she truly was more clearly. She was no longer beholden to royal decorum. Indeed, when the flying ship had taken some time to deliver its passengers to the ground, she had simply leapt off it and landed easily on the ground.
She no longer walked with the tightly-held dignity of a princess who had spent almost her entire life in the palace. Instead, she walked with the ease and grace of a warrior, someone utterly confident in her training and the skills she had acquired. She had looked upon the royal guard a force that had driven them to the brink of death not so long ago and had completely dismissed them as threats. It wasn't arrogance either. The keenness of her gaze made it clear that she understood exactly what they were capable of. She just didn't think that what they were capable of was any danger to her at all.
Oh, yes, he was definitely looking forward to watching her fight.
With the first of her matches taking place tomorrow, he wanted to make sure that she understood the plan. Doomwing had probably already explained it to her, but it never hurt to be sure. He found her in her chambers, speaking with the magical construct that Doomwing had sent to accompany her while his actual body waited until tomorrow to arrive.
The dragon would immediately attract all of the attention, so he wished to give this day to Harald and his sky ship. Let the kingdom's inhabitants see the quality of the people sworn to Doomwing. Tomorrow, as evening fell, he would make his appearance and remind all of the traitors and plotters what fate awaited them.
"Good evening, uncle." Antaria had flopped onto her back. She held a raccoon in her arms, and the creature was sighing contentedly as she ran her fingers through his fur. Enarion might almost have dismissed the raccoon as a threat if his magical senses weren't so keen. This was no normal raccoon. "Have you come to discuss my bouts tomorrow?"
"Yes." Enarion smiled. "There are a few people that you need to deal with."
She grinned. It was a toothy grin, more reminiscent of a dragon than a princess. "And by deal with?"
"They're going to try to assassinate you, so feel free to deal with them as you see fit preferably fatally." Enarion handed her a list. "These are their names. I wouldn't have been able to acquire these on my own, but their efforts at concealment meant nothing in the face of Doomwing's magic."
"This is a long list," Antaria said. She giggled. "You've been picking up a lot of enemies, uncle."
"Unfortunately, yes." He chuckled. "Which means I must be doing a good job."
"Incidentally how is your family?" Antaria asked. "Are they in the capital?"
It was a polite way of asking if his position was secure. Prior to their attempt to overthrow her father, he had sent his wife and children away. Had they failed, his family would have fled over the border where merchants he trusted would see to their care.
"Unfortunately, the weather in the capital does not agree with them. However, I am sure the weather will improve after the tournament."
Her smile this time was not merely toothy. It was all teeth. "Oh, have no fear uncle. There will be nothing but fine weather once the tournament is over. It has been such a long time since I saw my cousins, and I'm sure they'll enjoy life in the capital once the weather has improved." She paused. "Although some of them might be useful to us if they could be convinced to mend their ways."
Lyra was the scion of the greatest clan of assassins that the kingdom had ever known. Their deadly arts had been passed down from mother to daughter for centuries. From the day she could walk, she had been trained in all the many ways a person could be killed. Her mother had spared no expense in her training. She had received the best tutors and the finest equipment, and she had been sent out on mission after mission to hone herself into a perfect instrument of assassination.
As the fight began, he layered himself in enhancement magic and gulped down a trio of potions to raise his powers even further. Lightning crackled to life around his spear as the charms he wore about his neck amplified his affinity for lightning magic, allowing him to surpass his natural limitations and reach a level only the kingdom's mightiest mages could hope to attain. Rather than hurl the lightning at the princess, he wrapped it around his spear, taking its destructive power to absurd heights.
"Are you done?" the princess asked. "Or are you going to keep enhancing yourself and your weapon." She lowered her voice. "Why can't I have a lightning spear?" she muttered. "But that soul-cutting magic on those daggers earlier was pretty good too damn it. Why can't my magic look like that?"
Foley ignored the princess's rambling in favour of taking up his stance. He began to breathe in and out slowly and evenly. This was a technique that had been passed down to him by his instructor, a former general of another kingdom who had been cast out for wiping out villages that had defied his orders to hand over their crops when his army had passed through. The general had been a bitter, old man, but he had taught this technique to Foley after Foley had promised to use it to assassinate those responsible for his downfall.
Foley had kept his promise, and the general had died with a smile on his face.
The technique itself was simple in concept but incredibly difficult in execution. By training his senses to the utmost, he was able to detect minute currents of magic in the area around him. He could pull on those currents and feed them into his enhancement spells, strengthening them even further and allowing him to achieve inhuman feats of strength and speed.
How should he do this?
There was no point in holding back. The princess had clearly prepared for the tournament. It was best to slay her in a single strike. Yes. A charge followed by a flat thrust of his spear, all of it delivered at a speed that would make dodging impossible and enhanced with so much strength and lightning that attempting to parry or block would be a death sentence.
He called this technique the 'Killer Bolt' for it was like a bolt of lightning that never failed to slay his opponent.
Foley bent his knees and then surged forward as the princess reached down and picked up a rock. No. It was a piece of the arena wall that had broken off earlier when she punched the assassin.
The princess weighed the rock in her hands and then
The rock vanished.
Foley stumbled to his knees as his spear slipped from his hands.
"What?" He glanced down to find a rock-sized hole in his chest. "How?"
The princess smiled at him. "I like rocks. You can bash people over the head with them, or you can throw them. I kind of wish that I could have brought my favourite rock, but Doomwing said it would look strange if I walked into the arena with a rock instead of a sword. Oh well. It's like one of his friends said, there's no problem you can't solve with the right rock."
As the sun began to set, the tournament came to a close for the day. Bouts would resume in the morning. The crowd was abuzz with talk of the princess who had turned what should have been an incredibly challenging tournament into something that was equal parts amazing and ludicrous. Not a single one of her opponents so far had presented anything even remotely resembling a challenge, and some of them had died in ways that were, quite frankly, comical.
A rock?
Foley of the Lightning Spear was a legendary mercenary who often played the part of assassin. It was an open secret that he worked for a number of nobles and merchants who made vast quantities of money through what was basically slavery. He was considered so deadly that only the kingdom's finest warriors could even think of facing him.
And the princess had killed him with a rock.
She'd cut a swathe through the rest of her opponents although she had been surprisingly gentle with some of them, even allowing a young nobleman to surrender after dodging all of his attacks for a few minutes. The young man had put on a decent show, displaying powerful magic and skill with a blade, not that it had meant much against the princess. Another opponent had simply surrendered upon being called into the arena. Apparently, he'd been afraid of embarrassing himself. For her part, the princess hadn't even used her sword, instead relying on punches, kicks, and random bits of debris to win her fights.
However, the day had one last surprise.
As the bells of the city's temples rang out, sounding the hour, a dragon appeared, scales of ruby and sapphire lit in the westering sun. He was massive, so huge that his mere presence had commonfolk and nobles alike standing still in a combination of awe and terror. He was Doomwing, the dragon their king had sworn oaths of loyalty to, and he had apparently come to enjoy the ambience of the tournament.
The great dragon circled the city twice, and despite the fear he provoked, there was hardly a person there who did not stare at his magnificence. Nobles like to clothe themselves in finery and show off their power, but what jewels or cloth could compare to the dragon's scales, and what power could compare to the magic that momentarily lit the sky, turning it bright as day as the dragon spoke, praising the participants of the tournament and urging them to do their best in the days to come.
At last, his words spoken, the dragon wheeled away from the city, coming to rest in the vast lake. He was like a living island, and the boats on the lake hurried to put distance between them. Some in the crowd worried that the dragon might turn his fire on them, but those wiser had no such concerns.
Had the dragon wanted them dead, they would be.
Doomwing glanced up. It was an hour after midnight, and an illusion had just been made. It was a small thing, but the skill of its weaving was impressive indeed. A lesser dragon could very easily have been fooled, and even a keen-eyed observer who was less familiar with such magics might have missed it.
But he was Doomwing, and he was very familiar indeed with this kind of magic.
A lone figure walked across the waters of the lake toward him, hidden from all eyes save his, her presence so completely concealed that her footsteps left not so much as a ripple on the surface of the water.
Nine golden tails stirred in the breeze, and piercing green eyes met his for the first time in almost a thousand years.
"Good evening," Hikari said. "Uncle Doomwing."
He looked at her for a long moment. She had grown strong indeed since they had last spoken. Dreamsong was to be commended for her training. Indeed, although her power could not yet compare to Kagami's even before her madness there was a razor sharpness to it that Kagami had never quite possessed.
"It has been some time, Hikari," Doomwing replied. "And it is no longer good evening. It is good morning."
Her lips twitched. "You used to say that to me whenever I snuck out of bed to badger you into telling me another story."
"And do you still remember those stories?" Doomwing asked. "And the lessons they taught."
"I remember them all," Hikari replied as she sat down on the water, her tails spread out like tongues of golden fire. "Would you tell me more if I asked?"
"Perhaps." Doomwing peered at Hikari. The nave, indecisive girl was gone. In her place was a ruler. "Is there one you would like to hear?"
"The story of the scholar and the general," Hikari replied. "Since it's about two old friends meeting again."
"Is that what we are?"
"It's what I'd like us to be, if you'd allow it."
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Chapter 35: The Tournament Begins
Enarion was having a good day. In fact, he was having a very good day. Ever since taking over the kingdom after his brother's dragon-related removal, he had done his best to undo the economic damage his brother had done while smoothing relations over with neighbouring countries. He wasn't about to grovel or anything like that, but letting everyone know that he had no intention of pursuing his brother's ambitions was important. A merchant king could make for a fine neighbour, a warlike king with conquest on his mind was another matter.
Naturally, his reign had not gone unopposed. However, Doomwing's support had provided him with the proverbial big stick required to get started. Obey me or the gigantic dragon comes back and murders everybody was a wonderfully persuasive argument. The remaining members of the royal guard had all pledged their loyalty to him, but he had made sure to add as many of his own supporters and loyalists to their ranks as possible.
Of course, most the royal guard hadn't really been loyal to his brother. They'd been loyal to the coin and influence he gave them. As Enarion's reforms had come into effect and his overtures to other kingdoms had been accepted, he had made sure to pass on the monetary benefits while making it clear that the extra gold in their pockets was all because of him.
It would be a stretch to say they loved him, but they did love gold. As long as the kingdom's finances continued to improve and their pay continued to impress, they would obey. Eventually, though, all of the old guard would retire, and only his loyal supporters would remain. Maybe then he wouldn't have to watch his back so much.
Nevertheless, the upcoming tournament was an important occasion. His brother had used it to identify promising talents, so he could recruit them. Enarion planned to do much the same. However, he also had an ulterior motive. Thanks to his own spy network and some assistance from Doomwing, he had become all too aware of various plots to assassinate him and his family. Few of the conspirators had the ability to legitimately threaten him, but the tournament would give them a chance to go after his niece.
Which was perfectly fine with him.
If even half of what Doomwing had told him of Antaria's progress was true, then his niece was the perfect way to deal with those would-be assassins. Let his enemies hire their finest assassins and enter them into the tournament. Such individuals were the product of a lifetime of training, with the very finest organisations committing untold resources into honing the perfect instruments of death.
If they just so happened to die horribly in the tournament while trying to assassinate his niece, then too bad. And while they struggled to train successors, he would have the perfect chance to strike back. The fact that dealing so decisively with their enemies would garner Antaria the fame she needed was even better.
Because if Antaria planned to recruit people, then she needed to be famous, not just as a princess but also as a warrior in her own right. The people of the kingdom had a fairly martial attitude. A king didn't have to be the strongest, but he couldn't be weak. A princess who could flatten anyone in her path was exactly the sort of leader that potential recruitment targets would look favourably on.
And there were a lot of potential recruitment targets.
Amongst the nobility, it was customary to have at least four children. The first was the heir, the second was the spare, and the third was to seek high office as a soldier, priest, mage, or administrator. As for the fourth? Well, the fourth was there in case some horrible stroke of bad luck wiped out the others.
Enarion was personally aware of many talented fourth children. Even if they managed to rise to a high rank outside their family, there was little chance of them ever holding lands of their own. But Doomwing had a lot of land and not all that many people. He could give those people the lands they wanted, and they could use their talents to help those lands prosper. Having Antaria to rule over them in his name granted the whole thing an air of legitimacy.
There were also commoners who were skilled in different areas whose humble origins made it hard for them to rise too high in the kingdom where bloodlines mattered and lineage was so important. A powerful warrior might be able to buck the trend it wasn't unheard of for commoner members of the royal guard to be made into minor nobility but what of a skilled blacksmith? No matter how gifted, such a person would always be viewed as lesser than a noble, scarcely better than a labourer.
Doomwing did not view matters in that way.
"You are all the same to me," Doomwing had told Enarion when they had discussed the subject. "What are your petty lineages and young bloodlines to me? I am a primordial dragon. All that matters to me is power, wisdom, knowledge, courage, and cunning. I want those who can serve me well. I do not care if their parents were farmers or kings. I know better than any of you that a son of farmers may be a father to kings in time."
Although Enarion would not have put it so bluntly, he shared Doomwing's opinion. Some of his most useful and loyal supporters were merchants, men who had risen high not because of their ancestry but because of their cunning, wisdom, and courage. And too many of the backbiters and lickspittles who had plagued his brother's reign and who continued to plague his were lesser sons of far greater sires. At least those greater sires were dead. He could scarcely imagine what some of them might think if they could see their present descendants.
But why was he having a good day?
It was because Antaria had arrived upon a flying ship, along with a newly crown dwarf king. It had been quite the spectacle, and the entire city had turned out to gaze up in awe at the flying ship. It was a splendid thing, a relic from a bygone Age that had been lovingly restored by exquisitely skilled craftsmen.
To have a dwarf king with such a treasure under his command attend the festivities had been a feather in Enarion's cap, especially when that same king had greeted him warmly and extended a hand in friendship. It was all carefully orchestrated, of course, for both he and Harald served Doomwing. Nevertheless, Enarion had certainly enjoyed his time speaking with Harald, and he was very much looking forward to speaking with him more when the opportunity arose. There was much their two groups could gain from each other.
As for Antaria
His niece had changed. Or perhaps not. He had always thought his niece to be quite free spirited under all the royal decorum she had learned. She had dreamed of being an adventurer as a child, of facing monsters and becoming a hero. She had set those dreams aside as she grew older and came to understand the full weight of her father's actions. Instead, she had aimed at become a just and fair ruler, one who could bring an era of peace and prosperity to the kingdom.
Her time with Doomwing had changed her or perhaps brought out who she truly was more clearly. She was no longer beholden to royal decorum. Indeed, when the flying ship had taken some time to deliver its passengers to the ground, she had simply leapt off it and landed easily on the ground.
She no longer walked with the tightly-held dignity of a princess who had spent almost her entire life in the palace. Instead, she walked with the ease and grace of a warrior, someone utterly confident in her training and the skills she had acquired. She had looked upon the royal guard a force that had driven them to the brink of death not so long ago and had completely dismissed them as threats. It wasn't arrogance either. The keenness of her gaze made it clear that she understood exactly what they were capable of. She just didn't think that what they were capable of was any danger to her at all.
Oh, yes, he was definitely looking forward to watching her fight.
With the first of her matches taking place tomorrow, he wanted to make sure that she understood the plan. Doomwing had probably already explained it to her, but it never hurt to be sure. He found her in her chambers, speaking with the magical construct that Doomwing had sent to accompany her while his actual body waited until tomorrow to arrive.
The dragon would immediately attract all of the attention, so he wished to give this day to Harald and his sky ship. Let the kingdom's inhabitants see the quality of the people sworn to Doomwing. Tomorrow, as evening fell, he would make his appearance and remind all of the traitors and plotters what fate awaited them.
"Good evening, uncle." Antaria had flopped onto her back. She held a raccoon in her arms, and the creature was sighing contentedly as she ran her fingers through his fur. Enarion might almost have dismissed the raccoon as a threat if his magical senses weren't so keen. This was no normal raccoon. "Have you come to discuss my bouts tomorrow?"
"Yes." Enarion smiled. "There are a few people that you need to deal with."
She grinned. It was a toothy grin, more reminiscent of a dragon than a princess. "And by deal with?"
"They're going to try to assassinate you, so feel free to deal with them as you see fit preferably fatally." Enarion handed her a list. "These are their names. I wouldn't have been able to acquire these on my own, but their efforts at concealment meant nothing in the face of Doomwing's magic."
"This is a long list," Antaria said. She giggled. "You've been picking up a lot of enemies, uncle."
"Unfortunately, yes." He chuckled. "Which means I must be doing a good job."
"Incidentally how is your family?" Antaria asked. "Are they in the capital?"
It was a polite way of asking if his position was secure. Prior to their attempt to overthrow her father, he had sent his wife and children away. Had they failed, his family would have fled over the border where merchants he trusted would see to their care.
"Unfortunately, the weather in the capital does not agree with them. However, I am sure the weather will improve after the tournament."
Her smile this time was not merely toothy. It was all teeth. "Oh, have no fear uncle. There will be nothing but fine weather once the tournament is over. It has been such a long time since I saw my cousins, and I'm sure they'll enjoy life in the capital once the weather has improved." She paused. "Although some of them might be useful to us if they could be convinced to mend their ways."
Lyra was the scion of the greatest clan of assassins that the kingdom had ever known. Their deadly arts had been passed down from mother to daughter for centuries. From the day she could walk, she had been trained in all the many ways a person could be killed. Her mother had spared no expense in her training. She had received the best tutors and the finest equipment, and she had been sent out on mission after mission to hone herself into a perfect instrument of assassination.
As the fight began, he layered himself in enhancement magic and gulped down a trio of potions to raise his powers even further. Lightning crackled to life around his spear as the charms he wore about his neck amplified his affinity for lightning magic, allowing him to surpass his natural limitations and reach a level only the kingdom's mightiest mages could hope to attain. Rather than hurl the lightning at the princess, he wrapped it around his spear, taking its destructive power to absurd heights.
"Are you done?" the princess asked. "Or are you going to keep enhancing yourself and your weapon." She lowered her voice. "Why can't I have a lightning spear?" she muttered. "But that soul-cutting magic on those daggers earlier was pretty good too damn it. Why can't my magic look like that?"
Foley ignored the princess's rambling in favour of taking up his stance. He began to breathe in and out slowly and evenly. This was a technique that had been passed down to him by his instructor, a former general of another kingdom who had been cast out for wiping out villages that had defied his orders to hand over their crops when his army had passed through. The general had been a bitter, old man, but he had taught this technique to Foley after Foley had promised to use it to assassinate those responsible for his downfall.
Foley had kept his promise, and the general had died with a smile on his face.
The technique itself was simple in concept but incredibly difficult in execution. By training his senses to the utmost, he was able to detect minute currents of magic in the area around him. He could pull on those currents and feed them into his enhancement spells, strengthening them even further and allowing him to achieve inhuman feats of strength and speed.
How should he do this?
There was no point in holding back. The princess had clearly prepared for the tournament. It was best to slay her in a single strike. Yes. A charge followed by a flat thrust of his spear, all of it delivered at a speed that would make dodging impossible and enhanced with so much strength and lightning that attempting to parry or block would be a death sentence.
He called this technique the 'Killer Bolt' for it was like a bolt of lightning that never failed to slay his opponent.
Foley bent his knees and then surged forward as the princess reached down and picked up a rock. No. It was a piece of the arena wall that had broken off earlier when she punched the assassin.
The princess weighed the rock in her hands and then
The rock vanished.
Foley stumbled to his knees as his spear slipped from his hands.
"What?" He glanced down to find a rock-sized hole in his chest. "How?"
The princess smiled at him. "I like rocks. You can bash people over the head with them, or you can throw them. I kind of wish that I could have brought my favourite rock, but Doomwing said it would look strange if I walked into the arena with a rock instead of a sword. Oh well. It's like one of his friends said, there's no problem you can't solve with the right rock."
As the sun began to set, the tournament came to a close for the day. Bouts would resume in the morning. The crowd was abuzz with talk of the princess who had turned what should have been an incredibly challenging tournament into something that was equal parts amazing and ludicrous. Not a single one of her opponents so far had presented anything even remotely resembling a challenge, and some of them had died in ways that were, quite frankly, comical.
A rock?
Foley of the Lightning Spear was a legendary mercenary who often played the part of assassin. It was an open secret that he worked for a number of nobles and merchants who made vast quantities of money through what was basically slavery. He was considered so deadly that only the kingdom's finest warriors could even think of facing him.
And the princess had killed him with a rock.
She'd cut a swathe through the rest of her opponents although she had been surprisingly gentle with some of them, even allowing a young nobleman to surrender after dodging all of his attacks for a few minutes. The young man had put on a decent show, displaying powerful magic and skill with a blade, not that it had meant much against the princess. Another opponent had simply surrendered upon being called into the arena. Apparently, he'd been afraid of embarrassing himself. For her part, the princess hadn't even used her sword, instead relying on punches, kicks, and random bits of debris to win her fights.
However, the day had one last surprise.
As the bells of the city's temples rang out, sounding the hour, a dragon appeared, scales of ruby and sapphire lit in the westering sun. He was massive, so huge that his mere presence had commonfolk and nobles alike standing still in a combination of awe and terror. He was Doomwing, the dragon their king had sworn oaths of loyalty to, and he had apparently come to enjoy the ambience of the tournament.
The great dragon circled the city twice, and despite the fear he provoked, there was hardly a person there who did not stare at his magnificence. Nobles like to clothe themselves in finery and show off their power, but what jewels or cloth could compare to the dragon's scales, and what power could compare to the magic that momentarily lit the sky, turning it bright as day as the dragon spoke, praising the participants of the tournament and urging them to do their best in the days to come.
At last, his words spoken, the dragon wheeled away from the city, coming to rest in the vast lake. He was like a living island, and the boats on the lake hurried to put distance between them. Some in the crowd worried that the dragon might turn his fire on them, but those wiser had no such concerns.
Had the dragon wanted them dead, they would be.
Doomwing glanced up. It was an hour after midnight, and an illusion had just been made. It was a small thing, but the skill of its weaving was impressive indeed. A lesser dragon could very easily have been fooled, and even a keen-eyed observer who was less familiar with such magics might have missed it.
But he was Doomwing, and he was very familiar indeed with this kind of magic.
A lone figure walked across the waters of the lake toward him, hidden from all eyes save his, her presence so completely concealed that her footsteps left not so much as a ripple on the surface of the water.
Nine golden tails stirred in the breeze, and piercing green eyes met his for the first time in almost a thousand years.
"Good evening," Hikari said. "Uncle Doomwing."
He looked at her for a long moment. She had grown strong indeed since they had last spoken. Dreamsong was to be commended for her training. Indeed, although her power could not yet compare to Kagami's even before her madness there was a razor sharpness to it that Kagami had never quite possessed.
"It has been some time, Hikari," Doomwing replied. "And it is no longer good evening. It is good morning."
Her lips twitched. "You used to say that to me whenever I snuck out of bed to badger you into telling me another story."
"And do you still remember those stories?" Doomwing asked. "And the lessons they taught."
"I remember them all," Hikari replied as she sat down on the water, her tails spread out like tongues of golden fire. "Would you tell me more if I asked?"
"Perhaps." Doomwing peered at Hikari. The nave, indecisive girl was gone. In her place was a ruler. "Is there one you would like to hear?"
"The story of the scholar and the general," Hikari replied. "Since it's about two old friends meeting again."
"Is that what we are?"
"It's what I'd like us to be, if you'd allow it."
Chapter 35: The Tournament BeginsEnarion was having a good day. In fact, he was having a very good day. Ever since taking over the kingdom after his brother's dragon-related removal, he had done his best to undo the economic damage his brother had done while smoothing relations over with neighbouring countries. He wasn't about to grovel or anything like that, but letting everyone know that he had no intention of pursuing his brother's ambitions was important. A merchant king could make for a fine neighbour, a warlike king with conquest on his mind was another matter.Naturally, his reign had not gone unopposed. However, Doomwing's support had provided him with the proverbial big stick required to get started. Obey me or the gigantic dragon comes back and murders everybody was a wonderfully persuasive argument. The remaining members of the royal guard had all pledged their loyalty to him, but he had made sure to add as many of his own supporters and loyalists to their ranks as possible.Of course, most the royal guard hadn't really been loyal to his brother. They'd been loyal to the coin and influence he gave them. As Enarion's reforms had come into effect and his overtures to other kingdoms had been accepted, he had made sure to pass on the monetary benefits while making it clear that the extra gold in their pockets was all because of him.It would be a stretch to say they loved him, but they did love gold. As long as the kingdom's finances continued to improve and their pay continued to impress, they would obey. Eventually, though, all of the old guard would retire, and only his loyal supporters would remain. Maybe then he wouldn't have to watch his back so much.Nevertheless, the upcoming tournament was an important occasion. His brother had used it to identify promising talents, so he could recruit them. Enarion planned to do much the same. However, he also had an ulterior motive. Thanks to his own spy network and some assistance from Doomwing, he had become all too aware of various plots to assassinate him and his family. Few of the conspirators had the ability to legitimately threaten him, but the tournament would give them a chance to go after his niece.Which was perfectly fine with him.If even half of what Doomwing had told him of Antaria's progress was true, then his niece was the perfect way to deal with those would-be assassins. Let his enemies hire their finest assassins and enter them into the tournament. Such individuals were the product of a lifetime of training, with the very finest organisations committing untold resources into honing the perfect instruments of death.If they just so happened to die horribly in the tournament while trying to assassinate his niece, then too bad. And while they struggled to train successors, he would have the perfect chance to strike back. The fact that dealing so decisively with their enemies would garner Antaria the fame she needed was even better.Because if Antaria planned to recruit people, then she needed to be famous, not just as a princess but also as a warrior in her own right. The people of the kingdom had a fairly martial attitude. A king didn't have to be the strongest, but he couldn't be weak. A princess who could flatten anyone in her path was exactly the sort of leader that potential recruitment targets would look favourably on.And there were a lot of potential recruitment targets.Amongst the nobility, it was customary to have at least four children. The first was the heir, the second was the spare, and the third was to seek high office as a soldier, priest, mage, or administrator. As for the fourth? Well, the fourth was there in case some horrible stroke of bad luck wiped out the others.Enarion was personally aware of many talented fourth children. Even if they managed to rise to a high rank outside their family, there was little chance of them ever holding lands of their own. But Doomwing had a lot of land and not all that many people. He could give those people the lands they wanted, and they could use their talents to help those lands prosper. Having Antaria to rule over them in his name granted the whole thing an air of legitimacy.There were also commoners who were skilled in different areas whose humble origins made it hard for them to rise too high in the kingdom where bloodlines mattered and lineage was so important. A powerful warrior might be able to buck the trend it wasn't unheard of for commoner members of the royal guard to be made into minor nobility but what of a skilled blacksmith? No matter how gifted, such a person would always be viewed as lesser than a noble, scarcely better than a labourer.Doomwing did not view matters in that way."You are all the same to me," Doomwing had told Enarion when they had discussed the subject. "What are your petty lineages and young bloodlines to me? I am a primordial dragon. All that matters to me is power, wisdom, knowledge, courage, and cunning. I want those who can serve me well. I do not care if their parents were farmers or kings. I know better than any of you that a son of farmers may be a father to kings in time."Although Enarion would not have put it so bluntly, he shared Doomwing's opinion. Some of his most useful and loyal supporters were merchants, men who had risen high not because of their ancestry but because of their cunning, wisdom, and courage. And too many of the backbiters and lickspittles who had plagued his brother's reign and who continued to plague his were lesser sons of far greater sires. At least those greater sires were dead. He could scarcely imagine what some of them might think if they could see their present descendants.But why was he having a good day?It was because Antaria had arrived upon a flying ship, along with a newly crown dwarf king. It had been quite the spectacle, and the entire city had turned out to gaze up in awe at the flying ship. It was a splendid thing, a relic from a bygone Age that had been lovingly restored by exquisitely skilled craftsmen.To have a dwarf king with such a treasure under his command attend the festivities had been a feather in Enarion's cap, especially when that same king had greeted him warmly and extended a hand in friendship. It was all carefully orchestrated, of course, for both he and Harald served Doomwing. Nevertheless, Enarion had certainly enjoyed his time speaking with Harald, and he was very much looking forward to speaking with him more when the opportunity arose. There was much their two groups could gain from each other.As for AntariaHis niece had changed. Or perhaps not. He had always thought his niece to be quite free spirited under all the royal decorum she had learned. She had dreamed of being an adventurer as a child, of facing monsters and becoming a hero. She had set those dreams aside as she grew older and came to understand the full weight of her father's actions. Instead, she had aimed at become a just and fair ruler, one who could bring an era of peace and prosperity to the kingdom.Her time with Doomwing had changed her or perhaps brought out who she truly was more clearly. She was no longer beholden to royal decorum. Indeed, when the flying ship had taken some time to deliver its passengers to the ground, she had simply leapt off it and landed easily on the ground.She no longer walked with the tightly-held dignity of a princess who had spent almost her entire life in the palace. Instead, she walked with the ease and grace of a warrior, someone utterly confident in her training and the skills she had acquired. She had looked upon the royal guard a force that had driven them to the brink of death not so long ago and had completely dismissed them as threats. It wasn't arrogance either. The keenness of her gaze made it clear that she understood exactly what they were capable of. She just didn't think that what they were capable of was any danger to her at all.Oh, yes, he was definitely looking forward to watching her fight.With the first of her matches taking place tomorrow, he wanted to make sure that she understood the plan. Doomwing had probably already explained it to her, but it never hurt to be sure. He found her in her chambers, speaking with the magical construct that Doomwing had sent to accompany her while his actual body waited until tomorrow to arrive.The dragon would immediately attract all of the attention, so he wished to give this day to Harald and his sky ship. Let the kingdom's inhabitants see the quality of the people sworn to Doomwing. Tomorrow, as evening fell, he would make his appearance and remind all of the traitors and plotters what fate awaited them."Good evening, uncle." Antaria had flopped onto her back. She held a raccoon in her arms, and the creature was sighing contentedly as she ran her fingers through his fur. Enarion might almost have dismissed the raccoon as a threat if his magical senses weren't so keen. This was no normal raccoon. "Have you come to discuss my bouts tomorrow?""Yes." Enarion smiled. "There are a few people that you need to deal with."She grinned. It was a toothy grin, more reminiscent of a dragon than a princess. "And by deal with?""They're going to try to assassinate you, so feel free to deal with them as you see fit preferably fatally." Enarion handed her a list. "These are their names. I wouldn't have been able to acquire these on my own, but their efforts at concealment meant nothing in the face of Doomwing's magic.""This is a long list," Antaria said. She giggled. "You've been picking up a lot of enemies, uncle.""Unfortunately, yes." He chuckled. "Which means I must be doing a good job.""Incidentally how is your family?" Antaria asked. "Are they in the capital?"It was a polite way of asking if his position was secure. Prior to their attempt to overthrow her father, he had sent his wife and children away. Had they failed, his family would have fled over the border where merchants he trusted would see to their care."Unfortunately, the weather in the capital does not agree with them. However, I am sure the weather will improve after the tournament."Her smile this time was not merely toothy. It was all teeth. "Oh, have no fear uncle. There will be nothing but fine weather once the tournament is over. It has been such a long time since I saw my cousins, and I'm sure they'll enjoy life in the capital once the weather has improved." She paused. "Although some of them might be useful to us if they could be convinced to mend their ways."Lyra was the scion of the greatest clan of assassins that the kingdom had ever known. Their deadly arts had been passed down from mother to daughter for centuries. From the day she could walk, she had been trained in all the many ways a person could be killed. Her mother had spared no expense in her training. She had received the best tutors and the finest equipment, and she had been sent out on mission after mission to hone herself into a perfect instrument of assassination.As the fight began, he layered himself in enhancement magic and gulped down a trio of potions to raise his powers even further. Lightning crackled to life around his spear as the charms he wore about his neck amplified his affinity for lightning magic, allowing him to surpass his natural limitations and reach a level only the kingdom's mightiest mages could hope to attain. Rather than hurl the lightning at the princess, he wrapped it around his spear, taking its destructive power to absurd heights."Are you done?" the princess asked. "Or are you going to keep enhancing yourself and your weapon." She lowered her voice. "Why can't I have a lightning spear?" she muttered. "But that soul-cutting magic on those daggers earlier was pretty good too damn it. Why can't my magic look like that?"Foley ignored the princess's rambling in favour of taking up his stance. He began to breathe in and out slowly and evenly. This was a technique that had been passed down to him by his instructor, a former general of another kingdom who had been cast out for wiping out villages that had defied his orders to hand over their crops when his army had passed through. The general had been a bitter, old man, but he had taught this technique to Foley after Foley had promised to use it to assassinate those responsible for his downfall.Foley had kept his promise, and the general had died with a smile on his face.The technique itself was simple in concept but incredibly difficult in execution. By training his senses to the utmost, he was able to detect minute currents of magic in the area around him. He could pull on those currents and feed them into his enhancement spells, strengthening them even further and allowing him to achieve inhuman feats of strength and speed.How should he do this?There was no point in holding back. The princess had clearly prepared for the tournament. It was best to slay her in a single strike. Yes. A charge followed by a flat thrust of his spear, all of it delivered at a speed that would make dodging impossible and enhanced with so much strength and lightning that attempting to parry or block would be a death sentence.He called this technique the 'Killer Bolt' for it was like a bolt of lightning that never failed to slay his opponent.Foley bent his knees and then surged forward as the princess reached down and picked up a rock. No. It was a piece of the arena wall that had broken off earlier when she punched the assassin.The princess weighed the rock in her hands and then The rock vanished.Foley stumbled to his knees as his spear slipped from his hands."What?" He glanced down to find a rock-sized hole in his chest. "How?"The princess smiled at him. "I like rocks. You can bash people over the head with them, or you can throw them. I kind of wish that I could have brought my favourite rock, but Doomwing said it would look strange if I walked into the arena with a rock instead of a sword. Oh well. It's like one of his friends said, there's no problem you can't solve with the right rock."As the sun began to set, the tournament came to a close for the day. Bouts would resume in the morning. The crowd was abuzz with talk of the princess who had turned what should have been an incredibly challenging tournament into something that was equal parts amazing and ludicrous. Not a single one of her opponents so far had presented anything even remotely resembling a challenge, and some of them had died in ways that were, quite frankly, comical.A rock?Foley of the Lightning Spear was a legendary mercenary who often played the part of assassin. It was an open secret that he worked for a number of nobles and merchants who made vast quantities of money through what was basically slavery. He was considered so deadly that only the kingdom's finest warriors could even think of facing him.And the princess had killed him with a rock.She'd cut a swathe through the rest of her opponents although she had been surprisingly gentle with some of them, even allowing a young nobleman to surrender after dodging all of his attacks for a few minutes. The young man had put on a decent show, displaying powerful magic and skill with a blade, not that it had meant much against the princess. Another opponent had simply surrendered upon being called into the arena. Apparently, he'd been afraid of embarrassing himself. For her part, the princess hadn't even used her sword, instead relying on punches, kicks, and random bits of debris to win her fights.However, the day had one last surprise.As the bells of the city's temples rang out, sounding the hour, a dragon appeared, scales of ruby and sapphire lit in the westering sun. He was massive, so huge that his mere presence had commonfolk and nobles alike standing still in a combination of awe and terror. He was Doomwing, the dragon their king had sworn oaths of loyalty to, and he had apparently come to enjoy the ambience of the tournament.The great dragon circled the city twice, and despite the fear he provoked, there was hardly a person there who did not stare at his magnificence. Nobles like to clothe themselves in finery and show off their power, but what jewels or cloth could compare to the dragon's scales, and what power could compare to the magic that momentarily lit the sky, turning it bright as day as the dragon spoke, praising the participants of the tournament and urging them to do their best in the days to come.At last, his words spoken, the dragon wheeled away from the city, coming to rest in the vast lake. He was like a living island, and the boats on the lake hurried to put distance between them. Some in the crowd worried that the dragon might turn his fire on them, but those wiser had no such concerns.Had the dragon wanted them dead, they would be.Doomwing glanced up. It was an hour after midnight, and an illusion had just been made. It was a small thing, but the skill of its weaving was impressive indeed. A lesser dragon could very easily have been fooled, and even a keen-eyed observer who was less familiar with such magics might have missed it.But he was Doomwing, and he was very familiar indeed with this kind of magic.A lone figure walked across the waters of the lake toward him, hidden from all eyes save his, her presence so completely concealed that her footsteps left not so much as a ripple on the surface of the water.Nine golden tails stirred in the breeze, and piercing green eyes met his for the first time in almost a thousand years."Good evening," Hikari said. "Uncle Doomwing."He looked at her for a long moment. She had grown strong indeed since they had last spoken. Dreamsong was to be commended for her training. Indeed, although her power could not yet compare to Kagami's even before her madness there was a razor sharpness to it that Kagami had never quite possessed."It has been some time, Hikari," Doomwing replied. "And it is no longer good evening. It is good morning."Her lips twitched. "You used to say that to me whenever I snuck out of bed to badger you into telling me another story.""And do you still remember those stories?" Doomwing asked. "And the lessons they taught.""I remember them all," Hikari replied as she sat down on the water, her tails spread out like tongues of golden fire. "Would you tell me more if I asked?""Perhaps." Doomwing peered at Hikari. The nave, indecisive girl was gone. In her place was a ruler. "Is there one you would like to hear?""The story of the scholar and the general," Hikari replied. "Since it's about two old friends meeting again.""Is that what we are?""It's what I'd like us to be, if you'd allow it."
