Chapter 13

"I need you to take off your armor," the healer orders Arven.

"What?" Arven is sure of what she's requesting, but it still catches him by surprise.

The healer, a female Human cleric with brown hair, wearing a white dress, dunks a washcloth into a bucket of water. "Your armor, take it off. All of it." She wrings the liquid out of the bantam towel.

"I prefer not."

Growing irritated, the cleric slams the washcloth into the bucket, spilling a portion of the contents onto the stone floor. "Look. If you want me to do my job of fully healing you and obtaining your full strength back, you'll need to remove anything covering up your wounds. Plus, the other healers and I suspect foul play was involved, so I need to see all of your injuries." Arven reluctantly agrees and begins stripping off his armor till he is naked. His slightly toned body is covered in bruises and cuts. Each is fresh or ancient, and the burn marks are visible on every part of the skin that matches the armor placement, obscuring some of the other afflictions. The healer inspects the injuries thoroughly, "I thought so."

"You thought what?"

"Your burns. Magic was involved, specifically Heat Metal. Did you see your opponent's eyes turn red?"

Arven shook his head. "No."

"Then someone from the outside had a hand in this. I noticed the change on your armor, and I'd thought that spell was in use, but other magic users and I didn't detect any mana emanating from the source, which threw us off. It leads me to believe that a sorcerer is behind it."

"Why a sorcerer?"

"Because they have ways of manipulating mana that no other mages can do, and some stories say that they can reduce their mana footprint and not utter a word when casting a spell. Know anyone that has those capabilities?" She starts casting some healing spells on him.

Arven first conjures his friend in his head since Merrick never mentions the spell before casting it. He knows it's preposterous for Merrick to sabotage him. Then, there's the ice mage. “I have an idea of who could be behind it. Don't know if he has it, but he has resources."

"Who?"

"Envarn though I don't have solid evidence. Dylar and several others are friends with him, and he and I aren't on the best of terms."

"Why not?"

"Because he's rich, and that somehow makes him think he's better than everyone in town. Plus, I had to bail out a friend of mine and my adopted brother numerous times. Anyway, I suspect him because, during the maze, I fought a mage that had no interest in advancing to the next round. Only making sure that I lose. After I defeated her, I searched her for any clues only for me to find a ring with her name and Envarn's engraved in it."

"I highly doubt she's a sorceress in this case. She gave off her mana footprint every spell she cast, and she had terrible control of her mana despite her two affinities. I'll pass on what you told me, and we'll keep a closer look at Envarn and his friends if they're here. We're also going to find the other mage, see what she knows, and ban her for life from participating. Maybe arrest her for cheating." The healer takes out two potions and puts them on a small table before touching Arven's injuries, casting Healing Touch. "Art of Rejuvenation: Healing Touch!" His freshest injuries fade; some are severe enough to add to the cicatrices of his devotion to his path. "Go ahead and put your armor back on and drink these. They're the equivalent of a day's rest, so you are ready for the next fight." Arven opens the top of one of them and takes a gulp before hacking. "They still taste bad."

"That's good. Means the medicine is working." Arven downs the two potions, nearly regurgitating them from the astringent flavor, and puts his armor back on. The following two rounds go by, and now it's his turn. His opponent is the winner from the first round, Orma. The gates open, and Arven and Half-Orc meet in the middle and shake hands before returning to their side. 

"Begin!" Andur shouts.

Orma and Arven charge at each other and clash. At first, they are evenly matched, both sides not yielding ground while pushing their blades against each other. They jump back, realizing their physical strengths are equal, but she bolts towards him first. As Andur commentates, Arven recognizes the tide is not in his favor. His opponent has him playing defense, blocking her attacks and ceding territory. Any opportunities to lunge out results in more trouble for him. Escalating his misfortunes, Arven's sword manages to lodge itself in the gap of Orma's greataxe, and she disarms him by breaking the weapon.

I'm in trouble, Arven thinks.

Andur gives out the play-by-play, "Things aren't looking good for Arven as his main weapon is now broken into many pieces! Will he prevail with the disadvantage, or will he succumb to the mighty hits from Orma?" Arven lashes out and grabs Orma's weapon to free it from her grasp. The struggle causes Orma to slide back. Arven notices this and has a different idea. Change of plans. I'm forcing her to cross the boundaries so I can move on.

To his delight, Arven has an easier time shoving Orma closer to the edge, believing her strength is diminishing. He grins as he has her barely within the perimeter, staring at the Half-Orc's visage. She maintains a neutral, focused countenance, keeping it from the beginning. "I have you where I want you. Why don't you make it easier for me and voluntarily step out so that I may progress?"

"Actually, Human, you've fallen for my trap. I wanted you to do this to me so that I can spare you from unnecessary injuries from me."

"What?"

"You fought well, but it's time for me to end this." Orma takes her greataxe, with Arven still holding it with both hands, and lifts it. Before he can do anything, the Half-Orc makes an overhead motion and slams his entire body outside the boundary, knocking the wind out of him.

"It's official, audience; Orma moves onto the finals!" Andur announces.

"I demand a do-over!" Arven shouts at Andur.

"Sorry. She beat you fair and square. Your time here is done. May you do better next time you participate."

"I refuse to accept this! She actually stepped out before I did! It's her that has to go! Not me! You're just a...." A spell that paralyzes a creature foregoes Arven's tantrum, interrupting his sentence before he escalates it further, and his body falls over, palpitating vigorously.

"Guards! Take this sore loser out of here so we can continue with the competition. If he wants to stay and watch, let him. If he continues his outburst further or escalates, throw his ass out, and he'll be banned from stepping foot in the stadium for a while." The guards come and haul Arven's body out of the arena. He is then able to move his body.

"Are you going to behave yourself, or are we going to have to do an extra step?" One of the security guards threatens Arven.

"Actually, I'm leaving."

"If you are ever interested in competing again in the future, we'll enjoy your return." Arven leaves furiously stomping on the rocky surface. He finds a secluded area and proceeds to take his anger and frustration on the various objects nearby.

Meanwhile, at the stadium, Kaera, Merrick, and Sylfinas are sitting in their seats. They realize that Arven's not coming back. "Well, should we leave and find him?" Kaera asks.

"I'm thinking about staying here, Kaera,” Sylfinas answers. “Gives him time to cool off. What about you, Merrick?"

"I'm staying. I paid out of my own pockets to get in, and since both of you witnessed me quitting my job, I have no more money coming in, so I'm getting as much use out of the ticket as I can."

"In that case, I'm staying as well,” Kaera responds, presuming Arven will be fine without her protection. They stay for the entire tournament, witnessing a significant event taking place before their eyes, which has them dropping their jaws in astonishment followed by bewilderment. When the contest ends with a ceremony, they leave. It's late in the day when they find Arven aimlessly and lackadaisically swinging his feet around. He's still livid, but taking it out on objects has him in a more tranquil state.

"Feeling better, Arven?" Kaera inquires.

"Still pissed off but not as much as before."

"You should've stayed, dude. You missed the blacksmith that gave us our items being banned permanently from competing and stepping foot in the stadium,” Merrick utters excitedly.

"What? How did it happen?" 

Merrick narrates how Orma's ascension to the grand champion. "At first, she and the blacksmith were about as evenly matched as you can get, even more than your round...." Arven starts to frown slightly as the anecdote drags on. "...Then, the blacksmith had her on the ropes after tossing her weapon out of the boundaries. All she could do was dodge and dodge as he swung his massive blade at her. Next, she did something totally insane. The Half-Orc stood still, taking a direct blow, which knocked her but didn't. I don't know how to describe it, except it appeared she faked the blow's severity. She exploded back to life, catching the blacksmith by surprise, and she threw him out of the ring, similar to how she did it to you, although that wasn't the more shocking part. The blacksmith went more berserk than you at his loss, even starting to yell vulgar words geared towards mixed races in general or Half-Orcs specifically. The officials had to subdue him like you, but -get this- they banned the blacksmith for eternity."

"That should've been me facing him," Arven articulates with some dismay, secretly glad to not utter racist obscenities during his loss.

"Be glad that you're not interdicted permanently like the blacksmith. Your opportunity will arrive," Sylfinas replies.

"Orma knew she stepped out of the boundary. She cheated, Sylfinas," Arven accuses.

"The administrators think otherwise."

"I'm going back there to prove they're wrong."

"And squander your shot at redemption by getting banned perpetually. The archons won't capitulate."

Arven sighs angrily as he concedes, "Fine. Next year I'll prove that I'm the greatest fighter. What about Envarn?"

"What about him?" Merrick inquires.

"I'm assuming he was there since Dylar was."

"Oh yeah, he was," Kaera answers.

"Is he banned?"

"What for?" Sylfinas asks.

"Helping Dylar fight against me. I was told by the healer helping me that they're looking into it."

"He was assisting. I'm not aware of him being banned, but something else happened that's just as splendid, in my opinion."

"What is it?"

Sylfinas rehearses about freckling some niphilwort seeds into one of Envarn's friends' drinks. He reports about Merrick and Kaera creating a distraction, Merrick quitting from the tavern, causing a fight between him and Mr. Dirran, her intervening on Merrick's behalf, and his ingenuity utilizing it as an opportunity to tamper with the food.  

Arven chuckles, and his mood brightens at hearing the part of one of Envarn's companions barfing on Envarn and the rest of the cronies, including the one responsible for casting Heat Metal. "That is funny." He ceases his footsteps to ask Merrick, "So you're now done with the Golden Keg?"

"Yes. Even though it was hardly anything, it's still money I need, but I'll think of another way. I just remembered I need to get to a shop that does mail service and soon. Know where the closest one is that is still open at this time of day?"

"Closest one is across the street from the potion shop I like to visit,” Sylfinas responds.

"Let's go!" All four arrive at the shop with a few minutes to spare. Merrick heads inside and tells the rest to wait outside. "It won't take me long." 

As the rest are waiting, Sylfinas looks at what's posted on the news board."Check this out!"

"What is it?" Kaera inquires.

"Vierna, the former queen of the Aletlar Dynasty, just died, and her daughter, Talaris, assumed the throne. The paper says that she wishes to speak to King Dylan and wants peace between Pheha and Adoran."

"Not going to happen," Arven responds dismissively.

"Why do you view it so negatively?"

"I'm not. I'm a realist. Those Phehans only care about violence. It's in their nature. Plus, they view us as nothing but cattle."

"Well, I believe that she desires amity and be one step closer to ending all the violence in Illyria."

"You're wasting your time," Arven utters under his breath. 

Kaera notices Skye coming out of the potion shop and closes it. She watches her do her bizarre ritual in her shop. "Look at what she's doing, Sylfinas. Any ideas?"

"She's warding off evil spirits and other entities from her shop. I told you she's superstitious." 

Merrick comes out after sending his mail. "Told you it wouldn't take me long." He yawns. "I'm tired. Shall we head back to Jemeir so we can go back to your place?"

All three nod in agreement as they yawn subsequently and leave, but Skye catches them and stops them. "You'll be needing these." She hands them a few trinkets. 

"What are these for?" Sylfinas inquires.

"They're to protect you from nocuous incidents to come. Look." She points them to a nearby raven before it flies off. "Don't lose them."

"We won't." 

The party members finally reunite with Jemeir and return to Arven's and Sylfinas's house before it turns dark outside. After consuming mutton stew for dinner, they retire to their sleeping quarters in their usual attire, hoping that Skye's trinkets can protect them from potential ruin tomorrow.