- CHAPTER EIGHT -
The sun has risen high on the tournament, leaving its patrons feeling heated and ready to watch on as the kingdom's trained nobility me together to strive for greatness. As the battles go on, people expect less and less of the townsmen and women. They're providing a good showcase for the Guard Family children, but only so many have made it further on to victory.
Here they've seen nobility present what arms they'll use to protect the kingdom, the bravery of the town's children to step up to the cause, and young children whose dreams will fill the ranks further down the line. With that, no one expects the youngest of them to be able to handle much, so when the next fight lined up had Nephaeros participating, the crowd didn't expect much of a spectacle.
"What!? M-m-me?"
Nephaeros timidly exclaims.
After a moment of disbelief, she does her best to retrieve her composure. Nephaeros slides a small shield over her forearm and prepares herself to enter the ring.
The surrounding contestants ooh and ahh at her young body, Nephaeros shies away from their looks and steps forward passing them, entering the blinding light of the roaring arena. The crowd claps and cheers for the next fight.
"Here she is! Nephaeros! The youngest sister of previous fighter and destroyer - Crulox!"
The crowd becomes intrigued and raises the volume a little. Digeto spits in her corner.
"Sister of Crulox…"
Stabbing one of her daggers into a wooden post close to her, she stands and tosses up a small pouch of coins and catches it mid-air, smiling at a devious idea she comes up with. Digeto snags her dagger and walks off towards the announcer's podium, devilishly grinning.
A tinge of red enters her eyes, painting a picture of what she has in mind for Nephaeros.
"Oh announcer, I just think it's great that Crassitus will be the next fighter." And she slides the bag of coins across in front of him, he shuffles his papers around to conceal the pouch and continues announcing.
"And the next combatant to test their might, the much-beloved son of Regnus himself! Crassitus!"
The crowds roaring becomes a squealing mess of young girls, pitches uncomfortable to most ears, and even fanning of some mothers' faces from being so heated.
Crassitus stands up and begins to walk over to the entryway, being stopped by Digeto for a moment.
"Crassy! I think you'll just love having fun with baby sis, she told me she thinks you're everything she wants in a dance partner."
Digeto baits Crassitus with words of play and a young body to play with, he gets a thrill we have yet to see.
Crassitus moans slightly, jutting his hip out and walking for the entryway, swinging his hips, undoing his belt and breaking just before the white blinding outdoors.
"... and they're playing my song."
He steps into the sun and the crowd applauds and cheers as it has for no other fighter today.
Nephaeros smiles nervously at some of the men in the crowd, they shamelessly don't hide how they look at her. As she scans the crowd for Vicadum, she comes upon Crassitus, who made his way into the arena and in front of her at a significant pace.
"My sweet, you look troubled."
Crassitus' silky voice slithers its way into her ears, and his hand takes hers in the same moment, caught off guard by all of it, she instinctively jumps back. Crassitus widens his gaze and smiles wider.
"You have some agility to you, you'll definitely make for a great dance partner!"
Crassitus encourages her to move around.
Nephaeros is entirely creeped out by him, determined now to percuss him across the face with her sword. Nephaeros is left to use a one-handed sword, not fit for one her size. She had to find something to use as her parents gave more attention and care to what Crulox and Digeto would be using. Nephaeros swings her unyielding sword.
Too heavy to really discipline the sword's use, Nephaeros spins extensively.
"Aha! Yes Deary, Spin and twirl!"
Crassitus kisses his fingers in place of kissing her, sending it her way. Crassitus stands for a moment, composes and unwraps his belt, the crowd screams in excitement at the implication, and Nephaeros grimaces at the same.
Slashing in a fantastic flurry of black and silver hacks at the wind, Crassitus erects in the center of this outburst. The loose-fitting black belt Crassitus wore around his waist, is now cutting the dirt and rock around him, leaving wounding impressions of black in the eyes of those paying attention closely enough. His weapon gleams furiously as he coils his blade around him.
Crassitus' black belt doubles as a sabre edge, the clearly masterful display states Nephaeros' peril.
Nephaeros lunges towards him, aiming to breach his stance and get him moving, putting to use the small amount of training she spied on of Crulox and Digeto's training. Swinging her heavy blade down at him, she cries out in effort.
"Hah!"
Nephaeros puts everything into her swing, ultimately digging her sword into the ground as Crassitus easily dodged.
"Those are the right moves, you just need to keep up Darling!"
Crassitus flips his silver hair over, confident as ever in his own skills and swordplay both.
Nephaeros grits her teeth at him.
"Stop telling me how to fight!"
She lets one hand off of the hilt to swing widely. He ducks this backhand and grabs it, bringing it within an inch of his lips.
"Oh, poor sweet, itty bitty little cutie! You think this is fighting?"
Crassitus rips her towards him, away from her sword. He continues to twirl her in his arms and dips her down in an arm extension.
"Although… not itty bitty where it counts..."
Crassitus remarks to himself about the young girl's chest.
"This isn't fighting at all! This is the dance!"
Nephaeros is helpless to his violent tossing about, being thrown into the air by Crassitus too easily.
"Now jump!"
Crassitus exclaims and lets her loose, unwrapping his bladed belt in the same movement.
"Wha-!?"
Nephaeros manages to yelp out.
Slashing at her flying form, taking easy strikes at her, Crassitus smiles wider than is comfortable for anyone to look at. Nephaeros has no time to do anything meaningful, only curling up what little she can in the time she's airborne.
Crassitus smiles and reels back for a harder strike, rushing his arm forward and ferociously forcing her airborne a little longer. Nephaeros is flung across the arena and begins to uncurl her limbs.
Crassitus is pleased with himself, wrapping his sabre around his fist, he looks at her flailing about and giggles. Just before she can land, Crassitus unravels his weapon and steps onto it.
He heaves tensely on his loose blade, tightening it and successfully launching himself with the pure tension, speeding towards her falling form.
He catches her in his arms, in a similar dipping fashion as before.
"And I catch you. See Deary? Quite the finale!"
He stands her up on her feet and she raggedly takes a position, clenching her fists to go for another strike at him. Before she can though, he coils her towards the center of the arena and turns his back to her, facing the crowd.
"Now! Seeing as this is technically a fight, I do have to defeat you."
He turns to her and she is wearing a worn and tired face, a tear welling up in the corner of her eye, nearly mixing with some of the fresh dripping blood.
Crassitus looks her up and down and smirks, he then looks over to a hysterically laughing Digeto.
He looks back at her and loosens his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, you've stolen me for a moment..."
She sighs in short relief, thinking maybe he had enough of her. She is tired and already defeated, willing to accept the pain of the loss just to make it out of here for now. She is successfully and thoroughly demoralized.
"If only Filovis weren't my true Goddess..."
In an instant, Crassitus is on the other side of the arena behind her, the crowd struck in wide awe. Nephaeros spurts a jet of blood, colouring the dirt in front of her a dark haze of red. Crassitus holding both ends of his bladed belt, strong and straight to make it a tougher strike. Crassitus moves first, whipping his belt around him, the spin pulls the blood off his blade, creating a skirt of blood in the air for a moment. The crowd roars in approval of his style and demonstration of utter power.
"Mmm"
He moans as he bows, flourishing his victory over everyone, he bows again and manages to snag a rose from the air as they're tossed down to him. Without even looking, he catches the rose and places it in his teeth, blowing a kiss towards the still-standing Nephaeros.
And as if the small air from his "Muah" were enough, she falls over and the match is won. Crassitus continues onward to the Victors hall.
Digeto sits back in her seat, breathless from the fun she just had, looking down at Nephaeros being carried off of the battleground. She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms, satisfied with herself, she then looks over to the announcer podium and sees him counting his coins.
"Hah, too easy."
Digeto kicks up from her seat and walks back into the barracks, where the rest of the fighters still wait.
"Did you see that?"
"Yeah, that was brutal"
"Why didn't the announcer say anything?"
"I guess gold has a way of preoccupying one's attention"
Some fighters discuss the brutal matching and defeat, within earshot of a now grinning Armasitis.
He gets up and goes over to the talking pair and sits next to them, saying nothing. They quiet down and look at him, fearfully.
"H-hi, Armasitis"
"Yeah, hey man."
Armasitis breathes hard through his nose, almost to steam. The men don't know how to react and move to slide away from him. Armasitis grabs them by their individual shoulders and squeezes, they cower and quiver in pain and anguish. The two are crushed by the massive indenting hands, and can only cry in short instances of pain.
"Why! Ahh!"
"What- what do you want!"
Not answering them at all, Armasitis pushes his two hands inwards to his chest, forcing the two heads together, knocking them both out instantly. Reaching down to their sides, Armasitis grabs two small leather pouches that clang with coins.
Successfully procuring the necessary funds, Armasitis walks over to the podium and says only,
"Vicadum",
And leans towards him. The announcer so extremely intimidated by Armasitis scratches Vicadums name on a scroll of paper and shows it to him. Shakily the paper rustles, Armasitis sneers at him and drops the pouch onto the table in front of the announcer.
"Make it happen."
He grumbles to the announcer and walks away. Working fast so as not to piss this man off, the announcer scribbles both Armasitis and Vicadum together in the tournament listing.
Vicadum across the barracks hall starts to feel uneasy at the sight of watching Nephaeros be tossed and thrown about, having her clothes stripped from her form by the thrashing whip of Crassitus. He fears what his fight might mean for him, should his opponent be just as cruel.
Now, as before, the announcement came to quiet the arena, and the contenders yet to fight rise and await their turn.
"Next!-"
The crowd hushes,
"We shall see-"
Taking pauses during his announcement to really gather the crowd in.
"Two sons of previous guards..."
Whispers among the townspeople and the competition begin.
"One whose Father had left the guard, unable to fight - "
Everyone in the stands and corridor of fighters could promptly understand the next fighter. Their eyes darting immediately over to where he stands. He pushes himself off his bench and tramples his way to the entrance of the arena.
"Armasitis!"
The announcement booms throughout the hall, greatly raising the volume of the entire grounds.
The crowd slowly chants and cheers for the Noble, yelling out to him, reaching to touch his prominent muscular stature.
"Will his victory here spell the restoration of his family's honour!?"
The masses love him, his storied past and terrifying presence create a considerable presence.
The crowd begins to ooh and ahh the next possible challenger, fearing for anyone who has to face the likes of Armasitis. Vicadum gets a gutting pit in his stomach, and sweat begins to bead on his hairline. He nervously looks around the hall and it's almost as if the crowd around him starts to suspect the same thing he has. Armasitis set this up.
Skittish and afraid, Vicadum begins to walk over to the announcer's podium, hoping to talk him out of saying his name. Parting for his walk of shame, the crowd smiles sharply, keying into his plan of shying away from the forced fight. Vicadum doesn't care what they think, his mind is too occupied with his likelihood of becoming a guard shooting down when he has to fight Armasitis.
"I won't be able to avoid contact with him, he's too fast and too strong!"
Vicadum woes to himself.
On his way over, he watches as two men soothe each other's pain, asking if the other is going to be able to fight, listing complaints of their worry and recent robbery from a certain monster, holding wet rags to their heads.
Recently beat up, but not in any fight, Vicadum watches them, and his own fear greatens.
He steps up to the platform of the announcer and sees his name scrawled onto a piece of paper set on the table, next to two loose pouches of coins. Vicadum doesn't react at first, only closing his eyes as if wishing he hadn't seen what he did. He knows it's happening though, Armasitis bribed the announcer to make him fight him in the tournament, assuredly to destroy him in an official match, with no one to stop him or to call out this time.
"And for our next challenger! - "
The crowd quiets again.
"A true treat, another son of another dishonoured fallen hero."
There is no whispering this time, the crowd begins to jeer at the implication of Diagis' progeny. Vientus wasn't given the time to properly receive the hatred the town has for his father, he was there to win and move on, impressing the horde enough with his power to stave off their ridicule.
Vicadum gets no such treatment, he is at the butt of everyone's mockery.
Vicadum throws his back against the wall, frustrated to no end at his situation. Elbowing the wall he leans against in resentment, having to wait for his name to be called out., Vicadum seethes his outrage.
"Vicadum! The last son of Diagis!"
And in one final blow to the wall of the barracks, Vicadum turns around to face the wall and envisions his father standing before him, offended by his name being thrown out there with his; he raises his sword to the neck of his father's visage and slowly stabs into it. The crowd around him doesn't know what to do.
He turns around to face the entryway, the people around him part, and he walks on slowly. His fists crunching into themselves, his right hand slicing onto his own blade. Blood trails behind him into the arena grounds.
The crowd is ready to watch this monster of a man take on the last son of Diagis, awaiting his utter defeat.
Vicadum thinks to himself about Armasitis.
"Even if I don't win this, I didn't run away, I am not going to die here, I'm going to fight and prove what it is to stick to my word."
Armasitis smiles, relishing in his future victory, simple destruction of this small boy will mean he gets all he's wanted.
"You know I have to thank you."
Armasitis calls out to Vicadum from across the battleground.
"Without this victory, my climb to the top might've taken a few minutes longer."
Armasitis assures his own victory to his victim.
Vicadum winces, angered and cold.
"Whatever,"
He replies.
"Come on, kid! Can't tell me I've already taken all I could out of you with that mess earlier?"
Armasitis opens his arms and walks slowly into the ring, opting to choose no weapon and only fight with his bare hands. His brute strength has already been proven to be a class above the rest, the announcer and other officials did not argue.
Vicadum walks into the ring too, slowly he sidesteps in a defensive stance, knowing Armasitis has speed enough to dash over to him and take him down. Mockingly, Armasitis emulates his stance, pretending to hold his own sword. Vicadum becomes quizzical.
"I don't need a sword to take you down, remember?"
Armasitis remarks on his previous thrashing of Vicadum.
Vicadum remembers as well, and squeezes his hand tighter into the sword, creating more blood flow down the blade.
"It's not going to be the same!"
Vicadum whips his sword back and forward again, crossing his swing at Armasitis, throwing his blood at him, splashing across Armasitis' face.
Successfully blinding him, he jumps forward and to the side to hack at the right of him, leaping closer to get a better strike. Armasitis is rocked backward by the attack and subsequently let hit, taking a substantial slice to his left arm. Vicadum reels behind Armasitis, keeping his sword to Armasitis' left shoulder.
Confident in his strikes, Vicadum pricks his sword into Armasitis' flesh and orders him to give up.
"You didn't see me winning this and it made you blind, I'll allow you to forfeit now so that you don't make me slice into your arm further and do some real damage."
Armasitis all the while remaining silent, he takes a knee and breathes in deeply.
Vicadum pushes slightly on the blade, forcing the blade deeper, and yells to him.
"Do it!"
Vicadum is immediately shut up, Armasitis backs up into the sword and gets off of his knee, slowly raising above a still and gazing Vicadum. Reaching full height, he lowers his head and turns to peek at Vicadum.
""Some real damage," you said!?"
Armasitis jerks his stabbed shoulder and with the quick motion of the throw, Vicadum is launched towards the arena wall.
Cringing through the pain, Vicadum figures out quickly what Armasitis did.
"Bastard! He made me sink deeper into the muscle so he could have more leverage!"
Vicadum slumps to the ground.
With Armasitis' muscular build, he was easily able to utilize his flexed muscles to grip the blade, successfully throwing Vicadum off to the side.
Walking off his injury, Armasitis opens his arms wide and calls out to the downed Vicadum.
"Come now, kid! Any other tricks up those sleeves."
Vicadum coughs up blood and stomach fluids, the forceful bashing he took against the wall ruptured his insides. Without a second to breathe, Armasitis dashes over to grip Vicadum's sleeves, crushing his arms with his fists, ripping downwards, he carries Vicadum into the dirt. The sleeves of his top are torn off and their ends dipped with Vicadum's blood.
Vicadum lies on the ground and darts his cringed eyes around, looking for any way out. Armasitis is stood firmly above him, watching him writhe.
"You really thought you might have me there, didn't you?"
While looking down at him, Armasitis' face crunches with disgust, deciding he's had enough of him. He raises his leg and steps down onto Vicadums chest, his boot landing directly on his sternum.
"Lay there and die, just like your old man!"
Instantaneously, Vicadum stabs inward of the back of Armasitis' knee, dealing a great blow to him. Shoving his foot off of his chest, Vicadum scurries to get up and shoots an enraged bloodshot gaze at Armasitis.
"You people really need to stop comparing me to Diagis!"
He screams vehemently.
Armasitis is sat taking a knee for a moment, breathing raggedly and harshly, his leg pouring blood underneath him.
"I'm nothing of what he was!"
Vicadum cries at him, almost begging him to understand. Taking a wide arching swing at Armasitis, he digs the sword edge into his backside near his ribs.
"You of all people I think might understand?"
He reasons to him, and slicing his sword back, he goes for another hack at Armasitis.
Armasitis opens his pained eyes, the whites of them being taken by his own bloodshot rage.
"Do you not want to overtake and erase your own father's failure!?"
Vicadum sounds sympathetic for a moment, but knows his words have to meet him with force, he runs over to Armasitis and swings back widely, preparing a hard drop of his sword down onto his shoulders. Vicadum starts to yell, his determination screaming for pursuant victory.
Armasitis clenches the bloody sludge beneath him, huffing steam from his chest, hardening his resolve. Vicadum has taken to the air and is about to strike Armasitis down, but in frustration and desperation to prove his own objective, he utilizes Vicadum's trick and slings the oozing mud into the airborne Vicadum's eyes. Before he can react properly, Armasitis has his fist buried into Vicadum's ribs and is standing statuesque in the centre of the ring.
Vicadum is sent flying, broken and unconscious, he is utterly defeated. The match is called as Armasitis' victory.
A short while later, Vicadum can barely manage to lift his head enough to see what's happened, Armasitis walks off the grounds and is blanketed in the shade of the Victor hall, where he sees the crew of victors standing. They all peer back down at him as if to spit on the very idea that he could ever stand with them. Letting his head rest down in the dirt, he recalls very faintly the staggered and gruff words.
"I will do anything, and everything to see that my Father's name is restored as a Hero of Regnus, even taking on the youngest contender in this tournament to get me there. "
Vicadum closes his eyes and drifts off into a dark abyss of shame. Knowing now he was only seen as an easy mark for someone else's agenda, he ponders the frivolity of his own goals, falling deeper into his sorrow of loss.
The tournament is nearing its end, and all is going according to plan in the King's eyes. He is truly finding the toughest, the most worthy, and finding out who is capable of handling the task of doing what it takes to keep safe the entirety of Regnus from these new unseen enemies.