Glancing to the robed man, the King receives a nod. “Very well, then. You may go, but we strongly caution you against doing anything while we’re in judgment which would turn our decision summarily against you.”
“Yes, your majesty,” replies James. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the officious man approaching him. “Follow me sir,” he says.
James gives the King and his court a bow before turning to follow the man from the room. They leave through a different side door from which they originally entered. A page is waiting for them outside the door and the officious man says, “Take this man back to his inn.”
Bobbing his head, the page replies, “Yes sir.” To James he says, “This way.” As the page leads him out of the castle, James tells him to take him to the Silver Bells. He didn’t realize just how long it’s been since he first talked to Ellinwyrd until he leaves the castle. He must have been waiting outside the Royal Court for some time for the sun has already gone down and the first stars are beginning to make their appearance.
All the way back, James’ mind churns over what happened to him back at the Royal Court. Why would they let me go on my own recognizance? Maybe that wizard back there had truth-read me? If so, I should try to figure out how he did it. It may come in useful.
Once past the gates into the middle section of town, the page continues leading him directly to the inn. When they are but three blocks away, James sees a crowd of people congregating near the entrance to an alleyway. “Wonder what’s going on over there?” he asks out loud.
The page says, “Maybe they found another body?”
“What?” James asks.
“Earlier today, they found a woman’s body mutilated in a different alley near here,” he says. “It happens sometimes.”
James is slightly unnerved by the callous way in which the page just shrugs off a woman’s death. Is that sort of thing so common around here that no one pays any attention to it? “Was she a prostitute?” he asks.
“Most likely,” the page replies, “though I’m not entirely sure.”
Could be why the reaction, prostitutes are looked down on in most societies so their deaths tend not to be too bothersome. It does sort of go with the trade.
When they reach the inn, the page makes his farewells and returns to the castle. Inside the inn, James finds Miko, Illan and Dave having their evening meal in the common room. Taking a seat at the table, he relates what happened at the Court and the accusations of the Ambassador.
“Seems that since they can’t get you by force, they’ll try another route,” observes Illan.
“Looks that way,” he replies. “Have any of you heard about the women killed around here recently?”
They all shake their heads no and he proceeds to fill them in on what he learned. “It’s a bad time for this sort of thing to be happening,” he says when he’s done.
“It’s always a bad time when someone dies,” states Dave.
“I know, but now with all that’s going on up at the castle, I just hope they don’t get the idea it’s caused by me,” he says.
“Do you think they’ll decide against you?” his friend asks.
“I hope not Dave,” he replies.
“What do you plan to do if they decide to hand you over to the Empire?” Illan asks.
“I’m not going with them, that’s for sure,” he states with finality. “But I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“If you go against the Royal Court’s decision, wouldn’t that put them against you too?” Miko asks, worried.
“Who knows?” says James in exasperation.
Illan and Miko then fill him in on what they’ve learned. Miko was surprised when James didn’t react to the fact Lord Colerain was in the city until he explained that he had already seen him in Court.
“Do you think he had a hand in it?” Miko asks. “You being summoned I mean.”
Shaking his head, James replies, “I doubt it. He’s probably just around to enjoy the situation. By the way, where are Jiron and Fifer?”
“I don’t know,” Illan replies. “They left out of here several hours ago and weren’t too clear as to where they were going.”
“I hope they’re not getting into any trouble,” he says as he digs into his dinner.
The time for the match draws near. Jiron and Fifer begin making their way through the dark streets on their way to the courtyard behind the inn. “Nervous?” Fifer asks.
“Not especially,” Jiron replies. Even when fighting in the pits, he never once became nervous or anxious. Some of the others had thought him somewhat odd because of that, but the closest emotion he ever feels at this time would be a sense of expectation.
Other people on the streets are heading in the direction of the courtyard, the word of the impending fight must have spread throughout the poor section. As they reach the inn, they find carriages of obviously wealthy individuals waiting out front. “Seems this goes on a lot around here, they even attract the nobles.”
Moving through the alley to the side of the inn, they make their way through the milling crowd. As they approach the courtyard, the press of people becomes thicker and thicker until they have to practically force their way through. Jokingly, Fifer says, “I guess we should’ve arrived earlier.”
“It would seem that way,” replies Jiron.
Near the end of the alley, a group of thugs are blocking the entrance to the courtyard. When Jiron tries to move past, one of them says, “Here now, who do you think you are?”
Without even pausing, Jiron strikes out with his fists and the man falls to the ground. His two buddies immediately turn on Jiron and before the others in the crowd even know something is afoot, Jiron drops them too. Stepping over their comatose bodies, he enters the courtyard and passes through the edge of the crowd.
“Needed a warm up,” he jokingly tells Fifer. “Glad those guys could oblige.” Fifer breaks into a laugh at that.
Passing through the edge of the crowd, they enter the open space in the middle of the courtyard. The barman who arranged this fight stands over to one side with several of his cronies. Upon seeing Jiron, he disengages himself and makes his way over. “Didn’t think you were going to show?”
“Sorry about that,” replies Jiron. “Was a little bit delayed.” Looking around, he asks, “Where’s my opponent?”
“They haven’t arrived yet,” the man replies. “They’re known for being fashionably late.”
Throughout the crowd are not only the riff raff of the area, but wealthy individuals as well as those in between. To one side a pavilion of sorts has been erected, the fact that it’s currently unoccupied leads Jiron to believe it’s for the group putting up the other fighter.
The barkeep asks, “So what weapons are you going to choose?”
Jiron pats the knives at his waist.
Looking in disbelief, the barkeep exclaims, “You can’t be serious!”
“Very,” replies Jiron.
“But you’ll not last a minute against their champion!” insists the barkeep.
“I’ll be fine,” asserts Jiron.
Bystanders begin to notice Jiron and the barkeep together and a buzz begins to circulate through the crowd as he begins to be pointed out as the challenger. Money changes hands as side wagers are placed.
Aside from the crudity of the surroundings, this place isn’t much different than the pits he fought in back in the City of Light before it was sacked by the Empire. Few places ever brought a feeling of peace to Jiron like being in the pits. At times that feeling bothered him, like he shouldn’t feel that way. Maybe it’s because he had made himself there.
From the far side of the crowd, a hushed murmur begins as the spectators begin parting for a procession of several individuals making their way to the fight area. “They’re here,” states the barkeep.
Five men come walking toward them, four of them obviously being from the Empire. The fifth man, larger than the rest is wearing a hooded cloak which covers his features. As the men approach, the one in the lead says, “We’re here. Where is the man to face our champion?”