45th of Season of Air, 80th year of the 32nd cycle

  While Newt dreamed of using his winnings to buy back his parents’ freedom, a group of mageknights from five different organizations surrounded Dandelion, enthralled by his story.

  “So there I was, in front of an army of fearsome cannibals, them staring at me, me staring at them. My jaw dropped, and I was about to utter a curse when a tall, handsome young man, bare-chested with skin as black as ebony, entered the opening.”

  Dandelion’s voice and accent changed. “‘Great chieftain Eatemall, I, Prince Sidesnack, have come to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage.’ His words broke the spell that kept me safe from a horde of cannibals, and everyone turned towards him.”

  Dandelion’s voice changed once more, growing deeper and more malevolent.

  “‘You know of the quest?’ The massive, scarred chieftain asked, and the young man presented him with a coconut.”

  Dandelion’s voice once more changed to that of the young prince. “‘Indeed, you sought a fruit lavish enough for your daughter. This coconut is the perfect gift for her.’ The chieftain looked at the coconut, then at his daughter, and finally at the prince. ‘I accept the offered fruit. For the final part of the quest, stick the fruit up your butt without making a sound. If you cannot, we will eat you.’”

  A surprisingly large number of listeners chortled or giggled, but Newt just stared in horrified shock at what Dandelion was saying, but the man spoke obscenities without skipping a beat.

  “The poor prince stared at the coconut. I deduced his quest was deceptively simple - bring the fruit for the princess; the chieftain omitted the latter, more important, part, which revealed he was seeking royal meals, rather than suitors for his daughter. Anyway, the unlucky prince tried his best, but grunted, and the savages fell upon him.

  “I dared not move, but just then, another man walked out of the forest. He wore exotic hides, decorated with feathers and scales, carrying a fist-sized mango. He introduced himself much the same way as the previous prince, and his eyes went wide when he realized the scam. The army of cannibals stared at him with hunger as he slid the large fruit under his clothes.”

  Dandelion paused, making his eyes bulge. “The man grunted, and the cannibals fell upon him. Just as they were murdering him, a third young man appeared. His skin was pale, his eyes heroic blue. He wore the finest silks and carried a bejeweled box.”

  Dandelion changed his voice again. “‘I, Mustard-on-roast, prince of Quicksnack, have come to ask for your daughter’s hand, oh great Eatemall.’ Eatemall asked about the quest, and the snobby prince gestured towards the rather large box he carried. ‘Naturally, here, lo-and-behold the spectacular fruit I brought for your daughter. It is still fresh.’ The prince then opened the box, and we all stared at him, even the savages wincing in sympathetic pain. He had brought the biggest pineapple I have ever laid my eyes on.”

  Everyone around the table laughed, and even Newt, while trying to fight it, got caught up and chuckled.

  “And did you fight that army?” Someone asked, and Dandelion shook his head good-naturedly.

  “No, no, one does not fight when they can use their wit and other means.”

  “What did you do? Run?”

  “No, no,” Dandelion chuckled. “I stepped forth and paid my respects to Eatemall. Then I pulled out a dried blueberry from my rations and became the new king of the cannibals after they ate Eatemall.”

  Several people clapped their hands, while others laughed drunkenly. Newt just shook his head in embarrassment.

  “He’s got a way with people,” Maelstrom crashed into his side, head against his shoulder, as she slurred the words. “And he doesn’t get drunk. He toasted everyone, I even spiked his wine, yet he’s perfectly fine. He’s a bottomless well, not a human, I tell you.”

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  Maelstrom burped, then started snoring. Newt removed her arm from around his neck and laid her head gently on the table.

  “Let us toast the day’s champion, my dear friend and blood brother, Newstar Salamandra.” A round of cheers attacked Newt with all the embarrassing discomfort it entailed.

  “Tomorrow,” Dandelion continued his speech, “Another shall win the second event, but I will reserve this establishment for our purposes. The best placed among us will pay the bill.”

  While the innkeeper rubbed his hands, the crowd cheered again. They knew they stood no chance at beating the handful of elites amongst them, and nobody would say no to being treated to exquisite food and wine as consolation prize.

  “What do you mean tomorrow?” Newt asked after the cheers quieted. “The next event is in two days.”

  “I mean tomorrow, it’s half-past one in the morning.”

  Newt jerked, and Maelstrom looked at him, her eyes out of focus.

  “Hehe, you’re a pumpkin now. Brrr brrr or whatever pumpkins say.” Her head slammed back against the table, and she continued her snoring.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Newt stared at the sleeping woman, a line of drool oozing from her mouth.

  “She drank too much,” Dandelion replied with a straight face, then went off to chat with Everlast who was waving him to come over.

  Newt sighed, and went over to the happy proprietor, opening up some distance from the noise.

  “Please put this on my tab. I’ll come in the morning to settle the bill.” Newt had no doubt Lady Woodhopper was looking for him and his teammates. He went over to them and led them out of the wine-house without saying goodbye to those who had stayed behind.

  “So, how are you all feeling? What do you think of our odds for the tournament?” Newt found the fresh mountain air much to his liking. Considerably better than the stuffy inn, which smelled of drunks.

  “If we follow tradition,” Rexheart said, not a trace of alcohol to be found about him, “and complete the other challenges around the thirtieth place, we should be right after the ducal houses for the final score.”

  He must have spent a while crunching numbers to get that result.

  “We can do better than that,” Newt said. “Let’s aim for the top ten!”

  Rexheart choked.

  “Well, aren’t you a greedy little brat?” A deep voice said from the shadows, and a gang of twenty masked people stepped out of four alleys, cutting off Newt’s lines of retreat. “We lost a lot of money because of you, brats. Now, we’re gonna teach you some respect.”

  Newt held his spear, turning around. All ambushers were peak fourth-realmers, almost all fire-attributed. If a fight broke out, he would have to go for the kill, and no matter how fast he was, some of his brothers and sisters might die.

  He looked at the ambushers, but there was little to see. The men and women wore dark clothes, their faces masked, and Newt could only helplessly watch them encircle his group of ten. Explorer’s Gate’s students formed a ring, their backs against each other’s.

  “We’re not gonna kill you, just put you back to your place.”

  “And pray tell, who ordered you to do this?” A familiar male voice sounded from the darkness, stepping towards them.

  Newt turned towards the newcomer wearing their order’s clothes. Gatemaster Greenthorn walked like a mortal, without a hurry, his voice and bearing relaxed.

  “Was it the ninth-realm grandmaster hiding behind the bushes over there?”

  A burly man appeared without movement. He wore a red uniform rimmed in gold, the fabric tight against his impressive physique.

  “My charges were acting foolishly. I planned to stop them before it came to blows.” The muscular man laughed and gestured at his charges. “Come along, you’ve taken your prank far enough.”

  The dark-clad men and women exchanged confused glances, standing stupidly in the middle of the street before their ninth-realm guardian cleared his throat. They formed a single group and followed the man away from the scene.

  “Firesahun had appalling luck yesterday.” Gatemaster Greenthorn watched the hostile group as they left. “It’s been two cycles since a royal house placed outside the top twelve on the first day. Still, they are mighty touchy for placing thirteenth in an event as huge as the Sage’s Realm.”

  The gatemaster turned towards his order’s students and future champions. “Now, I’m fairly certain Lady Woodhopper mentioned something about not staying outside too long, returning to our accommodations to meditate and recuperate… Anyone care to tell me what that was?”

  “We were supposed to return by midnight,” Rexheart said dutifully, “but we lost track of time in our celebrations.”

  Gatemaster nodded like a benevolent grandfather, despite not looking a day over thirty. “The next time you go to celebrate and socialize with other orders, you should bring the rest of your fellow students. The establishment you have chosen is known to charge by the hour, not by the bottle.”

  Gatemaster Greenthorn led the way to the Starlit Sky Inn, where the Explorer’s Gate group spent the day resting and preparing for the next event.

  On the morning of the second day after the equinox, the group headed by Lady Woodhopper went to face the second event of the tournament.