76th of Season of Earth, 56th year of the 32nd imperial era
Newt arrived half an hour before the first semifinal match started, and yet, the entrance leading to the stands was crowded. Luckily, his status as a semi-finalist earned him certain privileges.
"Lord Salamandra," a guard shouted. "You and Lord Goodway can both watch the first match from the keep walls."
The man pointed towards the keep entrance, and Newt followed the directions offered by a couple of enthusiastic guards who believed Newt would lose his way walking up a flight of stairs. The view from atop the keep walls was commanding, but lacked the intimacy of the stands. Combatants stood further away, but Newt guessed the difference was minor enough not to impact the spectacle.
"Hi there, Newstar," Newt's skin crawled from the eerily familiar voice of Blackfist's half-brother. He didn't know whether the tone and the appearance matched his dream, or whether the memory of his dream blended with the reality. Whatever the case, the man was before Newt, offering an outstretched hand.
His realm was higher than Newt's, at the peak of the second realm, or at least close to it.
"Good day," Newt said, comparing the differences between Blackfist's aura and that of his family's advisors.
"Great job winning last night. I was surprised when I heard you had it in you to beat my boys."
Newt first thought the younger Blackfist referred to the match, but bouts with his underlings interested the man more. "How do you feel about joining my crew?"
Newt's enhanced mind took half a second to keep up with sudden developments. Blackbush Blackfist already considered his brother's possessions his own, and he even wanted to recruit him.
"Thank you for the offer. Unfortunately, I must travel to Thunderbluff."
The former bandit nodded curtly, turned around, and pretended Newt didn't exist, which suited Newt just fine.
He observed the situation, letting the seconds trickle down towards the start of the first match, when, three minutes later, the other semifinalist arrived. The man was tall and stout, a thick-shafted spear strapped to his back.
Blackbush approached him and left grumbling a few moments later. He had apparently failed to recruit the man surnamed Goodway.
The spearman looked around, inclined his head when he spotted Newt, who returned the gesture, before they both moved to their own, separate places along the battlements to observe the upcoming match.
Newt watched the shuffling of the masses and one enterprising food hawker, who somehow brought her tray into the stands, selling sunflower seeds. Finally, the referee called for Hardstone Blackfist and Brightcloud Redleaf to step into the arena.
Hardstone was handsomeish, well built, and strode with confidence. The tall man carried a six-foot-long, massive greatsword, something which would've injured Newt's spine had he tried to lift it as a commoner. Brightcloud, despite his much flashier name, seemed unremarkable, a warrior armed with a standard long sword. Newt was too far away to see their realms, but he had heard Harstone was at the second, so he could use his strength to gauge Brightcloud.
The warriors got into position, and on the referee's mark, the match started. Unexpectedly, they both stood still, waiting for the other to make the first move. Newt noted it as something he might be able to exploit before Hardstone advanced, his sword outstretched before him.
Instead of big movements, which greatswords excelled at, Hardstone focused on sharp jabs. His thrusts were quick and void of the usual greatsword technique flaws, which left the swordsman exposed to counterattacks while they halted the weapon's momentum.
Brightcloud took a step back, then another. Newt couldn't see the man's face, but he imagined him searching for an opening, or at least an opportunity to slip away, and turn the situation around. He jerked his body left once, then tried to escape Hardstone's slow harrying, but the greatsword stabbed towards him, and he retreated. Brightcloud made two more failed attempts before Hardstone backed him into the corner.
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Newt expected a surrender, but the fighters exchanged no words. Instead, Hardstone stabbed again, this time at Brightcloud's gut, and their swords clashed for the first time. Brightcloud surprisingly managed to bat away the greatsword, but it turned out to be a feint.
Hardstone aimed the blade higher and stabbed it into his opponent's arm. Brightcloud screamed, blood flowing from his punctured arm, and Hardstone took a step back. While he didn't hit Brightcloud's sword arm, Hardstone opened a serious wound, and the match was obviously over. But Brightcloud didn't call out to surrender, and the referee couldn't stop the match.
"Fine, I'll keep stabbing you until you surrender," Hardstone growled, annoyed that his opponent hadn't surrendered yet.
Newt expected a reversal, Brightcloud grasping victory out of the jaws of defeat, but no such thing happened. Hardstone stabbed him twice more, before the man finally admitted defeat, thus ending the match.
Healers shuffled into the arena while Hardstone marched out. His behavior seemed cruel, but Newt also felt some annoyance at Brightcloud. Hardstone clearly had him cornered, and yet the man refused to surrender.
"Idiot," Goodway muttered, and again, Newt agreed. Being stubborn like a spikeback, especially in a battle under controlled circumstances was stupid. Brightcloud got injured over nothing.
Newt glanced at Goodway, only to see the man was staring at him.
"Don't do anything stupid like that." He pointed down towards the arena with his chin.
Newt found himself offended, so he threw the words right back at the spearman. "Likewise."
With the insult returned, Newt focused back on the arena. There were two hours left before his match, and some folks were throwing sand on the bloodstains, then they swept it away and cleared the remaining blood with a rag. Newt wondered whether that was only for the semifinals, but he didn't remember seeing any hints of blood on the cobbles, despite it being shed.
Newt spent the rest of the time thinking how he should fight Hardstone, and soon enough, the referee called for Newstar Salamandra and Fern Goodway to approach.
Much like the Blackfist's son, Goodway's weapon offered him an advantage in reach. Newt had a feeling Goodway would try to recreate the previous match, and it was Newt's place to dismantle that plan.
The referee shouted them to begin, and Newt rushed towards Goodway, who had already entered a spearman's stance. Goodway thrust, but Newt angled one of his swords to slide along the spear's haft. A moment later, Newt had his opponent where he wanted him. Goodway backed away to open up distance, but Newt ran forward much faster than the other could shuffle backwards.
Newt placed his other sword on Goodway's shoulder, blade resting against his neck.
"The winner, Newstar Salamandra." the referee shouted before Goodway could try anything funny.
"Good match, glad you didn't do anything stupid," Newt smirked at the cocky man, who glared back at him.
For a moment, it seemed like Fern Goodway would do something stupid because of Newt's provocation. Fortunately, his father or some other elder called out from the audience.
"Fern!"
Goodway scowled at Newt one last time before heading for the stands.
"The finals shall take place tomorrow at noon!" Blackbush Blackfist shouted from the wall, and the crowd started dispersing.
The semifinals were over, but Dandelion Blackfist didn't even show his shadow at the event. For some reason, that worried Newt.
Did he run away? Is he using the whole event for some nefarious purpose? He is a bandit, after all.
"Excused me," Newt addressed the guard as he drew near. The man looked at him and stood straighter.
"Yes, Lord Salamandra, what can I do for you?"
Being called a lord annoyed Newt, but not enough for him to voice his feelings. "Where is the townlord? Why is his brother presiding over the event?"
"It's not a secret. The townlord left some days ago. I think someone mentioned he would return for the finals, but I don't know if the townlord actually said that, or if it's just a rumor."
Newt nodded, trying to make sense of the situation. Dandelion Blackfist was a strange man. He clearly wasn't interested in the tournament, but arranged it with the idea of making it an annual event. And yet he planned to give up on his position and leave the town in the near future, possibly the very next day.
"Thank you." Newt hesitated. "Is there anything else you could tell me about your townlord?"
The guard hesitated, looking around to see how close others were before whispering. "Blackfist bandits were a plague upon the region when my father was my age and younger. There are some bad stories, and most older townsfolk don't like him."
Newt nodded thoughtfully, and the man seemed panicked. "That's just rumors. I don't know any names."
"Don't worry, I agree with them. Having someone with so much innocent blood on their hands as your lord is sickening. But he doesn't seem that bad, if you know what I mean?"
The guard nodded hesitantly. "Before he hardly left the keep, but lately, the townlord's been spending time at the library and has taken several trips out of town."
It seems that whatever he was waiting for had happened, and now it's time for him to move.
Newt still had an uneasy feeling about the situation, his uncle's betrayal heavy on his mind. He would trust Dandelion Blackfist, but remain vigilant. Just in case.
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