Kasim, the Jester, was eager to lead them to the drakkar, a notable spring in his step which Silas regarded carefully. Considering his airy attitude and his strange manner of speech, Silas was certain the Jester had a loose screw or two, but there was nothing yet to suggest he was undependable because of that. The rest of them followed him with tension in their muscles and roving eyes, searching for the drakkar in case they happened upon another trap. Ajit was the only one who appeared as unaffected as Kasim, floating beside the others in a lounge chair, kicking back with his eyes closed.

They had left Léonois over two hours ago and had made quick pace since, drifting from the plains to a bog with giant, leafless trees dominating the landscape. Stamping through low swamp water, the first sign of the drakkar came in a low whistle which Silas caught at the edge of his earshot. He was swift in sprinting to a tree and scrambling up it, looking past all the twisted wooden limbs to spot a murky-scaled drak running away. Watching for a moment, he then descended the tree and reunited with the group. “They’ve seen us. I’m trusting you on this.”

Kasim skipped around and shrugged. He was still wearing his thin slippers, despite the wet ground. “We need them to come, anyway, so we can call upon their most honoured custom.”

“Is it really?” Aengus asked.

“No clue, but it worked last time,” Kasim replied levelly.

“So what exactly did you do last time?” Silas asked.

“I merely followed and watched,” Kasim said. There was an expectant pause from everyone else, which the Jester answered with silence.

“Well, what did you see then?” Silas tried again.

“Oh, you know, just the everyday activities. Some posturing, a bit of blood tasting.” Kasim nipped at his finger and made a thoughtful expression. “Type AB- aged for thirty, no, thirty-one years in a flaky dead-cell coating. A bit too sour for my liking. Oh, and after that there was a grand battle for our viewing pleasures.”

“What was the blood tasting about?” Mia asked conversationally, likely having come to the same conclusion as Silas about Kasim.

The Jester shrugged. “Who knows? I wasn’t paying attention, but the people I was with were calmer afterwards, so it must have been a good thing.”

“And the fighting? Was it anything noteworthy?” Aengus asked.

Kasim looked to him, making an a-okay gesture. “Very tasteful. Though, I did lose some money from a misplaced bet.”

It was only a handful of minutes later that the drakkar returned en masse, fielding a score of steely-eyed soldiers. They looked as Silas had expected, similar to Mirza in their long faces and draconic features, but also bipedal like humans. They had dark and dull scales, and wore leather and metal armour on top. Funnily enough, Silas detected strong hesitation from the soldiers, as if they didn’t really want to be here right now. Not that their reaction surprised him too much given the auras of his companions.

“State your intentions, humans,” said a drak from the back, shorter and frailer than the rest but possessing an arcane aura.

“You’ve imprisoned my sister. I want her back,” Silas said. “I’m told I have the right to demand her release.”

“You are with the Slaver?” the drak asked with a quiver in its voice.

Silas immediately made the connection to Vivienne. He looked among his companions before replying. “Not really. I’m just here on family matters.”

“And the rest of you?”

“We’re protecting the wee laddie,” Aengus said.

“Got to make sure he doesn’t take the wrong turn,” Ajit added.

“You know you cannot protect him during the trial. He must take it by himself,” the drak informed them cautiously.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Silas answered. “They’ll watch, nothing more.”

“Alright then, we shall take your word in good faith,” the drak said, although the soldiers beside it still held up their bladed weapons. “Know that the second you go back on your word, we shall discard all notion of hosting the trial. Now, follow us but keep to yourselves.” With this and a quick gesture from the speaker, the other drakkar fanned around the humans so that they were under watch from every angle. It appeared they hadn’t noticed Bandit still, who was flying high in the sky.

The convoy moved slowly past the giant trees, the tension pushing down on Silas. Chloe was so close and yet felt so far when imagining all that he would need to do to save her. However, he outwardly maintained his composure, so that the drakkar didn’t get any ideas. Eventually, although their surroundings largely stayed the same, they came upon a tribal village set up deep in the marsh. The houses were on stilts and seemingly made of wood and fired clay. The absence of System buildings signalled that this was only a temporary station and that there was no hub crystal to be found here.

Scores of drakkar watched from the trees and houses as the humans passed through, the crowd quickly growing into the hundreds, following their progress through the wet, ill-defined streets. The number of soldiers escorting them also dramatically rose until Silas felt almost claustrophobic squeezed between these alien beasts on each and every side. They were brought to a larger house than the others and told to wait outside. A significant period later, a drak of considerable arcane aura came out, looking for all matters similar to the speaker from before.

In fact, Silas noticed how the drakkar seemed to be separated into three major types. Firstly, there were the ordinary five-foot drakkar who appeared to have baseline auras and physiques, then there was a fiercer sort who were a few feet taller and noticeably larger. These larger drakkar made up most of the armed convoy, who kept trained countless eyes on the humans. Lastly, there were slighter drakkar who wore their arcane might on their shoulders with auras as eye-catching as bold cloaks.

The drak who had just come out glanced over the band of humans, then briefly stared into the sky where Bandit was looping around. He or she - it was hard for Silas to discern the differences between the genders of the drakkar, if even they had them - came closer and spoke in a dignified but tired voice. From this, Silas figured it was old and determined that lightened scales and rheumy eyes were signs of age amongst the drakkar.

“I am told one of you wishes to free your kinsmen. Make yourself known to me.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Silas answered.

It tottered forward past the circle of drakkar soldiers until it was within an arm’s length of him. “Put forth your arm, so that I can verify your words.”

Silas did so, and tensed when he saw the drak pick out a dagger from its belt. The dagger was small and relatively dull. This must be the blood tasting part Kasim had mentioned; Silas had asked much more about it since, but the Jester had been sparse on details. Still, it sounded like it was safe and a necessary step in this whole prisoner releasing custom, so Silas held his position.

The drak pulled one of Silas’s sleeves up and swept the dagger across his bare forearm, the blade making a faint line on the pale skin. Grunting, the drak tried again, this time visibly straining the muscles underneath its scales to cut into the flesh, drawing a stream of blood which dribbled down to the wet ground. The drak cupped a scaled hand underneath, returning the ceremonial dagger to its previous place with the other. By the time its cupped hand was half full, his wound had already stopped bleeding, the skin showing signs of healing.

The drak brought its face low to the hand and slurped greedily, rising back to a casual standing position a moment later with closed eyes. It nodded softly then. “You speak truly - I can taste your kinsman in your blood. You may proceed to the Trial, if you so wish to free her.”

As opposed to the message of its ruling, Silas felt anger hasten his thoughts and tighten his fists. If this drak had just tasted Chloe in his blood, it meant it had cut her too before. And depending on how badly they had harmed her, he was considering joining Vivienne in wiping out this drakkar village. But he refused to let his anger ruin it now that he had gotten so close, and so he instead followed the drakkar as they led the human company to the arena, although he didn’t try to hide his surly expression.

The arena wasn’t anything impressive, just an open, flat island with less water logging its soil than its surroundings. It had an equal fifteen-metre radius in all directions, which Silas figured was the important thing for this prisoner releasing custom as nothing else about the arena really stood out. There weren’t even any seats or such. But this didn’t at all deter the spectators who streamed in after them in scores, settling themselves past the border of the arena.

The same aged drak from before spoke to Silas after gesturing at his companions to move out of the arena. “You may not use your own weapons here,” it said, glancing at his spear and eyeing his manastone-edged sword. “You shall use a provided weapon instead. Will a spear suffice?”

He nodded, and the drak whistled its tongue to a nearby soldier, pointing at Silas’s spear and clicking its fingers.

“Now, the rules of this Trial are simple but indisputable. Firstly, you are to use no weapon other than the one handed to you or taken from an opponent. If you have any hidden weapons, you should keep them that way. Secondly, you are not allowed to kill your opponents, only beat them until they submit. However, they are not held to the same restraints as you. Thirdly, you are not allowed to leave the arena for any reason or receive help from anyone outside it. These are the rules that have governed our Trials for centuries, human. If you are to break any of them, you can consider your kinsman dead. Since you are only fighting to free one, you will have to pass two rounds to succeed.”

Right about then, the soldier returned holding a spear with a dull blade. Silas took it and swung it forcefully, first through the air and then once against the ground, finding it sturdy enough for use.

The aged drak then signalled everyone to clear the space other than Silas and itself. “I, Haurun, call upon my fellow Magi to witness this Trial of Combat.” Around the boundary of the arena appeared roughly two dozen plate-sized floating circles, almost like mini portals. Through them gazed out aged drakkar, all watching silently as if this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them. “Know that I will keep my promise to release his kinsman if he is to pass honourably. Do you promise to keep fair your judgment?”

For a second, Silas thought he was meant to answer, but then the aged drakkar all answered out of their scrying windows with a chorus of yeses.

“Then let it begin. I call upon the twin brother and sister, Marcael and Helaticio, to take the first round.”

Silas watched as two drakkar stepped out of the crowd, one holding a net and spear, the other barehanded. He didn’t pay them much attention, his eyes instead flicking into the distance where he spotted a truly colossal drak making for the arena past the houses. It seemed he already he knew who his second round opponent would be.