In the end, Suran found himself headed towards the Adventure’s Guild. Money was a problem, and it wouldn’t be solved by simply searching for a solution. With no other options, he had to start somewhere. The Guild wasn’t necessarily bad work either (certainly better than trying to eke out a living through farming, trading, or any of the other occupation and tasks that would have a low yield for someone without resources). Some of the tasks he saw were drab; simple requests asking to deliver this, hunt that criminal, escort this person, and so on. However, some did pique his curiosity. Some asked to search and gather materials with properties and attributes he has never heard of and to slay creatures and beasts of a peculiar variety. No matter the task though, Suran was willing to give whatever it took to get what he needed – even if it was an eternity.

The road to the Guild was blocked. A crowd stuffed up Alexander’s Circle and the remaining space was blocked off, making passing through to the Guild difficult. There probably existed some path around the traffic, but Suran wanted to know what was going on to cause this. He pushed and squeezed his way through while Natalya and Iylia followed through the path he created. Besides the incessant buzz of chatter, he found nothing was going on. Casually, he asked the person standing next to him what was going on.

A prince was coming through, he heard. Prince Harold, one of the younger members of the royal family, was headed to the Valcadia arena. He was to conduct the opening ceremony for a gladiator tournament before heading off to the East, to the Wood Elf nation of Falaron where he was to meet his older brother Pier.

Suran wasn’t interested in seeing some noble ride away, but it honestly didn’t make a difference to him. He would either have to wait to get through the masses or go around to get to the Guild anyways. Instead, he turned to Natalya and Iylia to see what they wanted to do.

“It’ll be fun seeing a prince roll by!” Natalya cheerfully replied. On the other hand, Iylia was hiding behind Natalya. Or at least trying to. Didn’t really work since Iylia was at least a foot taller than Natalya. Iylia didn’t give a response that indicated she wanted to stay or leave, but her constant squirming and refusal to leave either of their sides made her seem very uncomfortable. So Suran compromised and took them to the back. Natalya could still somewhat see what was going on, and the thinner crowd made Iylia noticeably more comfortable.

Cheers and shouts rouse from the crowd, riling up Natalya and tensing up Iylia. Suran craned his neck up and stood on the tip of his toes to get a better look. Trotting down the road was a dark green carriage with black decorations and designs outlining it. It rolled through with a window in the back removed. Waving with a full smile, a blonde teenager entertained the people from the back of the carriage. The boy was Prince Harold.

Boom

Panic flowed through the crowd. Screams erupted. Suran pushed his way ahead.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The once boisterous crowd was running in full force. Where the carriage was once travelling through were ashen craters, debris, and flames. Another explosion ripped through, this time from the fountain that stood at the center of the plaza. Chaos settled in as Alexander’s circle lay in ruin; Mounds of mangled and twisted bodies mixed in with the guttural screams of the dying littered the blackened and cratered ground.

“Natalya, Iylia, help whoever you can. Prioritize those whose life you can save.” Suran wasted no time. There were no guards around, no doctors, no help. If no one was going to act, then he would. He ran ahead towards the carriage. Suran plowed through the black smoke and over the splintered ground. The carriage was remarkably intact for having gone through several explosions at the least. Still, he had very little hope for a positive outcome. The black horses that pulled the carriage were reduced to bloody piles of meat. The frame of the carriage was shattered and splintered.

Suran slid down the side of the hole and went up to the carriage. He checked the front bench. The driver was gone; one of the explosions must have been underneath him. He went to the carriage door, but something caught his eye. On the other side was a hooded figure with a white mask. The figure was crouched down, unaware of Suran. Without warning, Suran vaulted over the carriage.

The figure took notice and sprinted away. Suran pursued. He followed him through the smog and up the depression. Right on his tail, he chased him through the smoke that turned from the dirty black into a foggy white. Until he punctured through into clear air. The mysterious figure was gone. There wasn’t a trace of him. Suran went back to the carriage with haste.

The carriage door was jammed, broken and bent from explosion. Suran fiddled with it, trying to pry it open, but he was unable to open it. He resorted to his sword. He took it out and used it as a level to crack it open. It crossed his mind that using a sword as a level wasn’t the best idea – could break his only weapon. But, he would gladly give up a weapon for the chance to save a life. The door broke open and the sword came out without any noticeable damage. With his hands, he finished the job and pried it open.

It was as he feared; it was as if a storm of razors whirled around inside the cabin. Several corpses resided inside, torn to shreds from metal and force. To Suran’s astonishment, Prince Harold was still alive. The Prince slowly turned his head and painfully gazed at Suran. He clutched his abdomen where a metal rod ran through. From the waist down, the Prince’s body was missing (maybe not missing, the leg over at the side might be his), entrails spilling out. The boy, who looked no more than 17 or 18, was fated for death. Suran held no power to help nor words to ease. He sat with him in silence, until he met his end moments later. Suran closed his eyes and left.

Climbing out of the ditch, he was greeted by a host of soldiers. They rudely pointed their weapons and barked at him. They demanded his name. He gave it to him. They asked what he was doing. He explained. Suran’s records were verified by bystanders who saw what happened and by a soldier who whisked past him and confirmed what was down in the ditch. The group intended to arrest and detain Suran, but a commanding officer entered the scene and navigated with a cooler head. After documenting Suran’s information and account, he was let go. The officer then scolded his men, telling them that they should worry about helping the injured and wounded and not harassing samaritans who were simply trying to help.

Suran went out into the plaza. At one point, people flooding out, desperately trying to save their own life. Now, people were rushing in, working to save the lives of others. Still, it was bittersweet; lives would be saved, but it would be too few compared to the already staggering amount of lifeless bodies. Natalya and Iylia approached him as he stood and surveyed the scene. “How did it go?’ He asked them

“You would not believe what Iylia did!” Natalya bobbed around excited. Her eyes were wide as she praised Iylia with no context. The star of the moment shrunk in spot.

“What happened?”

Natalya swung her arm over Iylia and brought her up, “She was amazing! She was able to patch some people up pretty well, and she used healing magic to fix some wounds!”

“Is this true?” Suran asked, pleasantly surprised.

Iylia shook her head and said in almost a whisper, “I d-didn’t do much… Only a few people with m-minor wounds…”

“Don’t sell yourself short!” Natalya playful reprimanded, giving her a friendly push.

“Either way, good job,” Suran said. “Now, let’s leave. There is something I want to see.” Before the attack, he heard a man talk about a tournament that was to be held today. The prince was supposed to hold the opening ceremony so that part was ruined, be he was curious about the rest of it. Participating in an arena, possibly fighting to the death, sounded dangerous, but there could also be a hefty reward attached to it.

He was growing used to the city; he felt he knew his was around much better. Natalya was complaining that Suran was taking wrong turns (she was counting them out, currently at four), but Suran wasn’t actively listening to her. Travelling through a city filled with so many sights and sounds and people made a part of him nostalgic. Memories were a fickle thing – he hated how they worked. Natalya went in front and lead the way. She brought them to the arena rather quickly.

The area was surrounded with restaurants and clubs, but the streets were empty. A strange sight for a city with millions of people. The air felt heavy as they approached the arena. Outside, few men where shuffling around, moving boxes and other items. Skirting the outside, Suran found the main entrance and went in.

He needed information, so he headed to an office compartment that was situated in the front. No one was there. He looked around. There was no one to be found. On the front desk, there was a bell. It rang twice as he tapped it.

A man with a shaggy beard staggered out of a back room and asked, “Can I help you?” There was no energy in his voice.

“I wanted information on the tournament,” Suran answered.

“Do you now?” The man walked up and plopped down on a seat at the desk. “What’s your name?”

“Suran.”

“Well, Suran, the tournament was delayed for five days.”

“What type of tournament is it? Would it be possible to enter?”

“Looking to enter?” The man scrunched up his face plunged his hand into his beard to scratch chin. “Since it was pushed back, I guess so. The rules are pretty simple. All the entrants will be separated into different pools of equal numbered participants. On the first day, the pools stage will involve a free-for-all with all the participants in the pool. Knock-out will result in a loss. Death as well. Forfeiture mid round is allowed. A time limit will be set, and all the surviving entrants will be seeded and moved to a bracketed stage. Coin will be awarded at the end of each round to the participants. The amount will be determined by the value of the equipment gathered at the end and the number of fallen combatants on top of a base amount. Any questions?”

“How does the money look like?”

The man studied Suran. “Getting to the bracketed stage could mean a couple of gold, depending.”

“How tough is the competition.

“Beats me,” he said with a shrug. “We got some regulars, some new faces, some big names. It was supposed to be a big one this time.”

If he wanted to get coin fast, this seemed to be his option. Worst case scenario, he can forfeit if things get rough. “Alright, I would like to register.

The man yawned, “Okay. Let me get the papers. The entry fee is five silver.”

Suran rummaged through his pockets and remembered he had no coin. “Natalya, do you have enough?”

Natalya pulled out a coin purse and pulled out five silver coins, “Yeah I got a couple of gold, remember?”

“…How much do you have?” Suran asked as he scooped up the coins.

“Just a few. Not enough for the trip, if that’s what you want to know!”

The man hobbled back with few papers in hand. “Fill out these papers for me and that will be all. Ask if you have any questions. The name’s Dale.”

Suran took a writing utensil from the desk and began to fill it in. They were simple questions asked name, age, origin, and so on. He answered what he could and passed them back with the coin.

He looked over it, snorted, and said, “You left some of these blank.”

“I answered what I could.”

“Whatever,” he said with a tired laugh. “I don’t really care. You listed a sword as your registered weapon. I’ll need to see it.” Suran drew his sword and placed it in front of him. He whistled and said, “Wow, I’ve never seen a sword like this before. Who was the craftsmen? Where they even humanoid?”

“I don’t know.”

Dale laughed with a little bit more energy, “All good, my friend. The tournament, as of now, will start five days from now at noon. Be here about an hour or two before and the staff will go over the rules and pools and all the formalities.”

Suran nodded his head, “Thanks. Also, can we bring armor?”

“Sure. Only weapons need to be registered.”

Five days until the tournament. There was much he could do to fill up that time, Suran pondered. There might be some quests at the Guild he could do, but he dismissed the idea. He felt it would be best to prepare for this event. He was lacking in armor and protection, a crucial component when engaging in combat. His sword was of great quality. But he knew nothing about it. The more he knew about the weapon, the better he could use it. It annoyed him that he couldn’t spend more time investigating the mysterious blade. Where did the blade came from? What is this black material it’s made of? How can the sword perform such odd feats? Difficult questions, but ones that must have an answer somewhere. He picked up and stashed the sword in the ill-fitting sheath he pilfered long ago. Perhaps, he mused, the best use of his time was learning how to even use a sword. One of the many things that he currently did not know; this world was full of unknowns for him. There was much he could do, learn, and explore, yet only five days before it was time.