Wizard Tournament: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

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          Draevin’s hand twitched toward his wand on instinct but he didn’t pull it. He saw the moment Korack noticed him and his rival also twitched a hand to his waist. The red-scaled lizard-kin was sporting an open-chested red robe that showed off a patch of shiny scales that grew in a line down his sternum. Despite the differing biology Draevin was pretty sure the outfit was immodest even by lizard-kin standards.

          “Draefin,” Korack greeted him, mispronouncing his name in a way he was convinced was intentional, “I ssee you ssqueaked by again thiss year.”

          “Korack,” Draevin responded. “I see you still think red is a fashion statement.”

          They took a moment to glare at each other. “The rumor going around iss you made friendss with a human,” Korack jeered at him. He flicked his tongue out to taste the air. “You ssmell like one of them already.”

          “I don’t know who you’re paying for your information, but you should ask for your money back,” Draevin countered. “I heard a rumor myself, you know. Is it true there’s a famine going on in Kreet right now? Something about flooding.” He stopped for a moment and tapped a finger against his chin as though trying to remember something. Truthfully he’d practiced both the motion and argument a number of times in his head. “Didn’t you wish to end a drought in Kreet when you won last year?”

          “I wass ssponssored by the Kreet royal family. I didn’t choosse the wish!” Korack hissed back at him. “I sseem to recall you sstarting the war in Trenal a few yearss ago when you won for Caldenia, sso it’ss not like your clawss are any cleaner than mine.”

          “So I guess the royal family was satisfied with your performance then?” Draevin goaded. “Which would mean they sponsored you this year too, right?” Draevin was pretty sure that wouldn’t be the case after that disastrous wish, and the smoke that began to curl out of Korack’s nose when he said it confirmed he had guessed correctly.

          “The money wassn’t good thiss year iss all. Sspeaking of money, what did Caldenia think of all the money they wassted ssponssoring you for ssecond placce lasst year,” Korack jeered. Draevin bristled but he didn’t have a response ready. “Did Caldenia finally get fed up with you sso now you think anyone who sstrikess out on their own musst be rejectss? I can ssponssor you if you want.”

          “Like I would ever take your money.”

          “Like I would ever give it to you!” Korack shot back, spittle actually flying from his mouth.

          “But you just said—”

          “I know what I ssaid!” Korack shouted this last bit and a puff of actual smoke curled out of his nose and mouth when he did. The nearby merchants had given the two of them a wide berth and the dwarf guard looked on nervously.

          “We should save this for the battlefield,” Draevin said. They’d already gotten reprimands from the Guild for fighting outside an official match and he’d prefer to avoid further irritation.

          “For oncce I agree,” Korack hissed. He shouldered past Draevin roughly, taking full advantage of his superior size to try to push him to the ground. “Ssee you on the battlefield ssmooth-sskin,” he said as he headed off down the stairs toward Registration.

          Draevin stumbled back but didn’t fall over. He gave the guard an annoyed look, but couldn’t really blame him for not intervening. If he and Korack had decided to escalate the most useful thing the guard could have realistically done would be to fetch help. Draevin headed back out to the street. He still had a reservation to keep at the Fardew Inn.

          As one of the nicest Inns around, the Fardew Inn was only a short walk from the arena so he arrived in no time. Like most service-industry professionals, the doorman that greeted him as he entered was a gnome. The short man took his travel bag and directed him to the front desk. Draevin passed a veranda filled with well-dressed dwarves and elves eating on his left and a bar full of glowing-eyed eldrin sipping mana-infused drinks on his right. He knew he’d come to the right place.

          A gnome woman in a business suit with dark shoulder-length hair greeted him at the front desk. He was briefly taken aback to see that she was standing on some kind a platform behind the desk that allowed her to look down on him, but he adjusted quickly enough. “Draevin Getano. I’m here to check in for my reservation.”

          She nodded and turned to a large book she had opened on the desk beside her. She traced a finger down the page. “Getano… Getano… There you are.” She looked up and gave him a thin smile. “I’m afraid your reservation was canceled.”

          Draevin looked at the clock behind her. “That’s impossible! I was told check-in was between four and eight and it’s only a quarter past seven!” He pointed to the clock.

          The gnome receptionist followed his gesture and looked over her shoulder. “I see,” she said. “This is quite unusual. Can you wait a moment while I check in with my supervisor to see what happened with your reservation?”

          “Of course.” The Fardew Inn was known for their hospitality, he had no doubt they’d clear this up. The gnome woman bobbed her head once and stepped down to disappear below the surface of the desk.

          Draevin settled in to wait and decided to have a look around. He didn’t see anyone familiar out on the veranda, but he heard a commotion coming from the mana bar and when he looked he noticed an eldrin couple bickering with each other. He recognized the pair as a recently married power couple of top-level contestants. Their marriage was a high-profile event that he’d only heard of by rumor. For this particular couple the sound of their quarrel was music to his ears and a smirk came to his lips unbidden. One of them happened to look his way and caught his smiling as he watched them and he quickly turned away in embarrassment.

          A moment later he heard, “Draevin!” from behind. He turned to see the two eldrin had left the bar to greet him. The woman had the anemic white skin, sharp nose, pointed ears and glowing white eyes of most eldrin, but she sported the far less common deep purple hair. She wore it in a single braid that she currently had slung halfway down her back and then doubled back over her shoulder and down again to mid-waist. Her long hair was by far her most distinctive feature.

          “Caelnaste,” Draevin said in a flat tone. He nodded to her partner as well. “Tomrha.” The eldrin male that was with her had a similar complexion, but with short brown hair that had only the barest hint of purple to it.

          Tomrha flashed a pearly white smile. “Draevin, how unexpected to run into you in such a fine establishment.” He creased his brow and gestured at his own face. “Did something happen with your face? You look like you lost a fight with a thorn bush.”

          “What?” Having not looked at his own face Draevin had completely forgotten about the imps from Hell that had attacked earlier. “It’s nothing,” he assured Tomrha. “Just a little disturbance during registration.”

          “So, about why we came over here,” Caelnaste said. She draped a hand on Tomrha’s shoulder. “We are so embarrassed about this, but we had to bump you.”

          Draevin perked up. “Bump me?”

          “Oh, yes,” Tomrha agreed, “so sorry. It’s just with our honeymoon coinciding with the tournament Queen Fayse wanted to treat us to something nicer than the embassy could offer.”

          “They gave you my suite?” Draevin asked, not quite believing it. It would be just like them to name-drop the Eldesian queen just to steal a reservation they failed to arrange in advance.

          “It’s just politics, you understand,” Caelnaste cooed. Her smile looked just a little too happy to Draevin to be mere politeness. “You see you were the only unsponsored contestant with a suite being held in your name and we didn’t want to step on any toes.”

          Draevin blinked slowly. “What about my toes?”

          “Ahem.” Behind him, the receptionist cleared her throat. “Mister Getano?”

          Draevin turned around angrily. “What?”

          “I’m afraid—”

          “You gave my room away,” Draevin finished for her. He stuck his thumb back in Caelnaste and Tomrha’s direction. “To those two.”

          The receptionist gave another thin smile and bobbed her head. “It’s as you say, sir. We were assured—”

          Draevin didn’t want to hear their excuses. He turned sharply on his heels to storm out of the place but accidentally bumped right into Tomrha. The eldrin tumbled to the ground and Caelnaste yelled, “Watch where you’re going you oaf!” She leaned down to help her husband up. “Honey? Are you okay?”

          “Sorry,” Draevin said, making sure to sound just as insincere as Caelnaste had moments ago, “I didn’t mean to.”

          Somehow Tomrha had already produced a handkerchief that he was now holding up to his face. The two of them walked out the front door together while Tomrha limped rather dramatically. Draevin was left alone in the hall getting dirty looks from all the patrons. Tomrha was obviously playing up his supposed injuries so Draevin wouldn’t be in a position to complain about them stealing his reservation. Judging by the pearl-clutching of a nearby dwarf in a fancy dress it appeared to have worked. “Sir,” the receptionist called in a firm voice from behind her desk, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

          Draevin grabbed his bag back from the doorman more brusquely than necessary. “That’s alright, I was already going.”

          Once outside he tried to orient himself toward the board where he was planning to meet with Sylnya and was annoyed to find his bangs were suddenly getting in his eyes. The wards that kept his hair spiked must have been more worn down from his registration than he’d realized. He recharged them with a wave of his hand and found the board. It was close by and he could see Sylnya and Peter standing in front of it talking.

          “…she almost always makes it to the semi-finals, but she hasn’t actually won much more than Draevin,” Sylnya was saying when he got within earshot.

          “You talking about Caelnaste?” Draevin asked.

          Sylnya nodded. “We just saw her walk by.”

          “Can you believe she and her husband just stole my reservation at the Fardew?”

          “Well you probably should have shown up sooner,” was all she said. Not quite the sympathy he’d been hoping for.

          “I was actually wondering what was wrong with her husband,” Peter spoke up. “He looked sick or something when they walked by. Does he have a disease or something?”

          “That was just a little show they were putting on to make me look bad,” Draevin told Peter. “But all eldrin look a little sickly most of the time anyways. Their blood glows white with mana so it messes up their complexion.”

          “You see what I was talking about? They're all like that,” Sylnya commented to Peter. “Elves and eldrin didn’t get along very well even before the war.” 

          Peter nodded. “So with all that mana in their blood and everything, are eldrin quite a bit stronger at magic than the other races?”

          Draevin held a hand up to block Sylnya before she could mess up another explanation. “That’s not true in the slightest! Who told you that?”

          “Nobody,” Peter answered sheepishly, “I was just guessing.”

          “Well you couldn’t be more wrong,” Draevin assured him. “Elves are far stronger and don’t you try to say otherwise!”

          Peter looked to Sylnya for confirmation as though he didn’t quite trust Draevin’s explanation. She nodded with a heavy sigh. “That actually is true,” she said. “The fact that they eat mana isn’t actually an advantage when it comes to a usable mana pool. Their bodies run on mana so they slowly use it up and can even lose consciousness if they over exert themselves. Elves on the other hand actually generate mana from food.”

          Peter wrote that down. “So do any other races get mana that way?”

          Draevin hooked a thumb at his own chest. “No. That’s what makes us elves the best wizards around.”

          Sylnya gave Draevin a sideways glance. “Strictly speaking, dryads are able to generate a bit of mana from sunlight but it’s too slow of a process to ever matter in the context of a duel. Not that there are many dryads in the tournament anyways.”

          “Bunch of tree huggers,” Draevin muttered under his breath. Sylnya caught Draevin with a sharp glare and he quickly added, “Except for you Sylnya! You’re tougher than most orcs.” This seemed to satisfy her, but he made sure to change the subject too just in case. “Those the brackets?” He asked, pointing at the large poster plastered to the board behind them. 

          “Yeah, we were just looking ourselves up when you got here,” Sylnya said. “I got an easy first round. Some newbie gnome. Guess who you’re facing?”

          “Please tell me it’s not Ka or Korack.”

          “Oh no, you’ve got an even easier one. That joker Zolt. I don’t think he’s ever made it past the second round.” Draevin couldn’t help but keep a smile from his face. A low ranking regular was a pretty ideal first match for him. Regulars might have more dueling experience, but there was less risk of surprises.

          Peter was oddly silent for once. Draevin was still somewhat suspicious about whether he had actually qualified too, so he scanned the poster for Peter’s name. “Ouch, that’s got to suck,” he told the little human. “You’re fighting Korack in the first round.” He couldn’t be happier at the news himself. The sooner the little human could get himself eliminated the better.

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