Ashborn 322: The Fighter’s Banquet (Part One) (Patreon)

Vir’s meeting with the Clanlords hadn’t lasted long. After congratulating him and exchanging pleasantries, the two departed, citing that they were eager to converse more at the function later that day.

Cirayus had told him on the way back home that they wanted to be the first to see him. It seemed both the Panav and Bairan chiefs knew of Vir’s true identity—being allies of sorts to Cirayus.

Even so, they had refused to simply hand over their Ultimate Bloodline Tattoos to Vir. Doing so would be seen as a declaration of allegiance to the Akh Nara, and would thus be seen as enemies to the Chitran when Vir eventually announced his existence to the world.

It was becoming clear to Vir that nobody especially liked the Chits—particularly after how they had treated the Gargans. What was initially a war to redraw fairer borders became a regime of total subjugation as the Chitrans took out centuries of pent-up bitterness against the imprisoned Gargans.

Even so, not one nation dared upset the status quo. Nobody wanted another realm-wide war. Not so soon after the last one.

To gain their approval and aid, Vir would have to prove that the Akh Nara was someone they can trust. Someone who would usher in a new, more prosperous and fairer era for demonkind.

Given the long and colorful history of Vir’s predecessors, he couldn’t blame them. Prior Akh Nara had brought destruction as often as they had helped.

Vir spent the next hours back at Cirayus’ home, resting. While it was true that neither needed as much sleep as most, the constant travel of the past few days had left them exhausted.

And Vir didn’t want to be exhausted for the function the Clanlords had mentioned.

The Fighters’ banquet. It was an opportunity for Baira to celebrate the tournament combatants and for the fighters to meet each other and show their camaraderie.

That was the official explanation, at least. Vir suspected the real reason had more to do with allowing the combatants to size each other up. Maybe even hurl some taunts and throw down challenges. This was a spectacle, after all. There was even money involved, so it' made for good drama.

“Do we really have to go?” Vir groaned, lying atop Cirayus’ bed.

“You really should, lad,” the giant replied from the nearby kitchen. He was cooking up another meal, and the rich, savory smells permeating the room made Vir’s mouth water.

“Best to see who you’ll be up against. And with your Prana Vision, you have more of an advantage than most. Even hidden, you’ll be able to see their tattoos and learn of their affinities. You stand to learn far more from them than they can learn from you. Besides, who knows? You might even have a little fun!”

“Fat chance of that.” Vir recalled the last time he’d attended such a banquet. While the experience itself had been nice—the dazzling array of delicious food stood out—the memory was tainted by the series of events that unfolded after, leading to his fallout with Spear’s Edge.

It was a silly superstition, but Vir hoped this time wouldn’t lead to a similar outcome. He couldn’t afford it to.

— — 

Hours later, Vir was dressed and ready. His hair had been styled and gelled, and his clothes were different from any he’d worn in the past. He wore black silk pants matched to a similarly colored buttoned silk jacket with intricate gold embroidery that ran all throughout the chest and sleeves. 

He’d ditched his boots for fancy black silk slippers that curled up at the toes.

“This feels ridiculous,” Vir said, inspecting himself. “I don’t know why you had to rush and get me clothes. They’re all Warriors. I wouldn’t be surprised if most show up in their armor.”

“They will most certainly not be wearing their armor,” Cirayus chided. As much as Vir had changed, he didn’t hold a candle to the Ravager.

Vir had grown so accustomed to seeing Cirayus shirtless that the sight of him in clothes instilled a deep wrongness within him. As if the world was ending, or some great cataclysm was about to befall them.

Cirayus wore an outfit similar to Vir’s own, though his was off-white, and had far more gold on it. It was cut and tailored for his four arms, and fit him perfectly.

His beard had been combed and slicked, and Vir had to admit, the giant cut quite the impressive figure. Refined, elegant, and majestic.

The giant grinned back at him. “A little bit of effort over a long time pays handsomely, lad. You’ll get here in a century or two. Mark my words.”

Vir smiled at that. Until a few years ago, a half-century seemed like a lengthy lifespan. A century was a distant dream.

To think he would now live for several hundred years… Vir could hardly even fathom what that would be like. Where would he be? What would he do in all that time?

“Don’t you ever get bored?” he asked. “Living so long, I mean.”

Cirayus paused his cooking to look at Vir. “Aye, there are some who become tired with life. Jaded and depressed.”

“What do they do?” Vir asked.

“Some find new purpose. Look hard enough, and you’ll find purpose lurking behind every corner, lad. Under every stone. There’s far too much in this world to experience, even with a thousand years of time. Just that most of us are too blind to notice it.”

“And the others?”

The demon sighed. “Some can’t handle it. Weak of mind and spirit as they are, they see only two choices. Persist in a world that, to them, never changes, and where nothing is new. They live on as empty husks, lifeless and without purpose.”

Vir thought immediately of Balagra, and how aimless he’d seemed when they had first met. No longer, however. The naga seemed to have rekindled that purpose.

“The others end it, seeking to return to the great cycle. Usually by walking off into the Ash, never to be seen again.”

“I… see,” Vir said. It was alien to him. He couldn’t even fathom becoming such a person. 

“I see it in your eyes, lad. And you are correct. You aren’t just any demon. You are the Akh Nara. A realm-hopping Akh Nara, no less. Between the three realms and your duties to the Garga and demonkind, I scarcely think you’ll have any opportunity to feel such boredom.”

“Indeed,” Vir replied. “Though it would be nice to relax a bit for once. Maybe when the Garga have been restored. Maybe, with Maiya…”

Cirayus beamed. “Nice thing about being long-lived. You can easily take a year or two to yourself if need be. Even a decade.”

“That… would be nice,” Vir said.

“Now, come. Let us depart. We have a banquet to attend to, after all.”

“What about your cooking?” Vir asked, somewhat let down.

“This? This is for Aida and her journey. But, well. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I gave you a bowl.”

Vir licked his lips. Despite the delicious food awaiting them at the banquet, Vir would choose Cirayus’ cooking any day. Especially when the political games required of him would inevitably rob him of his appetite. 

Besides, the food was just one part of it. How many times would he get to share a meal with Cirayus like this in the future? After the Tournament, win or lose, it was back to the Ash with him. Back to being a rebel.

With his future so uncertain, Vir resolved to cherish every moment he had.

Rising from the bed, he took his place at the table and awaited his meal.

— — 

When it came to Bairan architecture, one could reliably count on them overbuilding everything. The ballroom was no exception. Not only was the stone structure far taller and wider than the already-large ballroom Vir had visited in Avi, it was also far more ornate.

Though not through gaudy gold and flowery architecture, but due to the thousands upon thousands of carving built into the structure. Each portrayed some scene from Baira’s long and storied history, and there they went on forever, ringing the building. 

Vir could spend a decade studying them all and still not finish.

“Well, lad,” Cirayus said. “As much as I’d like to accompany you, it’d be best if we were not seen together more than we have to be. I shall go in first. You follow after some minutes. That way, all the eyes will be on me.”

“Understood.” Given the giant’s legendary reputation, Vir didn’t think for an instant that he was exaggerating. Cirayus was just stating facts. He would be the center of attraction there.

Vir waited as Cirayus distanced himself, smoothed out his attire, and strode up to the ballroom. He was joined by a female Bairan larger than him, whom Vir didn’t recognize. 

Count on Cirayus to have friends waiting on him wherever he goes.

Vir suspected he might end up in a similar situation soon enough once his identity was revealed to the world. Fame had its downsides, though it certainly had its fair share of perks, too. At least there was something to look forward to.

To be safe, Vir stood outside for several minutes on the steps of the ballroom, watching as other parties in Ash’va drawn carriages alighted and entered Cirayus had been correct. Not one arrived in armor.

Vir noticed something else, too.

Not one arrived alone.

Every combatant had brought a second—generally of the opposite sex. Their partner for the evening.

And I’m going to be the only one attending alone… Vir thought, gnashing his teeth. Would it have killed Cirayus to set him up with someone? 

Arriving alone would appear incredibly inconspicuous. It went against his desire to remain mostly unnoticed.

Vir relented and started plodding up the stone steps when a voice called out to him from behind.

“Wow, rude.”

Vir turned to find a beautiful black-haired demoness alighting from her Ash’va-drawn carriage with the help of her driver. She wore in an equally beautiful black and purple backless gown that contrasted her red skin, er.

“I beg your pardon?” Vir asked as Tara walked delicately up to him. Her mannerisms were entirely unlike the vicious warrior he’d faced just hours prior.

“Attending the ball without your partner. I expected better of you,” she said playfully.

Vir raised a brow. “My partner? I wasn’t aware I’d have one tonight.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “The Ravager never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“He asked me to be your second tonight.” Tara extended her white gloved hand. “So do be a gentleman and escort me?”

Vir let out a breath. “That old fossil,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

Vir gave her his most winning smile and offered his arm. “I said it’d be my pleasure.”