Tirren sat again in a large crowd, again watching blood pit fights. The arena he found himself in was the same as the one he fought in, but this was the Iron Ring circuit. The arena was much better attended.The cost to get himself and Noe in had been proportionally higher as well. Noe was positively incessant with his knowledge and excitement surrounding the ranked fight currently going on. Tirren watched the fight closely as well, and as he did, he wondered how he might do against each of the Iron Ring Seidren he watched fighting.
Tirren had his own fight scheduled later that day, it was only a monster fight, but Tirren couldn’t help but flex his hand, and as he did, he ran force mana around it in a small circle around his flexed palm. He was ready to truly find out what he could do with his increased progression. Tirren felt inside his pocket for his gauntlet.
Finally, the fight which Tirren had come to see arrived. The Storm Seidren appeared from his end of the arena at the same time as the other Seidren. He wore the same menacing set of armor that he had worn the last fight. His opponent was the forty-sixth ranked Iron ring Seidren, and as his name was announced, fireballs exploded around him, and he smiled smugly at the attending crowds. The crowds loved it.
The Storm Seidren didn’t even wave when his name was announced. The crowd didn’t seem to mind, as there was a roar for him as well. There was an announcement calling for the beginning of the match, and the Seidren both readied attacks. The Storm Seidren immediately thrust both of his hands forward, and a bright beam of golden-blue lightning surged forward in a rush. It arced erratically towards the other Seidren. The fire Seidren across from him had begun forming a large fireball in his hands, but the speed of the lightning bolt surprised him, and he launched his fireball too early.
As he shoved his mana into the oncoming attack, they collided with an explosion, and the tail end of the bolt forced him to jump away. The Storm Seidren was already forming another attack, and had a clear advantage. He lobbed a mana bomb forward, and then followed quickly behind, chasing his prey. It was clear to everyone present how this match was headed.
Then, the strangest things happened. The Storm Seidren stopped, then seemed to be jerking around, as if he was suddenly very itchy, or as if he was being attacked by a swarm of bees. He spun in a circle, and Tirren noticed a flash of something small darting around him.
The fire Seidren, seeing the strange behavior of his opponent, began gathering flame around his hand. Fire flowed out from his hand, down his arm, and even from his chest, gathering in a red-orange ball of power. He continued doing this, keeping a wary eye on the Storm Seidren, who had finally stopped dancing, and was looking at his hands, which were cupped together.
Tirren’s mana sense began to feel the pressure of the fireball in the fire Seidren’s hand from his spot in the gathered audience. The Storm Seidren must have felt something as well, because he looked up, and when he did, his hands came away empty. Strange.
The fire seidren began running towards the storm seidren with a yell. As he neared him, blue-gold lightning exploded away from the still Seidren. From every direction, arcing to the sand, in a thirty foot circle around the armored Seidren. The fire seidren was closing the gap, but he was forced to fight through the stormy barrier to get to the storm Seidren. Tirren watched as the lightning struck him repeatedly, and his footsteps slowed.
His pain was obvious as he labored forward. When he finally neared the storm Seidren, instead of delivering the empowered explosive punch he had spent a huge amount of time condensing, he threw his hand weakly towards the storm seidren. The Storme Seidren manifested a rod of lightning in his hands, and he batted away the fireball. It exploded powerfully, but the Storm Seidren was largely unaffected.
Two breathtaking lightning bolts later, victory was announced.
The audience was loving it. Tirren began shoving his way forward, down to the edge of the ring. He pulled his gauntlet from his pocket as he did, readying it. The Storm Seidren was not known for taking his time after a match.
Tirren reached the edge of the ring and as he did, he watched another gauntlet be thrown onto the sand at the edge of the arean. As it was, the announcer shouted to be heard over the commotion.
“We have a gauntlet thrown into the pit. The master of foolish flame, the eleven ranked Seidren in the Iron Ring, Lingvar Ovan! Will the Storm Seidren accept it? Tirren watched as the man’s armored figure turned, to see the gauntlet thrown into the sand. His body language was not difficult to read as he considered it, then turned away.
“Oh what a turn of events? Turning down a challenge from a higher ranked Seidren is bold. You can tell Lingvar isn’t happy.” The voice was calling out, and the audience was split between laughing, gasps, or excitement.
Tirren felt a fool, knowing that he was even lower.
He threw his gauntlet into the arena.
There was an interested buzz from the arena as the viewers realized another gauntlet had been thrown. Then silence as people sighted who had thrown it. Then reaction began again, but laughter was much more predominant.
“It seems that we have another challenger! I can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem as if the Frost Father’s Champion wants to accept fights, but still the challenges are made. This challenge is…” There was a brief pause before the announcer continued. “ ... Tirren, the second to last ranked Seidren of the Red Sand Circuit.” The announcer had clearly paused to consult with her source of information.
Tirren’s cheeks burned as much more laughter erupted around the ring. The Storm Seidren paused again, as he turned around to see Tirren. Then he slowly began walking back towards where Tirren was.
“What is happening? Is the Storm Siedren offended by the challenge? Will he strike Tirren down for his insolence?”
A gap was quickly made for Tirren as those near him realized he could be on the receiving end of a prizefighter’s anger. He stood, face burning with shame, with his hands balled into fists.
The Storm Seidren picked up the glove, stared at Tirren for a while, then turned around slowly, and made his way laboriously across the field back to his place when he turned around, facing Tirren as he was lowered into the bowels of the blood pits. Tirren didn’t catch what the announcer said next, as was as stunned as the rest of the spectators. He had more than enough space now, as those around him pushed away from him, giving all in the arena a chance to clearly see him.
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Tirren left, ignoring those around him asking after him, or laughing at him. As he was leaving the arena, Tirren spotted Lingvar Ovan who was walking quickly to catch up with him, and a group of followers walked behind him.
“You there! That was utterly disgraceful. Seidren of your standing shouldn’t even be allowed to challenge in the Iron Ring.” The man was enraged. Tirren realized the position that it must have placed this man, who was highly ranked in the Iron Circuit. The mysterious Seidren had accepted his challenge, and ignored him. It made Lingvar look weak.
Purple transparent fire coalesced around the fists of the angry Seidren, and he stalked towards Tirren. “You’ll fight me, and after I've ground you into paste, and then we’ll see who is laughing. You pathetic waste of mana. You should have stuck to monster fights with the other children. When I’m finished, they won’t laugh anymore. They’ll remember why Seidren like you stay away from real Seidren..”
Since his departure from Serventis, Tirren had found himself at a sore deficiency of power in every confrontation he faced. It seemed as if every time he turned around, there was a more advanced Seidren, or a system which Tirren couldn't match up against. The Seidren in front of him was finally Tirren’s own tier of progression, although he likely had more skill in his mana use. Tirren’s repeated frustration at his own powerlessness wormed its way into his response.
“I agree! You are disgraceful. You are as wise as you are honest.” Tirren quipped with a smile. “I’ve got a fight later today, feel free to buy another gauntlet, if you can afford it.”
Tirren turned and walked towards the exit, forcing bravado in his steps. Lingvar was surrounded by other sand Seidren, and together, they could beat Tirren to a pulp. His mana sense informed him of rapidly approaching mana from behind him, and there was an almost indistinguishable ping of danger. Tirren jumped away, but he was too slow to avoid being struck by a fireball of purple ghostly flame.
It threw him forward, and he landed roughly. Pain flared from the impact, and as he looked down, he saw the fire quickly spreading across his body, and as it did, it burned painfully.
BRING YOUR MANA BACK INTO YOUR WELL, THE MARSHFIRE IS USING IT AS FUEL. IT SHOULD GO OUT ONCE YOUR MANA IS WITHDRAWN.
Tirren quickly followed the advice, and watched the fire sputter then die. Lingvar was watching him with a smug glance, and he positively strutted forward.
As he approached, Tirren pushed his mana to his hands and feet, preparing to run or attack. Tirren manifested two gauntlets onto his hands. Soft motes of golden light drifted up from them. Perfect manifestations of mana were permanent, but making a perfect manifestation was still beyond Tirren.
As Tirren readied himself to fight a weighty presence of mana appeared, and Tirren looked over. The room had not been empty, so several people had watched the altercation. Standing in the hallway was a man wearing a deep purple suit. Tirren’s manasight informed him that this was a pearl Seidren.
“Lingvar, I see that this unruly Seidren has been trying to pick a fight with whomever he can, even if he disrespects the Ovan Family. I’ll give you a chance to beat him sometime later, but I think a lesson from me would serve him better, and last a little longer.”
The Pearl Seidren looked at Tirren, and he did, Tirren felt like something crashed into his mind. He stumbled, and as the Pearl seidren pointed one hand at Tirren, a minute fireball raced towards him. Tirren closed his eyes, and waited for the pain.
He stood there with his eyes closed for a long moment. When he opened them, he found a figure standing in front of him.
Jefremov.
The weight in Tirren’s head vanished, and he gratefully looked back to the Pearl Seidren from the Ovan family. He was glaring at Jef.
Tirren couldn’t see it, but he realized that there was likely a psychic confrontation happening in front of him. The silence drew on before the stranger Seidren turned with a huff, and walked away, saying nothing further. The sand seidren and Lingvar quickly followed him.
“Jefremov, I’m sorry I left. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help but feel that we needed to do something. I …”
Jefremov cut Tirren off with one hand held up for silence.
“You’ve done well. I needed you in a place where you could be safe, but also growing. This place has been serendipitous in that regard. I have been pursuing other matters, and some of them have been resolved. I realize that it has made me somewhat of a poor master, and I am going to work on remedying that. The need for Seidren training and instruction arises mostly once a Seidren reaches Sand Tier, as the basic stages are personal, and should be taken by Seidren themselves.
On the topic of your progression, I have put some serious thought and effort into your second aspect besides force. I managed to track down and obtain a dream fragment, which contains a source of heartshatter aspect mana. “
Tirren watched as Jef’s manasight finally alighted on him, and Jef stopped cold.
“Did you find a second aspect, or settle for simple force?”
“It’s gold.”
Jefremov’s face hit his forehead with a slap that was audible throughout the mostly empty room they now found themselves in.
“Walk with me, Tirren.” He set off, and Tirren quickly followed him.
“Who picked the aspect, you or the demon?” Jef asked quietly.
“It was me. I was in trouble and I found the insight I needed, and I had gold there with me.”
Jef nodded. “There are thousands of aspects, and several of them are illegal, or considered war-crimes to use by most of the nations of Travien.”
“My demon has suggested them to me.”
“Yes indeed. I didn’t expect you to be able to find anything too terribly dangerous while I had my eyes on you, and then when you were in the blood pits. The fights are dangerous, but they keep an eye out to avoid most tragedies.”
As Tirren heard that, it was a little deflating. He had imagined himself in much danger whilst in the blood pits, and hearing Jef consider them akin to babysitting was somewhat disheartening. Tirren had seen the massive crossbows in the blood fits, and realized that had he ever truly been in danger, his monster opponents would likely have been subdued quickly.
“The gold aspect is widely used, but only by the Fidelus family. They are an international family of bankers that operate throughout Travien. They bring economic stability with them, and are protected by the nations they reside in, as well as by their name. Their family has several powerful Seidren, most noteworthy is the head of the family. Being so well respected, nobody would ever accuse them of it, but those outside the family who adopt the gold aspect, well… they end up dead.”
Tirren’s heart sank.
The conversation didn’t have much room to go from there, so they were both quiet for a long while. Before long, they found themselves in front of the room where Tirren had been staying.
He looked in and saw the ridiculously ornamented armor, sent to him by Jefremov, a couple pairs of clothing, and he knew that his stolen treasure would be hidden beneath the mattress.
His fate loomed over him like a cloud.
“You’ve got a fight coming up. I’ll be there, watching, and working on a solution to your problem with the Fidelus Family. Good luck, and enjoy your armor.”
Jefremov left.
