Chapter 132: Shitshow

Chapter 132: Shitshow

The number of spectators swelled to outnumber, then eclipse the number of applicants. The young men and women trying out to join the Twin Heart guild broke up into groups of around twenty. Each group was captained by one of the above twenty candidates, of which there were only four. About eight or nine under twenties joined them, and under tens filled out the remaining numbers.

A small but notably dejected cluster of people sat off to the side, the failure of their application denoted by their lack of participation in the team battles. The dual wielder girl was part of this group, and out of all of them she looked by far the most upset. Lars sat with those who had failed, talking to each in turn, explaining the reason for their failure, and the methods by which they could improve should they wish to try again next time in the future.

Darius stood off to the side, quietly mouthing the rules for the group battles, as well as some flowery speech about what it meant to be a member of the Twin Heart guild. He looked stressed, and because he was stressed he was partially shrouded in mist. Several applicants kept shooting him scared looks, as if instead of being overcome by social anxiety, the guild-master's son was a figure of intimidation and incredible power.

If Leif hadn’t listened to the man wax poetically about nonsense during the days they were an auxiliary pair during the expedition, he too may have misinterpreted Darius’s actions as sinister brooding instead of accidental skill use. He may ‘umm’ and ‘ahh’ frequently, but Darius cut the same striking figure as his father. The amusing dichotomy was quite fun to watch, but Leif found his attention distracted by a loud group of bronze ranked adventurers who were calling him over.

They wanted to know who the team captains were, for purposes that absolutely had nothing to do with betting. The adventuring party had only just arrived, but Leif had been watching most of the solo bouts and was in a solid position to explain. There was Jason, the double attuned man with the strange class relating to ‘spring’. Mareen, undefeated and with the same [Brawler] class as Leif, though possessing different skills and another fire related class.

There was Lyra, a young woman with an ice focused [Shaman] class who had unfortunately found herself completely countered by Mareen in their duel. Finally there was a sullen looking boy who Leif thought was called Caspar, he was the lowest level of the four team captains at only twenty one, and was an archer. His class was [Rogue], but he fought with a bow, Leif wasn’t sure if he actually had the [Archer] class, or had gained bow related skills from his [Rogue] class promotion.

The adventurers he explained this to then loudly relayed the information, embellished slightly, to the parties sitting nearby. Then the bets came flooding in, even a guild official dashed over and started taking notes and recording the wagers.

According to the spectators, Mareen’s team had the best odds of winning, an impression helped along by the young man loudly hyping up his team in lieu of strategizing like the other teams were doing. Though Leif noted that those who had been watching the individual duels quietly bet on Jason and his area of effect healing skill. Leif would have bet on the [Attuned: Spring] holder as well, though he wasn’t overly comfortable betting on which group of children could beat up the other groups the best. Maybe he was soft? Or was it a cultural thing? A human thing? Probably not.

The allotted time for the teams to get to know one another came to an end, a guild functionary running over to where Darius was misting up the place to relay the news. The man looked around as if for emotional support, Leif could feel the apprehension in his aura. So he excused himself from the adventuring party that was trying to recruit him for ‘totally reasonable healer rates’ and made his way over to where Darius was standing.

“Need a hand?” He asked.

“Uh, no. I mean, yes. I mean...” Darius let out a sigh. “I need a full day without people in order to recharge, this is agonising.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. Life is so much easier when nobody can see me. Apparently hiding constantly is a bad habit, I have a skill that lets me know when I’m being noticed. Dad said I shouldn’t have taken it, but it’s basically perfect for a stealth specialist in training.”

“Sir.” The guild functionary said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s best to begin the proceedings now, lest this event run past sunset.”

“Right, yeah okay.” Darius said, rolling his neck and letting out a deep breath. “It’s just a bunch of kids, what's the worst that could happen?”

“Please don’t say that sir, it’s bad luck.” The functionary said, wincing.

===

Vitras watched with keen interest as the guild-master’s son stood within the centre of the courtyard where the fights would take place and reiterated the rules for duels between applicants, this time scaled up for the group battles. It was the same stuff as before, no aiming for above the neck, no seriously injuring your opponents, no attacking anyone who had yielded. Vitras rolled his eyes when he heard one of his teammates ask if cutting off someone's leg counted as a serious injury.

Of course it would, healers were notoriously expensive, even for someone like his father. Luckily the idiot got cussed out by someone else before Vitras could turn and do it himself. The people of Ahle-ho might be stupid and mostly uncultured, but at least they weren’t completely incompetent. Especially not the members of the prime guilds. In Vitras’s homeland, the guilds were mostly subservient to the noble families and city administration, but up here they were practically royalty.

The dark haired man with the almost shining green eyes was the booney’s equivalent of a prince, and who knew what the tall masked man who was standing beside him was. Some sort of bodyguard? An elite assassin or monster hunter? Vitras shuffled from foot to foot, excitement building. Maybe he could ask his father for a cool mask and hood, he was already partially in disguise so it wasn’t that much more extreme?

The immaterial mask on his aura wasn’t the kind of mask he wanted to wear, but for him to participate in this little event without his identity being exposed it was unfortunately necessary, even if it was highly uncomfortable. The guild-master’s son finished his speech, punctuating his words by conjuring ethereal looking mist to swirl around him. It was the kind of dramatics Vitras highly approved of, it reminded him of skill flourishes people would perform in court.

Jason, the nature magic user that captained their team yelled in affirmative when a guild functionary asked everyone if they had understood the rules. Then it was time to battle. Or it would have been if the [Brawler] with fire magic hadn’t chosen the gloomy looking archer’s team as their opponent. As the team with the strongest captain, the [Brawler] got to pick how the round robin of group fights would commence.

Vitras tsked, a good portion of his suggestions lay dormant on that man’s team, but it didn’t really matter. As long as the fights didn’t stretch on for too long they would hopefully last. Standing off to the side, Vitras and his team watched the first group battle. The swelling crowd roared with excitement as both teams crashed into one another. Referees called out whenever somebody yielded, took a significant injury or was restrained. Mareen led his team in a devastating charge, the close combat fighter dishing out serious damage with just his bare hands, weaker combatants being sent flying with brutal punches and kicks.

They were going to win, and it was all going to be because of him. Vitras grinned, adrenaline pumping through his veins as his team, now on the attack and far healthier than their opponents charged forward. He didn’t need to use [Bestow Orders], but why not? It was fun, being the hidden spider pulling the strings was exhilarating. The feeling of power and control was all but intoxicating.

He ran forward, more a light jog than a sprint and focused. Vitras didn’t care about the consequences, he was too far away from the glass magic user for there to be any consequences for him, so it didn’t matter. He was like a god among mortals, a higher being. He was untouchable, and the glass user would be the tool used to secure his greatness. “Obey m-

Something flashed gold behind Vitras as a hand grabbed him by the back of the head, a grip as strong as steel lifted him up off the ground as an aura he thought he recognised crashed down into him, spearing into his own and suppressing him completely. The aura mask, granted to him by a necklace he was attuned to held, then shattered, the crystal containing the enchantment cracking under the weight of the one suppressing him.

Father? Vitras thought, legs flailing, arms reaching up to scramble at the gauntleted hand that had lifted him a foot off the air with contemptible ease. No, it wasn’t his father, the authority was similar but this felt more wild, powerful instead of dignified and controlled. “Agh! What is this, get off me!” He screamed, voice coming out far more petulantly than was proper, but that hardly mattered. This crazy bastard was going to kill him if he squeezed any harder.

“No.” Came the reply, voice cold, hard and domineering. “I don’t think I will.”

“Let me go! Do you even know who I am?” Vitras screamed. It was a stupid thing to say, he had applied for the guild tryouts under a false name, so of course they wouldn’t. Unless they knew his father. Wait, of course they would know his father, how many other [Noble]s were in the city?

The fight around them had stilled, young men and women stared in abject shock as he dangled helplessly, still held up in one hand. With a puff of mist the guild-master’s son appeared, scowl thunderous. Obviously he was angry at the madman who had grabbed him, anything else wouldn’t make sense.

“Help me!” Vitras yelled, redoubling his struggling attempts to break free. “I’m being attacked!”

“This the one?” Darius asked, tone flinty.

“Yeah, he was about to do something to the glass manipulator.”

“Fucking hells.”

Vitras blinked, what was going on? How did they know? That was impossible. Another man, this one the guild enforcer who had been watching from the sidelines and occasionally interacting with the applicants appeared seemingly out of thin air. Vitras panicked, the man’s expression looked sharp enough to kill. So he did what anyone of his standing did when confronted with the consequences of their actions. He yapped.

“I am Vitras Nahn, son of Lord Antony Nahn of the Ahle-ho imperial garrison! You will let me go at once!”

The enforcer facepalmed, the smacking sound could be heard across the entire guild compound.

===

The next few days would be described by anyone in the Twin Heart guild’s leadership as: Politically tense. And if they weren’t trying to be polite: A massive shitshow. Leif understood only small fragments of the bigger picture, but apparently the incident had caused a massive stir across the entire city, especially with the guilds.

It didn’t surprise him that the imperial garrison was widely unpopular among both the guilds, and common citizenry of Ahle-ho. What did surprise him was that the Twin Heart guild were one of the few openly in favour of imperial intervention within the city. The exact reason for why had something to do with foreign branches of the guild, and a long history of support from the empire. It was a pro empire stance that was almost unique among the prime guilds within Ahle-ho.

So the son of the garrison commander attempting murder within the headquarters of possibly their only real ally within the city was the political equivalent of performing a lobotomy on yourself with a hammer. There was an emergency council among the city's guilds, followed by an official investigation by the palace guard. A ‘gift’ made its way into the Twin Heart coffers from an ‘anonymous donation’ that Nikolas had called a ‘Oh gods please forgive us and don’t turn this into a major incident’ amount of money.

Leif had assaulted the son of one of the most powerful men in the city. But the whole thing was swept under the rug so quickly and thoroughly that absolutely nothing came of it. In fact, the whole incident ended up being really funny in hindsight. Or at least so he was told, It was hard to see how when his identity was such a contentious topic. He, and only he, had even received an apology letter from Vitras, which Nikolas had promptly framed and hung in his office. The fact the apology had been dictated to a single person, and not the guild as a whole, was some sort of face saving measure by the imperial commander, though Leif was mostly bewildered as to how that made any sense.

Nikolas invited him to a mostly private ‘welcome to the guild’ party in the lounge where they had first met. And life went on. He went from stranger, to guest, to minor guild celebrity overnight. He trained, helped out around the guild, and once a few weeks had passed even explored the city. Turbulence raged overhead, ever changing and chaotic, Season turned, its cracked face slowly becoming hidden from sight.

In this manner he lived, learnt, and improved. As a healer, even one with diminished capabilities due to his [Adept of Self-Restoration] class, his healing was shockingly potent due to the sheer amount of attributes at his disposal compared to others in the healing profession. And while he felt strange accepting any amount of payment for his healing, being paid dramatically sped up his progression towards his level fifty advancement.

The weather changed, the city changed, he changed.