CH 17

January 03, 2023

“Are we done?” asked Stella.

“Yes, that’ll be all,” said the arena’s employee. “As of now, Varrell Art’s contract with the arena is no longer effective.”

Varrell whistled. “You weren’t kidding—you definitely don’t need my money.”

“No, but I can’t afford to splurge either. The more assets I have, the more expensive it gets to keep them. As always, balance is key.”

Stella’s income was fixed for the foreseeable future. She had to keep her wallet in check. Still, a bodyguard was indispensable. Better one Varrell than ten Becks. I’ve made a good purchase. This man would keep scum out of her store. Her safety was well worth the price.

The employee rubbed his hands together. “Why not stay a while and watch the fights before you go? On the house, of course. Today’s matches start in an hour.”

After thinking for a few moments, Stella politely accepted the offer. She’d left early last time and could think of no reason to refuse free entry.

“Beck?” she called, and the man trotted over to her side grinning like an idiot. He’s like an annoying puppy.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re dismissed. You’ve done well. Finish your pending errands and return to the store.”

“B-But ma’am, don’t you need a bodyguard . . . ?”

“Why, I have Varrell. But I suppose you can have the job back—as long as you can beat him. Well?”

Beck did not take it well. Stella could understand that; he liked to call himself her first minion, and his place as bodyguard was a point of pride. He wears his leash like a medal. I’ve trained him well.

But she couldn’t let him keep the job. Stella needed someone capable, someone who could deal with troublemakers swiftly and confidently. If she relied too much on Clever for protection, people might take to treating her as an outcast. She didn’t want to deal with that. It was one of the reasons why she’d hired Varrell.

“Beck, is it?” said Varrell. “The training area is right there if you want to dance. What’ll it be?” He cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Beck groaned. “Y-You think you can scare me, huh?” He took a step back. Then another one.

If he’s not scaring you, thought Stella, then what is he doing?

Varrell was completely out of Beck’s league. Not only was he stronger and better equipped, but—most importantly—he also had much more experience. Were they to fight, Stella could stake her life and everything she had on Varrell. She still wished that, against all odds, Beck would take up the challenge. But if he did, he wouldn’t be Beck in the first place.

“Can you answer my damn question? Where’re your balls? Huh?”

Beck fell on his behind. He averted his eyes, defeated, and dropped the matter with a mumbled “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

“Pathetic,” said Stella. “Are you going to just let him walk all over you?”

“B-But ma’am . . .”

“Just leave. Go plow the store’s backyard or something, it’ll help you put on some muscle. I haven’t given up hope, you know—you’ll grow into a proper shield yet.”

“Ma’am . . . y-you’re so good to me, I don’t deserve—I-I’ll do my best!”

“That’s the spirit,” she said with a kind smile.

With a hearty farewell, Beck dashed out of the room. Stella had no doubt he would do exactly as she’d suggested and pour his heart and soul into plowing that mess of a backyard. I could make him plant some vegetables next. It would be nice to produce some of our own food.

Whether he would “put on some muscle” or not was immaterial.

“You certainly know how to manipulate men,” said Varrell.

Stella twirled her hair. “I treat him with four parts whip and one part candy. Who knows, it might pay off down the line. In any case, though, I suppose he’s already passable as a meat shield.” She twisted her mouth into a smile.

“You shouldn’t smile like that. That’s not how children smile.”

“Your opinion is duly noted and disregarded. Come, let’s head to the stands. Keep an eye out for danger.”

“As you wish, milady.”

He offered his hand with a knightly bow. Stella took it in hers and allowed him to escort her to the stands.

After the day’s matches were over, Stella and Varrell exited into the arena’s lobby. Patrons gossiped all around them, still excited from the show. Stella had had fun; she was glad she’d stayed. And if his extreme agitation was anything to go by, so had Clever. The bloodshed must have awakened the fighter in him.

Stella had tried her hand at some betting. Following Varrell’s advice, she’d won four times and lost only once, and that on a match that had probably been rigged. It was a common practice here, she was told, and knowing when to lose was as important as raw skill to succeed. All sorts of people fought in the arena: independent combatants, gang champions, gang members trying to build enough reputation to secure leadership positions. It wasn’t always a simple contest of strength—there was a lot of politics involved as well. But that wasn’t to say that strength was optional. In fact, those who lacked it rarely made it very far. What the audience wanted—and paid for—was blood and screams. That much was evident from what Stella had seen today. The crowd’s excitement had peaked during the decapitation of a defeated combatant, and the day’s matches had ended at that very moment, as the victor raised the man’s disembodied head to the frenzied crowd.

“It was fascinating, wasn’t it?” said Stella. “Especially that last match. Not a single person was sitting down. They were more entertaining than the actual show—I feasted on the greed on their faces.”

“You’re a messed up young lady. But well—the arena works as a business precisely because it makes people go nuts. They relish the bloodshed, the thrill of betting. Meanwhile, we combatants cross swords, make money, and hone our craft while we’re at it. For those of us who trust our stuff, it’s paradise on earth.”

Only if you can keep winning. And that was a big “if,” for even a victory could be a dead end—if it had, for example, cost a few limbs. In the subworld of pit fighting, death was never far from glory. It might be the ideal environment to become a strong fighter, but calling it “paradise” felt like a stretch. As curious as she was about everything, Stella would rather stay away from that kind of life. With this body, she could only hope to win by catching her enemy off guard. Or—if she was willing to forfeit her own life—by using her powers.

“And you’ve given up your precious paradise to come work for me? I had no idea I had such effect on people.” Tell me something about your motives.

Varrell laughed off her question. “Oh, but you do, Lady Stella. Truly, I am honored to serve under one of your immense prestige. You’re a goddess among scum. Or should I say . . . a witch?”

Stella giggled. “Ser Varrell the knight, please—call me Stella. I can’t help but hear a tinge of mockery in your tone.”

“Stella it is, then. Let’s just say you have something that dazzled me. Is that not enough of an answer?” All traces of playfulness vanished from his features.

Twenty-eight, was he? So young, yet so unreadable. “Let’s go with that, for now. I do think you were worth the price.”

“That’s good to hear. Like I said, I trust my skill as a swordsman. It’s brought me this far. I won’t disappoint you in that regard.”

Stella gave a tiny nod. “Let’s head back, then. Once it gets dark, the rats come out of their dens. I’m not in the mood to deal with any more of the insufferable things today.”

Varrell nodded in agreement. “The nightlife in this town is not half bad, but for you it’s just too dangerous. Even more idiots skulking about than during the day. Well, kids should sleep early anyway.”

“You’re scaring me. Look, I’m shivering.” Stella laughed as she started walking toward the exit, fully intent on leaving—but a group blocked her way.

Stella clicked her tongue. She tried to circle around them, but more men appeared, closing her off. I suppose they really want my attention.

“What is it?” she asked, sighing. “I’m trying to leave.” I’m really not in the mood.

“What’re you doing here, kid? This ain’t no nursery. But then, you’re no ordinary kid. Is it true what they say, that you’re with the Stock Company?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Who are you people and why are you in my way?”

“Mind your manners, brat. I never introduce myself first.” The man gave her a crude sneer.

His hair was dyed half red, half black, he wore multiple earrings, and his eccentric red shirt left over half his torso bare, offering little in terms of protection. Looking more carefully, Stella saw that it was embroidered with the image of a dragon. Probably because he thought it looked menacing.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. My name is Stella Nordus. May I have the pleasure of your name?” Stella said with feigned politeness. This will go faster if I just play along.

How did this man compare to Beck? She didn’t know yet. Judging from his large entourage, however, he must be a man of some status.

“Well, since you asked so nicely. I’m the one and only Apollo Orson, heir to the Orsons, the chief family of the East District. . . . Nothing? Can’t say I blame you for being speechless—that’s the proper reaction.”

All right. So he’s dumber than Beck. Stella smiled from ear to ear. “I’m not exactly speechless—in fact, I could sing for you right now. It’s just that certain types of people are starting to really get on my nerves.”

Stella studied Apollo. He looked to be stronger than Beck but more or less on par with the elite thugs. His only weapon was a puny dagger. She couldn’t sense any magic coming from him. His family name is probably the only thing he has going for him.

“Don’t glare at me. Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“Don’t mind me. I find observing you in your natural state fascinating. Please continue. Whatever else you have to say, I’m sure it’s wonderful.” Stella stared straight into Apollo’s eyes and gave him an earnest, friendly smile. He looked away. A bit of a wimp, are you? Interesting.

“A-All right, here’s the deal. The Orsons recruited Varrell first. You took him from us. You realize what that means, don’t you? Huh?!”

“Not really. Would you enlighten me?”

“It means you’ve dirtied the name of the chief family of the East District. You got a death wish, girl?” Apollo spit and snapped his fingers.

His men immediately reacted by taking out knives and flashing them at Stella. Arena security didn’t interfere; this must be way above their pay grade. Varrell simply watched with his arms folded, but Stella had no doubt he would jump in to help when needed. Clever watched their rear, laughing his raucous laugh and readying his talons to rip apart the throat of the first enemy foolish enough to venture closer.

“It was Varrell who approached me seeking employment. I only gave him what he asked for. You have no reason to blame me.”

“Shut up! It doesn’t matter how it happened! You humiliated us, you hear me? How you gonna make up for that, huh?!”

“Look, I am truly sorry. Would you accept this as a token of my apology?”

Stella meekly reached into her cloak’s inner pocket and took out her Magic Crystal. She tossed it to Apollo. My best weapon against idiots. They always reached for the shiny trinket without thinking twice. Like moths drawn to a flame. What a sad existence indeed.

Apollo looked somewhat surprised. “Yes, that’ll be enough. See? Wasn’t so hard.” He stretched out his hand. “I’m not a monster. I’d rather not hurt children if I can help—” He touched the crystal.

At that exact instant, Stella simultaneously activated the life force drain and paralyzed him. Apollo dropped to his knees as the strength rushed out of his limbs. Before anyone else could react, Stella drew out a bloodstained knife, closed the distance between her and Apollo, and pressed it against his throat. It was the same knife she’d used to kill Beck’s former partner—her first murder weapon. She’d been carrying it around for protection ever since. It wasn’t of much use, but it had sentimental value.

“M-Master Apollo!”

“What are you doing to Master Apollo?!”

Smiling, Stella turned to Apollo’s thugs and said, “If you take another step, I’ll slash his throat. This knife is quite dull, so it’ll hurt—a lot. And his suffering will be pointless. He’ll die all the same.”

“D-Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!” said Apollo.

“Of course I do. You looked weaker than the average thug, so I thought maybe I could take you on my own. And I was right. You have the reflexes of a sloth.”

Varrell would never have allowed her to get this close. He’d have quickly pounded her into the ground with his sword, or simply swatted her aside as easily as if she were a fly. Not Apollo, though; he was too weak and wimpy for that. Careful observation could reveal much of a person’s personality traits.

“Y-Y-You don’t mess with the Orsons! You’ll—”

“You’re the one who messed with me. Besides, this is between you and me. Your family can’t exactly stop this knife from slitting your throat, can it?”

Stella pressed her face almost against Apollo’s and bared a toothy grin. Terror flashed in his eyes. He was shaking.

“D-D-Don’t just stand there, you imbeciles! Save me! K-Kill her!”

“But Master Apollo, if we get any closer—”

“—You’ll have to deal with me.” Varrell unsheathed his crimson greatsword. “I promise, whoever takes a step toward Stella will be cut down before he can take another one.” His eyes were fully alert. He meant it.

‘Keke! Let’s kill ’em, eh! Tear off their ’eads and mount ’em on spikes! Kekeke!’

“A talking bird?!”

‘Just ’cause I’m a bird doesn’t mean I can’t talk, boy! Anyway, you got nothing to worry about, eh, ’cause I’ll make sure yer old man gets yer ’ead! Fast and fresh—it’s Clever’s Delivery Service!’

Is he serious? Stella honestly couldn’t tell.

Apollo shrieked. A wet stain appeared on the front of his trousers. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and his terror seemed to have reached its limit. The man truly is pathetic.

“Please, Master Apollo, control yourself. If you move so much, my hand might slip. I’m not very skilled with a knife. You don’t want me to commit a blunder, do you?”

“S-Stop . . .”

“So, where were we? Oh, yes. I’ve hired this man Varrell. House Orson tried to recruit him first, but you—the venerable heir—decided oh so generously to allow me to keep him. Isn’t that right?”

“W-What?”

“Aren’t you a slow one.” Stella sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is I’m willing to forget our little misunderstanding. You can walk out with everything intact but your pride. I could kill you, but you’ve properly entertained me with your face and actions.” Especially the way you cried like a baby and made a fool of yourself. “Lucky you.”

Stella was curious to see how today’s humiliating experience would change this man. If he came seeking revenge, squashing him would be a trivial matter. But Apollo was a coward; he likely wouldn’t.

“R-Really?”

“Yes, really. Why, do you have a problem with that?”

“No! I don’t! Please, help . . .” he choked through his tears.

“Only after you call off your men. They’re annoying me.” Stella pressed harder against his throat.

Apollo desperately obliged, ordering his men to leave. Stella waited for them to go, then kicked Apollo’s back away from her, sending him sprawling to the ground. All eyes were upon them; the crowd’s buzzing grew louder.

“Apollo, dear. This is enough for our little show, don’t you think?” said Stella.

“Our little show?”

“This was all staged, remember? A little act to show everyone how great you are. I’m sure they were really impressed by your generosity. On your feet now, the audience is waiting.”

Stella winked at him. Apollo seemed to understand.

“Oh. Yes, that is indeed what we were doing! All right, everyone! This was all a show, nothing more! Got it? Now get lost!”

People were quick to lower their gazes and return to their business. Nobody dared argue against Apollo’s glare; it wasn’t worth the risk. The people in power were always right. Therefore, whatever had just happened must have been some dream or hallucination. That was the way of things in this town. What these people thought of what they’d seen was their own concern, but they couldn’t spread any rumors without becoming targets for the Orsons’ ire.

Apollo looked livid. “Why’d you do that? You think I owe you a favor now?”

“If I killed you, House Orson would start sending assassins my way. That would get old and annoying pretty fast, and I’d never see the end of it. But if we get off each other’s throats, we both win. Can’t you see?”

“You little daughter of a—”

“—But of course, we can also pick up where we left off. If you don’t mind fighting without your men.”

“What?”

You dismissed them not five minutes ago, you idiot. Clever cackled and started clicking his beak at Apollo.

“Be warned. If you dare send any assassins,” Stella said, “I’ll release this lovely bird into the sky. He knows what you look like. And you’ll spend every waking moment in fear of what will happen when he finds you. Won’t that be a fun little social experiment.”

‘Kekekeke! Why wait, eh? Let’s start tonight! Cut off ’is balls, just to give ’im a taste!’

“Oh, that sounds wonderful.” Stella turned to Apollo again. “Well, I’m leaving. Make room in your schedule. You’re getting a visitor tonight.”

Apollo yelped. “J-Just knock it off, all right? Jeez, okay, girl, I’ll let you off the hook!”

“Sorry, Clever. You heard him.”

‘That’s a shame, eh? But I’ll be ’ere if you change yer mind—just gimme a ’eads-up and I’ll fly beak-first into yer balls, eh! Won’t take a minute!’

Apollo covered his crotch, trembling.

Stella couldn’t stand to watch this anymore. She was starting to get a headache. “Anyway, come visit any time you want. I’d love to talk with you again.”

Stella snapped her fingers. Clever hopped onto her shoulder and she walked out of the arena, leaving a dumbfounded Apollo behind.

“Why hire me if you don’t even need me?” asked Varrell. “You handled yourself unbelievably well back there.”

“I was waiting for you to jump in, but you never did. I had no choice but to deal with them myself.”

“I couldn’t attack them there. House Orson would become your mortal enemy, and I bet you don’t want that. So I was watching, waiting for things to turn sour. Then I would jump in.”

Good, he can use his head. I won’t have to worry about him going off and doing something stupid. “That was very considerate of you, thank you. There’s something you need to know, by the way—you must not allow anyone to catch me off guard. It’s my weakness. That’s what you and Clever are here for. I’ll be counting on you.”

“You don’t look like you’d ever give them the chance anyway. If you’re like that now, imagine after you’ve grown up.” He looked down at her in surprise.

“There’s more. I get tired easily. In fact, I just used the last of my strength there, and now I can barely stand. It was a fun experience, but I wish it could have been avoided.” Sighing, Stella crouched down. It was like she was knee-deep in sludge. I wish I could have just gone home unimpeded.

In all likelihood, Stella and House Orson were now enemies. Well, that’s going to be annoying. But she didn’t think Apollo would come after her, at least. Not after all the threats she’d made.

“Well, time to earn my pay, then.”

“What are you talking about?”

Varrell grabbed Stella by the armpits and hoisted her onto his shoulder. It was so sudden that Stella couldn’t suppress a yelp of surprise. He started walking, and she felt as if she was literally on the shoulder of a giant. This isn’t half bad.

“You’re going to have to point me the way,” Varrell said.

Stella nodded. “I can’t help but notice you seem quite at home with children.”

“I’ve helped out at an orphanage before. I don’t dislike childcare.”

“I see.” The man wasn’t just a sword, then. Stella was pleasantly surprised. You can’t judge a book by its cover. Especially if the “book” is a human. “The view is great from up here. Everything takes a whole new ‘scenic’ feel to it. I didn’t know a simple change in perspective could do so much.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’re way too light, though. And pale. You should put on some weight, get more blood to your face.”

“I’m trying, but I don’t think that’s something I can change overnight. As it is, I can’t even keep too much food in my stomach.”

“Well, I can help. As it turns out, I’m quite nitpicky when it comes to nutrition and exercise. I can come up with a suitable diet for you.”

Nitpicky, you say? Stella hoped he wouldn’t be too nitpicky—but she had no better alternative. She might as well take his advice.

Clever was looking at her and Varrell. ‘I dunno, eh. This is makin’ me sorta jealous.’

“What are you waiting for, then?” said Stella. “Come onto my shoulder.”

‘Yay!’

And thus Varrell, Stella, and Clever made their leisurely way home through the dusky Central District of Peasbury, each riding on the other’s shoulder, like a comically large three-step staircase. Today was tiring, but most gratifying.