Misadventures Incorporated

All went exactly as Virillius had predicted. Cadria's fighters saw Sylvia's display as a challenge and redoubled their efforts. They pulled all the stops, often playing their trump cards immediately as they took to the stage. Heads flew. Bodies fell. Powerful spells obliterated the training grounds and scattered the observers' snacks all over the castle grounds.

The average participant fought five battles before the judges broke the news and either assigned them a spot or disqualified them from the competition—though not all were so quickly evaluated. There were still about twelve participants remaining by sundown, not counting the two who had already been given their places. One was the obvious choice. Durham had always been considered one of the nation's top fighters. He shone both in the arena and on the battlefield, where he could take out a full battalion of enemy soldiers with a single attack.

To many of the observers' surprise, the second assignment had gone out to an unknown fighter. Berius of the Vestudian Spear was a lazy thorae that spent most of his time asleep. He wasn't quite as dominant as Durham, but he'd handled most of his opponents with ease. The few that forced him to get off his butt and fight to the best of his ability found an incredibly talented lancer almost impossible to beat in close quarters. Even Durham lost in technique; the giant centaur had to fall back on the brute force afforded by his much higher level.

Roughly half of the twelve that remained had caught Claire's eye. There was a nun that the system claimed to be her uncle's lover. Like many of the other competitors, she was a battlemage with a refined technique. As far as close combat went, she wasn't quite as proficient as Berius or Durham, but it seemed to be because she was rusty. Her technique and reactions improved with every battle; with just a little bit of time, she could easily become just as fearsome.

Next was the Silverthorn elf that somehow kept losing. He'd come within a hair's breadth of claiming nine of the ten duels he'd taken part in, but he would always find himself on the receiving end of a counter whenever he moved to deliver the final blow. It almost didn't seem intentional. He was always surprised to find his opponent on the back foot and even more surprised when the reciprocal attack dug its way through his guts. One time, he'd spawned and subsequently tripped on a pebble. Another he'd sneezed in the midst of a headlong charge. And yet another was the result of his hair getting stuck on one of his opponent's zippers. It was like the man was cursed.

There were two other elves among the finalists, but neither was quite as intriguing. The first was a playwright. Like most others of his class, he fought by conjuring illusions, but his plots and arrangements were boring enough that Claire nearly fell asleep. The second was a butler that, for whatever reason, would always enter battle with a fresh bow, break it on his knees, and use it as a melee weapon. He too had often lost, though it was more so because he was constantly looking into the crowd. Specifically, his passionate gaze would always find its way to Ragnar. If not an assassin or a racist that detested Kryddarians, the man was likely all too interested in the neighbouring king. It was a shame then that his affections would never bear fruit. Ragnar was a womanizer who specifically preferred greying ladies made almost entirely of muscle. If the rumours around the castle were to be believed, he had even laid his hands on the freshly christened Minister of War. Just as he had one of the more bullish competitors.

Said competitor, Gladora the Bloodbreaker, was a famous pitfighter known all across the nation. Both she and the child she'd arrived with, a thoraen-cottontail halfbreed capable of mirroring the abilities of those he saw in battle, had managed to last through to the end. The boy's abilities weren't yet refined. They weren't always stable and he would evidently overload his brain and circuits by attempting to copy individuals beyond his means. He'd had that exact experience both when trying to use Durham's powers against him and when he tried to sing one of Sylvia's songs.

Both instances had proven that he didn't yet know his limits. But of course he didn't. The kid was barely level three hundred and likely still growing by the day. Frankly, he wasn't on the same level as most of the others, but he had good instincts and had the potential to become a fairly proficient fighter in time. It was unlikely that he would ever be able to truly master the powers that he copied, but by mixing and matching, he could easily become exactly the sort of star beloved by the arena.

To the brigade's annoyance and dismay, Ephesus had also made it into the final selection. And from his performance, it was starting to look like he was sure to be chosen. Though his ascension was likely undeserved at first, he demonstrated that he'd achieved all the necessary skill. Though it was half because of his underhanded tactics and his focus on misdirection, he'd drawn with Julius Evander. One could even argue that he was sure to come out ahead had they not been fighting a duel. On the battlefield, he could have easily enacted a far deadlier scheme, perhaps something that appealed to the assassin-like nature of his build.

"How are we all feeling, after seeing what we have?" Allegra posed the question as the delegation returned to its room. The qualifiers had wrapped up for the day; everyone yet to be disqualified had been asked to return the following morning. It was unclear if the committee would decide overnight, or if there would be another round of fighting. In either case, the Vel'khanese had seen enough to recognize the extent of their enemies' strength. They had assumed that, with three aspects, they might have held an advantage. But the Cadrians were sure to have at least four such fighters. And even if the rest weren't quite so strong, they were at least close enough to potentially disqualify two of the four-time-ascenders.

"We're fucked," grumbled Jules. "We're so fucked we might as well start shopping for cribs."

"I admit, the disparity is greater than I had anticipated, but I do not believe victory beyond our means," said Arciel.

"Yeah, I was kinda expecting them to be a bit crazier, since Allegra was hyping them up so much," said Sylvia. "I dunno why Claire was ever worried. I could totally step in and beat the crap out of whoever I'm against."

"You already said that you are a non-combatant." Claire squeezed the foxes cheeks. "You can't go back on your word now."

Arciel smiled. "I believe that we remain capable of victory without your assistance, Sylvia."

"Everyone should list out all the fighters that they think they're able to beat," said Allegra. "Our best bet is taking advantage of the system and setting ourselves up with winning matchups. Based on how everyone fought today, I can more or less see how the fighters are going to be ordered."

"I am not so certain." Arciel frowned and tapped her fan against her chin. "If my impression of Cadria is correct, then it is more valuable to prioritize our pride over our victory. I believe it would be in our best interest to play by the rules."

"Maybe if we lose," said Allegra. "But if we win, then none of that really matters. All we need to do is throw the match against Viriilius and have Claire face Durham. That'll put us at one win and one loss. If we can figure out a decent enough order for the rest, we should be able to eke out a win."

Claire poked Sylvia, who giggled before speaking. "I'm pretty sure Claire will literally tear you in half if you make her fight anyone besides her dad."

"That's ridiculous. Stop being selfish, Claire," said Allegra. "Putting you against Virillius would mean throwing away any chance at victory."

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Another poke.

"She thinks she might be able to beat him."

"I don't," said the rabbit.

"I understand your concerns, Allegra, but I would rather provide Claire with the opportunity to confront her father. She has done me many a favour and I hardly intend on furthering my debt," said Arciel.

"She's the reason that you're in this mess in the first place."

"I am well aware that she was this particular event's impetus, but so too am I of the opinion that it was inevitable. The conditions that Pollux had forced upon us were far from favourable. I likely would have attempted to drive him from Vel'khan, one way or another. I've no doubt that Cadria would have used even the most harmless excuse to engage."

Allegra frowned, but remained silent.

"However, I do believe it will be worth performing the exercise you mentioned regardless," continued Arciel. "We have at our fingertips the opportunity to step upon the battleground with strategies in mind, while they must challenge us whilst knowing nothing of our abilities."

Having listened in for far too long, Claire was on the verge of falling asleep. Sylvia's fluff and warmth only made her feel even more inclined to fall unconscious, but she fought back the urge to pass out.

"You fought well today." She whispered to the fox as she gave her a squeeze.

"I told you I'd be fine," said Sylvia.

"I know. But I was worried. A public duel would be the perfect opportunity for Vella to try one of her tricks."

"Mmmnnn, we're probably fine on that front. She's probably gonna lay low for a little, based on everything you told me. I bet she probably wants to watch you fight your dad too."

Claire nodded. "That was why I let you go. I wouldn't have, before my ascension, for what it's worth."

"Why's that?"

"The barrier around the arena would have kept me from helping if anything went wrong."

"Really?" Sylvia tilted her head. "Couldn't you have just sucked the magic out of it or teleported inside?"

"I wasn't sure if vectors would work," said Claire. "And draining its magic would've been impossible before I ascended. It's powered by almost every ley line in town."

The fox blinked. "Doesn't that mean it's more secure than the castle?"

"Only if you discount the barrier enforced by the three ducal houses." Pulling the fox closer, Claire leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Again, she started to drift off, but her eyes snapped open just before she did. "We're forgetting something," she said.

"We are?" asked Sylvia, with a blink.

Claire nodded. "I noticed it today, when we were watching the rest of the fighters. We haven't updated our accessories."

The party had gotten new weapons and armour on the way to Valencia, but that was all they'd purchased.

They were missing the enchanted trinkets that had decorated the Cadrian fighters; they had rings to bolster their base stats, necklaces to improve their magic, and an array of broaches that gave them temporary skills to help round out their kits. Arciel and Allegra were the only two to have any such objects on their person and the squid's were outdated. She'd had them since their first encounter.

"I wouldn't be so worried," said Krail, with a laugh. "We actually happened to order a few sets while you were asleep during our journey southwards. I believe they're slated to be delivered in just a few days. The shopkeeper was an interesting fellow, really. I've met a number of curious craftsmen during my da—"

"Get to the point," said Claire.

"Right." The elf coughed. "Long story short, you don't need to worry. We've already arranged for everyone's accessories."

"I picked out something super cute for you," said Sylvia. "You'll see!"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "Somehow, hearing that only puts me on edge."

"Wow, what the heck!?" squeaked the furball.

"Knowing you, you probably asked the jeweler to make me either earrings or ear cuffs."

"Do not worry, Claire. We ensured that her selections were sensible," said Arciel.

"Very sensible," said Lana.

"I promise they're not lewd and that they'll look super good," said Sylvia. "Oh, and they're pretty strong too. You'll have to wait to see the specifics."

The snoose paused. "Alright."

"You should see Krail's arrangement," said Chloe, with an awkward smile. "He's set himself up with half a dozen rings on every finger."

"As a pure caster, I find that the accompanying penalty to my finger dexterity is largely inconsequential. I was rather surprised that neither Jules nor Arciel were willing to do the same."

"Yeah, fuck that. It feels weird as shit, not to mention it makes bathing and whatnot a huge pain in the ass."

"I do not find myself fond of the aesthetic. Had I an ordinary hat, I would have much rather transformed the rings into ornaments."

"It's worth it," said Lana. "I'm equipping lots too. But only on my offhand."

In reality, the extent of the value depended heavily on the quality of the ring. While a clumsy craftsman's wares imparted little but a few stray points, accessories made by skilled jewelers could provide a small percentage increase—an increase that quickly added up when one wore sixty at once. With higher-end gear, the elf could easily double his magical output. Of course, decking oneself in jewels wasn't without its downsides. Bolstering one's wisdom meant straining one's circuits and ultimately losing precision. The change wasn't too difficult to adjust to, but it would certainly take a moment, thereby worsening the sudden onset weakness that came with the loss of a limb. And at least in Cadrian duels, such mishaps were effectively the norm.

There was also the more important matter of growing too reliant on the enhanced stats. There was no telling when the borrowing of undeserved strength would rear its head and tear into one's unexpecting posterior.

"We should probably get to analysis now that we've sorted that matter," said Krail.

"Man, why the hell are we even doing this now?" grumbled Jules. "We don't even know the final lineup until tomorrow morning."

"We could wait, but it'd be a poor use of our time," said Allegra. "And we can begin with the more likely candidates, as well as the two already decided."

"I mean, I think I've got a pretty good idea who the more likely candidates are, but we should probably make sure," said Jules. "I'm thinking it'll be the speedy rabbit, the crazy axe chick, the brown-ass elf, and the bastard that's basically Sophia with extra steps."

"Lord Evander, the rabbit, is unlikely to make the cut," said Allegra.

"Seriously? The dude's a fucking aspect."

"Yes, and his performance was certainly impressive at first, but a few duels was all it took to suss out his pain points. The elf with Tzaarkus' blessing was able to beat him by the end of the day."

"The elf didn't win a single match either," said Jules.

"He was pulling back his finishing blows. He clearly would've won all those fights if he wasn't," said Allegra.

"Who, then, do you believe the final spot belongs to?" asked Arciel.

"The nun," said Allegra. "Either that, or the boy."

"The boy was weak," said Lana.

"Yes, but he's got the most potential. There's still some time before the fighting begins, and that trump card of his, the thing he did with the clock, can easily be tuned into a deadly weapon."

While the others continued to debate their potential opponents, Claire closed her eyes and escaped to dreamland. The long winded discussion bored her out of her mind. And more importantly, Rubia was in the middle of painting a beautiful seaside city, and she was far happier to watch it come together than she was to bother with silly what-ifs.