Chapter 143: An Offering of Blood
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Chapter 143: An Offering of Blood
An Offering of Blood
Maximilian's team ended up winning the bout, though it did not avail them much; they lost their next match, one short of reaching the final round. That left him out of the games for this harvest, as mageknights could not participate in the final contest, taking place on Manday.
The grand melee involved ordinary warriors; former legionaries given the chance to relive old glories and earn the title as Sol's champion for the year along with a sizeable prize.
Maximilian not competing had the advantage that Martel and Shadi could once again join him on the benches. A few still grumbled at seeing them, but none made protests loud enough for the young viscount to hear.
"You fought very well yesterday," Shadi told him.
The mageknight waved a hand around. "Not well enough." He exhaled. "But thank you," he added as an afterthought.
The contestants marched in. The rules were similar to yesterday, except there would only be one massive fight. Two hundred warriors, divided into two teams. They did not wear cloaks, but simply a coloured ribbon around their arm to signal their allegiance, yellow against green. Any man who lost his weapon or was knocked down, forfeited the game. Beyond that, lacking magic, they had only armour, helmet, and shield to protect themselves. Unlike the other fights involving mageknights, people expected and shouted for blood.
The trumpets rang. Two hundred veteran soldiers stormed towards each other. The sound was deafening. Martel had been in fights before, but nothing involving these numbers. He could only liken it to his last visit at The Broken Crown when the crowd had gone into a frenzy, and he had felt trapped inside a throng of enemies as he looked up from the pit.
He shook his head. "Neighbours said she lived alone. They wouldn't tell us much else. All claimed they saw nothing."
"How certain are you about this? You better not have dragged me down here for nothing."
The guard gestured towards the house as they stopped before it. "Go in and see for yourself, mistress." He extended the torch in his hand towards her. "If you don't mind, I'll stay out here."
She gave him a disdainful look, grabbed the torch, and entered the house alone. Although she walked with confidence, her free hand rested on the hilt of her dagger all the same.
At first glance, the place seemed entirely ordinary. A few pieces of furniture, a cooking hearth without any fire, a bucket of water, and some scattered morsels of food. Just like any house in the copper lanes, except perhaps in greater state of disrepair with creaking floorboards and loose shutters on the windows, causing the wind to howl through. Another example could have been the sound of water dripping through the ceiling – except the night was dry. It had not rained in days.
Faintly, the smell of blood lay in the air. Kerra followed the sound of drops falling to hit the floor. Kneeling down, she brought the torch close until it illuminated the patch of red liquid slowly spreading across the boards. Raising her eyes, she looked at the ceiling, providing the source of the droplets.
Continuing her investigation, Kerra climbed the ladder to reach the upper floor. It was, like below, a single room underneath the diagonal roof. The latter forced Kerra to bend her neck as she stood up.
She approached the bed, one of the only objects in the chamber. Holding up her torch, she looked down to see the body of an aged woman lying on the straw in the bedframe.
Staring at the resident of the house, Kerra saw how her throat had been slashed, which accounted for the blood. Her dress, already old and ragged, had been cut open from the collar down. Upon the torso, above the heart, a mysterious round symbol with intricate patterns could be spotted, seared onto the skin.
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Chapter 143: An Offering of Blood
An Offering of Blood
Maximilian's team ended up winning the bout, though it did not avail them much; they lost their next match, one short of reaching the final round. That left him out of the games for this harvest, as mageknights could not participate in the final contest, taking place on Manday.
The grand melee involved ordinary warriors; former legionaries given the chance to relive old glories and earn the title as Sol's champion for the year along with a sizeable prize.
Maximilian not competing had the advantage that Martel and Shadi could once again join him on the benches. A few still grumbled at seeing them, but none made protests loud enough for the young viscount to hear.
"You fought very well yesterday," Shadi told him.
The mageknight waved a hand around. "Not well enough." He exhaled. "But thank you," he added as an afterthought.
The contestants marched in. The rules were similar to yesterday, except there would only be one massive fight. Two hundred warriors, divided into two teams. They did not wear cloaks, but simply a coloured ribbon around their arm to signal their allegiance, yellow against green. Any man who lost his weapon or was knocked down, forfeited the game. Beyond that, lacking magic, they had only armour, helmet, and shield to protect themselves. Unlike the other fights involving mageknights, people expected and shouted for blood.
The trumpets rang. Two hundred veteran soldiers stormed towards each other. The sound was deafening. Martel had been in fights before, but nothing involving these numbers. He could only liken it to his last visit at The Broken Crown when the crowd had gone into a frenzy, and he had felt trapped inside a throng of enemies as he looked up from the pit.
He shook his head. "Neighbours said she lived alone. They wouldn't tell us much else. All claimed they saw nothing."
"How certain are you about this? You better not have dragged me down here for nothing."
The guard gestured towards the house as they stopped before it. "Go in and see for yourself, mistress." He extended the torch in his hand towards her. "If you don't mind, I'll stay out here."
She gave him a disdainful look, grabbed the torch, and entered the house alone. Although she walked with confidence, her free hand rested on the hilt of her dagger all the same.
At first glance, the place seemed entirely ordinary. A few pieces of furniture, a cooking hearth without any fire, a bucket of water, and some scattered morsels of food. Just like any house in the copper lanes, except perhaps in greater state of disrepair with creaking floorboards and loose shutters on the windows, causing the wind to howl through. Another example could have been the sound of water dripping through the ceiling – except the night was dry. It had not rained in days.
Faintly, the smell of blood lay in the air. Kerra followed the sound of drops falling to hit the floor. Kneeling down, she brought the torch close until it illuminated the patch of red liquid slowly spreading across the boards. Raising her eyes, she looked at the ceiling, providing the source of the droplets.
Continuing her investigation, Kerra climbed the ladder to reach the upper floor. It was, like below, a single room underneath the diagonal roof. The latter forced Kerra to bend her neck as she stood up.
She approached the bed, one of the only objects in the chamber. Holding up her torch, she looked down to see the body of an aged woman lying on the straw in the bedframe.
Staring at the resident of the house, Kerra saw how her throat had been slashed, which accounted for the blood. Her dress, already old and ragged, had been cut open from the collar down. Upon the torso, above the heart, a mysterious round symbol with intricate patterns could be spotted, seared onto the skin.
Chapter 143: An Offering of BloodAn Offering of BloodMaximilian's team ended up winning the bout, though it did not avail them much; they lost their next match, one short of reaching the final round. That left him out of the games for this harvest, as mageknights could not participate in the final contest, taking place on Manday.The grand melee involved ordinary warriors; former legionaries given the chance to relive old glories and earn the title as Sol's champion for the year along with a sizeable prize.Maximilian not competing had the advantage that Martel and Shadi could once again join him on the benches. A few still grumbled at seeing them, but none made protests loud enough for the young viscount to hear."You fought very well yesterday," Shadi told him.The mageknight waved a hand around. "Not well enough." He exhaled. "But thank you," he added as an afterthought.The contestants marched in. The rules were similar to yesterday, except there would only be one massive fight. Two hundred warriors, divided into two teams. They did not wear cloaks, but simply a coloured ribbon around their arm to signal their allegiance, yellow against green. Any man who lost his weapon or was knocked down, forfeited the game. Beyond that, lacking magic, they had only armour, helmet, and shield to protect themselves. Unlike the other fights involving mageknights, people expected and shouted for blood.The trumpets rang. Two hundred veteran soldiers stormed towards each other. The sound was deafening. Martel had been in fights before, but nothing involving these numbers. He could only liken it to his last visit at The Broken Crown when the crowd had gone into a frenzy, and he had felt trapped inside a throng of enemies as he looked up from the pit.He shook his head. "Neighbours said she lived alone. They wouldn't tell us much else. All claimed they saw nothing.""How certain are you about this? You better not have dragged me down here for nothing."The guard gestured towards the house as they stopped before it. "Go in and see for yourself, mistress." He extended the torch in his hand towards her. "If you don't mind, I'll stay out here."She gave him a disdainful look, grabbed the torch, and entered the house alone. Although she walked with confidence, her free hand rested on the hilt of her dagger all the same.At first glance, the place seemed entirely ordinary. A few pieces of furniture, a cooking hearth without any fire, a bucket of water, and some scattered morsels of food. Just like any house in the copper lanes, except perhaps in greater state of disrepair with creaking floorboards and loose shutters on the windows, causing the wind to howl through. Another example could have been the sound of water dripping through the ceiling except the night was dry. It had not rained in days.Faintly, the smell of blood lay in the air. Kerra followed the sound of drops falling to hit the floor. Kneeling down, she brought the torch close until it illuminated the patch of red liquid slowly spreading across the boards. Raising her eyes, she looked at the ceiling, providing the source of the droplets.Continuing her investigation, Kerra climbed the ladder to reach the upper floor. It was, like below, a single room underneath the diagonal roof. The latter forced Kerra to bend her neck as she stood up.She approached the bed, one of the only objects in the chamber. Holding up her torch, she looked down to see the body of an aged woman lying on the straw in the bedframe.Staring at the resident of the house, Kerra saw how her throat had been slashed, which accounted for the blood. Her dress, already old and ragged, had been cut open from the collar down. Upon the torso, above the heart, a mysterious round symbol with intricate patterns could be spotted, seared onto the skin.
