Knights Apocalyptica

Eat in measure and defy the doctor.

-Ramsay, Allan, Scots proverbs, (2nd Era, 1686-1758)

The first thing Colin did was make a transparent excuse to go off on his own. He then ran off while desperately scanning the village as he walked away. Erec shook his head as he watched his friend's obvious plan to act on whatever Robin told him, but he couldn’t blame the noble since he was seconds away from doing the same exact thing.

“I, uh, I think I’ll go off there—“

Garin laughed and shook his head, “She told you about someone strong, didn’t she?”

Munchy crawled down Garin’s Armor and then scrambled over the ground. To the distance was the ebb and flow of this new village. All of the houses were little better than huts, well constructed and lavish huts, but simple accommodations. Some varied in size, granting room for bigger groups to stay—others were instead sized for a single or couple to stay in for privacy.

It was, however, a lovely variety of colors, with painted walls and roofs to make for a festive air, along with decorations such as flags and banners—both of Cindrus and a couple of choice groups the King had known of before the event and decided to give a mark of respect.

As Erec tried to make a better excuse, Munchy scrambled up his Armor; the heft of the massive squirrel almost threw him off for a second, not expecting the animal to be there.

“Munchy will be your backup; he’ll find me if anything goes wrong with you.” Garin wagged his finger and then scanned the village. “It should be an eventful day, meeting new people. Seeing you this excited to deal with other people is a change of pace, and it's got me more than a little worried. But hey, you’ll do fine, won’t you, man?”

Gwen seemed to get the vibe of the occasion and went off her own way, with a bit of a curious glance as they split up. So it was just fine. Erec straightened his back and strode boldly into this unknown world, rapidly getting lost in the streets of the festivities.

Of course, the Knights and even the military were present, as men and women of the Kingdom were stationed nearby in case any hostility broke out on the streets. Given that everyone was here to compete in a tournament, it would be foolish to assume that no troubles would happen in conditions like these. But, with that said, most people appeared to be on their best behavior.

From what Erec knew, most of the outsiders here should have some idea or ties to Vega. Given that the town was infamous for this sort of mix of groups, most people here knew how to handle themselves.

Music flooded out of every inn and tavern. A couple of stages were erected, too, letting the Kingdom air their culture and talent to their visitors. Later, there would be an opportunity for their guests to perform, should they want to.

In a way, the village and center of festivities were a cultural tournament of its own sort, with people jockeying for positions and making new acquaintances.

And, as Erec was doing, scoping out their competition.

He caught several people staring at him as he forded through the crowd, their eyes taking in his axe and his Armor; what did they think? They couldn’t see his face behind his mask, but he supposed that there might have been strategic leaks from the Knights to the strangers about their top talent within the brackets.

Or maybe he was being paranoid.

Erec paused as he caught a particular tower of a man, this one with his face painted like an animal, stripped of his shirt and rippling with muscles. He laughed in a group similar to himself, all wearing the same kind of face paint and body paint decorating them. His embers flickered as he took in the potential competition.

There was a joke among the group, and then two began to jostle around and wrestle on the street. Military men from the Kingdom looked on but didn’t halt them since it seemed like a playful test of strength—not the kind that ended with bodies on the street and the kind of trouble that was forbidden on these grounds.

Yet, as they wrestled, Erec kind of wished it did devolve further. That there would be a fight. Focus. He reminded himself, and swiftly strode away, deeper into the collection of houses and groups of people that made up the tournament village.

With every step, his eyes scanned for a particular group, looking for the tell-tale blue half-cloaks he’d gotten familiar with over time, that of the people from Vega.

But yet he didn’t see them. Hundreds, maybe a thousand faces—all fresh, all in a greater diversity than he’d ever encountered before, even on the streets of the city of Vega. He felt like he was in an entirely different world, transported and lost in a sea of unfamiliar people, and with it… Came a certain freedom. Hidden in his Armor, behind his mask, and with an Axe stripped to his back, there was a feel to this group. Warriors. Most of them were warriors. Some, sure, were simply hangers-on. But he saw those hard faces. Saw the weapons wielded by the foreigners.

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These were his kind of people, and with their company, he felt a sense of belonging that even in his own cavern down below the surface, in the very place he’d grown up, Erec had never felt before.

There was a grin under his mask as he navigated the crowd, a lightness to his step.

And then, he spotted a familiar face.

The Arch Magi, the one with the pompadour, had his arms crossed as he discussed business with another wizened old man; this one had gruff, weathered skin, almost like leather as if it’d been blasted over twenty years by the dust and sun of the wasteland, and then ripped apart by the monsters and beasts within it.

My competition is this guy’s student. Erec flagged it instantly and felt the fire flare further. The two of them were tucked near a vendor selling Cindrus Cakes, a small sweet pastry that was a staple in the Kingdom below.

The design for this place took great care to make it as welcoming as possible while granting a touch of their Kingdom’s identity.

Most of these people would be eager to see what their Kingdom was about, and aside from the rare visas granted to travelers to go down to the Kingdom’s estates below, most of their interactions would have to occur up here.

There was a careful balance to strike.

And none of it mattered to Erec right now, his eyes scanning rapidly around, looking for another one of those telltale light blue half-cloaks that belonged to the Magi. Yet there were none. Just this Arch-Magi, who would normally fall outside of his rank to speak to. Erec hesitated, the itch in his soul to find and speak to the one Robin signaled out warring with the more logical part of his brain. If this was that guy’s teacher, it made sense that he’d eventually find his quarry if he waited and watched.

The Magi’s eyes snapped to Erec.

And then he gestured him over.

Seems I’m not the only one who remembered. Erec stiffened his shoulders and then strode over, knowing that if he were to ignore it, that wouldn’t show someone like that the right amount of face.

If he had to guess this guy’s power, he’d thought of the Grandmasters—maybe some of the Arch-Magi were on par with the Grandmasters… But he refused to believe all of them had that kind of strength in their magic. That said… He’d seen this particular grandmaster halt an entire battle with his magic back in Vega, so he knew firsthand that this wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with and would give Towers a run for her money in a fight.

Monsters like this had to be lurking in the village too.

Damn. Erec found it hard to focus with the excitement in the air, but still, he bowed his head as he reached the two of them and removed his helmet, letting them see his face.

“I thought as much, knew it was this kid,” Pompadour shook his head and smiled. Arch-Magi Elvis.

“I’m honored to be recalled by an Arch-Magi.”

“Bah, like I could forget any one of the tin-cans who stirred up trouble in the city and brought a can of pain to the reddy’s; how ya doing, man? Happy to be in your city. Though, the way I hear of it, most of the fun isn’t up here but down there,” he pointed to the ground and smiled wider. “Got me a couple of invites to some places, so guess I’ll be seeing.”

Erec gave a respectful nod—still giving small glances at the older man with whom the Arch-Magi had been speaking before, who had gone silent at his arrival. “I believe you’ll like it. Different than Vega, but I hope your experience will be similar to mine.”

“Right, right.” Elvis waved it off and then gestured to his companion, “This is Roam. Mercenary. We’ve hired him at the slots from time to time, trained my apprentice, too… I take it that's why you were staring this way for a long minute, right? Wondering where my second went off to?”

Erec regretted not having his helmet on, having been caught blatantly revealing his real intent. He worked his jaw, unsure of how to answer.

Roam snorted. “If you’re comparing him to your apprentice, I’m not sure what to think. He doesn’t look like the magic-slinging type. Not that your apprentice applies his magic in a normal way…”

“Nah, aint like that. This guy has a bunch of rumors about him, ya dig? You heard their tale about the Stag—this is the kid that killed it. The way the Pendragons speak, too; he took down a horror in a vault dive… Several other crazy shit things that a kid has no right to be doing.”

“Bright stars burn out quick,” Roam responded, getting more serious as he locked eyes with Erec. “They must caution themselves to not burn too bright, lest that be their fate.”

Elvis laughed and shook his head. “Nah, you got it wrong, buddy. Burn bright. That’s how legends are born, kid. But hey, I’m not about to go and chalk you all up—hell, I don’t think you got great odds against my guy. Might be the bias, but I picked my apprentice off the streets outside Vega… A hard life like that brings a bit of fight to your blood that others don’t get… So…” He shrugged, still with a smile on his face, “Still, my kid is just as eager to meet you as I’m betting you are to him. So hey, lemme point you in the right direction, and you two can get right to it.”

With that, Elvis waved a hand, a ball of magic appearing in his hand; the glyph that formed had snapped into existence for just a second, before morphing, distorting and twisting into itself, eventually resolving and condensing into a small ball of blue light.

“That little Wayfinder is hidden from everyone else. Will lead you right to’em. Go tell him not to drink too much since we got some introductions to make tomorrow. Consider that my favor paid.” With that, the Arch-Magi slapped Erec on the back, giving him a smile and a push.

With that, the blue light hovered in front of Erec, directing him.

In a quick act, the Arch-Magi had performed a feat of magic with a glyph style Erec was completely unfamiliar with… As if it were nothing at all.

Yeah.

Pompadour and greasy hair withstanding, Arch-Magi Elvis wasn’t someone Erec wanted to get on the bad side of, and the smile he was giving and friendly gestures… Well, it was a relief.

“You have my thanks.” Erec bowed his head.

Elvis shook his and shooed him off, turning back to talk to the mercenary he was already talking to.

With a guide, Erec followed the light, knowing it would lead him to his target.