Real Men

Cyrus pulled his cowl down low over his head and started to concentrate on his foresight. He wanted to get used to this vision well before he got into the circle the caravan workers had built. It was constructed in the middle of the grass field and it looked as though they had gone ahead the night before and set all this up so that it would be ready when the caravan arrived. Some had seen an opportunity for a profit and were selling wine and smoked meat.

There was an excitement in the air, these people had been starved for entertainment for weeks and they saw Cyrus as an outlet for a lot of aggression. Most wished to see him quartered by the two behemoths that he had upset. Yet, there were a few in the crowd that had been in the rear caravan when the Minx attacked, they knew of his battle prowess but those that were not there simply saw a little boy that was about to be torn to pieces.

No one truly knew what Cyrus had said to Klang and Cervus to get to this point, but it must have been horrible because the two had not stopped fuming in the past twenty-four hours. They had told everyone that they were going to place his tiny head on a pike in front of the lead wagon. There were many wagers placed but it had gotten to the point where no one would take any more bets in favor of the two.

The two men had been waiting in the circle for an hour, stomping back and forth riling themselves up, slapping each other across the face. They cut each other across the chest with their massive weapons, one with a giant bastard sword and the other with a serrated cleaver. It was hard to imagine a small boy even thinking about getting into that circle with the colossal giants that were these men.

Miranda, Jarl, and Cyrus made their way over to three chairs that were set up ringside for the two Lords and the Mistress of the caravan. Lord Markus gave Miranda a slight nod as they approached and Lord Tylan almost spit his wine out when he saw her, his lust rising as she approached. He was very satisfied with his own wager.

Mistress Miranda sat down in her designated space and that is when the crowd started to realize that the man in the strange dark clothing was the boy that would fight. The bloody warriors in the circle ready for battle had worked themselves up so much that they did not notice nor care, they demanded blood and they screamed for it.

The calm but vicious looking demeanor of the small figure that was Cyrus did sway some to make the longshot bet for him, but only a few. None of this came close to swaying his certainty that he would be victorious this day. He stood as still as possible and concentrated on his vision, seeing the lines of probabilities change as some people came into his view and some left.

People making sudden decisions would branch their shadows in unexpected directions. Accidents would fork other shadows to appear and disappear. He had never been around this many people and it seems the more chaotic a situation becomes the less the future is able to be interpreted. This was teaching him a lot about his abilities, and he began to see where there were plenty of situations where he was not as safe as he previously thought. Still, his confidence of the day remained unwavered.

Lord Markus stood up and the crowd cheered as this was the signal that the contest was about to begin. He raised his hands and the gathering quieted down. "Friends! We have had a long and weary road, but this has been a successful journey thus far, thanks to your hard work and perseverance!"

The crowd cheered as their leader praised them, "It just goes to show how intelligence and hard work can turn a simple road into a profitable journey of friendship and community."

Lord Markus didn't believe his words in the least, but every man loves to hear praises of themselves, and it is great for moral. He quieted the crowed with a downward hand gesture, "Some of you may have heard that we had an incident yesterday between the personal guards of the managers for this journey. There were some words said, we wont repeat them, for they are too vile and distressing to be repeated." A whispered talk passed through the assembly as people ran the gambit of what may have been said.

Lord Markus, his blubbery face shaking as he spoke, continued, "The words do not matter, but the honor that was lost could not be forgiven!" He gestured at the giants in the circle that glared at Cyrus who stood beside Mistress Miranda directly beside the speaker.

He kept going as the crowd began to stir and their excitement grew, "Are you ready to see this blood feud play out? Are you ready to see who the gods would choose to be the victors?" The crowd cheered at every pause and the gladiators in the circle screamed that they were ready.

Lord Markus looked to Cyrus and nodded for him to enter the circle. It was time for him to prove that he was capable of great things. He needed to earn his right to study Mirandas mystic arts, not just to her, but also to himself. He had his own feelings of excitement as he saw a shadow of himself walking into the circle several paces ahead.

It was as if he no longer had control over his own actions, he knew what the future would bring and he just followed the footprint that led him closer to the outcome he desired. Was it his desire? This seemed like some master plan that he had the ability to see before everyone else could see it.

He felt as if he were meditating, completely at peace, as he saw the shadows of the two huge men charge his own shadow. He had not stepped foot in the circle and he knew how the beginning of the fight would play out. The shadows split as he watched and allowed each instant unfold. He stepped to the left as Klang brought down his giant sword. He slightly moved his shoulder that would allow the deadly cleaver to skim by without the slightest touch. He saw himself walk directly in between the two combatants and then draw his blades.

He laughed out loud when he realized that he had not drawn his weapons yet because the shadows of his future had not drawn its' weapons. It was a truly freeing sensation; he simply gave himself over to the future. When would he kill these men? He had the chance at least a dozen times by now. Would he kill them? He had his own plan earlier, before he gave himself over to the river of time that he flowed through at this moment.

He remembered. He remembered that these were not good men, they would never be good men. Their choices in life had led them to believe that their own masculinity was the most important thing in the entire universe. Their strength was the strength of man, their will was the will of man, they were a poor representation of what Cyrus knew to be a man.

He saw the path that led him to his desired outcome. A side step here, a gentle nudge there, and suddenly he was directly between both of the large warriors, one on each side. They both stood tall and proud, ready to make their final strike, knowing that it would only take one connection to end this boy who didn't know what it was to be a man.

Cyrus dropped to one knee and spread his arms wide severing the testicles of both warriors at the same time. They froze in place with their weapons poised for a strike that never came. Cyrus had decided to allow them to live, but he would take from them that which they cherished most. Cyrus continued forward in a roll, getting cleared of the weapons that he knew would fall to the ground.

A chyme rang through his head as Queen responds, "Congratulations user Cyrus, Battle Quest complete. Congratulations, Secondary Quests successful. Experience distributed. You have a bonus item waiting for creation."

The cheering, bloodthirsty, screaming crowd suddenly became silent as Cyrus stood up. The dark hood on his sleeveless shirt pulled down over his face. He walked out of the circle. The crowd parted as he stepped through and continued onward, all the way to the rear section of the caravan. He needed time to digest the feelings that he had just experienced.