67 Reserving a Trick

It was far too late to worry about such things. He must've given it to her or something. His name was called first, followed quickly by a name he had never heard. It was a slight man who appeared, somehow even shorter than Jacob. In Delreya, Jacob hadn't thought it could be done. With a nod from the organizer, his opponent went to the rack. He selected a pair of battle axes. It was an interesting pick; the weapons were very short-range and only held the advantage over any of Jacob's choices due to their disuse in Delreya.

Jacob briefly considered taking up the spatha on the rack, but he elected to instead use his military-issued longsword. It wasn't in the best of shapes after Writha, but Jacob had taken care of it. Its edges were as honed and sharp as they possibly could be. Many were shocked at his use of a personal weapon; after all, only the city guardsmen or soldiers could carry their weapons on them. It marked Jacob as an even bigger oddity than before. He didn't really care all that much.

For all that the registrar promised him that his first fight would be easy, Jacob hadn't faced a tougher opponent – with the notable exception of Provost Thomson – since Will. His enemy was a swift fighter, moving to close distance with every few steps he took. It was a slow-going process, giving hope to Jacob that the fight might end with his enemy growing exhausted from chasing him around the ring.

In a particularly furious flurry of blows, Jacob managed to seize the advantage from the axe-wielder. A brief lapse in guard, a sagging of the elbows, allowed Jacob to cut the man's right arm, officially drawing their bout to an end by the rules set forth by the organizers. Jacob's opponent left without another word, disappearing into the crowd after returning the battle axes he had borrowed.

Hopefully, Jacob would be up again soon. He was eager to see just how far he could make it. Ten golds was a paltry sum to some of the wealthiest in Delreya, but it would allow Jacob a chance at reoutfitting himself. Once that was complete, all he needed to do was to master his magic. Particularly, if he could learn to create larger earth spells, he might be able to create a single-man siege on Kingsrest.

His color glowed more brightly than usual, the pain causing him to nearly cry out. Had he been alone, he would have. Unfortunately, being a contestant in the competition, it would not do for him to show weakness. If, heavens forbid, someone learned that he could be made to shock himself by thinking the wrong thoughts, his fights would be a ticking time bomb.

The next fighter was actually weaker than the first. Being a longsword user led the man's defeat. Provost Thomson was a much more difficult opponent to gauge and get used to. Jacob didn't have much time to rest before his name was called again. There wasn't any sense in waiting, he supposed. There were two more fights after this one, and Jacob needed to win all three to gain the money. Going home to the Fourth empty-handed would be a disgrace. A single night of revelry would probably do much to subdue all the discontent the soldiers were facing while away from most of their commanding officers.

Being a lone wolf was kind of cool at times, like in the movies. But most of the time? It sucked. There was nothing and no one waiting for you when you returned from your job. There wasn't any additional support. He kind of wanted that. With luck, Rod would return soon and they could all go back to Kingsrest and recuperate.

"Jacob of Leafburrow, newbie to the Steelshade Pre-Tournament, has offered his opponent a weapon of his choosing. He will be using his longsword once more!" the registrar, the only person really seeming as if they were doing their jobs, called out.

Jacob didn't want to reveal his spatha until the Autumn Tournament. As long as he didn't win too dramatically the King ought not to have taken notice. Benjamin was too busy with other matters of state to worry about a couple of vagabonds.

So he now fought a fight that was meant to end in his defeat. His opponent, a crowd favorite. Jacob himself was an object of ridicule, especially after his hood had fallen back to reveal the metal collar, but his strength remained unfazed. He would win this tournament. The money would prove invaluable.

Jacob took up his stance, willing his spear-wielding opponent to make the first move. The quiet before the storm, truly.