The Fate: Book 1: Tournament Wysteria

by Ko, John

  “And just now, as I listened to you talk … I just knew. No special training was even needed. All I had to do was listen. That is how good you are. I have never been able to learn a Tech that way.” The Fate turns to the rest of them. “Listen, everyone. I want you all to pay very special attention to anything and everything he says from now on. No matter how insignificant it may seem, I want you to remember his every word and think about it carefully.”

  “Are you serious?” Riser asks.

  “Yes, consider it a new rule.” The Fate swipes at the air with his watery weapon. “Riser, armor up, please. Time to test this thing out …”

  “But …” Wake begins before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But Unleashes just don’t work like that. Something’s not right.”

  Chapter 17

  WAKE

  [Practice Field adjacent The Office of the Registrar, Greenwood]

  Tired, covered in grime and sweat, they still manage a cheer upon Sensei’s return. “Let me guess. Captain said practice is over when I got back?” Everybody cheers again.

  “I suppose we are done for the day,” the Captain says with some reluctance. “I did promise Lene, I would help chop some wood today.”

  “Well, Lene promised me, she’s making roasted hare with her special sauce!” Riser says. “Who wants to race me back to the inn?”

  “Me!” the Fate says, already quickening his steps. “Wake, Monster, you guys go over your fighting styles with Sensei …” The Captain and Riser are already out of sight before anyone can reply.

  Wake walks with the others, at a much more reasonable pace.

  “They’re pretty strong, huh?” Rachel says when they’re out of sight.

  Monster mumbles something. The clerk answers, “Yeah, did you know they’re old team beat The Royal Team during Pre-Tour rounds last year?”

  No way! I figured they weren’t the crybabies we had first thought. But to be able to beat the Princess and Kase Shake, even if it was just a scrimmage … Wake sees that his sister’s jaw has dropped just as low as his. Monster seems unimpressed.

  A low fire burns in the hearth and the stained pine table is piled high with their empty plates. The Fate talks excitedly about their first match on the morrow. Wake studies him long and hard, wondering if it could possibly be true. It would explain how they already knew Kase and the Princess. But if that really did happen, why would they want someone like us on their team?

  The others don’t seem to care, however. Bellies are full and spirits are high. The same can’t be said of his sister, whose food has gone cold before her. Buttered peas pushed to one side, the sliced beets to the other, she forms rings around the roast hare with her spoon. “Is something wrong, Ray?”

  She shakes her head and takes a spoonful of peas before lowering the still-full spoon back to her plate. “How can he expect me to go out there tomorrow? I’ve never even thought of competing in Flag before. I’m not sure that I won’t just get in the way.” That’s right. The Fate told her she needed to be out there tomorrow, Wake thinks. He was so caught up in other thoughts that he didn’t take time to think of how his sister would feel about something like that.

  Riser slides close to Rachel and places a hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about. Just let me and Fate handle things tomorrow. You two protect our cowardly Monster and it’ll turn out all good and fine.” The Daughter flicks her hand dismissively at the Half-Orc. “Anyone up for thirds?”

  “You should wait a moment before you order any more,” Monster tells her. “Most likely, you’re already full and your mind has yet to catch up.”

  “Are you even craven when it comes to food? Besides, how else am I supposed to eat enough to support these?” Riser flexes her girly biceps to laughter.

  The Captain returns from showing Poe the room they’re all sharing. The little bard walks up to Wake and sticks out his hand. “Poe is sorry for acting rudely earlier,” the Fate says. “He says he hopes we can all be friends.”

  Wake shakes his hand, apologizing for anything he may’ve said.

  The Fate looks at the single plate in front of Brother Monster and asks, “No seconds for you? Why do you eat so little?”

  “Gluttony is a sin,” Monster says. “I’m used to smaller servings from my days at the Sanctuary. No one ever had seconds there.”

  “But are you still hungry?” the Captain asks again.

  “Yes, but a little hunger is good for the soul.”

  “That makes no sense at all. Especially, while training.” The Captain shakes his head. “No wonder you are all skin and bones. From now on you have to eat at least as much as she does.” He points towards the Daughter.

  Riser grins and shouts out an order for three more servings, one for her and two for Brother Monster.

  Poe scribbles something into his little notebook. With one hand still penning, the bard pulls out a wallet emblazoned with a thousand snowflakes.

  “Put that away,” the Fate tells the bard, shooing him with his hand. “I was the one who got you into trouble. This is my treat, just like it is your treat when you play for us. Or is that my treat too? It feels like a treat.

  “That reminds me … Sensei, can you take charge of our accounts and inventory?” the Fate asks the clerk. “I have a lot of treats stored in the room and even more at the bank. I brought everything I could think of, but no one seems to appreciate the way I organize it.

  “There is no rush, but if you could help me with this, I would appreciate it.” He hands a pouch bursting with coin to Sensei. “That is most of our money right there. It should be more than enough for whatever we may need, but if you could keep an account of things that would probably be for the best, also.”

  The little clerk almost falls forward when the Fate releases his grip on the money pouch. When he cinches it tight to his belt, his pants begin to sag and the weight of it makes him lean to the side. “Consider it done. Do you have an inventory list or an account book?”

  The Fate stares back at him blankly.

  “Like a record of what you have and where? Or perhaps an account of how much the team has spent so far or other expected costs?”

  The Captain’s eyebrows scrunch up in concentration.

  “Never mind, I’ll figure it out. I guess I’ll start with the stuff in the room first.”

  “Thank you, Sensei. Also, please do not worry about the box with the word ‘E.L.’ carved on it. That just holds some of my personal items,” the Fate says before turning towards the rest of them. “Well, it is officially free-time. Spend it however you wish; just make sure to get to bed early. We have a match tomorrow. As for me, I am going to go chop some wood.”

  Wake stands. “I’ll join you. I saw a second axe by the woodpile.” He used to hate the chore, since it meant trekking from the depths of Ice Ridge to the nearest woods. But after a year of not having to swing an axe, it actually sounds like it could be fun.

  Chapter 18

  SENSEI

  [Road to the Bank, Greenwood]

  The little clerk makes his way past the booths of the eastern market. Merchants hawk their wares from all sides, selling all manner of goods: from buttery griddle cakes to less than savory looking weapons. He almost stops at a cart overflowing with apples, green and red both. That is until, he sees a girl eyeing his purse. Sure enough, a little ways away he spots her partner, a thin blade barely showing under his sleeve. There’s probably a half a dozen more in the crowds, he realizes after spotting the first pair of pickpockets. He clutches his money purse tightly and continues on.

  Beyond the market, the road begins to wind through a particularly quiet portion of Greenwood. He doesn’t spot a soul until passing an alley, one known as a gathering place for kids with nowhere better to be. He doesn’t look their way as he crosses, but he can feel them watching him. Suddenly, one of the girls cries out for help. He knows better than to, but he looks over just in case.

  Surrounded, she looks like she may really be in troubl
e. He turns away from the scene and continues on. It’s just Sue Pricen and her cousins. He wouldn’t fall for something like that.

  He pats the heavy money pouch with one hand and grips a brand new ledger in the other. He’s had the leather-bound book for quite some time, saving it for something particularly special. It’s a true Team Ledger, with pages lined and divided for charts, lists and notes. It even has a separate section for a journal and calendar. Distracted with thoughts on how he’ll fill it, he barely notices the pair of disheveled boys who pass by. That is until he hears their footsteps turn and approach from behind.

  “Hey, kid, could you help us out? We’re a little lost,” the beady-eyed one asks ever so nicely.

  “Sure, where are you trying to get to?” the small clerk says, not bothering to stop.

  “Hey, buddy, can you slow down a minute?” the larger, greasy fellow asks him. “We’re just looking for … my aunt’s house. She’s supposed to live next to a … big red house on this road.”

  “Sorry, I haven’t seen anything like that.”

  “Well, how about buying us a drink, then? That’s a pretty big money sack you got there,” the larger one blurts out before his beady-eyed friend sticks an elbow in his side.

  “What he means is perhaps you were looking to have some fun this evening?” the beady-eyed boy adds quickly. “We have a little problem. There’s these three girls waiting for us, but our friend got sick and we’re short a fellow. We don’t want to disappoint the girls, you know. Maybe you could help us out?”

  Sensei slows down, not wanting to show the older boys just how short of breath he is. He pats the pouch at his waist and feigns a look about. There’s not a single other soul on the street. “How much are we talking about here, fellas? I have a couple copper, but …” Sensei motions them closer.

  “But the rest of it is pebbles. It’s just a game I like to play.” With his breath caught, he continues walking. Just one more block and I’ll be within sight of the Bank.

  “Hey, hey, that’s alright, we’ll take what we can get,’’ the large fellow blurts out before getting jabbed again.

  “Hold up, hold up,” The other boy steps in front of him. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I’m sorry, but I really have to get going. I need to get back in time for supper or Pa will get sore at me. He’s a Sitter and he gets mean when I’m late.” This is not good, but I’m so close. Just a half a block more …

  “Now, now, we don’t want that to happen … but I don’t think there are any houses in this direction,” the beady-eyed boy says. His friend is now next to him, arms crossed, with a mean grin on his face. “The only thing past us is some warehouses and the Bank.”

  “He’s stationed at the Bank today.” With one hand on the pouch and the other his ledger, the little clerk darts right between them. He doesn’t stop running until he sees the Sitter stationed in front of the Bank. When he looks back, the street is empty. He leans over, hands on knees, his heart knocking against his chest and his lungs desperate for air.

  It was a short distance, but he hasn’t run that fast in very long time—not since the Healer diagnosed the problem with his heart.

  He isn’t sure if it’s the sprint or the fear that’s making his heart beat like it is. Rapidly and hard, faster than he could drum, it feels like his heart may just beat its way out of his chest. But it passes.

  Sensei staggers by the curious Sitter standing guard. Inside, he finds a chair and takes another moment to rest.

  It’s not long before he figures out which queue is moving the fastest and takes his place in it. His thoughts go back to the girl he met at the office earlier that day. She claimed she spied the scrimmage herself, that the Slate soundly defeated The Royal Team. When Sensei asked the Fate if it was true, he shrugged and told him, “Everyone won; it was training.” Anyone else would’ve bragged about it till no end. But not Captain, he thinks proudly.

  “Next,” a tired looking teller calls out.

  Sensei limps up to the window. The weight of the pouch makes him compensate with each step and his right knee begins to ache.

  It’s the first time in a while being on this side of one of these. I’ll deposit most of this copper. A small handful should be more than enough to last the rest of the week. But first I should check the box.

  “I need to check a Deposit Box.” He passes a small numbered key beneath the window.

  “This is actually a key for a Personal Vault. If you would still like to see it, it is right this way.” The teller stands and motions towards a well-lit hallway.

  The teller leads him to a door marked 301. He unlocks it and asks, “Will you be long, sir?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Sensei says, seeing just what he’s in store for. Just as the equipment back at the inn, everything is stacked in neat piles that make absolutely no sense. Only here, he can’t even see the floor. I’ll have to start at the door and make a path as I go.

  By the time he’s finished, he can make out most of the pattern on the rug. Burgundy birds flit across wheat-colored patterns and a dark blue star holds the center. It’s plush and was rather comfortable to sit on, which the clerk is grateful for.

  He can’t help but be pleased at the sight of his work: armor, weapon, Tearstone, part or tool, each is now on a shelf of its own. Once started, it went quickly enough—everything’s now accounted for except for a small cylindrical baton.

  Sensei inspects the reddish-bronze rod. It is as thick as his finger and runs the length of his hand. It has a shard embedded on one end and what appeared to be a faded insignia on the other. What remains of the mark looks familiar, but it could be the insignia of half a dozen things.

  He wonders if it might’ve been brought by mistake. Well, I guess I might as well take it back to the Captain and ask him what it is. He knocks on the door. Within moments he hears someone fiddling with the lock on the other side.

  The same teller opens the door. The banker’s worn face takes on a look of surprise at how much the small room has changed. “How may I assist, young sir?”

  “I’m done here for today, but I’d also like to make a coin deposit.”

  “Very well, right this way, sir.”

  Sensei takes a last look behind him. There’s some pretty neat stuff in here. I’ll bring Wake next time. He’s into gear and his appraisal skills should help in cataloging it all.

  The banker locks the door and motions for him to check for himself. Once satisfied, he follows the teller back to his window. There, he pulls free the money purse from his belt and begins dumping its contents into the small divot below the thick glass window.

  They both gasp in surprise. Instead of copper, it’s gold that falls out onto the counter. I bet the richest man in the world, The Maestro, wouldn’t even carry this much in a single purse … at least if he was still alive, Sensei thinks, seeing all that gold. Sensei becomes dizzy just thinking of what almost happened on the way to the bank. He should’ve told me it was gold. How could he trust me with all this?

  Chapter 19

  RACHEL

  [Stewards & Raiders Inn, Greenwood]

  All worries are forgotten as Rachel watches her brother’s aura disappear behind the Fate’s. It’s been a long while since she’s been around him like this. He’s happy.

  Spikey squeaks something from her shoulder and she strokes his little head. If only she had met the chipmunk first, she might’ve been able to see through his eyes even now.

  Riser finishes her bowl with a loud slurp. “Still worried about tomorrow?”

  “I am … but I’m feeling better now,” Rachel says. “I want to thank you, Riser, for treating me and my brother so well.”

  “Are you trying to get me to let you take a bath first? Because nothing’s going to keep this Daughter from a long, hot soak.”

  “No, please go ahead. In fact, I feel like working on my brushwork,” Rachel says. It’s been too long. I’m going to lose my touch.

  “I’ll make sure to leave
some hot water for you,” Riser says, taking her leave.

  “Since Fate and Wake are helping chop wood, I think I’ll make myself useful, too.” Rachel turns to the Healer, who is just finishing his last bowl. “Brun, could you give me a hand when you’re done eating, of course?”

  “Sure, I’m done,” the Half-Orc mumbles. “You should call me Monster. Fate made it a rule.”

  “I will, at least when he’s around.” Rachel giggles . I would never have gone against Kearney’s orders and he’s not half the man … or at least the Captain the Fate is. “I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel returns shortly with a long mahogany case in tow. After ensuring the table is clear, she sets it down with great care.

  “Can you wave over Lene?” she asks the Half-Orc. Rachel can’t help admiring his ever-changing aura of crimson and blue. It rages and churns, a storm of indigo and scarlet that knows no calm. She’s never seen anything like it.

  As much as she appreciates a unique aura, the traces that Tears themselves leave behind can be just as beautiful. All major roads and official buildings are marked with the glowing colors created by a Sharded Brush. Most private establishments try to maintain a Shard Painted Sign, as well, but that’s easier said than done. Practitioners of the Long Brush are in great demand, and smaller towns go many a year without seeing a true master.

  “Another plate?” the innkeeper asks.

  “No, it was most delicious, but I couldn’t eat another bite,” Brother Monster says. “May I ask if that is fennel or anise that you spiced the broth with?”

  “Close, young man, but it’s neither. It’s ground Lovage seed, a special variety Greenwood has always been known for. We call it Sweet Lovage around here. It isn’t popular outside of our little town. It has a tendency to lose its aroma when not freshly used,” she says with a chuckle. “Ahh, you must be the cleric that’s been staying with the priests? You know they used to be my some of my best customers?”