Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 219: Steelys

The flickering ball of light weaved through the crowds unnoticed by everyone but Erec as he followed behind. When he hesitated or stopped to navigate his way through the people, it would pause for him, waiting for his pursuit.

Even though the light flitted in front of people’s eyes and didn’t even garner so much as a tracking glance, it was clear to Erec that no one in the vicinity could see the magical spell that the Archmagi had left.

The thing was invisible, and though he didn’t understand how a spell could localize something to only his vision, he was sure that his friend would have quite a few questions when he told Colin about it later.

To him, though, it didn’t matter. Where the path would lead him was the most important thing, and to that effect, he followed it diligently, working through the festival crowds, diving deeper and deeper throughout the village.

Even in his brief time navigating this place, he could see the absolute bravado and display that some of the people put out. To them, this was just a grand show to display their power and status.

Some groups, with whom their guests weren't as familiar, were being scouted out and pumped for details about where they came from.

Those that even the Kingdom of Cindrus lacked information on from their ally Vega were no doubt being watched with a close eye. Erec assumed that people who fell into that category were prime targets for what they wanted to get out of this whole tournament.

One group in particular that Erec noticed, standing out and away from the others, were those that wore the old military garb from before.

[Go take a closer look.] Val buzzed in his ear; the old-world AI was far too enthused about them.

So, Erec ignored Val and continued onward, following the dirt trail and tangle of people to get to his target.

Later, there would be plenty of time over the next month to familiarize themselves with the group and review the different information that they gathered about them. They might wear the old-world flag, but it was doubtful it mattered much. Stealing signs and representations from the world before was a common practice in the wasteland.

Even he had done so by repurposing the Vortex Industries spiral to represent his new labs and science division.

Better to remain focused and dig into that question later; after all, Dame Robin had given him this information for a specific reason. Not only as a reward for what he had done and by answering her question but also in the knowledge that whatever he did with information would benefit him and move him closer to his goals. That was the type of teacher Dame Robin and Boldwick were. They would tell you enough to move you in the right direction.

But it was up to you to focus and pursue the hint they tempted you with.

Even as he moved, he still felt the flicker of fire, growing further into a raging furnace in the pit of his stomach and moving past the twisting groups and music, ignoring the melodies and choruses of people singing and dancing along to the songs.

The mysterious ball of light flickered forth, leading him to twist through the crowds until it eventually arrived at a more massive tent.

Some of the structures in the village were more well-constructed with wooden beams, supports, and even plaster walls, but this tent was more of a rural, wild style. The type that used to be found in early expeditions, where they sewed the hide of the animals and bio-caverns together to form a warm interior.

It had been a long time since they used this dated old-world shelter that saved Knights from the wind, back when Armor was in shorter supply.

Walking past the leather flaps transported him to an entirely different world. At several points, massive wooden pillars formed as stakes in the tent, raising it to an acceptable height; inside burned a giant heart, too. Complete with a roasting pig in its fires.

A band played in the corner, and the interior, predictably for such a comfortable and fine place, was filled to the brim with people; the fact there was a bar serving free drinks inside certainly contributed to the current overcrowding problem.

He got some looks as he moved in.

Despite the vast array of different groups making this the place that they wanted to stay, his bulky frame made him a target for attention. Not only did his Armor demand space and force some to shift out of the way to make room, but he was also the only Knight who’d barged in.

Erec bumped into a couple of people and refrained from apologizing; it was impossible not to, and with the people here drinking, they weren’t exactly the most aware of their personal space.

It was better to present the picture of power here, not of rudeness, but of a demand that the space he should rightfully have as a knight of the Order of the Verdant Oak be respected by these guests. The message was important, he knew, even as an initiate, it was important to set boundaries.

As he moved into the tent and saw the warm glow of the burning furnace, Erec took off his helmet and smelled the sweet yet savory flavors of the roasting hog covered in herbs.

His stomach groaned, but he ignored it, watching the ball of light flick through the thick groups of people inside the tent, hugging around the outside right of the space. Eventually, it arrived at a table close to the open bar.

Then he saw him.

Forrest.

It was obvious at first what tied him to Arch-magi Elvis. Both had a distinctive black pompadour.

The man was bigger, though, with a much stockier build and shoulders that spoke a strength more than the scholar. From his brief stint in Vega, most of the Magi tended to lean to a bone-like skinny build, relying on their magic rather than any physical might and Virtues. Yet here Forrest was, with muscles that spoke of a harsh life lifting heavy things.

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The more Erec took him in, the more he was confused.

What is going on here?

Forrest wasn’t alone.

Even as the light reached the student and vanished, Erec already knew he’d found his target. His target was currently engaged in a drinking competition with several other young Magi at his table, the telltale signs of their light blue cloak on their shoulders. A couple of other people from different groups had joined the tournament.

Erec made out a couple of people with the more distinctive tribal-like paint on their faces. Many groups had come in with that sort of look, and he had difficulty differentiating them. Forrest had his arm around a lady wearing a sleek, shiny silver dress as if she’d walked straight from the Strip of Vega to their little Kingdom in the middle of Texas.

Forrest was in a group with nine others.

Erec hesitated, feeling the old familiar anxiety of dealing with others well up in his chest.

For a second, he was brought back to his childhood, hiding in the corner of the social gathering among nobles. Scared to talk to others, wondering if they were judging him and his family—but this was not then. And among a rag-tag group of outsiders who had never even been within the walls of Cindrus before, those old anxieties did not have a home here.

Erec stared at the man. His challenger. The one Dame Robin thought it would be enough of a fight to give him a heads up.

The smoldering within burned brighter, becoming a miniature furnace. The coals heated, growing in strength to become a little fire. And that fire burned away any remainder of the anxiety, compelling him forward, yelling at him to make his introduction and get a feel for the guy whose face he’d be bashing in later and leaving him in his dust in this tournament.

Erec walked forward with a straight back, past the groups of people calling out, trying to drag him into a conversation. They were eager to talk to a Knight.

Sure, there were a few military men from the kingdom of Cindrus, but the Armor was a natural catch for attention. They had been a mystery among the wasteland until now.

However, he did not get the attention of his prey, who was currently too wrapped up in the drinking game at his table to turn around and catch sight of the mountain of steel that was Erec striding right toward him.

“Forrest, you have a new friend,” the woman in the flashy dress at his shoulder said, her eyes trailing Erec and resting on the silver axe on his back.

Forrest slammed his cup down and raised an eyebrow. He did a double-take as he took in the armor and then snorted. “Well, now, who's this that walks up acting like the whole world belongs to him? Did I say I wanted to talk to a steely?”

“I don’t believe you’ve said anything yet since we have yet to meet. I am Sir Erec of House Audax, Initiate to the Order of the Verdant Oak, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve spoken to your master back in Vega, just now. He told me to seek you out, saying that you might be one of my greatest competitors in this tourney. I wanted to get a feel with my own eyes,” Erec extended his hand for a shake, feeling the pit of fire in his stomach catch just a bit more.

Yes. He felt a power radiating off this guy; it was hard to tell what, butA battle sense reared its head—an instinct earned from his fights with monsters and the extensive training.

Forrest would do. He expected a good fight.

The young man looked at the extended hand, a lopsided grin on his face as he sized up the armor.

“I wonder what you look like outside of that tin and steel. Is it meant to intimidate people? Because it’s failing here,” Forrest did not yet accept Erec's handshake.

Erec shrugged. “Not much difference. Despite this armor, my main weapon is this axe on my back, and I think you'll find me to be plenty enough of a challenger, even were I not to wear it.

The young man let out a laugh and then stole another cup next to him as the rest of the group began to look on and question just what was happening. Their eyes scanned him, taking him in, and then they turned to Forrest as if stacking the two against one another in a battle inside their heads.

Forrest left his hand hanging and then chugged the drink of a man beside him, slamming this too onto the table.

“The tournament is so far away, and it's been a long time since I've seen someone who's supposedly around my rank. Let alone someone that Elvis is going around saying will be a good match. I don’t know how your kingdom works, but I’m not so sure. Anyone hiding behind Armor instead of their own power can’t be a challenge. So, I guess I don’t have much to worry about from this Kingdom if that’s the case. Look here, boys, we’ll get another drink since I think I’m going to win this tournament much easier than I thought.” Forrest declared, his voice getting obnoxiously louder as he laughed once more in Erec’s face.

He turned away, ignoring Erec and his offer for an introduction.

Like a noble, Erec thought, staring at his back as the heat and anger rose in his chest.

Not just a noble, but the exact type of noble that had made his blood burn and infuriated him more than any other. He reminded him of an early Colin, confident to the point of his detriment.

Then again, Vega was a big place. If he was this sure of his power and, from the looks of the group around him, an earned assumption… Maybe he was a danger.

That, too, made Erec heat up dangerously.

The girl in the silver dress didn’t look away, her eyes darting to his as his Fury flared. There was a shocked expression there, probably because his Talent ignited and pulled a bit of red into them. From what Erec knew, that particular side effect was impossible to get rid of.

“Whoa.” Her eyes widened as she leaned forward, which made Forrest give Erec another glance,

“This guy is still here? Damn, you know what steely, you’re starting to get on my nerves. Can’t you see I’m trying to have some fun here? I get that the old man thinks you’re going to be a good contest, but I just don’t see it. Don’t think you’re worth my time. Besides, I’m looking to get drunk tonight and—“ he pulled the girl closer and gave a wild grin, “—talking to some big old Armor bloke isn’t really my idea of the type of fun I’m getting into. You wanna fight? If so, maybe then sure.”

No.

That was expressly one of the rules he was told not to break, and staring at the arrogant face in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to let things devolve into a brawl right here and now.

Erec walked himself back and thought about what Boldwick would do—why would Dame Robin direct him here?

Information right?

Right now, his target was closed off, and he was unwilling to cooperate. All he wanted to do was drink… If Erec wanted to stick around, to open up the path to information…

“I’m not here to fight,” Erec asserted, shaking his head, and turned his attention to the alcohol at the table. “But, I was wondering; I didn’t get the chance to see the Magi much in Vega… Is it true that all of you magic users can’t hold your liquor?”

At this, the man scowled and gestured Erec closer. “Are you challenging me to a drinking contest? Me? Man, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I think I know damn well what I’m talking about. My friends told me that all across the wastes, one thing is certain. If you see a blue cloak drinking, they’re going to end up with their face on the strip.” It was complete and utter bullshit. Enide nor any of the Pendragons had said such a thing, but he saw that the drinking was, for some deluded reason or another, a point of pride for this man.

“…Fucking Steely. Grab a seat. If you’re going to be such a pain in the ass, then I guess I have no choice. Lea, go get us a couple of rounds—get three for our new ‘friend.’ He has a little catching up to do.”

Erec moved over, sitting opposite Forrest, as he sucked in a breath.

[We’re really doing a drinking contest? Couldn’t you just bash his face in? Somehow, I think it might be better for your health.]