Sytravious: The Lost Warlock Of Moruz (The Oathbreaker Book 1) (20 page)

“Oh who cares about the bet, my dear?  I want to know who this mystery fighter is.”

The royal crier scurried into the middle of the arena and motioned for the citizen to join him on the platform.  The trumpet fanfare signaled the completion of the competition.  Once the fighter was beside him, the royal crier grabbed his hand and raised it up.

“People of Havencrest, I give you our tournament champion!”  He allowed the shouts and whistles to die down before continuing.  “And what a champion he is, a citizen that conquered Xertias, the head guardian of Cleary Court.  Your Holiness, you may be looking at a future guardian here.”  The royal crier gave her a wink and nudged the fighter in his side.  “Now, let us know who we have the pleasure of crowning as our victor.” 

The winner lifted the helm off his head and his dark hair fell onto his shoulders.  His intense blue eyes stared straight into the pavilion at Raiven, and he grinned.

“Sytravious of the Dew Drop Inn,” he shouted with pride.

Chapter 18

Honored Guest

“
Y
ou are an idiot, a foolish child.  No, better yet, you are a suicidal moron who is selfish enough to put his own ambitions before everything else,” Nyxseous shouted, “If you were trying to put a giant target on our backs, and then congratulations, son, you have succeeded!  Now the entire town knows who we are.  How am I supposed to explain how your fighting skills surpass those of Kaspar and Xertias?”

News of his victory spread throughout town, and unfortunately, his parents caught wind of it before he could get home and better prepare them.  At first, his mother suggested forbidding him to claim any prizes or attend the banquet at all, but upon better judgment, Nysight convinced her that such a choice would look even more suspicious.  They agreed Sytravious must see it through.

He adjusted the collar of his dinner jacket and examined his reflection.  He was almost ready to depart for the banquet and claim his seat of honor next to High Priestess Jezra.  “You will not need to explain anything, mother.
  I
will be the one attending the banquet.  Leave everything to me.  Despite your rash accusations of me not thinking this through, I have planned out my back story.”

“Would you care to share this story with us?  Even though it is you who is exposed now, it was a bold and risky move that effects the family,” Nysight said.

“The story is simple.  As your apprentice, I grew up around weapons.  I had all the time in the world to practice with them, and had a natural talent with the polearms.  I observed the public training and drills of the knights and guardians for years, but I was a shy boy and therefore never publicly displayed my talents because I enjoyed my quiet life of simplicity.  Fighting is a hobby for me when I am not working in the forge.”

“And your
hobby
allowed you to defeat the head guardian of damned Cleary Court, did it?  You should have had your stupid fun and then thrown the fight, Sytravious.  I should end you right now before you mess anything else up,” Nyxseous screamed.

Sytravious glared at his mother as he walked towards her.  He held his arms wide, willingly exposing his chest to her.  It was a challenge for her to make good on her threat. 

“Is that what you really want to do?  Then I suggest you end me now.  I am right here.  I am sure you can devise a genius story on how a mysterious black flame magically appeared in the basement, devoured my heart, and burned my insides into ashes.  I am sure it will be believable.”

The room was silent.  “That is what I thought.  I guess your plan is no better than mine, so get out of my way.  I will walk my own path from now on, with or without your blessing, mother.”

“You think you know so much?  Fine, walk your own path then.”  Nyxseous marched out of the room, leaving Sytravious and Nysight alone in the basement.  They stared at each other a moment before speaking.

“I blame myself for all of this, if I had not encouraged your free thinking, perhaps this spectacle never would have happened,” Nysight said.

“It is not a spectacle.  I thought this through!  Do not tell me you are on
her
side now.”

              “It is not about taking sides, son.  I told you to create your own destiny, but this was a reckless way to do it.  Why did you need to rush into making such a grand name for yourself in front of everyone?”

“This must stay between us, but I met someone and she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and being a blacksmith’s apprentice would not exactly get me in her inner circle, so to speak.  Therefore, I figured the best and most legitimate way to go about changing that was to establish a better name for myself.”

“You should have spoken to me about it first.  At least then, we could have planned this better.  The skills you presented for the whole city to see will be very hard to explain away with the ‘hobby’ story, trust me.  When I trained you with that weapon, it was with a unique and ancient technique, used by a legendary group of fighters.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just be careful tonight.  People will present themselves as friends, even allies, but do not trust anyone.”

“I understand.  Today was not supposed to be about creating tension between us.  You have to believe me when I say I never meant to disappoint you.”

“It is fine.  Do not worry about it for now.  Just get through this banquet tonight, and then we can talk when you return.  I want to hear more about this
someone you met.  Perhaps we can discuss it over some drinks.”

He smiled for the first time since he came home, and nodded in agreement.  He hugged his stepfather and patted him hard on the back several times before parting.  Nysight shook his hand, and then left the basement.

Sytravious stood there a moment, alone and in silence.  He stared at himself again in the mirror, not recognizing the young man who looked back at him.  He finished touching up the outfit he had bought with his winnings.  He wore midnight blue pants and jacket that covered his white buttoned shirt.  His shiny new leather boots complemented the ensemble.  He grabbed his cloak and walked out to the awaiting carriage outside that would take him to the banquet, and to Raiven.

In front of the warden’s castle was well lit with multiple torches, forming a straight path to the front entry of the great hall.  Horse drawn carriages lined up in front of the entrance, waiting to drop off each of their occupants at the castle.  The courtyard itself was set up to accommodate the rest of the townsfolk.  It was outfitted with multiple benches and long wooden tables covered with food and wine.  Songs played by musicians provided the entertainment for the citizens.

When Sytravious’ carriage arrived at the lighted path, he stepped out and continued through the courtyard until he found himself at the steps of the castle.  Two soldiers held him up, asking for his invitation, which he handed over without a word.  The soldier gave his invitation back by pushing it hard into his chest.

“Is there some sort of problem?”  Sytravious asked with annoyance.

“Oh, no problem just thought the
champion
would have better reflexes than that.  Unless it was sheer luck that got you the win today,” the soldier said.

“I do have better reflexes, in the arena
,
but one does not expect to need to worry about such things while entering a royal banquet.  If you think I won due to luck, you can try yours against me anytime and we shall find out.”

The soldier stepped aside to let Sytravious pass, while the other glared at him.  It was then he realized his win was not a blessing on all fronts.  Plenty of soldiers would be angry over his defeat of Xertias, Bryce, and the others.  He continued onward, up the marble stairs leading into the great hall.  The town crier was waiting at the top of the landing, welcoming guests.  He instructed waiting servants to escort everyone to their proper seats.  Upon seeing Sytravious, the crier studied him up and down several times, before recognizing him from the arena earlier in the day.

“Ah, welcome Sytravious!  You are the talk of the night.  Everyone will be excited to know you have arrived.  Please come with me so I may introduce you properly.”

He nodded, unsure how these things worked.  A young servant girl appeared and offered her arm.  He hesitated before taking her arm and allowing her to lead him into the banquet.  Sytravious could hear the sound of harps playing, and goblets toasting, along with soft laughter.  It was a much more elegant environment than the loud gathering outside.

“Ladies and gentleman, I give you our tournament champion, Sytravious,” the royal crier shouted over the crowd.

He was then escorted to his table.  As he passed other guests, loud cheers greeted him.  Strangers he never met clapped his shoulder, patted his back, or shook his hand to congratulate him on his fine victory.  He was enjoying the attention and began to feel welcomed into the royal court.  The servant led him to his table, which was in the back.  He could see it was covered in tall candles, countless wines, and delicious foods to sample.  The warden was at the head of the table, gorging himself on a leg of lamb.  The chubby man was laughing at a joke with his mouth was full of food while meat fell all over his chest. 

Kenshiro, Jezra, Vienken, and Raiven joined him at the table.  Sytravious’ gaze met Raiven’s, but he averted his focus to the high priestess, who was smiling at him.  The servant girl pulled out his seat.  Not knowing what to do next and not wanting to appear lost, he decided to break the silence.  “Good evening.”

“That it is!  Why would it not be?  It is
my
great hall,” the warden boasted.  “I assume this is your first time here.”

“On the inside, yes, but I have frequented the courtyard many times over the years.  I made it a hobby to observe the drills of your soldiers for as long as I can remember.  I even have studied General Kenshiro’s skill with a blade.  He inspired me to study the art myself, although I found polearms suit me best.”

“May I also add that it is an honor to sit by a heroine as highly regarded as the High Priestess of Valcrest?  I never imagined a day would come when I would get to share a meal with you.  You have done me a great service by inviting me here tonight, Your Holiness.”  Then he took it upon himself to pour her a fresh cup of wine, which she accepted.

“Now, here is someone who knows his way around a dinner party.  He is a real gentleman, pouring my wine himself instead of leaving it to the servants.  That is a great sign of humility,” she said.

Sytravious smiled as the bickering over proper manners ensued between the warden and Jezra.  He glanced over to Raiven, who was leaning towards him.  She seemed to be waiting for him to speak to her, and smiled when their eyes met again.  Up close, he noticed she had tiny jewels that accented the corners of her eyes, which flowed perfectly with her long lashes. 

They both stared at each other a moment longer before he whispered to her, “It is an honor to be in your presence as well.  Who would have thought I would get to sit next to you again so soon?  Why, one might think I joined the tournament for that very reason.”

“What?  Did you not?”

He answered with a quick smirk and shrug of his shoulders, before sipping his wine.  Over his chalice, his eyes met Vienken’s for the first time that evening.  The old dwarf was glaring at him, as if warning him not to talk to Raiven.  In return, Sytravious pretended not to notice.

“So my boy, I understand you are a smith in town.  Why waste such natural fighting talents by working in a forge?  If you ever said the word, I would love to have you in our guard.  We can always make room for a fighter of your caliber,” the warden said to him.

“If you do happen to take Edgar up on that proposition, you might also consider a place in my elite guard.  I am sure I can make a spot for you,” Kenshiro proffered.

Sytravious bowed his head in gratitude to both men.  “I appreciate the offers, but I must be honest.  My parents are humble folks, and I would not want to worry them.  The realm can be a dangerous place for a soldier.”

“That is understandable.  The life of a soldier is not easy.  However, one can achieve great glory and honor, given the right circumstances.  You do not have to look too far for an example of that.  Our very own Prince Just is currently fighting the womach tribes in the south as we speak.  His success there will bring him the praise of the entire kingdom and soon King Lucas himself will be forced to step aside for his son to take the throne in no time,” the warden explained.

“Womach tribes?  I was not aware that the prince took on such a task.”  Sytravious looked around at the somber faces that surrounded him.  The table had grown quiet at the mention of the prince. 

Jezra took the silence as her opportunity to speak her opinion on the matter.  “What Edgar is failing to explain is that the prince has been gone for over a year now.  Against my council, the king sent his inexperienced son into battle against a foe we know very little about.  What sense does that make?”

“Why would the king disregard your advice and send his son anyway?” he inquired

“That is a great question.  The answer is simple.  The King has many advisors besides me.  He also received council from Wardens and Generals across the land, but I believe it was the words of the General of Havencrest that finally convinced the King that his son could handle such a task,” Jezra replied while looking right at Kenshiro who was quick to respond. 

“With all due respect, Your Holiness, I still stand by that opinion.  The advice of the temple can only aid the King so much.  I know military tactics, and that is what is needed when facing the womach problem.  They pose the greatest threat to our country now, and seeing as they are unaffected by magic, they have to be dealt with the old way.  Contrary to what you and everyone else may believe, the prince
volunteered
to lead the army.  I did not make that suggestion.  I would have gone myself, but our king refused.”

Raiven’s soft voice broke through the tension, “There is no reason to debate on what has already been done.  We should instead use our time and energy to pray for the Prince and his army, in hopes that they might return to us safely.”