Catalyst

Thousands of people had gathered in a massive amphitheater of stone, curiously awaiting the words of the speaker, the man who’d built this theater himself, Cecil Vaere. He’d resolved to do so after an internet personality questioned his skills in geomancy, but when the deed was done, he found the hulking structure austere. In the spirit of showing off, then, he hollowed the stone out with the same magic and wove dozens of young sakura trees through the structure, with their branches and stalks emerging in various places. He then brought in some designers to help him sculpt the stone into distinct figures. At the back of the stadium was the great lion Raios, and his own likeness, muscular and covered only by a seashell, stood beside the podium. This implied a partnership between himself and the speaker - however, it was rather awkward when he was the speaker, which was most of the time. However, this was not yet enough. Next, he augmented the pigments in the plants and decorated sections of the theater with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and cubic zirconium to match, in that order. His funds were running low by the end. In this regard, this project was much like his business ventures - sudden, without any apparent thought and so, prone to hazards. And yet, somehow, these ventures were often surprisingly successful. Many said that Vaere was a clown who stumbled into more than he deserved - others thought him a genius. His record in the military only complicated things further. Most everyone had an opinion on the man.

That was what brought so much viewership, both in person and on television, to this event. Formally, it was an event addressing the press and especially his stockholders with the latest news on his many ventures. In practice…

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and men of all other unsavory varieties as well. It is my unique pleasure to be your host on this lovely day.” The host took off his top hat and gestured expansively - in fact, the sky was overcast and dark as if ready to storm, but there was no hint of irony in his voice.

“First, I’ll share with you all that the Vaere Arcade is to be shut down. A terrible shame, really, but it seems “Vaere’s Adventure” is better suited for personal console over public machines. No way we could have anticipated children running off with the wireless controllers... at any rate, please support the release of Vaere’s Adventure III - A Delicious Knightmare this summer! I’m sure that will be good fun. Additionally, Chocolate Munchers will be discontinued in favor of Strawberry Munchers, for a time. A breakfast cereal should synergize with the fruits to be eaten with it. If you’re just eating the cereal, goodness! Stop that. It’s pure sugar.”

This rant went on for some time, much to new stockholders’ chagrin.

“He can’t do this!” shouted a man with meticulously groomed facial hair. “Everyone knows that chocolate sells.”

“I’m done with Munchers,” a child pouted in vague agreement, to which his friend replied, “more for me! I love strawberries.”

“It’s not actual strawberries,” the boy’s sister said, grinning. “More likely a little strawberry concentrate with sannhet syrup, cryosucralose…”

“Didn’t Vaere say he was done with cryosucralose after his crystal ball predicted it would lead us to ruin?” A bookish young man replied.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask his crystal ball,” the girl replied with a wry smirk.

“How the hell do you even land on ‘strawberry’?” the man said, pulling on the hairs until he nearly ruined his perfectly groomed beard. “Vanilla, mixed berry cinnamon, honey - all of these flavors have a better chance on the market then strawberry. I’ll call his office - yes, that’s what I’ll do - tell him I’ll pull my whole investment!”

“Mommy, what’s an invesmint?”

Ethan Stonehenge, a longtime investor in the Vaere brand, looked on at the scene with his cheek in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and the usual grin on his face. This was his highest variance investment, but it also doubled as reliable entertainment, which was valuable indeed when he let himself step outside of the lab. When Vaere had at last satisfied himself with his ravings, he cleared his throat.

“Of course, such trivial matters are not my purpose in this meeting. In the venue of the old Vaere Arcarde, in two months’ time, I will be hosting a grand tournament.”

Thousands of ears perked up at this. The host pulled proudly at his leaf-green suit, grinning wildly at the murmurs that passed through the whole arena.

“To clarify, of course,” he said, and the murmurs quieted, “I will be hosting a test of speed, strength, and cleverness for all youths in the land to measure their worth. As Director of the KEY Program, I will eagerly watch how my students have grown. However, as CEO of Vaere Industries, I wish to see all youths with promise compete on a grand stage - with only the best emerging victorious! I will be awarding Vaere Tokens to those that place in many existing tournaments, as well as some lesser touraments I will run myself in the coming months. Collect enough tokens, and you will qualify to compete at the highest level! Perhaps there is one with potential nearing my own in the new generation. Though none will match me, I owe it to the future to foster that potential. As such, the winner of this tournament will receive a five million krone prize and the chance to develop as a warrior alongside me, in the Vaere internship.”

For a moment there was silence. Vaere gestured expansively, then raised his hand with a flourish. “Rise, new heroes.”

That broke the spell. First to rise were the children - then the aspiring officers, spellcasters, alchemists, and athletes of the audience rose. Then parents, elders, investors, and even some people at home started to stand, applaud, even jump.

“Mommy, I’m going to win!”

“Maybe next time, honey.”

“Are you going to give it a shot?” the sister asked the tired eyed student.

“No way - I’m only passably good at alchemy, and not the kind you’d want for combat.”

“I see…”

“You should enter if you want to. I’ll cheer for you.”

“Then I definitely won’t,” she teased.

“I know!” The man said, his mustache hairs nearly standing on end. “I’ll train a young prodigy to defeat all the competition, and make Vaere acknowledge my business sense! Then he won’t just throw this company away.”

And in homes across planet Learsi, it was the same. In quiet homes where they’d trained persistently, young men and women clenched their ready fists. In backwoods taverns that stank of spilled liquor, tenacious runaways eyed the opportunity speculatively. On gilded couches between marble pillars, heirs and heiresses thought about how they’d make their public debut. For many, the announcement was no different than an awards ceremony, especially those that were the best among their peers. But the wisest of them were filled with excited anxiety to test themselves against the scrappier and hungrier prospects ‘below’ them.

Fighting was a staple of Xexen entertainment, and tournaments were held frequently with decent top prizes even at the amateur level. However, there had not been a state-sponsored tournament since the Mad King’s reign - the result was that each region had its own, isolated champions that had never faced a mightier challenger - at least, not formally.

In marble halls, a boy with contemptuous golden eyes. In the towns, a spellcaster who had been denied everything but would have it all. In the woods, a girl searching relentlessly for someone lost. In the end, their thoughts would be the same.

It’s my time.

***

As Ariel sat in a nowheresville bar, bad booze stinking from some unwiped puddle, she sipped black coffee appreciatively. This was not for a love of coffee. The opposite, really. A girl ought to have a shitty drink in a place like this - it was just sporting. She’d prefer alcohol, of course, but while bars didn’t have backwards prohibition stuff like Xexen ancestors had apparently screwed around with, barkeeps still had their own opinions about the “right age”. Apparently the customer wasn’t always right. So, to avoid starting a fight without meaning to, Ariel sipped black coffee instead. Fights should be started on purpose.

It was probably for the best. The daydrinking crew lounging about seemed a bunch of losers - and not the harmless kind she’d feel bad making fun of. Well-worn, stained clothes, constant glares begging for trouble, and body odor marked many of them. It wasn’t a poverty thing. Ariel’d seen that. Her folks had slept a number of friends and neighbors on their couch or even floor after bad harvests - and she and Isaac had wrestled and sketched with their kids… Ariel put the thought of her brother from her mind. It was still too painful.

Resuming her previous thought… while decent mages didn’t grow on trees, they were around, and if they were half decent people, they wouldn’t charge a cent or take more than a few seconds to freshen a fella up. Sometimes they’d cast Quick Wash without even asking - though most folks thought that was rude. If a guy smelled bad in a town that someone bothered to put on a map, Ariel wagered, it meant he wanted to smell that way - or, at least, didn’t care. Yes, Ariel thought, this was exactly the right crowd. With any luck, these guys would be peak trash - the kind her dad always warned her about - and intel gathering would be a cinch.

…Of course, it didn’t take more than a few minutes for Ariel to start wondering. Another several and she was sure. Intel gathering is boring. How do they make this crap look cool in the movies? If anyone here was Black Hand, they unfortunately weren’t dumb enough to wear spooky cloaks or start randomly kicking puppies. The morning crowd was grouchy and their expressions were severe, but mostly they were just complaining about jobs, coworkers, wives, kids, husbands, sky-eels. The last one interested Ariel, but the group was too far off for her to hear too much. A shame, that. The barkeep, Gerry, gave her a sympathetic grin, obviously seeing through her boredom. Crap. Gerry was a decent bloke, and you could get him to tell a hell of a story - if he was off the clock. But he was dense as a block of mythril. If he noticed, she must have really looked bored.

When big-shot tournament guy came on screen, that grabbed her attention completely. She was already planning on hitting some tournaments on her road, so this just gave her another end goal. A north star. It was thrilling to think about, getting not just a few but dozens of damn good fights. Of course, that clicked off far too soon, leaving her to watch Real Housedolphins of Tronen or else listen to Martha complain to Hesthain about her son’s Gaian fetish.

She wasn’t sure which was worse. At first she found herself gagging more at the stupid ways megaclans tried and failed to piss their piles of money away, but as she realized how much Martha hated Gaians, the dolphin tanks were a welcome brain-melter. Ariel had met some cat Gaians out in the sticks, and they seemed like decent folk. Funny as hell and impossible to catch, especially when they were shifted. Ariel thought she was pretty fast before that day, but they managed to get her lost in her own neck of the woods. She smiled at the memory, and went for a sip, only to be shocked by her somehow empty mug of black coffee. She’d been even more taken in by the tourney announcement than she thought. She dropped some coins on the bar in a way that was meant to look aggressively casual, and Gerry brought another coffee without a word. Gerry seemed to be going for a look, also - the suave butler shtick. He wasn’t bad, and Ariel suddenly hoped he’d find a nice butling… butlering(?) job at some point. The clientèle might be better or worse, but ‘least he’d make a hell of a lot more compared to Hesthain’s piss-poor tips.

What the fuck kind of name is Hesthain? Yeah, not everyone liked to use human-y names. Ariel got that, and some of them sounded cool. Hesthain sounded like someone threw the alphabet in a blender, then swapped some letters to follow the word rules.

Of course, she wasn’t going to start shit with him over his bad tipping or poor taste in women. Gerry would probably ban her from this place for real if she started a bar fight again. Again again, really. Besides, he wasn’t Black Hand… probably. Couldn’t be too sure. So far, he had a better chance than anyone in here - and that included the chick actively talking about the Black Hand. At first, Ariel had listened to Talia go on with interest, but it quickly became obvious that what she was selling was no more than ghost stories. Maybe third or fourth hand rumors, if she was generous. She’d even thought about talking to people directly - but Talia’s stories made Ariel confident about the quality of information she’d get that way.

No, Hesthain was definitely more unusual than Talia. He still smelled bad, but in a particularly intentional way, with some aggressive cologne that smelled to her like a dumpster fire that she could pick out on him specifically. Besides that, he was with Martha, who openly wore a glimmering necklace that looked like it should weigh down her neck with the gemstones. If you were part of a well-hidden crime ring, better to have shiny stuff to distract people from the skeletons in your closet. As Martha went on about things she’d heard about the Gaian’s family, Ariel gritted her teeth and tuned them out. She probably wasn’t Black Hand, and Ariel had promised Gerry she wouldn’t stir anything up. She’d tuned out a little bad, getting mildly invested in some dolphin-racing tournament, when things got unexpectedly spicy.

“Shut your dirty mouth about Arestella!” sky-eel guy called from where he sat, his voice deep and firm. “Her mother might be good for nothin’, but she’s a sweet girl.”

Arestella. That was a decent ‘weird name’. Ariel decided that she liked her. As if she didn’t already have enough reason to listen in.

“That girl is a menace!” Martha said. “Stole from Cassidy Lowell’s cart just last week.”

“Cassidy is a horrible gossip and half as good a person besides, and you know it,” skyeel guy said. His dark skin has gotten into middle age without too many wrinkles, but those he did have made his glare intense.

“I don’t like how you’re talking to Martha,” Hesthain said.

“Who the fuck are you?” sky eel guy said, turning to Hesthain. Ariel watched out of one eye, sipping her coffee to act natual. “I didn’t think they shipped stupid and fat in the same package around here anymore.”

Ariel nearly choked on her bad coffee. Hesthain was more tall than wide, but his expression said eel guy’d hit a sore spot.

“Oh, that tears it!” Hesthain said, but Martha put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll shut him up, hon,” Martha said, and he relaxed back into his seat with a ‘this’ll be good’ grin.

Then Ariel felt her aura. She wasn’t one of those sensory gurus that sat on mountains to “feel the flow” for hours, or whatever - but she could sense the kind of dense aura that slapped her 6th sense in the face. It was a buzzing across her like a slightly too-hot bath, and she could tell who it was from by the context and how it passed through her. Ariel was annoyed. Someone with mana like that probably had a decent job. What was she doing day drinking and punching down at a young gal just trying to get hitched? Sky-eel guy flinched back in his seat a moment later.

"Just a minute!" Gerry said, lumbering out from behind the bar. "If you've got an issue, take it outside." There was a bouncer, but the big man was half-sleeping. When Gerry approached her, Martha shoved him with one hand. Gerry slid back to the far wall, hitting it and crumpling into a heap on the ground. He should be okay… right?

That was Ariel's limit. Only she could blatantly disrespect Gerry. She turned to Martha, launching coffee on her from the mug in a practiced flick, the hot liquid covering her hair.

“Oops, my bad!”

Martha turned on her heel, seething, but Ariel was already running. She'd take things outside, then jump her. Easy peasy.

She felt a thick hand pull her back from the door.

The bouncer?? What the hell? How many toxic friends does Martha have?

The bouncer said something lost to her. Martha was closing fast. She turned to face her.

"Want the mug to?" Ariel said, faking a jab and then smashing Martha with the ceramic cup. Oh no you don’t. She kicked behind, hitting Hesthain, then rotated out from between the lovers. Martha wasn't staggering, though she bled a little from shards of mug. Tough customer. Hesthain and the bouncer were squared up now, as well. Thinking fast, Ariel grabbed a barstool and swung for Martha's head. Caught. Ariel let go, mana surging through her arm. In a flash, she’d grabbed the lady’s pearl necklace and pulled. The orbs clattered to the ground all around her. Jumping deliberately, she got away from Hesthain and kicked the bouncer. He staggered and tripped on pearls, falling hard. She landed safely near the bar, but with her distracted Martha punched her. Ariel’s head swam from the quick combo, but she grabbed an incoming Hesthain by the hair and pushed him at Martha. In the confusion she got her bearings, then pushed Hesthain down and grabbed Martha by the hair. Gut punch. Head punch. Getting the same back. Couldn’t get an angle for the kidney shot. At this rate - she was going to lose. Ariel grinned, nose bleeding. This woman was tough as nails - seemed she wouldn’t have to wait for a good fight.

Ariel reared back for a moment and slammed her head into Martha’s. The surprise bought her a moment, and Ariel darted around behind the bar. From there, she launched plate after plate of appetizers at Martha's increasingly painted face as the other woman stumbled around on pearls. The fuming daydrinker stabbed at Ariel with a steak knife - the mistake she wanted - and just caught the edge of the bar, the blade stuck several inches in. While Martha struggled to right herself, Ariel forced her own dubious balance and grabbed Martha’s collar, punching several times. Her knuckles screamed and the woman still glared, but dizzily. Stepping back, she kicked Martha in the face, sending the woman sprawling across the floor.

Ariel started around the bar, a shit eating grin on her face, then heard Martha muttering something on the ground. That was - fuck. She went for a finishing kick, but wasn't around the bar in time.

As Martha stood, air circulated around her, blowing away bits of food and sauce. She struck out with a punch almost too fast to track. Almost. A loud blast of rushing air was all that hit Ariel was she weaved to the side and back with a surge of her own power, though she could hear chairs and stools flipping just from the scattered wind. She couldn't match the raw power of Martha's real spell chant. It was just a Tier I spell - Aero Slap or something stupid, she couldn't remember. But Tier I would be plenty to knock her ass into next week, or a coma, or both. Ariel would need to dodge, then counterattack after Martha wore down a bit.

Stepping back, she focused entirely on Martha. Pressure seized her. Who - Hesthain. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Martha grinned wildly, her sauced, once-black hair boosting the expression’s creepiness.

"Open spellcast. Aero Slip. Type: Divergence. Add Additional Cast. Type: Standard. Close spellcast."

Martha called out the chant faster than Ariel would have liked with practiced ease. Ariel struggled in Hesthain's grip as it went, but he had mana-boosted strength as well and a big frame advantage. Ariel continued token struggling, but turned her full focus to Martha. She knew this variant from rumors. The two parts were to boost her arm with one subcast, and to totally get rid of air resistance with the other. Ariel would have only one moment. That was fine. Taking a long inhale, she caught the moment the that the space in front of her became empty. Mana rushed through her arms and legs, taking on an elemental form - lightning. Nerve impulses sped up, boosting reaction speed. Muscles squeezed harder than ever. Electricity rushed across her skin and out, shocking Hesthain. In that moment of impossible strength, Ariel grabbed Hesthain’s arm and pulled him into the path of the attack.

Aero Slip might be a shit spell name, but Ariel liked what folks called this version of it. Thunderclap. Martha’s arm surged forward, realization showing too late as she hit Hesthain. A deafening rush of air back into the vacuum blended with the sound of impact as Hesthain went sailing, landing heavily where he broke a table into pieces. He crashed into Ariel on the way - she didn’t have the time to move him and get out of the way - and sent her sprawling. Cursing, Martha staggered towards Ariel. Martha shouldn’t be able to get off another attack like that so soon - but Ariel was slow after burning a lot of mana as well. Then, Martha flinched back from an orange cone that added to the mess. Ariel took a glance to see that it was Gerry, pepper-spraying the Gaian-hater.

“Good looks, Gerry!” Ariel said, then sprung up and put what mana she could into a straight punch. Apparently Martha was about out of mana, because instead of taking the hit like before, she dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Still, Ariel only just barely dodged as the bouncer tried to punch her. Probably not the bouncer anymore. Gerry’s boss had to fire this guy, right? Looking around, though, it seemed he wasn’t Martha’s only friend up for trouble. Thaaaat’s my cue.

Ariel kicked the bouncer right in the beans, then sent him off with a quick hook. The door clear for the moment, she made a break for it. Crisp midday air filled her with each breath as she ran, and she found herself laughing, despite her jaw and gut each aching from the motion. She was a little worried about Gerry and skyeel guy, but she'd probably only make it worse by staying at this point, and from the angry yells getting slowly more distant behind, the worst of the trouble had tried to follow her.

She had meant to stay in this town for the night, but she had a feeling some of the rabble might come looking if she stuck around. That was fine. She had a city to be getting to, anyway, and a governor to see. She could do more information gathering there… probably. Setting out today meant she could make it in time for a tournament, depending on how things went. And besides, this was just the sort of day, with cloud cover enough to avoid blinding light and sun enough for some warmth, that should be spent on the road. Ariel's good mood faded somewhat with the adrenaline, though. I'm coming, Isaac, she thought, quickening her pace down the forest path.