The Spider’s Ballet

The light that had shot through the canopy above the town had begun its retreat to the dark. Although shadows took its place, the moon hung unobscured above. Street lights hummed to life throughout the roads of the town. The refreshing cool breeze of the day had dropped to a more chilling air that penetrated deeper. People seemed to be more intimate with one another, huddling together for warmth as they spoke more cheerfully about another day passed. A spotlight shot out from the ground towards the sky as if to declare just how important its origin was.

Demalyn and Desdin followed the locals towards the light. Demalyn had pulled her conical hat over her ears and wrapped a dark purple shawl from her bag around her shoulders. She smoked her pipe while a jubilant expression grew on her face, anticipating the night ahead. Desdin followed alongside her with hands in his pockets. A long paved road led to an enormous single floor building. Torches were lit on both sides of the path as they got closer.

Demalyn caught Desdin looking every so often toward Ingrid. She smiled sheepishly while pulling on his arm. “Cherry is going to kill you in the morning if you don’t come back to the van tonight.”

Desdin pulled his arm away from her. “Listen, we can go all back to the van tonight and tell Cherry that we handled this very well without her. Like adults with responsibilities.”

Demalyn chuckled to herself. “Okay sure.”

As they approached the building, it was apparent that this building much like the hospital had a priority in upkeep when compared to the more residential areas they had seen. Outside of the tall marbled doors stood four guards, all in white dress shirts. One woman stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome to the Leoris hunter’s lodge. You are all guests of Vilsin this evening. If you would please leave any weapons and bags here with us.” Desdin obliged and placed the red scabbard of his short sword in the hands of the attendant.

They all turned their attention to Demalyn and then her satchel. She took a long pull from her pipe and blew smoke towards them. “We are guests, remember? Let’s move on with it.” The attendants shared uneasy looks before opening the gates and forgetting about the bag.

Several stone halls bathed in blue light encircled a large courtyard in the center of the building that was lit with fire on metal braziers planted in the ground. As they passed it, they entered a massive room adorned with chrism chandeliers above and sconces crafted with care in the shapes of leaves. A sound of clanging dishes dishes along with the smell of burning meat and roasting stews wafted from another distant room. Long tables seated the hunters from earlier, as well as several well-dressed citizens of the town. The attendant spoke up, “Master Vilsin has invited the Farland visitors to join him at his table towards the end of the hall.” He gestured to a round table at the edge of the room.

Desdin looked and only saw two open chairs. “Hey, these other three will join us, if you don’t mind.” While only a few members of the hall had taken notice of their arrival, they soon all turned as Desdin and Demalyn loudly skid the empty chairs across the room to the main table. Sitting at the table was the mountain of muscle hunter from earlier, along with two other hunters with shrewd looks. Beside them was an older man with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. His beard had a thin shave along his faint jawline. He looked on trying to hide his annoyance with a forced smile.

As Desdin approached the table he spoke, “Hey if you guys don’t mind, can we move closer together to make room for our mutual friends here?” The table shuffled their arrangement as Ingrid and the deputies gave the room a nervous glance, seeming to apologize with their discomfort for the disturbance.

After they settled the group, the older man cleared his throat. “Good evening, I am Vilsin, the hunt master for Leoris. We are very glad to have you all here this evening. We hold this feast once a week to honor our patrons throughout the city and the best of our hunters. Our guild is not only responsible for protection outside the city walls but also fishing, farming, and bringing all of our land’s bounty to Leoris.” Vilsin beamed as he raised his arms up and servants brought forth cups and pitchers filled with honeyed wine. Vilsin gestured towards one servant to leave the pitcher after filling his cup. “The others at this table are my finest three hunters. Ollin, Reshti, and I believe you met this fine specimen, Stokely.” The man with the shaved head flexed, brimming over with pride.

Desdin and Demalyn looked unimpressed as they drank from their cups. Ingrid tried easing in the tension by being polite and saying, “It is an absolute honor to be here, Master Vilsin. I know the archivist never took up your invites, so I am happy to be here in her stead.”

With respect, Vilsin acknowledged her curtsy. He said, “But of course, my dear. So tell me, how do our visitors from the Farland find this gem of the forest within the Union? I’m sure it beats sitting at the servants’ table wherever your master takes you. I felt this was the least I could do since Walstaff insisted you were here to help with the hunt for the beast.”

Demalyn said, “We take our meals in the van as a group. Thank you. I’m not so sure about what you perceive is the master-servant relationship, but we all have a mutual understanding in our travels.”

Vilsin licked the inside of his cheek as he responded. “Well, it had to be difficult to be sold by your own nation into the service of another.”

Desdin said, “The Farland never practiced nationalism. When Jonah united the clans and took the mantle of Warden King, he could see conflict coming and gave families the option to flee to Dragonshead or beyond. Some felt compelled to follow him regardless, but didn’t want to risk the lives of their young. I won’t justify their decision to sell off their children because I disagree with it, but they entreated Dragonshead to make sure that if they sold us, it was a beneficial arrangement. Although at that point all the families could really do was hope for the best. Jonah understood the young could not fully understand what they would have to give up in pursuit of his ideals.”

Vilsin filled his cup to its brim for the third time now. “And what of your parents, Desdin, right? I just saw your name in the notes, and you didn’t deem it necessary to introduce yourself.”

Desdin raised a slight eyebrow. “I never met my mother, but my father fell in the final skirmish in the conflict with the Union. When the Oldest Ivalic granted his divine intervention to the field.”

Vilsin, thinking he found his nerve, struck again, “It must have been humbling for all the clans to see the twenty-five years of effort Jonah made laid low by the Oldest he dared blaspheme against.”

Desdin pouted his lip out a bit before saying, “I think you forget that Ivalic’s judgement didn’t recognize friend or foe. Many Union soldiers, officers, and descendants lost their lives as well. But here we are four years later sitting together at a table breaking bread while you stumble with a Fallen threat that requires our aid. Oh, the tragedies that bring us together, am I right?”

Vilsin wore a sour frown. The other hunters at the table straightened themselves forward, placing their arms on the table glaring at Desdin. Vilsin gestured for them to relax. “Indeed. Perhaps after the feast you can demonstrate this legendary Farland expertise for us.”

Desdin smirked while looking nowhere in particular as he said, “Let’s see how good the food is first.”

It wasn’t long after that they served platters to the tables, where each group was engaged in lively conversation. The meat gave off an appealing smoky aroma that made the vibrant display of vegetables look equally appetizing. They also set out broth and thinly sliced raw fish. It was indeed a bountiful feast.

Ollin and Reshti engaged in hushed whispers as they glared at Demalyn as she took in more than her fair share Stokely who had been glaring the entire time holding his tongue back as Vilsin and Desdin exchanged pleasantries poised himself forward and pronounced his words loudly and clearly. “Would someone please tell the Farland whore to remove her hat while we eat?”

Yulsif and Ingrid froze up, unsure of what was about to happen. Ensi stopped partaking long enough to gauge the varying expressions of the table. Desdin and Demalyn didn’t concern themselves and continued their meal. Stokely stood up as Vilsin watched on with no apparent intention of stopping the events in motion. Stokely reached out towards Demalyn’s hat before Yulsif stood up and smacked his arm away. A grin carved itself below the shaved head of Stokely, who grabbed Yulsif by the collar and through grit teeth said, “You are the last one here I expected to grow a pair.”

Vilsin cleared his throat before slurring his words. “Yulsif, you were never quite cut out for the lodge. Too bad Ensi over there didn’t step in first. How disappointing you are, deputy. I suppose you and Stokely can put on a brief show in the courtyard to warm us up before our guests provide us with a demonstration.” Stokely let go of Yulsif and sat back down. Yulsif gulped and had a cold sweat going.

Desdin, suddenly paying attention, pushed a full glass of wine towards Yulsif. “The food was great. Let’s have some fun, yeah.” As if knowing how this would play out from the very start, Demalyn regained her sheepish smile while looking around the table.

Attendants began directing the people in the hall towards the courtyard as they finished their meal. When Desdin stood up, he looked around the room before he met the gaze of a matured man that was in great shape for his age. He was all wrinkles and muscle, with long white hair and a thin black mustache dressed in an ornate gold robe. He watched Desdin intently as they also left towards the courtyard they saw when they entered the building.

In the outermost circle of the courtyard, benches were present for the spectators. The next circle were pillars of alternating chrism lamps with the naturally lit braziers. At the center was a circle filled with sand. At two sides were large racks holding wooden swords, spears, poles, and shields of various sizes. Vilsin and his three hunters stood at one rack while the party of five guests stood at the other. Yulsif was pacing nervously in front of the rack.

Desdin walked up to the rack, inspecting the weapons before selecting a sturdy wooden long sword. He stopped in front of Yulsif and handed it to him and said, “Listen, you don’t exactly seem to have overflowing confidence here. And that guy over there is spilling it all over the place. And let’s face it, he is a muscle with a face and you, well. I can’t teach you much in the few moments we have here, but if you go out there and be a man about it, then it will only hurt a little.” Desdin made an insignificant gesture with his thumb and index finger before grasping Yulsif’s shoulder and pointing at his face to draw his attention. “Oh, and do me a favor. Whether you are blocking or swinging at him, focus on just one point in his weapon, will you?” Desdin patted his shoulders before stepping back.

Demalyn stepped up to Yulsif and gripped his shoulders as well. She said to him, “So, hey, maybe I should have given you the actual mark of confidence. But you have the bunny at least. Also, thanks for sticking up for me. Totally unnecessary, but thanks all the same. I heard what Desdin said and I will not lie to you. It is going to hurt. A lot. And it will be worse tomorrow. But come back alive and I’ll patch you up for free or get our doctor friend to do it, seeing as how I know nothing about fixing broken things.” She patted his shoulders with exuberant joy. “Good luck!”

Yulsif looked confused and worried and lost in thought all at the same time. He looked back at his new foreign friends, who both gave him a thumbs up. Ingrid pulled at Ensi’s arm with a concerned expression before she asked, “Do you think he will be okay?”

Ensi sighed, wearing his usual resigned expression. “I don’t think he will die. But Stokely trained in the lodge since he was twelve and sparred with Vilsin’s son Allsin. A descendant.” Desdin looked over at Ensi with interest at the last statement.

Stokely took his shirt off and picked up a large two handed wooden sword from the rack. He strolled while smiling all the way to the center of the ring. With reluctance, Yulsif went out to meet him. Yulsif took an astride stance and stood at the ready. A member of the lodge approached the center, holding two large wooden blocks. He raised them up before slamming them together and dashing out of the way.

Yulsif took the chance to pounce and strike at Stokely, who had not yet gotten in stance or raised his weapon. Stokely laughed as, without effort, he lifted his sword, blocking the attack head on. Yulsif pressed his luck, striking the opposing sword and stringing together attacks aiming to knock Stokely off balance. Stokely finally pushed back against Yulsif’s attack, and Stokely’s firm backhand struck Yulsif in the side of the face. His eyes blurred for a moment as he regained his footing. He wiped his mouth, thinking he might have drooled, but he looked down at blood smeared on his arm. Stokely stalked towards him with calm intention.

Yulsif swung wide in desperation and Stokely’s fist this time found the other side of his face. Yulsif stumbled back up and fell to his knees. His forehead throbbed now, and he knew he was bleeding from above his eye this time. Yulsif took his stance again, only for Stokely to strike his sword away. Yulsif continued putting up his stance and blocking again and again as Stokely pushed him all around the ring and laughed without mercy. As he squared up on Yulsif, he looked over at Desdin and grinned. He took his sword with both hands for the first time and took a full swing at Yulsif, completely blowing away his guard and planting the wooden sword into his side with a sickening thud. The wind forced its way out of Yulsif, who dropped his weapon and crumpled to the ground, holding his side. Stokely moved him to his back and placed his foot on his chest, poising to bring his sword down on the prone Yulsif.

Desdin had stepped in, surprising Stokely as Desdin’s own wooden long sword pushed his sword away. Desdin said, “I think he has had enough for the night. He fought like a man for sure.” Stokely took a swipe at Desdin, who dodged with a narrow margin and then sashayed to the center of the ring where he began stretching.

“I overheard you sparred with a descendant. I can tell that was a demerit for you. Descendants with all of their natural born gifts and talents don’t have to train like us. It gets in the way of them having to learn actual skill and having to hone their instinct. They can overwhelm us with speed, power, and wit. I’m guessing you went all in on training your body to try to match him. Or your memory of him at least.” Desdin took a formal stance, holding his sword down towards the ground with one hand as Stokely made a grunting noise at him, taking his own stance at the center.

The audience was hushed in silence as they awaited the first move. Vilsin looked at the lodge member with the blocks from before and nodded. Before the clap had sounded at the start of the melee, Stokely was in motion of striking down at Desdin. While spewing his words with saliva in Desdin’s direction, he said, “You being here is an insult to our home and our hero. How dare you not humble yourself before us!” Stokely’s sword swing met Desdin’s sword, who had back stepped and parried the blow with ease as his opponent’s sword slid down his own, striking the sand hard. Stokely rushed Desdin again and again, meeting the same result every time.

Stokely began trying to mix up his attacks, attempting to lunge at Desdin with his long reach in between sword attacks, but never seemed to make it past the edge of Desdin’s sword as he made slick maneuvers around the ring. While chasing him Stokely said, “Stop running, you fucking coward!” Many in the crowd were jeering at Desdin while others cheered Stokely on.

Desdin had maintained eye contact the entire time and responded flatly, “Okay.” Desdin timed his own attacks with Stokely’s moving around him now instead of away, pushing a little more each time. Stokely’s assault was becoming off balance. Desdin created his opening and purposely moved his leg inside of Stokely’s stance, tripping him up when he attempted to swing this time. Stokely was down to one knee and Desdin moved back before bringing his sword down at him. Stokely blocked the blow with his weapon held horizontal. He tried to push Desdin back but could not from his position as Desdin pressed his own weapon down further, with slow ease. The benches echoed with gasps of disbelief.

Stokely’s sword was now pressing into his own neck. Desdin stared down with a chilling gaze as he said, “You can yield now.” Stokely let out a frustrated growl. Vilsin gritted his teeth back at the weapon rack. He reached for two of the practice weapons, handing them to Ollin and Reshti, who grasped the situation and rushed the ring.

Desdin looked up. “Oh right, you guys wanted a demonstration.” Desdin moved away from Stokely, kicking sand and dust into the air to intercept the blistering assault with utter adeptness. Ollin made the first wide swing. Desdin pushed Reshti away and stepped on Ollin’s sword, pressing it into the sand before propelling a kick with his other leg into Ollin’s sternum, who fell back with a desperate gasp for air. Seeing an opportunity, Reshti swung at Desdin, who was already sidestepping the attack and compacting his body into a lowered stance from which he landed a full swing into the side of Reshti who joined Ollin on the sandy floor of the ring, rolling around in pain. The audience watched with open eyes, fixated as if afraid of missing anything.

By this time Stokely had regained his composure and had moved in behind Desdin, wielding his sword at his opponent. Desdin spun like a top, gripping his own long sword with both hands and striking Stokely’s sword up, at long last revealing the cracks in his sword from the repeated blows. Stokely didn’t hesitate to try striking again, but Desdin placed the entirety of his weight on the next strike at Stokely’s sword, which erupted in splinters. His hands shaking, Stokely dropped the broken remnants of his weapon.

He howled and swung his fist with wild fervor at where he thought Desdin should be. Instead, only seeing his sword stuck in the sand. Desdin formed a sharp weave, moving into a left hook that landed clean on Stokely’s jaw with a thunderous result. He went limp and fell unconscious to the ground. Desdin exhaled as if he had been holding his breath the whole time.

The crowd was silent with open mouths. Desdin looked through the audience, finding the old chiseled man with long white hair who had watched the affair with crossed arms. Desdin smiled and nodded before picking up his wooden sword and walking towards his group. He placed it back on the rack with care.

Demalyn had pulled out her pipe and began smoking before addressing the crowd. “Thanks for the meal! I hope all of you enjoyed the demonstration. I know I did! Hopefully, we can all work together soon and, you know, take care of the actual threat that is killing you. My friends and I are going to find a bar in town. All of you are invited to join us!” She clapped her hands together as her group gathered up their things to leave.