Page 124 of The Ballad of a Bard

West hurdled for the Gold Gate, brushing past townspeople who jumped apart as he burrowed by. He didn’t have time to greet them, to apologise for his streak of madness. But he dulled the eternal brightness, turning his flesh back to the copper colour that could pass as mortal as he ran, ignoring the ache in his thighs and the burn in his calves.

It was a long walk from the castle to the bottom portion of Tazali. To get to the Spinning Compass, and then half an hour from there to get to the Bronzed Goblet. He’d never run it before, wasn’t sure how long it would take him but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up this rushed gait for long. The slope of the city helped him run, and he mustered all his strength into it.

The streets were busy with people as they flowed in andout of shoppes along the sides like water rushing down a river, slapping against the bends and stones. They laughed and greeted each other as he darted past, swinging around them to avoid any kind of collision. West turned around the bend and steeled his will as the Silver Gate came into view.

Sixty

Altiver dismounted before he motioned for Satori to unlock the door and the cuffs that kept her securely attached to the wooden slats of the cart. It had been a bumpy, unpleasant ride as she’d been carted around in the prisoner transport before everyone she’d known. When they rode past the Spinning Compass and she recognized a few aghast faces, Crimson angled her back against the rods and slumped down until her knees were able to tuck into her chest.

She refused to cry.

Instead she withdrew from the strength that West poured into her with his declaration. At the fact that he loved her and she loved him and that everything was going to be alright. The Northern Star and Heartstrings, together at last and all powerful for all eternity. That was the ballad she mentally told herself over the hour-long distance from the castle to the Pits.

Not a sad one, because she refused to believe that their story would end that way. A happy one, because she could do this.

When the cart finally stopped rolling on its wooden wheels,Crimson lifted her head from the dark pit that her knees created and didn’t need to survey the area to know where she was. Instead she pulled herself back to her regular height and awaited the next step. The bag of her items sat by her feet and when Satori ordered her out, she grabbed it without needing to be told to do so. She knew why she was here, she knew what was going to happen.

There were a few townsfolk that must have recognized the heir as he casually found her, whispers flitting about as to the reason for his visit. She could make out the rhythm of their life force as they took her in. It was all distracting, her mind reeling with the possibilities of ending them all right then and there. Since she’d swallowed Muse’s myocardium, her viciousness, her violence had increased. It was something that overwhelmed her, something that she needed to adapt to quickly unless she succumbed to it entirely.

Altivar swiftly pulled her to his side, linking his arm over her elbow as they walked towards the Bronzed Goblet. She scowled at him but didn’t try to pull away as she slung the bag over her shoulder. With the casual way they stepped in time, she knew it appeared far different than the rigid situation actually was.

Friends, enjoying an evening together.

Versus a prisoner escorted by her brutish captor.

Altivar’s mouth brushed against the shell of her ear in the way that only a seductive partner would, which was precisely his intent. “I have ten fierce men that are willing to risk their chances against the infamous Red Lyric. I’ve offered their weight in crowns should they succeed to even nick you, and double if they walk out of the ring and you don’t. But I’ll make this easier for you.”

Crimson didn’t care to hear what he had to say, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

“I want you to advance to the final round. To make it all worthit. So for every man you put down, I’ll add one hundred crowns to your purse for your brother. To set him up after you’re gone.”

Any shred of pity she might have experienced for the royal before was utterly destroyed now. She hated him with the fire of a hundred stars, of a thousand suns. She kept her gaze towards the door however, resisting the urge to boil his blood once more. There were too many eyes on them, too many witnesses who knew nothing other than the fact that the new Emperor was guiding her in.

They had no idea what a slimy snake he was.

Crimson allowed him to guide her up the steps, through the entrance as patrons stared. For once, he wore nothing to hide his devastatingly beautiful features, nor the way he elegantly dressed. He’d decorated his eyes in a stunning red shade that was meant to mimic her hair, black liner along the edges like savage swords. Even the colour of his clothes were a sign of who he was here to represent, to sponsor tonight.

There were posters with her likeness pasted along the walls, her leathers rendered in charcoal and red ink with her false name scrawled beneath. In any other situation, she might have ripped one off the wall, rolled it up and plastered it up at her own home. Now, she simply wanted to rip them to shreds and throw the scraps at Altivar.

Or rip him to shreds.

Guards trailed after, a couple feet away as they piled into the tavern and approached the counter where the tall barmaid was cleaning cups with a wet rag.

Altivar smiled warmly at her, as warm as it could be called for someone like him and patted her hand. “A steel cutlass for my wonderful companions and I.”

The woman looked as though she wanted nothing more thanto run him throughwith a steel cutlass, even with the understanding of who he was. It appeared as if even though he bore the blood of Osira in his veins, that he was the lesser choice for the new sovereign.

She allowed herself a small, secret smile at that.

The woman sighed, set down the round glass with a loudclunk,slapped the rag down and came out from behind the counter. She led them into the panel in the wall, shoving it sideways as they all entered the Pits.

The hallway was thin enough that only two very thin people could walk side by side comfortably, which Altivar did. He refused to let go of his grip on her arm, harsher now that they were in a different part of the tavern. Eventually the hallway narrowed out enough that only one could fit in at a time, and he stepped behind. His firm fingers however, did not leave her upper arm.

“Hear the roar of those that yearn for the scent of blood to fill the air?” He murmured with a large huff, “How deliciously barbaric.”

“It’s almost like War took over.” Crimson sardonically commented as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the platform. A fight was already mid-way by the excited yells that filled the arena. Boots stomped, drinks were spilled and girls rushed around with trays precariously balanced as they earned their keep for Roland.

She wondered if she’d spot Renfri.

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