Here's Chapter 2. Just playing catch up for the most part. If you're ever on central in the S & P section, feel free to leave a comment. Always helps. Enjoy!
Chapter Two: Persuasion
Of the things Hunter Ashleaf admitted pride in, self control rested comfortably at the top. His peers couldn't recall a time when he wasn't calm and aloof, and neither could he. Patience defined him, one could say.
And yet here he was. On the edge of his seat, waiting for the bell to drown out Professor Wu's voice and send him along.
Today and much of yesterday passed by slowly after he and Sean parted ways. Time in Professor Flamea's class abandoned haste entirely. Hunter couldn't recall anything about her lecture, the evening's return home, or the hour he decided to doze off. It was all a sluggish blur, with only the note holding any clarity.
Even now, resolve alone glued him to his desk. A composure that few peers could match had become so shaken by one piece of parchment. But as the morning inched by, he'd settled on a plan. He would quell it. Sean would show him his idea, he would reject it, and he could finally rid himself of this fruitless anticipation.
His chance arrived minutes later, as blaring chimes nudged primary and secondary Theurgists into motion.
One primary caught him in the hallway, apparently annoyed at his new-found impatience. "What's with you lately?" She asked.
Hunter hadn't known Jordan Silverstone for long. Strange, considering they sat side by side and how vocal her opinions were. It wasn't as if he ignored her. In fact, he enjoyed the countless tales of her victories and defeats in the singles arena. They allowed him to see past what cascading, sunflower hair and loving, cerulean eyes portrayed. A fighter. And a good one at that.
Eavesdropping ballooned into mutual conversation as Hunter gradually opened up, much to the chagrin of the male Theurgists. Hunter didn't blame them; she was quite the beauty. But if they ever asked for his help, he'd turn them down. The mere mention of the arena made her eyes glisten in a way no man could ever recreate.
"What do you mean?" Her eyes narrowed, and he knew his ploy at innocence was a sinking ship. "Oh, I don't know. Boredom probably."
"So you mean you're free to come dueling with me?" There was that eye glisten.
"I can't. I'm busy."
"And what could you possibly have today that's more important than—?"
"What's with you people and that question! Are my priorities not importa—" Hunter stopped, seeing her surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get annoyed. I'm just…I'm busy, alright?"
She conceded a shrug at length, only because he wouldn't explain anyway. They parted with an agreeable wave, and soon Hunter moved through the building's double doors. Guilt over the outburst almost persuaded him into heading back and telling her everything, but he decided against it. What Sean had in store was a complete mystery. One he intended to unravel alone.
Finding that mystery's location was unusually easy, considering the Diviner's cryptic behavior. The note routed him across Ravenwood and around the colossal girth of the Grandfather Tree. A riot of color assaulted him as he worked through the throngs of students.
Traversing a river with no paddle sounded like an easier task. Accidentally brushing past the fair skinned, prosperous students seemed like a criminal offense, from the way they acted. Opposite of them, those of lower standing thought nothing of it past the apology wave. In his mind, the canyon of privilege between the two classes was the real offense.
He put the thought off as he reached his destination. A building Hunter had never entered before.
The activities center. An odd, four story fusion of Marleybonian structural design and Wizard City artistic flair. Socials and extracurricular events commonly occupied the lower halls, and school-sanctioned clubs dominated the upper floors. Hunter's feet pedaled up creaking stairs to the top level, where he found a rough wooden door near the hallway's end. Tattered paper lay nailed to it, bearing the same metal helmet insignia overlapping a crossing sword and stave that his parchment did. All beneath the door's number, 108.
Conversation and sunlight spilled from its slim crack. He rapped his knuckles against the door. The room went silent, followed by footsteps, and an annoyed frown soured Hunter's face as the door creaked open.
"Told you he would come." Bubbles floated from Sean's corncob pipe. Loose pants, a shirt, and a long coat draped across his shoulders replaced the previous day's armor. "You're a bit early, though."
The Fire Wizard immediately regretted keeping the note, but admitted his defeat and pushed past the Diviner into the room. "Well then let's just get this over—"
Hunter assumed he'd be alone with Sean and his idea. Instead, five figures seated around a lacquered round table quirked their eyebrows.
Two were new to him. A reserved girl with brown hair, hands folded, regarded him studiously. What he assumed was a second female—the helmet and mask concealed defining features—sat beside her. He recognized the other two immediately. Morgan Day's shock of lavender hair and welcoming smile brightened the room more than the windows could manage. Calamity Weaver, another Life, beheld him for a moment, then returned to rapid strokes with her quill pen.
And the last. Diego Santiago Quariquez Ramirez III, his broad form swathed in the deepest of crimson robes. A reserved grin always stretched across the Duelmaster's snout in ads, but here he seemed rigid and unamused. The teen felt pressed, the kind of gravity only one high above your station could produce.
"I assume this is your final guest." The stallion's voice teetered between bewitching and irritation. "I have little time for games, Mr. Starbright."
"Yes, he's the last." Sean met Hunter's fearful glance with a 'play-along' wink. And the Pyromancer obeyed for now, taking the last empty chair next to Morgan, but he would have questions later.
The room fell quiet, except for Sean's pipe. An exquisitely carved toy, Hunter noticed, but still a toy. No more potent than a bubble wand. "I'll just come out with it then, Duelmaster. Your arena is terrible."
Hunter coughed awkwardly, gasping for air. Calamity dropped her quill pen. The masked girl remained calm, as did the brown haired girl. And Morgan restrained the urge to knock him out and hijack the discussion.
Diego had no reaction other than "Oh, it is?"
"Indeed." Sean began to pace, and Hunter could picture him twirling a cane. "It's quite obvious, actually. Those who play fairly are crushed. Abusers and charlatan's feast like wild dogs, and if you choose to join them, no one will raise a finger to stop you." The Diviner descended to a stern whisper. "Those with power get to make the rules. Rules that benefit only themselves. Sounds pretty terrible to me."
Again, despite everyone's preconceptions, Diego seemed reserved at the accusations. Methodical and calculating. Like all great duelists. "I'm aware of you and Ms. Day's disdain for high-tier behavior, Mr. Starbright. But I have little interest in your crusade."
"Oh, but you should have interest. Because it affects you." Sean chided.
He turned to Calamity with a nod, who returned the gesture. She gathered her papers together, and adjusted her glasses. "The number of adept, magus, and master class participants have been halved over the past two years. Inversely, grandmaster and legendary wizards have seen a moderate increase."
She slid one of her forms across the table, which he appraised warily as she continued. "This may sound advantageous, but the data proves otherwise. We've studied a few records, and your logs should confirm the rest. Spectators rarely go to watch high tiers."
That conjured surprise out of the unicorn, even if still reserved. He'd noticed this in sales reports. "And why do you think that is?"
"Because it's not interesting." The brown haired girl said. Her name was on the tip of Hunter's tongue as Morgan whispered Destiny Bluethorn. "Nearly half of top tier matches are a race to cast the biggest spell; nothing like they were in the past." She honed in on Diego. "Ask yourself. Let's say….five. Of the five greatest battles you've seen, who were the participants?"
"Master, magus, adept, grandmaster…and magus…" Hunter couldn't fathom how Diego recalled them so quickly.
"You've said it yourself right there, Duelmaster." Morgan said. "The middle tier is the most profitable section of your arena. But lately, they have not been coming, and what we're 'crusading'against is the cause."
"These…giants, as you called them earlier." Morgan nodded at his answer. "Yes, I suppose this mid-tier famine has not escaped my sight…or my wallet." Diego propped his elbows on the table. "But you tell me things I am already aware of. If you have no solution, then my time has been wasted."
"We do have a solution." Sean's stopped just beside the unicorn. "Giants don't sell because the outcome is always the same. There's no suspense or excitement anymore. But what if I said we had a way to defeat one?"
That was a bluff, Hunter scoffed. Mid-levels and legendaries were on completely different planes. But the gleam in Sean's eyes said otherwise, as did Morgan, Calamity, and Destiny's unwavering confidence.
Diego couldn't believe it either. "Surely you jest?"
"Who knows…?" It was clear to Hunter that some sort of smiling fiend possessed Sean. His grin couldn't stretch so far otherwise. "Would you like to find out?"
The unicorn studied him, finding no guile, before pushing back his chair and rising. He would humor him, at the least. "You have my interest. What would you like from me?"
"A doubles reservation. We'll handle everything else, and find an opponent." Morgan answered.
Diego snorted, then his hooves clopped across the floorboards to the door. When his gloved hand found the knob, his voice fell to an authoritative low.
"Let me make this clear. My only interest is seeing my doubles arena profitable again, and your letter guaranteed that. But only a fool invests blindly. Sell two hundred seats by the end of the week, and you will have your match."
They nodded, before realizing his back was turned to them. He registered their silence as understanding anyway. "Who should I reserve this spot for?"
Sean glanced to Destiny, Destiny to the masked girl, the mask to Calamity, Calamity to Morgan.
And Morgan to Hunter, with a knowing smile. "The Giant Hunters."
Diego nodded one last time, and departed with a soft click of the door. Hunter took note of the motion's silence given the man's wide, sinewy frame. Because when the man's steps escaped earshot, Hunter's temper flared like a spark on dry tinder. "Where do I even begin with any of this!"
"Feel free to start wherever." Destiny chuckled.
"Alright well how about that entire conversation with the Duelmaster, let alone that you got him out of his office? And then not only promising a packed stadium, but that you'd beat a high-tier in a duel!" Hunter's head whipped to Morgan. "And what's with that 'Giant Hunters' thing? Is that what this is? Some stupid clan?"
"Not a clan." Destiny corrected. "A movement."
"One that's been growing for some time." Calamity tacked on.
"And one that could use any help it can get." Morgan finished.
The pyromancer looked around to see all stares fixated on him. All except Sean, continuing to supply bubbles through the pipe. Hunter didn't know how to respond to the girls' statements and, as if grasping for a foothold, could only manage. "What…what are all of you doing?"
The question wasn't pointed, but Sean answered. As it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Throwing the pebble."
Being at a loss for words seemed to be Hunter's trade for the day. The phrase echoed through his mind, quelling any response for the first few seconds.
These people really were serious. Dead serious. And by the glint in their eyes, honest as well.
But it did more than match the one Jordan held about dueling. It proved that there had to be something to all this. Because from what he observed of Calamity and Morgan in class, they were kindhearted but rational girls. Not the type to dedicate themselves to a worthless cause.
Eventually, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I'm…I'm sorry Sean. I can't do this for you. I just…can't. I promised not to fight again."
"I expected as much." The Diviner said with an easy shrug. "I'll tell you what though. Stick around for a little while, at least through our first project, then make your decision. If it's still no, I won't bother you again."
Hunter returned a grateful nod, but an epiphany suddenly struck him. "Project. That reminds me. How in the world are you going to sell off two hundred tickets by the end of the week?"
That smiling fiend was either more powerful than Hunter assumed, or the thing had peers willing to assist him. Every visible face contorted into something distinctly Cheshire as Calamity rose from her seat, unhitched the fastener of a dusty storage bin in the corner.
And held up a rabbit costume.