A/N: Simply for the fact that I feel something should happen :p You know, I enjoy typing up this culture to show you how life is like. I've been to places like these, it's not the prettiest of places but it gives a sense of authenticity. It's lives not hidden behind fame and glamor. It's the lives of real people who struggle everyday to make ends meet. Always keep in mind what you have should never, ever be taken for granted. Let this chapter remind you what you have a blessing as others aren't fortunate to have what you have.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: AU - Everything seemed perfect in Dohnovan, a city flourishing by an oasis in the middle of the scorching desert. Yet, beneath the city's mask of perfection lies a wave of corruption, ready to consume the entire city and its inhabitants. Tales of love, treachery and death will be soon exposed in the last paradise on Pulse. R&R!
Chapter 6: The Tournament of Betrayal -Part 2-
Upon the rise of a bright new dawn, the roosters voiced out against one another to signal the rise of the warm sun quietly emerging from its earthen cradle. Some of its inhabitants yawned, while others had already been awake since the wee hours of the morning. Some tended the farm, others prepped the children for school, women set up the kitchen as others sat comfortably to enjoy the cool morning breeze, passing through their locks of hair. Even before the sun rose, several caravans and carriages entered Dohnovan from far off lands towing along large monstrous steel cages behind them. Each cage was securely wrapped and concealed from public view. Some of the civilians curiously gazed upon these large cages wondering what was inside. One could only guess it was some sort of grotesque, ferocious brute ready to be unleashed at the tournament.
"Again."
Lightning heaved and again launched forward at Amodar. Swiftly dodging to the side, Lightning slid across the polished floor and whipped her arm around, planning to land a firm slash on his arm. That's exactly what happened. Smacking Amodar with a loud clap, the princess didn't stop there. She continued to disarm the man and abruptly pulled him close for a punch delivered in the gut. Using her foot, she knocked him on his behind to conclude the battle. Pointing the tip of the wooden sword at his Adam's apple, the princess narrowed her eyes hoping her actions spoke for themselves. Hearing a clap then a couple more, Lightning took a couple of steps back and eyed the two pairs of eyes glued to the wall. Belonging to none other than Jihl and Rosch, she watched the Commander smirk at her with much interest. And the statue? He continue to remain a statue.
Hearing another set of claps, Serah was thrilled! She had never seen her sister move so quickly before! Hopping off the stool, Serah trotted over and gave her sister a pat on the back. Grinning, she headed over to Amodar who was still on his back, chuckling to himself.
"The princess is fired up," Amodar laughed hoarsely.
Looking down at him, Lightning coolly shrugged off his comment. "It's the same as always, Amodar. Nothing's changed."
"You're lying," Propping up in his elbows, Amodar picked up the fire burning in her eyes. The princess was up to something. Using his powers of deduction, it was related to the tournament no doubt. "Are you excited for the tournament?"
"Maybe."
"Princess," A voice rang from her right.
Paying no attention to the Commander, Lightning walked to the wooden table and placed down her sword. Running the tips of her fingers across several wooden and metal swords, she picked up a rapier and pretended to examine its finely crafted blade.
"I never thought an honorary princess such as yourself will be interested in watching bloodshed."
Lightning continued to ignore Jihl's words. This was a game to her: A game of 'How to Eat Lightning's Nerves Under Five Minutes'. Serah looked from Jihl to Lightning then back at the Commander. Serah never knew why Lightning disliked Jihl. Lightning never spoke of the woman but instead, Lightning chose to purposely avoid her. Serah was no dummy; she knew behind closed doors, Jihl enjoyed plotting battle strategies or scheming how to wipe out people she had great distaste for. There used to be rumors of Jihl employing her womanly charms to get what she wanted and when she did, she would accuse and arrest them—men—then tossing them into dungeons to never see the sun again. Of course, they were just rumors but Serah was unable to stop wondering: How many of those rumors had a tinge of truth in them? All she knew, in fact, were those who came in contact with Jihl ended up 'missing'.
Shifting her blue eyes to Rosch, Serah had great respect for the man. He came from an extremely poor family that lived off scraps on the street. Barely enough to eat or clothes to wear, Serah knew he was an honest man. He was poor but he had honor. He never once stole anything; not even a single piece of bread from the town's best bakery. Not once. He worked hard. With two sisters to feed, a baby brother, a sickly mother and an aging father, Rosch was the sole provider for the family. Indeed, he was a lucky boy to be recognized by the General who knew at that very moment, Rosch would turn out to be a fine warrior. Call it, a great addition to the ever expanding Dohnovian Army.
As story goes, Rosch was a young boy hunting rodents for a couple of Gil per day. It wasn't much but it was enough money to buy a single loaf of bread. On some days when he got a little extra, he managed to buy four pounds of meat, a loaf of warm bread and medicine. On other days where the rains slammed against Dohnovan, Rosch continued to work until his hands bled or collapsed from starvation.
Serah didn't know what kind of deeds Rosch had to do or was forced to do to get where he is today but whatever he did, he made it easier for his family. Now living in aristocrat quarters, they were set for life.
"On the day of the tournament, Dohnovan will be invaded by vermin," Jihl pushed off the wall and walked to Amodar who was on his feet. She crossed her hands over her torso and continued, "Vermin from all parts of Pulse. How disgusting. All of them planning on becoming "The Pulse Champion"? Please, don't make me laugh."
"Don't get too cocky, Jihl," Amodar piped up. "The entire city will be flooded by warriors aiming to make the most out of this tournament. Egos and lives will be on the line. And I know for a fact many will try to play dirty just to get to our jewels."
Jihl stopped in front of Amodar and looked him dead in his chocolate colored eyes. "Yes, I know. But perhaps all isn't lost is it? As long as they kill each other, the fewer warriors there will be infesting our beautiful lands. When the tournament hits its climax with the last contestant standing, I'll go in for the kill."
Amodar stiffened at Jihl's sweet but deadly expression. She calculatingly took a couple of steps back and momentarily eyed the princesses, especially at Lightning.
"That is of course, if the Primarch allows me to slit their throats and behead them on the spot." Focused on Lightning, the Commander sang sweetly, "Is that what you wanted to see, Princess Claire? Do you wish to see the head of Dohnovan's greatest vermin roll at the soles of my feet?"
"Not exactly my cup of tea watching a beast slaughter another, but whatever works... works." Lightning replied flatly. "...Especially when that beast is one of the Dysley's dogs. I'm sorry my bad, wrong term: Dysley's bitch."
Placing down the rapier, Lightning excused herself and walked past Jihl. The Commander's expression darkened, biting her lip at the direct insult. Faking a sigh, Jihl again turned to the princess and bowed graciously behind her back.
"Of course, of course. I can't argue with the truth, now can I?"
The streets of Dohnovan buzzed with life with claps and cheers as two men were going at it on the ground. Pinning the man beneath him, the younger man on top delivered a forceful punch to the fallen man's jaw prompting the crowd to erupt in cheers.
"Finish him!" Shouted a man.
"Show him what you're made of!" Hollered another.
One man raised a ripped pouch of Gil above his head, screaming, "He's going to win! I bet on him!"
"Come on! What's takin' so long! Make him pay!"
The young man did just that. Delivering a solid punch to the face, the man on the ground was completely knocked out. Heaving, the younger man removed himself off the fallen and straightened his back. Retrieving his dagger and several pouches of Gil from the ground, the man quickly made a hasty exit after hearing the sound of rattling armor from down the street. Snaking through pedestrians and slipping into a shadow-filled alley, he pulled the pouches of gold close to his beating heart. Noel breathed out of his dried lips hearing the Army's soldiers marching in unison to the site. Hearing a couple of vulgar words and chains scraping against the cobblestone street, Noel's ears picked up the sound of the man cursing at the soldiers. The man was immediately shackled and dragged away like a flea-ridden mutt. The people that once surrounded them with claps and cheers fell eerily silent. One by one, footsteps faded from the scene as people resumed their livelihoods, pretending to turn a blind eye on the man.
The Army. Noel observed the men in silver and black armor march by, heads held high. So this is the Army Caius warned me about. Yet, if they're so menacing, how was it possible we snuck in undetected?
Peeling his eyes to the mouth of the alley, it seemed most of the soldiers had left the area. Carefully tucking away his pouches of gold and dagger, Noel adjusted the hood around his face and exited. Blending straight into the crowd, Noel began to look at his surroundings; the buildings erected in the Stem seemed to be arching over, as if it could crumble at any minute. Laundry lines were webbed across gaps between buildings and women were high above, pinning clothes on it. As he walked, he noticed the sheer amount of beggars on the streets. Many of which were crippled, old women or young children. Looking past all of this, his blue eyes fell onto the large dirt wall in front of him, separating the common filth from the worthy ones. Noel had to wonder: Why couldn't the wealthy give a portion of their wealth to those in need? Wouldn't it make Dohnovan a much better place to live in? Nobody should ever suffer like this. Everybody was entitled to have a house to call home, a loving family to come home to and work, whatever it maybe, to keep them going in life.
Turning a sharp right, Noel was confronted with a large, dodgy looking tavern that seemed ready to collapse at any moment. Noel could smell the alcohol streamlining out its cracked windows, luring him to enter. Before his mind registered what was going on, Noel's feet made its way to the solid oak door. He didn't even need to knock; the door creaked open and welcomed the young hunter. The smell of booze and roast beef filled the air, laced with fast paced music and drunks shifting through the crowd. Making his way to a lone table by the fireplace, Noel wanted to observe the locals' behaviors. Who was a friend, and who was foe.
"Hey, did ya hear about the prize?" Noel turned to his left and eyed a pair of muscular men, each holding goblets stained by red liquor. "Winner gets invited into the Twin Rose castle."
"I hear ya," The other man downed his drink in one shot. "They say the princesses are a thing of beauty. Skin as white as porcelain, eyes as blue as the summer's sky..."
"Aye," The other man responded. "To see the princesses is an honor... They only come out of the castle once a year to greet us poor folks. My daughter looks up to them, she really does. She tells me she wants to see the princesses and one day be like 'em."
"Little Wendy said that?" The man laughed hoarsely and knocked on the table three times for good luck. "So tell me Bryon, are ya plannin' on makin' a fool out of yerself and enter the tournament?"
The man had to stop and think, his eyes fell into the now empty goblet. Noel sensed his hesitation from the man. "Aye. I need the money for Little Wendy's schoolin'. I s'pose for my wife too now she's got another one on the way. I hear we may be gettin' a son!"
The last piece of information was not enough to make his friend convinced Bryon, his long time friend and miner would survive the tournament. "Whatever ya do Bryon, don't get yerself killed."
"...I won't."
Nobody needed to tell Noel this man, Bryon would not make it through the tournament. Noel knew this man was prepared to toss away his life for the things he loved most: His family. Turning to his curled fingers in front of him, Noel wondered, what were his reasons for entering the tournament? To prove he was better than Caius? To prove he was Yeul's Guardian who was capable of impressive feats? Or was he doing it simply for the fact if he won, he would be rewarded with buckets of Gil and gold so his people would no longer starve?
"Oi! Little lady! Pour me another!"
A small petite girl ran from table to table pouring in drinks for men twice her size. Many of the men were buff and gruff and began to take a liking to this tiny girl. Noel was completely absorbed in his thoughts before hearing the sound of a woman's shriek, slicing through the tavern. A large troll had a firm grip on the girl's delicate arm. Noel turned to face where the commotion was coming from, watching the girl's tiny fingers trying to pry off his sausage-like digits. The table next to Noel, the man called Bryon and his friend stormed to the troll.
"Hey you," Bryon reached out and grabbed the man's wrist. "Let the little lady go. We don't want no trouble here,"
Suddenly, hell exploded. A fist out of nowhere was delivered onto Bryon's face. The large red-headed man fell backwards and the troll who had the girl captive threw her over his broad shoulder. It was before anything was registered, a fight erupted. Bryon's friend was already throwing punches and dodging incoming chairs. Bryon was on the floor being stomped or slammed with inanimate objects. Noel, without thinking rushed to their aid. Leaping onto one of the men, Noel wrapped his arms around his neck and head in such away, it constricted blood flow to his brain. Sensing the man going to topple, he let go and targeted another man, wielding a menacing ax. Noel was swift to dodge flying objects or quickly using the environment to his advantage; leaping from one man to another, he jabbed his fingers against each man's pressure points. As a result, many of them turned into jelly and collapsed onto the floor. The man with the girl too, fell face first into the table and crushed the table in half.
Expelling a sigh, Noel quickly headed to the girl. He was about to reach her but she instantly recoiled, hugging her small frame. "Hey, it's alright. I'm not one of them,"
Shielding her eyes behind golden-brown locks, she released a small whisper. "You're not?"
Noel shook his head. "No."
Lifting up her head, Noel was met with bright blue eyes. "T-Thank you."
Noel took a step back and gave the girl space to compose herself. Removing her arms from her torso, she looked left and right at the carnage caused by those trolls. Hearing a groan from behind, the girl went to Bryon who was flat on his back. She walked and kneel, carefully examining the side of his now bruising face.
"Those trolls sure know how to knock a full-grown man," The girl said with a tinge of spite.
"I'm embarrassed," Bryon chortled in pain. "I think this may be the eighth time I've been in a fight, in this very tavern, eh Alyssa?"
Always the wiseguy that he was, Alyssa couldn't help but giggle. Reaching to his defined arms, she slipped her petite body beneath his arm and Noel quickly headed to the man's other arm and did the same. Lifting the six foot or so man to his feet was a task which they managed to accomplish. Plopping Bryon onto a chair, Alyssa excused herself to fetch a bucket of warm water and bandages. Noel stood beside Bryon and his friend, named Hendrick, who just came to.
Noel felt a strong pat on his back. Strong enough, Noel jerked forward. "You've got moves," Hendrick complimented. "I've never seen a lad move so fast."
Shrugging off the compliment, Noel replied, "It's nothing, really."
"Seems to me like ya were trained to fight,"
"A little bit," Noel replied truthfully. "I was taught combat basics, that's all. Nothing special."
Hendrick grinned, exposing his two missing front teeth. "You'll make a fine warrior... Erm..."
"Noel."
"You'll make a fine warrior, Noel!" Patting or rather, smacking Noel sent the young hunter to stumble forward. "Say, are ya going to enter the tournament?"
"Yeah."
Looking deep into Noel's eyes, Hendrick knew why he was here. "Lads like yerself don't enter death tournaments unless they haveta. Got someone special waitin' for ya back home?"
"Yeah, I do." Upon his response, the image of Yeul's smiling face appeared in his mind. He wanted to bring her riches and undoubtedly, happiness. "There's a special girl waiting for me."
Hendrick turned his head to his friend, Bryon who cradled an icepack on the side of his pulsing face. "My fool of a friend here is gonna enter the tournament, ya see. He's doin' it for his family. By the grace of the goddess, I pray for his safety."
"There ya go, tellin' some stranger my life story," Bryon rolled his eyes. "Ow..."
Hendrick turned his gaze back to the young hunter. "And I'll be prayin' for yer safety too, young Noel. Losing yer life isn't worth it when ya have loved ones waitin' for ya to come home."
Noel blinked and returned with a smile. "Thanks. I'll make sure I'll survive for her."
Bryon looked up at the two, especially eying the young hunter with much interest. "Yer girl?"
Noel never knew why, but his cheeks flushed red. The two older men noticed the sudden change in Noel's expression and bellowed with much amusement.
"Ah, young love," Hendrick bellowed in a teasing tone.
"I remember when I fell in love with my wife! Good times back then, good times," Bryon added.
Noel felt like an idiot. With cheeks burning from embarrassment, he lowered his head and pretended to carefully fade into the background. Yeul was not... his girl. Yeul was a special girl to him who needed to be protected. She was the Sand Bandits' jewel, just like Dohnovan's Twin Roses. Everybody loved them but they're not considered as anybody's lovers. Besides, Yeul was just sixteen and he was eighteen... Hence...
"I-I have to go now," Noel sputtered, quickly changing the subject. The last thing he needed was being poked and prodded for more sensitive information about this 'girl'. "It's nice meeting you two,"
"Ha, the boy's embarrassed! Alright we'll let ya go," Hendrick smiled and stuck out his hand to which was warmly received by Noel. "Thanks again for yer help lad. You'll make a fine warrior in the future. May our benevolent goddess protect ya always."
"Thanks."
Tightening the handshake, Hendrick pulled Noel closer to him and lowered to his ear, "Promise me... if ya meet Bryon in the arena... Give the old man an honorable death. I would rather have my best friend die in the hands of a fair fighter like yerself rather than those Pulse scum."
"I..." Could he do it? Could Noel force himself to kill this man named Bryon who he just met today? The man who was a loving husband and father?
"Do ya promise me?"
"I promise." Noel responded firmly. "I will give Bryon an honorable death."
"I thank ya."
Releasing Noel's hand, Hendrick turned to his friend who was being patched up by the tavern girl, Alyssa. Bryon's arms had suffered several cuts and bruises but after a close examination, Bryon was going to be alright. Adjusting the hood on his head, Noel headed to the door. Nodding goodbye to the trio, Noel opened the door and left with world's burden balancing on his shoulders. The burden—perhaps the sin to kill a man—weighed on him greatly. Noel wondered; was he ready to kill people like Bryon who had a family for the sake of the Sand Bandits and ultimately, for the girl he truly loved?
