Weyonna eyed the boy dubiously. The shafts and springs on the contraption that extended from his boots resembled the limbs of four-legged animals that walked on their toes, so she assumed that this item's purpose was to allow him to move faster, but even then, she was skeptical of its practical application. "It is an interesting looking instrument," she admitted, "but I doubt it will provide you with any appreciable level of speed."
"Well, then you have nothing to worry about right?" Tartarus asked smirking.
"And, what will I receive for winning?" Weyonna asked.
"Mmmm…. I… can... probably get you a meeting with Vulcan and Volund."
"You're close to the rider?" Weyonna asked dubiously, her eyes raised as he repeated himself in the ancient language, taking an almost manic gleam. "Lord Volund is a very reserved dragon, he barely spoke to non-dragons or riders during his and Lord Vulcan's training… I always wanted to speak with them. But I don't believe a human could ever control a dragon's choices, especially if not even their rider."
Tartarus noted Weyonna's word choice, she stated "human" and made the comparison of the human even being a rider not being able to control a dragon. The fact she mentioned humans over any other of the races belied her prejudice, no matter how politely she approached or how widely she smiled. Her hidden arrogance made Tartarus like her slightly, arrogance was a trait the strong should have over the weaker. He smiled, contemplating how best to manipulate her. Tone softening, Tartarus put on an innocent smile. "Oh, I don't dare pretend to have the authority to move a being as great as a dragon, my humble life is but a fleck of dust compared to a dragon's years."
Weyonna smiled at his words, "Dragons are truly impressive." Either ignoring Tartarus's self-deprecating words or already accepting them as fact.
"But such a great dragon in all his magnanimity likely has more than enough time to turn his attention to a single speck, and if that speck is trying to introduce an elf of beauty and grace? He'd certainly lend an ear, if only for a little time." Tartarus added then in the ancient language, "Volund-elda has taken the time to speak to me." Then continued outside of it, "So he'd definitely take the time for you."
Weyonna smiled lightly, "alright, and I simply have to win correct?"
"Yes please, I wish to test the capabilities of these shoes, I wouldn't dare believe I'd win, but if I can test its results against that of an elf's, well, that would simply be amazing." Weyonna turned, elves had a love for all the children of each race and animal, new life was always something to be celebrated, and for short-lived races like humans, seeing such infectious excitement was always thrilling, especially when compared to the dull niceties of elf life.
"Well, if you wanted to introduce me to a Rider, there were better ways to ask than placing it on such a silly bet," Weyonna said, looking ahead.
Tartarus hid his smirk, this elf was a little too easy to take advantage of, it was to the point he actually felt a bit sorry for her naivety. Sorry? He thought to himself, Why would I feel pity… it will simply make my life easier. Wrestling with his emotions, he missed the start signal and hesitated slightly as the racers began to surge forward, leaving him behind.
Weyonna was quite quick, of the elves participating, she was the only one who regularly ran within the forest of Du Weldenvarden, exploring nature by cutting off her mind in order to make every experience a surprising one, she had no particular job, and was on the younger end for an elf, and thus, had much more free time than the average elf. As she jogged past the humans and other elves, she reminisced, she had been young when Galbatorix had killed Vrael, only a few years old, and she had been gripped in terror at the time. She feared that with the riders and dragons gone, he would sink his fangs into their forest. That fear slowly turned into anger, as it seemed like he would never leave his fortress home. When the eggs were rescued, she was ecstatic, though, like many of the younger elves, she disliked the fact it would ever pass through human hands. She had remembered arguing with the elders over allowing humans in the Varden to try the egg, and when for years, the egg didn't hatch, she was somewhat happy, thinking this was a punishment for trying to use the very same humans who led to their downfall. She had been horrified to find out that Arya, Faolin, and Glenwing had been ambushed, and Arya captured. When they learned of a new rider, most elves were ecstatic, but elves like her and Vanir were distraught, upset that a human would be chosen. They were of course proven wrong, as Eragon proved to be the reason for Galbatorix's downfall, defeating the king not with power, or knowledge in the Ancient Language, but by a stubborn clinging to empathy, a spell created from the depths of despair. She remembered the first time she had heard the Story from an elder, who had beseeched Eragon to explain the thought process of his spell. She realized that as a long-lived race, a spell like Eragon's was one none of them would have ever thought to have even tried. Weyonna, unlike Vanir, who gained respect for humans based on understanding their tenacity through Eragon, gained respect for humans through their ability to make do with what they had, while still striving for what they knew may have been beyond them. She smiled ruefully.
"That human child seemed awfully excitable, I can understand an obstinate fellow like a dwarf finding his enthusiasm entertaining, and since he's a child, he can get away with it, for now." She giggled, thinking about meeting Vulcan, but especially Volund, she had been unable to gain an audience with them, they, amongst all the rider and dragon pairs, were the most standoffish when it came with dealing with the elves, and at one point stated that if they continued to hound Vulcan with questions about Volund, he would simply retreat from Alagaesia indefinitely. For this reason, several elven scholars, curious about Volund's differences to those of a typical dragon and rider pair and desperate for a chance to one day speak to the dragon, beseeched Arya to place a literal curse of silence on the elven people in order to keep any from bothering Vulcan for a time until his tempers were cooled, Arya had refused but had told her people to calm down, there were other dragons and riders who were perfectly content to have songs sung about them, poems read to them, and compliments showering them. Weyonna though shook her head, remembering the uproar that occurred when it was found that it was Volund who disliked all the attention, as opposed to Vulcan simply exerting his will. This made any memory of interacting with Volund precious to their people. The boy spoke in the ancient language that he knew Vulcan and Volund, and while one could omit some of the truth, his wording implied that they viewed each other in a positive light. "This may be-" her musings were cut off by a metallic creaking sound, it had a bouncy tone to it, short and quick, like the noises people made when imitating the bounce of a hare. She turned, and gawked, watching as the boy she had just met leapt forward, bouncing on his odd contraption. He smiled at her briefly, then returned to looking forward, face contorted in deep concentration.
Tartarus took a few minutes to get the hang of the strength of the spring, but once he got the rhythm going, he was able to optimize his bounce, extending the location he would land as far ahead as possible by leaning back, he'd use the momentum and his weight to shift forward, then, leaning as far forward as possible, at times his nose almost scraped the ground, and bounced forward, lifting his legs as high as he could, which, with his flexibility, was quite high, tucking them first to the sides then moving them in front of him before leaning back to continue the cycle. His head remained hunched and his arms seldom moved, shifting in tandem to maintain his balance. Eventually, he fell, but he got back up, making note of the limits of his balance. He had sailed past most of the human and dwarven runners by that point, surprising them with his contraption, a few of the elves who simply jogged at a leisurely pace also watched him, surprised. Tartarus continued leaping forward, aided by the springs and resembling a kangaroo, every once in a while, he'd need to use his hands when he over-corrected his landing, but for the most part, he was able to continue forward at a decent pace. "This is… about 15 miles per hour." It was a decent pace, but he didn't believe he'd catch up. "Oh well, it's still impressive, and it's certainly garnering attention." But it seemed that his challenge didn't take the race as seriously, as she had only been jogging at a relatively normal pace after securing a lead for herself. This caused Tartarus to smile as he crouched into his landing, putting all the effort he could into leaping forward at a quicker pace. As he passed by her, he took note of her shock, smiling briefly before returning to his task.
Weyonna for her part began to slow in surprise. The boy was quite fast on the contraption, by no means comparable to a horse, but still faster than any human boy his age could be. She felt a competitive spirit flare-up within her, and began to pick up the pace, overtaking the passing the boy.
Tartarus, after getting into the groove of his movements, felt an exhilarating rush of emotions and energy, he felt like he was flying whenever he leapt off from the ground, and then the rush of his body to the earth caused his heart to pound, but if someone were to see his face, they'd see an extremely angry looking boy. Why… why am I excited? This feels like, pride? But… there's no reason for that." He shook his head, then flinched as Weyonna zoomed past him. See… that speed, aided by no tools, I lost my magic… through my own… foolish- what? He growled, I see… that's where Donovan went… his eyes began to glow red. As they did, his movements began to speed up, he leaned forward until his nose barely scraped the ground, then crouched and leapt out, rocketing forward at a greater pace than he had before, as he did, mid-air, he began to twist and prod the tools at his shins and feet, increasing the cords and springs' tension, this would give him only milliseconds to shift his position before he would leap forward, but he felt that if he didn't do this, he would lose, and at this moment, losses were unacceptable. He sprung forward, the wind whipping at his hair and stinging his eyes, every time he crouched then extended his legs, his muscles and bones would creak in protest, but he ignored that. Tartarus was a Shade, the pain was simply a part of mortal existence, and he enjoyed it thoroughly, relished it. Soon, his speed surpassed that of an average horse's gallop, and he overtook Weyonna, who simply laughed before shifting into a full sprint, springing forward with the grace of a gazelle and destroying parts of the earth beneath her with the speed of her sprint. Tartarus watched her for a few seconds, then began attempting to mimic her. When he lept into the air, instead of landing with both legs, he chose to land with only one, he felt a sharp pain in his left leg, but did not collapse, shifting his weight forward with the single leg, he leapt forward, landing on the right, then doing the same, his movement now resembling an ostrich instead of a kangaroo. He didn't care about determining his speed, only that now he was faster than the elf again, but only barely. A sharp pain filled his legs, like a long spear of ice and fire stabbed into his soles, going up his feet and twisting and rattlin its way into his kneecaps, and his vision burred, it was different from the pain of being stabbed, or punched, or attacked mentally, it was physical and internal, yet he did not stop, before he could slow down, his other leg would land, using the momentum to push himself forward, keeping his general speed at it's fastest. Weyonna could only watch in awe as he slowly pushed past her, racing to the finish line…
"Well, you seem to not be enjoying yourself."
Seya rolled her eyes, she was clothed in a simple brown dress, with her hair in a ponytail, slung to her side was a waterskin, and underneath her skirt, a dagger was strapped to her leg. She dearly wished to take it out and stab it into her companion. But unfortunately for her, he had chosen mostly public locations near guards, while she could handle them and make an easy escape, it would look bad on her friends and father, so she refrained from taking any real action. "I'd rather be doing anything else than spending time with a bastard like you, but a wager is a wager, so I'm honoring it, you only have a few minutes left on this… date... anyways, so I don't need to pretend to have enjoyed any second of it."
Donovan frowned, face crinkling in mock sadness, "Aww, I thought my skills would have wooed you by now."
"Shut up, you have the charm of a sick bull and features of a starved dog."
"Now…" Donovan laughed, "That was a lie." He cut a striking figure and was quite muscular, mixed with his height and exotic features, many women, young and old, looked his way, but to Seya, his features weren't enough to sway her.
"Whether it is or is not, you're foolish to think you can even attempt to shake my heart. Do you think I'm a dog to woo with sweet words of affection and a few treats? Especially after tricking me and my friends?"
"Of course not, I'm just truly interested in you, Seya," Donovan said, looking at her seriously. "You're quite unique, and I felt a treasure like you would compliment the great me in more ways than one."
Seya scoffed, "I have no value politically or socially, my father is no longer a member of the council, and really, the great you? I've never heard of you before, where were you in our school? Hmm? If you are truly so great, do you expect me to believe you are some savant in magic or swordplay? Especially since 'this great you,' lost to my speed."
"Didn't you just say I tricked you? What makes you certain I tried my best? I will prove myself as the greatest mage. Human, elf, dwarf, urgal, rider, shade? They'll all be nothing to me; if you can't see my greatness, however, fine, I'm a kind man, your friends may be more discerning, she's not my taste, but the redhead has greater magical capacity than you do, and her naivety seems delicious." He blocked Seya's punch, eyes changing to an electrical blue as he stared her down.
Seya's eyes began to gleam gold, but then, they stopped glowing, and she burst out laughing. "You're a clown. That was," She fell to the floor, laughing and making a scene.
"What?" Donovan's face twisted into a frown. "What about me is funny?" He glanced around, self-conscious at the negative attention being sent his way. His face darkened, "And what is so funny woman?!"
"That… th-that y-you'd think Venka would even look your way ahahahaahahaha!" She rolled around for a bit, ignoring the onlookers before getting up, wiping a few tears from her eyes, "She only has eyes for one person, and I can tell you quite simply that it would be impossible to meet her expectations if you even attempted to gain her confidence."
"What… you mean Faris Ser? I've heard of him, I've seen the recordings of his duels, he's mediocre at best, barely won against ten weakling mages, I would have crushed them in seconds." He grinned, "In fact, I'll prove it to you, though, unfortunately, he doesn't even have the ability to stand with me, the fact he's not here, in these games, means that he's simply useless, where was he in the student races? In fact, what would he even do, he lost his magic, right?" He smirked, pointing a finger at Seya, "You think he's exceptional? I'll prove to you just how deluded you all are." They turned at the sound of loud excited cheering, staring in confusion. Donovan had dragged Seya over to the racing venue to watch the non-students race for the last bit of their date, doing so mostly to get on Seya's nerves due to her frigid treatment of him during their date, he watched in confusion and surprise as zooming through the finish line at a horse-like pace was a human boy, feet strapped to metallic springs and bars. Quickly behind him was a beautiful and tall elf woman, and the crowd had been cheering both of them, chanting their names. Donovan had been aware of Weyonna, the beautiful elf woman who had made a great showing five years ago in the races and was popular amongst the men, and he found her pretty, if only too old and prideful for him when he attempted to speak to her. But the boy around his age if only a bit younger, Faris? He narrowed his eyes, Faris had by then skidded to a stop, almost stumbling and falling, his legs under the contraption would have looked purple and discolored, his face was covered in sweat, and he looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright, shining fiercely as he looked around. Weyonna walked over to him, extending her hand, to which he shook, which caused the crowds to cheer even more.
While the great games advertised togetherness, humans often did the worst in various challenges, and also won the least number of competitions. Due to the physical abilities of kulls and elves, humans and dwarves were allowed handicaps of some sort during the race to try and even the odds, but no contraption had seemed to work, and horses and any other mount were considered as fraudulent aid for the race. The majority of citizens who had taken the time to watch Faris reach the starting area had at first laughed at his clumsy movements, but now, all laughter was replaced by stunned silence or excited cheering. As opposed to the supernatural element of Seya's victory, which was between mage and non-mage students. Faris was a human winning against a non-human with what seemed to be a tool invented by humans, this resonated with many crowd members who remembered the oppressive power of the elves years back, easing their hearts and causing them to cheer out excitedly. Tartarus looked around, while his senses were not as keen as they once were as a shade, the influence of Faris's body was apparent, the body could hear, see, smell, touch, and taste better than the average human, so he could catch snippets of conversation.
"Wow! A kid, from our country, beating an elf? That's amazing, he broke those records, what are those shoes, they look so odd and strange, yet he could leap like a stag!"
"That's amazing, the other races can't look down on humans as much as they used to, especially if a kid beat their best, hahaha!"
"I wonder how that contraption was made, what if I had that… I'd be able to go to work in seconds, wouldn't I? And it'd make me taller, Irene might finally let me approach her…"
Despite himself, Tartarus began feeling good, his legs hurt badly, and he'd probably need a healer, and he was feeling light-headed, but he was the winner, there was a refreshing feeling overtaking him. He scanned the crowd, eyes raising slightly when he noticed Seya, peering over one of the railings and cheering, he allowed a smirk to come to his face. I'll surpass your physical strength when my magic returns, and you all will simply be memories of fleeting sentimentality. His eyes drifted from her, turning to see a young man, he could have been anywhere from 13-18, he had an extremely handsome, youthful face but he was tall and muscular, though the most striking feature was his dark skin. A full Surdan... The way the Surdan looked at Tartarus made him smirk, the bastard doesn't like me… On a whim, he raised his fist towards the Surdan and stuck out his middle finger, flipping him off. The Surdan's eyes widened and his look of annoyance changed into seething anger, he said some words quickly, turning to Seya, who looked like she was laughing at him, then turned to walk away in a huff. Tartarus's smirk dropped as he watched the boy leave. "Did he recognize the gesture?"
He had little time to think as he was assailed by several people, who began to bombard him with questions while jotting down notes quickly on paper. He raised his eyebrow.
Oh, yes… newspaper. He vaguely remembered a news printing group that aided Rembrant in his embezzlement and corruption, apparently, there were different groups owned by different entities that operated via a mix of government and private funding. Smiling he turned to the nearest reporter, or, well, looked up at them, despite the spring-loaded stilt-boots providing extra height, when he didn't move, the bouncing naturally slowed and they slightly compressed to handle his weight, once he began moving he would begin to shake until he could get into a good bouncing rhythm, so at the moment he stood as still as possible. His still figure and bright eyes cut a huge contrast to the sweat on his brow and body, giving off the impression of a fierce warrior rather than a child. The reporter gulped before speaking.
"Excuse me… I believe you are Faris Ser?"
"That is correct."
"Ah! Then, the rumors, you had lost your magic after being kidnapped, and now you are a member of the Knight Brigade, which is squarely in the Anti-mage faction, is that true?"
"I did lose my magic, and I am part of the Knight Brigade and an Apprentice Knight, but as for being in the Anti-mage faction, I don't necessarily think that would make much sense."
"Ahaha, do you mean to say you hate the anti-mage faction?"
"I am neutral, I have had enemies in both the mage and anti-mage faction, if the movements of one man turned me against an entire group, I couldn't face myself as a person."
The reporters jotted down his words furiously, but a few were also enraptured, he spoke with a level of maturity and poise they only saw with the well educated, either via wealth or nobility. "So you are at the moment, neutral?" Tartarus nodded in response to the question.
"Excuse me! Faris?" Another reporter chimed in, "Who are your parents? Are you nobility by any chance, the group you were in last year before your loss of magic, many of their members were nobles correct? Were you betrothed to any of them? Did you lose your engagement because of your loss of magic?"
Tartarus snorted, covering his mouth, the springs barely quivered under the shifting weight. "I apologize, I'm tired, and I've had a long run."
"Ah! Wait!" Another reporter chimed in. "These boots! What are they! Who made them?!"
"I call them spring-loaded jumping-stilts, but that's too complicated, so simply call them jumpers, and I made them, forged the metals, folded the steel, arranged all the bits, even tanned the leather for the boots."
"What?!" The reporters were in an uproar, the clamor rising as they shouted over each other to ask Faris more questions, but Tartarus, simply smiling, shifting up and down until he began to bounce again. He rose in the air and landed, his SJ bending, the combinations of multiple springs, bars, and cords straining and collecting all that energy before snapping into place, extending out and helping him leap upwards and out of the reporter's circle, after a few bounces, he loosened the straps, lowering the tension until finally, the boots stopped bouncing, they retracted under his weight, and he strapped the bars back around his boots. He walked to the victor's circle, grabbed the waiting medal, then simply walked out of the racing venue… towards the nearest Protectors of Life mage.
"Hey…" He pointed at them, then at his legs, removing the boots revealed a horrific level of discoloration, causing the mage used to healing severe injuries to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "These are broken…"