Chapter 11: Seven Weeks Later

It was cold when Sarah awoke. The birds were starting their first songs as the sun began warming the land. The night fog was barely a remnant now, the dew on blades of grass and leaves of trees a lingering shadow of its presence. She looked around her meager room, the faint morning light illuminating the space with an ethereal glow. Facing her bed from beside the door was a dusty wardrobe holding what few clothes she still owned. To her left was an old desk underneath a newly repaired window, medicine books spread across it with more stacked against the sill. Though her texts were accumulating dust, Sarah saw it as no excuse to allow her knowledge to do the same. She could see the darkness of night being pushed back through her window. To her right was nothing but empty wall. She felt the morning chill seeping through her blankets, the moth-eaten fabric barely able to keep her warm. She shivered and rolled over to go back to sleep, not yet wanting to leave the world of dreams for the harshness of reality.

Thump…thump…thump…thump…

Sarah sat upright, dreams forgotten as she strained her ears for the noise. They were quiet, but she heard the definite sounds of footsteps from the ground floor. No one was supposed to be up this early. She fought to quiet her shuddering breath, afraid the slightest noise would alert the intruder to her presence. The footsteps were making their way up the stairs now, getting louder with each step. She pulled the blanket over her head and remained perfectly still, her pulse pounding in her ears. The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and stopped.

Then she heard a door open. A door with a distinctly squeaky hinge. Jenni's door.

Sarah burst from her bed, her fear forgotten as protective instinct took over. She grabbed the heaviest book she had from her desk and raced to her door, no longer caring if the intruder heard her or not. She yanked it open and burst into the hall, running down the stairs to the second floor.

There, at the end of the hall, was Jenni's door. It was ajar.

She scampered down the hall and skidded to a halt just before the door. She hoisted the book by her head, ready to throw it at the intruder. She had no plan for what happened after that. She just knew she had to get them away from Jenni. Cautiously she peeked around the doorframe.

The traveler was lowering Jenni into her bed. The little girl was sound asleep with her ragged teddy bear clutched tight in her arms, wrapped up in the traveler's cloak. It gently lay Jenni down on the mattress and tucked the gray cloak around her. Instinctively the little girl grabbed a handful of the cloth and pulled it close. The traveler now stood dressed in its usual clothes, but that morning it wore a black long-sleeved shirt under its brown tunic. The shirt was a size too large for it based on how the sleeves billowed around its arms. Its hands were wrapped in white bandages that disappeared under its sleeves. The bokken was stuck through its belt, the black wood clean and unblemished. A pair of small leather bags were attached to the traveler's belt.

As usual the shemagh and black goggles covered its head and face completely. It had been seven weeks since the traveler came to live with them, and Sarah still had not seen its face. Even at dinner the traveler would pull the hood of its cloak low, obscuring all but its chin as it ate. The shadows over its face seemed immune to candlelight, as though they devoured any illumination.

"Hood?" whispered Sarah, lowering her book down.

The masked traveler turned to face her. She felt a slight panic well up in her chest as she stared into the blackness of the goggles, the shemagh's design over the traveler's mouth reminding her of a sharp-toothed skull.

"Just putting Jenni to bed." The traveler noticed the book in her hand. "Doing some early morning reading?"

Sarah put the book down by the door, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry. I thought you were an intruder." She walked over to join the traveler. Jenni mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over, pulling the cloak tight around her.

Sarah had never seen Jenni warm up to someone like she did to the traveler. The two had become near inseparable. She was never far from its side when it was around. Which, in the last seven weeks, was usually limited to the daylight hours. Their guest rarely slept in the house, disappearing into the woods after finishing its shift at the Mermaid's Trove. When it returned in the morning it was often dirty, exhausted, and sometimes had blood on its clothes. But after a few hours of sleep the traveler would be fresh as if it had a full night's rest, and all too willing to entertain Jenni. She would follow it around the house with her blanket tied around her neck and a stick in hand for a sword. She would always be on hand when the traveler worked on the house, handing it whatever tools and nails it needed–even if that happened to be while it hung upside down from a third story window.

In turn the traveler would make Jenni laugh with its antics when it missed with the hammer or dropped a board on its foot, sometimes on purpose and other times genuinely on accident. It always made space for her to sit by it at the dinner table. During stories Jenni was the first one to sit down and the last one asleep, her brown eyes positively sparkling as she became enraptured by the tales. A couple afternoons Sarah found the two of them napping under the oak tree, the little girl sound asleep against her snoozing friend. Sometimes she would come down in the morning to find the traveler asleep in one of the armchairs with Jenni snoozing in its lap. She had trouble saying its name right, so she called the traveler "Hero" instead, believing their strange guest to be a brave warrior from a faraway land. The traveler just laughed and played along. It would refer to her as "Princess Jenni," playing the role of her valiant knight sworn to protect her. Together with the other children they had marvelous adventures in the Emerald Woods, fighting bands of invisible goblins and defeating evil sorcerers. Even with its shemagh on Sarah could tell that the traveler smiled when it was around them.

"You know what she wants to be when she grows up?" asked Sarah.

"Probably a princess," said the traveler.

"She used to. Before that it was a unicorn, and before that…well, now she wants to be like you. She wants to be a 'hero,' whatever that might be."

The traveler chuckled, shaking its head. There was amusement in its voice, but also sadness. "I'll take that as a compliment. But being me isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm no hero. And my road here was hardly a heroic one."

It reached out and gently stroked Jenni's head. The girl gave a sleepy moan and nuzzled against the touch before going still once again.

"See you later, princess," said the traveler softly. Then it abruptly walked to the door, its footsteps barely making a scuffle.

"You're still going to fight?" asked Sarah, her voice a whisper.

A tension descended over the room. The traveler stopped in the doorway, one hand clutching the wooden frame. It had been hoping to avoid this. "Yeah. The last preliminary is this morning. After that it's the tournament at noon."

"Please…" Sarah turned and put a hand on the traveler's shoulder. "Don't go."

"I'm not backing out now." The traveler walked out of her grasp, setting off down the stairs.

Sarah chased after it. "Please don't! I know you're thinking of us, but it's not worth it!"

"Not your call."

"Just go to the festival with us and forget about the prize money! I won't think any less of you for it! None of us will! We'll find another way, but that gold's not worth you getting hurt!"

"I'll be fine," said the traveler as it turned the second flight of steps. "I've gone up against worse than this tournament if my stories were any indication. I pass this trial and I'm into the Champion's Round. It'd be a waste to back out now."

"I'm not saying you aren't qualified," said Sarah as she followed around the turn. "But the men in there aren't normal! Especially with the new rules the king set this year! I've heard the rumors going around the tavern! Some of those men are…well, they're monsters!"

The traveler missed a step, stumbling awkwardly to the next one. "I've fought monsters, and they are not monsters," it said as it cleared the last step. It marched smartly across the floor to where its knives hung above the door, well out of the children's reach. "I'll go out, win, get the prize money, and come back."

"You'll die out there!"

"Die? I think that's a bit dramatic."

"But Richard's in the Champion's Round!"

The traveler stopped mid-reach for its knives. "Run that by me again?"

"Richard Avitas is in the Champion's Round," repeated Sarah, her concern showing through her voice.

"Richard? In the Champion's Round?" asked the traveler. Sarah nodded. "How? I haven't seen him at any of the preliminaries…come to think of it, I haven't seen him at the festival period. How can he qualify for the Champion's Round?"

"Didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"The winner of the previous tournament gets to compete in the Champion's Round of the next one without passing the preliminaries! And Richard has won the last three!" Sarah took a deep breath, her sleepy mind choosing her next words carefully. "Every person that's crossed swords with Richard in that arena has lost, and some have lost more than just the match. I've seen him fight. He put five men in the hospital during the last tournament, and two of them can't hold a sword anymore. He fights like…like a demon! No one has even come close to defeating him!"

"Then I'll just have to end hiswinning streak, won't I?" said the traveler. It took down its knives and secured them to its belt. Sarah marched around to face the traveler directly, staring straight into its black goggles.

"This isn't a game, Hood!" she exclaimed, trying her best to keep her voice down lest she wake the children. "Everyone in Seahaven knows about what you did to him! We've all been working to keep him off your trail because we like him about as much as you do! But it's only made him hate you even more! He doesn't want to hurt you! He wants to kill you!"

"He wouldn't be the first," said the traveler nonchalantly as it drew its bokken, looking the wood over. "Hopefully he's the last."

Sarah groaned exasperatedly, resisting the urge to reach out and throttle the traveler for its stubbornness. "Are you even listening to me!? If you go out there–!"

"I could get hurt, I know!" barked the traveler. Sarah stepped back, alarmed by the tinge of anger in its voice as it stuck its bokken back through its belt. "Unlike you I've been in fights before, and more than I'd like! Don't tell me what the risks are! I know I could get hurt, or crippled, or my guts spilled! So what? I'm supposed to give up after coming this far? Just stay here so I can listen to the kids shivering at night because there aren't enough blankets to go around? Just keep fixing this house as fast as it breaks? Or listen to you and Isaac fight over buying his medicine, food, or pay off Richard because you've only got enough for one, even with the extra coins I bring in? Then help you when he starts hacking up a lung? Because that's what I'm listening to, Sarah! That's what I've listened to for seven weeks!"

"And I'm begging you to listen to me!" said Sarah. "It's not worth risking your life! We'll find another way!"

"How? We work day and night until one of us drops dead? You take Richard up on his offer?"

Instead of snapping back like the traveler thought she would, Sarah went quiet. The fight left her eyes as they lowered to the floor, arms folding to hold herself as she sucked in her lower lip.

The traveler's heart missed a beat. "Don't tell me you…!"

Sarah turned away from the traveler. It darted around to face her. "Sarah, you can't be serious! Please tell me you're not actually considering–!"

"Dad's health is getting worse," interrupted Sarah meekly. "I'm doing my best, but it's not enough. What he's got…if he doesn't get treatment soon it'll be too late to reverse the damage. Another month or two and he'll be completely bedridden."

"You can't say yes! Isaac would tell you the same thing! Richard doesn't want a wife! He wants a toy! Do you have any idea what he'll do to you!?"

"I know!" exclaimed Sarah, causing the traveler to flinch back. There were tears forming in her eyes, not of anger but frustrated desperation. "I'm not dumb, Hood! I've known Richard a lot longer than you! I know what it'll mean for me! But if it means the kids and my father are better off then–!"

The traveler grabbed Sarah's shoulders, giving her a firm shake. "Don't! Don't you dare give into him! If you give in, he'll never stop!"

"What other choice do we have!?"

"Fight back! Stand up to him!"

"How!?"

The traveler released her and went to the wall behind the wood stove. It grabbed a loose board, working its fingers into the crack before pulling hard. The board pulled away, giving the traveler enough room to reach inside.

"What are you doing?" asked Sarah.

"Giving you a sword." The traveler pulled out a thick stack of papers. The sheets were yellowed with age and a thin layer of dust was on them. The writing was scribbled in various forms, as though compiled from many people. The traveler returned to Sarah, handing the papers to her. "Read it."

Sarah scanned over the first page. Then she flipped to the next one. And the next one. And then the next one. Her disbelief grew with each page as she flipped through them, unable to believe what she was reading. "Hood, are these…?"

"Statements," said the traveler. "From nine of Richard's victims. I had to pay them a little to get them to open up, but it's all there. The last page is for you to fill in. I've got the rest hidden elsewhere."

Sarah looked up from reading. "The rest?"

"I've got more of these hidden around town. I collected statements from as many people as I could. We're talking way more than a handful, and a lot worse than some shady loans and blackmail. You could make a scumbag encyclopedia with what I've dug up on him!"

Sarah flipped through the pages, feeling the edges pass over her thumb. "But how is this going to help us?"

"Because they're going to the king."

Sarah's eyes widened. "What!?"

"The trove's taking care of it," said the traveler. "John, the girls, and some of the regulars I mean. They're taking them to the palace right now. Whether I win or lose, Richard's gonna fall."

"But…he's a nobleman! How is this going to stop him?"

"There are dozens of those! If your king's as good a man as you all say he is, do you really think he can turn a blind eye when he's got this many accusations sitting on his desk?"

"And if he does?"

The traveler's hand rested on its bokken. "Then maybe the queen won't. Either way, Richard's not walking out of that arena a free man. Not after what he's done."

A beam of sunlight streaked in the kitchen windows, illuminating the dust hanging in the air.

"I better get going," said the traveler, giving Sarah's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as it passed. "They're gonna start the archery soon. Might as well give it a shot. Literally."

"Tell me why."

The traveler stopped, turning back to Sarah. "Huh?"

"Why are you doing this for us?" Sarah turned to face the traveler, her face as conflicted as the emotions roiling inside her. "You appeared out of nowhere and made an enemy of the most dangerous man in Seahaven for a total stranger. You got a job at a tavern so you could give all your wages to orphans and spent your free hours fixing their home or off getting people to confess against Richard. Now you're risking your life to settle a debt that isn't even yours! And all this time you haven't asked for a single thing!"

The traveler stared at Sarah, peering into her brown eyes from behind its black goggles. Sarah looked slightly afraid. Perhaps that the traveler had taken things this far? Or that it was about to take them further still?

"Why?" Sarah asked, her voice starting to shake. "Why are you willing to do so much for us?"

The traveler approached her. "You remember what I told your dad? The day we met?"

Sarah nodded, wiping a tear that was threatening to fall. "Not doing what's right when you can is worse than doing nothing at all. You said your father taught you that."

"He also said the only thing worse than doing nothing is having to looking back and knowing you could'vedone something," said the traveler. "Maybe you can't do anything against Richard, but I can. If you can't believe in anything else, at least believe in me. Believe me when I say I am gonna do everything I can to make sure Richard never torments you or anyone else ever again. I swear it."

The sound of the morning bells carried in the morning air, reaching into the orphanage with each peal. The two stood in silence, letting the six peals come and go without a word between them.

Sarah looked at the traveler, then the papers, and then back at the traveler. "I…I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. But if you really want to repay me, then all of you come cheer me on. And smile. That's all the reward I'll need." The traveler affectionately brushed a strand of hair out of Sarah's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Keep your chin up. Things will get better. I promise."

Sarah looked back to the papers in her hand. Her mind was barely able to grasp just what she was holding. She recognized some of the names in them. These people were terrified of Richard, and for good reason. For the traveler to get them to willingly speak against him was extraordinary. For the first time in what felt like forever, the possibility of her family returning to their former life seemed closer than she ever thought possible. She could return to her dream of being a doctor. Her father could get the care he needed and go back to the sea. The orphans could have a proper home again.

All because of this enigmatic stranger's extraordinary generosity, bravery, and kindness.

"Hood, wait!" Sarah said.

The traveler stopped with its hand on the door, turning back to her. Sarah walked up to it, her eyes never breaking away from its goggles. She rose up and gave it a quick peck on the cloth-covered cheek.

"For luck," she said quietly, allowing herself a small hopeful smile.

The traveler gave a thankful nod. Then it was out the door and trotting off towards the town. Sarah remained in the doorway, watching as the traveler turned onto the road and set off towards the red roofs of Seahaven. The morning rays of light painted the road, illuminating the traveler like a saint in a cathedral.

Sarah clutched the papers tight to her chest. She let the tears come freely now, each one filled with more hope than she knew she still had. For the first time in years she honestly believed things were going to be okay.

"You've done so much for us," she whispered to herself. "And all you ask for in return is our smiles. Bless you, Hood. Bless you."

She closed the door, heading up to her room to put that blank page and several more to use.


The sun hung high in the bright blue sky, the dawn's chill barely a memory. Flocks of pigeons and gulls alighted on rooftops to survey the activity below, ever watchful for a dropped crumb they could set upon. The streets of Seahaven were packed to the brim. The plaza was jammed with people moving between the stalls and tents, each selling its own unique commodity. There were spice traders surrounded by pots holding various colored powders, tailors with the latest fashions on display, and peddlers selling everything from jewelry and books to swords and armor. People danced to lively songs near the street leading to the Mermaid's Trove. Blue and white ribbons hung between the streetlamps and buildings, the fabrics swaying gently in the breeze. The sounds of the festival were a buzz more energetic than any beehive could hope to match.

The energy was interrupted as the royal carriage rolled into the plaza on its way to the tournament arena. Mounted guards surrounded the carriage, the forward men working to clear a path through the parting crowds. The white carriage was beautifully crafted with gold botanical inlays and perfectly fitted glass windows. Grimsby sat at the reigns, skillfully steering a pair of white geldings through the adoring throngs. The townspeople waved to the passengers inside while others threw flowers or confetti, delighted to see their benevolent leaders after so many weeks.

Melody sat across from her parents, recessed into a corner of the carriage's interior. She wore a fancier version of her yellow sundress, the skirt embroidered with designs of flowers, leaves, and suns. A simple golden tiara adorned her head. Eric was dressed in his white military uniform, while Ariel wore her pink ball gown and a golden tiara with a single emerald. She was a bit tired as a result of getting her sister's families settled in, but still as vibrant as ever. A single green jade ring hung from a silver chain around her neck. A small bulge in Eric's chest pocket gave away the location of his own ring.

Accompanying the royal family in their carriage was Princess Aquata. As the most athletic of the seven mersisters, Aquata adapted to her new legs faster than the rest. She was far from mastering her new limbs, but her skills were sufficient enough she could walk with minimal aid. She was dressed in a sky-blue gown, her brunette hair done up in a bun and held in place with two silver pins. A simple silver tiara adorned her head, and a mahogany cane with a silver handle lay next to her. She smiled broadly as she waved to the crowds, large brown eyes enraptured by the sights and sounds before her.

Melody stared out the window at the waving crowd, smiling as she returned their waves. Though she appeared bright and happy, it was all a façade. Her smile was forced, as false as an aristocat's–I mean aristocrat's wig. She did not share in the enthusiasm of the masses. If anything, she envied them for their freedom.

Seven weeks in the castle had felt like seven years. No Tip and Dash. No human or merfolk friends. No ocean. No Atlantica. The world had shrunk to the confines of the palace. She scoffed at the thought. It had been more like an elaborately furnished prison than a palace.

She caught her reflection in the window's glass. The dark circles were gone from her face and her hair had recovered its healthy sheen. She had regained her health along with her appetite. But her eyes were dull and blank, as empty as two caves. She was not being crushed under the weight of her grief anymore, though it still pressed upon her. Now she felt a persistent numbness, robbing her of enthusiasm and her sense of hope and adventure. She should have been ecstatic to leave the palace after so long. She only felt indifference. She no longer cried endlessly or hid in her room, but neither did she laugh, or smile, or sing either. She drifted through life like the wreckage of a ship, letting the waves carry her wherever. In this case, to the tournament and her newest cage.

Her future bodyguard.

The carriage suddenly stopped, jolting everyone inside. Melody immediately feared the worst, pulse rising and senses prickling. Her hands clenched unconsciously as she sat straighter.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Aquata.

"I don't know," said Eric. He knocked sharply on the roof. "What's going on, Grims?"

"Traffic jam, your majesties," replied the advisor, voice muffled by the carriage and cheering. "The crowd is quite dense ahead. The guards are clearing a path now, but I'm afraid we'll be delayed for a few minutes."

"That's all right," reassured Eric. "We're in no rush. Remind the guards to be polite about it."

"Of course, sire."

Aquata leaned out the window, pointing excitedly. "Oh my gosh! Ariel, what is that!?"

Ariel looked out the window and almost laughed when she saw the object of Aquata's fervent interest. "Those are cows, Aquata! They're what makes our butter and milk."

"Cows…" Aquata said breathlessly, watching the large bovine chew a mouthful of hay. It looked back at her, swatting a fly with its tail. "It's so cute! How does it make butter? I don't see any hands!"

Now Ariel did laugh. "The cow doesn't literally make butter! It makes milk, and humans make the butter from that."

Melody settled back into her seat, her pounding heart quieting as Aquata peppered her little sister with more questions. Melody looked out the window again. They were parked in front of a whitewashed building with a brown shingle roof. A wooden sign reading "The Mermaid's Trove" hung over the oak door. Tables and chairs were set outside with people taking advantage of the warm weather to enjoy their food and drink. She could hear laughter and gossip as the patrons talked about whatever subject they pleased.

"And I'm telling you, John, it's not going to happen!"

The particularly loud and gruff male voice caught Melody's ear and she tuned into it.

"Don't get me wrong, though! I want to see Avitas get what's coming to him much as anyone," continued the man. "But no one's beaten him for three tournaments, and I doubt it'll happen for twice as long!"

"An' I'm tellin' ye that Richard doesn' stand a chance, Jim!" said a man with a heavy accent. "That slimeball can take any ord'nary man, but there be nothin' normal about Hood! Ain' that right, Walt?"

The mentioning of Lord Richard Avitas succeeded in grabbing Melody's attention in full. She met the man a few times at royal balls and when he visited council meetings. He was the picture of a cultured lord, always courteous and composed while very knowledgeable and clever. He was well liked by most everyone in the royal court. The few exceptions were Ariel and several others, though she never understood why. Nor did she understand why anyone would wish ill on him. At least, she assumed it was ill will. As much as she disliked having a bodyguard, having Richard become her guardian would not be the end of the world. At least he would be a gentleman about it.

Melody leaned forward to see if she could spot the men, but they were out of sight. Probably at one of the tables they passed next to the road.

"I'm with John on this one," said a voice presumably belonging to Walt. "I saw Hood run the obstacle course. He practically flew through it! Set a new record, and I don't think that one will ever be beaten! Not unless someone else learns to jump that high! And did you see his boxing match, John?"

"Aye, that I did," said John. "Took down a man twice his size wi' one hit! Sorta back'anded him in th' jaw! Must've hit like a horse 'cause he went down like a dropped anchor!"

"Same story at his fencing match," chimed in a third man. "You should've seen it! The bloke he went up against had a proper dueling sword and everything. He looked confused as a lost pup when Hood came in with that stick stuck through his belt. He wanted Hood to draw his weapon, but he insisted on leaving it. So they get the signal and wham! Hood draws faster than you can blink! Breaks the man's sword in two and then sweeps his legs out from under him! Didn't take more than five seconds! I'd like to see Richard top that!"

"So he qualified for four events," said Jim dismissively. "Doesn't mean he can beat Richard! Not that I'd scorn him for doing it, mind you."

"He did it!"

A young man blew past the carriage window before Melody could get a look at his face. "You're not…going to…believe this!" she heard him pant. "He beat...the record! He beat it...by double! He...he...!"

"Easy, lad!" said Walt. Melody heard a chair being pulled across the stones, followed by the young man dropping himself into it. "Now stop sputtering like a fish and tell us what happened! Who beat what record?"

"The masked man! The one everyone's talking about!"

"Hood?"

"That's him! He beat the archery record!" The young man stopped to catch his breath. "You know what that means? He qualified for all five events! He's in the Champion's Round!"

"Well c'mon lad!" said John. "Give us th' details! Ye can't leave a story like that one hangin' on us!"

The young man worked to get his breathing under control before he spoke again. "I was at the archery matches. Everyone was watching this man calling himself Robin the Second take his shots. Well, with the new rules it's a hundred yards to the target instead of fifty, but he puts his arrows in a nice group inside the center target. Highest score easily. Then this masked guy walked up and asked to shoot. Just called himself Hood. Had a weird green cloth and black glasses on his face and a stick in his belt. I couldn't see so much as a hair on his head. Real shifty looking fellow if I've ever seen one."

"We know what he looks like!" said Jim impatiently. "Get on with it!"

"Er…right. Anyway, he got his bow and arrows and started looking them over real careful-like. Rolled the arrows between his fingers, gave them a little bend, balanced the bow on one finger. Then he turned and ran away! Just did an about-face and scampered off in the opposite direction of the targets with the stuff!"

"So what happened next?" asked Jim.

Melody subconsciously urged the man to finish his story before the carriage moved, as caught up in the account as the rest of the group.

"Well, the range-master went after him hollering for his stuff back, but Hood ignored him and kept running. He got fifty yards away, then stopped dead in his tracks and aimed an arrow back at the target! Straight through the crowd! People went diving left and right! The range-master just about fainted when he saw that arrow being leveled at his head! Then Hood aimed up and lets the first arrow fly. Up it went and down it came…thwack! Right in the center! Then he shot the rest one after the other, and they all hit the same! He actually split one of the arrows with his shots! Six bulls-eyes from a hundred and fifty yards away!"

Melody's lips parted in amazement. She did not know much about archery, but she knew that a hundred and fifty yards was an incredible distance to shoot from. To put six arrows in a perfect bulls-eye bordered on supernatural.

Someone slammed a mug on the table. "Ha ha! Told ye th' lad could do it! So Jim, still think he doesn' stand a chance 'gainst Richard?"

"Willing to make a bet on it, old man?" Melody heard the enticing jingle of coins in a bag. "Five coppers say Hood goes out in the first five minutes."

John gave a hearty laugh. "Jim, I'll bet ye ten golds that Hood not only lasts five minutes, but he wins this tournament fair an' square!"

At that moment the carriage started moving. The conversation was quickly overtaken by the clatter of carriage wheels over stone. Melody peered back in hopes of seeing the men, but the tavern disappeared from view as they headed towards the arena once again.

"Melody?" She turned back to see Ariel looking at her with a curious and perhaps worried expression. "Did you see something?"

Melody shook her head. "It was nothing," she said as she settled back into her seat. "Just thought I heard something…odd."


The Seahaven arena was not the largest or most elaborate building in the Alliance, let alone Seahaven given the grandeur of the palace. But it was still an impressive structure in its own right.

A tiered coliseum of wood and stone, the tournament arena could seat tens of thousands with room to spare. It rose into the air with a width close to eight times its height. A wide dirt arena enclosed by eight-foot wooden walls occupied the center of the structure. Twenty large bronze shields adorned the walls, each bearing the standard of Seahaven. Eight gates allowed access to the arena. Covered seats occupied the innermost ring of the stands at regular intervals for the nobility to watch from. A canopied box higher up in the stands was outfitted with the kingdom's flag in front of it and flowers at its corners. Four guards armed with spears stood in the corners. Four ornate golden chairs with red velvet seats sat empty, awaiting the arrival of Seahaven's royal family. The remaining arena seats were wooden benches shaded by massive cloth awnings. Flags flapped in the breeze atop the periphery of the structure. Already the arena was approaching its capacity as people swarmed in, some having found their place hours ago to ensure they would not be denied a good view.

What could not be seen from outside or inside the arena was the intricate system of tunnels and rooms that wove their way through the bowels of the structure. Oil lamps illuminated passages that were brimming with activity. Weapon smiths and manservants rushed to a fro, working their hardest to ensure their respective fighters were as prepared for the tournament as possible. Medical teams checked their stretchers, preparing wet compresses, strong ethers, splints, and needle and thread to treat the vanquished. Knights chatted with their squires, fitting on armor and choosing weapons. The gruffer competitors occupied themselves however they wished, whether it be downing drink or glaring at each other while spitting on the floor.

The traveler leaned against the wall of one such tunnel, adjusting the sleeves of its shirt. Next to it was the gate leading to the arena, light streaming through the gaps between the boards. It could hear the buzz of the crowd outside. It had done nothing to armor itself, having no favor or use for it. While armor offered protection from blades and other things on unfriendly terms with bare flesh, it was also heavy and cumbersome. The traveler had no need for such things. All it needed was its bokken and its skill. That would be its armor.

It ran a hand over its bokken, feeling the smooth wood under its fingertips. It remembered the countless days it spent learning swordsmanship with such an instrument. Along with the countless bruises, bumps, and cuts it got when it was too slow to evade or block.


The child darted left of its father's sword, only to have him spin around. The child tried to block but was too slow, taking a glancing blow to its back with the flat of the blade.

"Ow!" exclaimed the child as it darted away. "That hurt!"

"I'd imagine so," said its father. "That was one of your vertebrae."

"Or what's left of it!" The child winced, hissing as it rubbed the spot. "Can't I have some armor or something so I still have a spine tonight?"

Its father frowned. "No. Your armor is in your hand."

"This is a stick!" said the child, holding the toy weapon aloft.

"It is a stick because you treat it as such. Let it be part of you and it will protect you better than any armor could. Armor gives you an excuse to be hit. A false sense of security. The warrior with armor is arrogant, thinking itself invincible. The warrior without armor is wise and skilled, knowing injury and death follow if it is struck. It keeps them sharp. Keeps them aware. Keeps them moving."

The child's father rushed in, stabbing for the child's chest. The child quickly brought its bokken up, causing its father's sword to slip by.

"Tenacity is measured as one's skill against the odds," said the father as it swept for the child's head, only to have the sword deflected away. "When you become a master of your weapon, the matter of protection can be as simple as a sidestep or a parry. You will be struck only because you allow it. Your skill and courage will be your armor. And that is a shield no weapon can pierce."


"Five minutes!"

The traveler looked up, seeing a man step out of a side tunnel and cup his hands to his mouth. "Five minutes! All contestants make your final preparations!"

The traveler glanced through a gap in the gate. The stands were almost full now. It looked at its hands, now wrapped in pristine white bandages. Those hands had spilled more blood than any of the other competitors could imagine. A stain on its conscience no amount of wrapping could conceal. Any moment the traveler expected the blood to start soaking through, reminding it of the past it left in the east. And the violence it was about to commit. It would do so for a worthy cause at least. But still…

"Hood!"

The traveler returned from its musings to see a familiar blonde nobleman stomping towards it. Richard had abandoned his formal clothes for combat-practical ones. He wore a padded leather vest over a white shirt. His hands were clothed in new leather fencing gloves, along with thick leather bracers over his forearms, brown leather pants, and polished brown leather boots. The training rapier at his side was barely a shadow of his preferred sword, the metal tarnished and heavily scratched. Even in the dim of the tunnels the traveler could see the naked blade's edge had no lethality whatsoever. Unlike Richard's face, which had death written across it clear as a book's title. His bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

"Well look who it is!" said the traveler, hiding its own anger behind a veil of false cheer. "Lunch Richmaker Gagglepas! I mean, Lord Rutabaga Gravitas! I mean, Lord Richard Avitas! I'd have said hi earlier, but I didn't recognize you without any food on. Shame, too. Boar was a good look for you."

Richard reached for his sword, but the traveler quickly drew one of its knives, its other hand staying close to the blade's partner. The two glared at each other for a moment, watching for the other to make the first move.

"You sniveling swine!" seethed Richard as he released his sword, hands trembling with hate. "You must have a death wish to show your face here!"

"Technically I haven't," replied the traveler cheekily, tapping the tip of its knife to the knot in its shemagh.

Richard narrowed his eyes, lips curling in a scowl. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Oh, I've been around," said the traveler as it sheathed its knife. "Seahaven's not big, but there's a lot to take in. Thought I'd do some sightseeing. Seven weeks is a lot of time, after all."

"My men have been scouring the town every day for you!"

"I know. I've seen them. Actually spoken to them a few times."

Richard's eyes widened. "What!?"

The traveler grinned under its covering. "One of the benefits of wearing this thing! When no one knows what I look like, my own face can be a mask!" The traveler pushed off the wall, stepping towards Richard. "I can't tell you how many times I walked right past you and your guard dogs. I've looked you straight in the eye dozens of times you didn't even know it. Oh, thanks for that coin by the way."

"What coin?"

"The one you gave the old lady outside the Trove. Nice of you to buy me breakfast."

"You…!" Richard started to draw his sword again. The traveler reached for its bokken, ready for a quick slash. Richard stopped mid draw. "I should cut you down right here for the humiliation you've caused me!"

"You?Cut me down?" The traveler snorted. "I'd like to see you try, especially with that butter knife you've got there."

Tense seconds passed as the traveler and Richard held each other's glare, inviting the other to make a move. Richard broke the standoff with a confident smirk. "You'll see, Hood. That I guarantee. And so will everyone else." He sheathed his sword through his belt once more. "I'll save my vengeance for the arena. I've got something special planned for you and your little friends."

The traveler's confidence faltered slightly. It did not like that tone in Richard's voice. It was both knowing and conniving. "What are you–?"

"You got the better of me in that hovel John calls a tavern," interrupted Richard, sneering at the traveler as he started pacing back and forth. "But I'm no fool. I knew you'd warm up to that trollop and her den of rats even if I didn't find you. You hero-playing types always go for the pretty damsel in distress. Especially the penniless ones."

"Watch it, Richard," said the traveler.

Richard smirked. "When Isaac started turning in more with each payment, I knew it wasn't coincidence. You were helping them. A bleeding heart like yours wouldn't turn away from a pathetic sob story like theirs. Or the chance to play savior. When I saw you at the boxing round, I knew what you were up to. You're planning to win the tournament and use the prize money to pay off their debt. It's not enough to settle it, but it would be very close."

Richard stopped his pacing. "So I've taken measures to ensure that doesn't happen, Hood. Fifteen measures to be precise. And two of them already work for me."

It did not take a stretch of the imagination for the traveler to figure out Richard's subtext. Excluding the traveler and himself, there were fifteen other competitors in the Champion's Round. As for the two already working for him, that was clearly Bill and Jack. How those two buffoons got into the Champion's round the traveler did not know, but it was willing to bet Richard had used his "influence" to do it.

"Coward!" spat the traveler.

"You call it cowardice," said Richard smugly. "I call it insurance."

Richard pulled a single gold coin from his pocket, holding it up for the traveler to see. "There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who need a price, and those who need motivation. I doubt a fool like you has a price, but for the others it was fifty gold coins and the promise of two hundred more if they break your legs in half. And for the ones who value morality above gold, a spot of misinformation was all it took to stir their sense of justice. Like telling them you attacked three innocent men before dragging a poor defenseless woman off to ravage her. You should've seen their faces when I told them. Absolutely livid."

The traveler was growling like an angry dog as Richard stepped close to it.

"I'm going to make an example out of you, Hood," he whispered menacingly. "King Eric and Queen Ariel may sit on the throne, but this is my kingdom. It and its people are mine. And I will not be made a fool in front of them. I will get what I want, whether it's gold, or land, or women, or revenge. A masked man with his toy sword won't stop me. I'm going to use you to remind these sheep of what happens when they cross me. So beg for forgiveness all you want. I won't give you a speck."

"And I'll walk into the Pit and back before I do!" spat the traveler.

"Brave words for a man about to face his end. Once this tournament starts, you'll be up against sixteen men intent on flogging you within an inch of your life. Your prospects look like Sarah and her home. Poor and bleak."

"And what if my 'prospects' look like you and I squaring up in the final match?"

"If by some miracle you're still standing then you're going to throw that fight and leave Seahaven forever. Provided you get on your knees and lick my boots clean first."

"And if I tell you to shove that sword where the sun doesn't shine?"

A sharp scowl crossed Richard's face, replaced by a sinister grin as he tucked the coin away. "Then by this time tomorrow your friends and their pet mice will be crying over the charred remains of their home. Those old wood stoves can be such a hazard if they aren't watched. All it would take is a stray spark and the whole house could go up in flames."

The traveler growled in its throat, its hand straying towards its knives. "You wouldn't dare!"

Richard smirked, pleased at getting a rise out of his adversary. "I dare. That, and more."

He walked up to the traveler, their faces inches apart. "You miserable, ignorant peon. Thought you were so clever, didn't you? Did you really think I'd let you get the best of me? Me, Lord Richard Avitas, the sole heir of the noble Avitas family and champion of the arena! Wealthy as a king, and just as powerful! Dominion over these peasants is my birthright! It's guaranteed by my bloodline, all the way back to Seahaven's founding! My family spans generations, among the oldest and greatest in these lands! We Avitas–!"

One moment the traveler was standing still. The next a knife was coming for Richard's neck. He barely drew his sword in time, blocking the blade from finding his vulnerable throat. The traveler pressed hard, forcing Richard to retreat until he backed into the tunnel wall with a heavy thump.

"You think I give a damn about your stupid bloodlines?!" shouted the traveler. "I don't care if you're a descendant of the Lost Kings! You might have a noble's title, but you're the furthest thing from one! You're a bastard who gets his kicks hitting women and stripping people down to rags! You think your title demands respect, but you don't know a thing about it!"

"And you do!?" spat Richard, trying to push the traveler's blade back. The traveler pushed back even harder, keeping Richard pinned to the wall. "You're just a nobody! What could you know about respect!?"

"I've got more respect from this town than you'd get from a starving dog! And I didn't tread on their dignity to get it! And I know this, too!" The traveler pushed its knife till it was pressing on Richard's throat. "If you set one foot near that house, I'll have you in jail before the week's out! And that's if I don't break your spine in half first, you two-faced fox!"

"Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"

"Remember those ships you loaned Isaac? I wonder how the king will treat you when I tell him about that?"

Richard snorted. "That's your plan? You're betting my reputation and title against the word of a sick old seaman?"

"And the Guthenfort family," added the traveler. "And Heather Locklaw. And Samantha Willhelm. And the missing lease agreement from the Mermaid's Trove. And the salt you bought from the Oak Vale trading company. And your information brokering to Strihaven's underground."

The arrogant confidence left Richard's face, along with a few shades of color.

"That enough?" asked the traveler. "Because I can keep going."

"You're bluffing! You've got nothing to hold against me!" said Richard. The bead of sweat that appeared on his brow said otherwise.

"Oh yes I do. Unlike you, I haven't been running in circles these past seven weeks." The traveler leaned close to Richard now, the black of its goggles as unblinking and unnerving as the sockets of a skull. "I don't know how you've kept your title for so long, but I can make sure you lose it. I've got enough dirt on you to farm crops with."

The noise of the crowd increased as the arrival of the royal family was announced.

The traveler nodded towards the gate. "Hear that? Those are your 'loyalsubjects' you've trampled over. I bet they'd love to watch you rot away in a dungeon for everything you've done. Maybe one person complaining against you won't destroy you. But what about a dozen? Two dozen? Three? Four? How about everyone you've ever wronged? How about I hop over to Glowerhaven and Vorhaven to see what I can dig up there? Even if you manage to weasel your way out of prison, I wonder what that many accusations would do to your reputation? So think twice before you go threatening me or my friends!"

"They don't have the guts for it!" hissed Richard. "They're all cowards! They know what I'll do if they speak!"

"Combatants to the gate!" shouted someone in the tunnels. "All combatants to the main gate!"

Immediately there was a sound of many approaching footsteps. The traveler shoved Richard against the wall before leaping back from him, landing with its knife in a guarded stance. Richard looked furious enough to burn holes in glass with his glare.

"Look's like we're in a stalemate," said the traveler. "You can have the orphanage destroyed. But I can get you thrown in jail."

"That's what you think," said Richard, sheathing his sword as the gates opened with a loud groan.

The two stared each other down as the other competitors filed past into the light, neither one giving so much as a blink. The traveler was oblivious to the hungry stares and the few threatening comments from the other fighters. It was completely focused on Richard. A familiar pair of giant bodyguards broke off from the group to stand beside Richard. Both held wood staves as long as the traveler was tall. They glared at it like a pair of angry dogs waiting for their master's order to attack.

A small man dressed in a dark purple jacket scampered between the adversaries. "Um...gentlemen, the tournament is starting."

"We'll be right out," said the traveler flatly.

"Very well." The man turned to go when he noticed the traveler's knives. "Uh, sir? You can't have those in the arena."

The traveler looked to him. "What?"

The man flinched under the traveler's eyeless stare. "It's…it's the rules, sir. No weapons with a cutting edge are allowed. If you don't hand them over, you won't be able to participate."

The traveler stared at the man for a moment. Then it pulled its knives out and handed them to the man. "Keep a close eye on them."

The man nodded and ran back into the tunnels.

The traveler turned its eyes back to Richard. "Let me make this clear to all three of you. I don't care about the prize money. I don't want a single coin of it. Beating the tar out of you, Richard, will be plenty. So you really want to settle things?"

"Absolutely," growled Richard as he adjusted his vest. "I'm positively itching to see you put in your proper place. A pinewood box."

"Then we settle it out there," said the traveler, walking to the edge of the entryway's shadow. "You'll have your six thousand coins by the end of the day. You'll need them for the doctors after I'm through with you."

Richard walked past the traveler and said, "I'll be sure to save two coins for you. Something to pay the ferryman."

The moment Richard stepped into the light he discarded his angry expression, waving to the crowd with an amicable smile. Roses were thrown to him from the stands, no doubt from adoring noblewomen. He blew a kiss to his left, creating an ecstatic squeal from some smitten female. The traveler narrowed its eyes behind its goggles as it followed them out.


The arena exploded with applause as the fighters entered the arena. People were shouting the names of their favorite competitor as the men made their way to the center. The crowd was an ocean of activity, excitement rolling through them like waves in a storm.

Up in the highest row of seats were two spectators. They were largely unnoticed amidst the fervor of activity. But these two were undoubtedly the most dangerous spectators in the entire arena.

One was a woman in a deep navy dress with a matching veil over her face, her hands folded quietly in her lap. Under her veil she wore a gold mask. She seemed fragile, as though her willowy body could be blown over in a breeze. No one would have suspected that she was powerful enough to kill every person in the arena single-handedly, and wicked enough to do so on a whim.

Next to her was the largest man many people would ever see. He stood over eight feet tall with red-orange hair and harsh electric blue eyes. His chiseled jaw and strong chin gave him an intimidating appearance. His body was muscular enough to put Urchin and Triton combined to shame. His forearm alone was the size of an average man's thigh and rippling with muscle. He wore a tight-fitting teal shirt and black pants, the belt around his waist barely long enough to encircle him. He was prodding at his forearm inquisitively, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Pathetic," he said as he flexed his hand, seeing how the muscles in his forearm contracted. "This body's so weak it's disgusting. No wonder humans are so easy to catch in the water. What's they saying? Fish in a barrel?"

"More like rats in a cage," said Remora. A group of children ran past them, laughing as they searched for the best spot to watch the tournament from. She saw the hunger in Riptide's eyes as he watched them go, his stomach growling loudly. "Back off. We're not here to feed you."

"Just for a snack. There's so many running around. What's one or two dozen?" His voice took on a predatory tone as his eyes followed the children scampering down the stairs. "So young and tender. And the way their bones crunch when–."

Remora jabbed a finger into Riptide's leg, sending an electric jolt through him. He flinched away, rubbing his numb leg and the burn mark on his pants.

"Shut up!" hissed Remora. "You'll get us noticed with that sort of talk! And you ate two whales, five sharks, and two mermen before we left! How can you still be hungry?"

The monstrous man's stomach growled again. "What can I say? I'm a growing monster."

"Like a plague," muttered Remora. She turned back to the arena as the last four fighters entered. "Now shut your mouth and watch. You haven't forgotten why we came here, have you?"

Riptide gave a curt nod. "Observe and inform. You need not worry about me, Remora. Unlike those witches, I don't ignore orders."

The two returned their attention to the arena, watching as the fighters began forming a neat row facing the royal family's box. Under her mask Remora smirked. "Then let's enjoy the show."


Melody watched from her seat as the fighters began splitting off, forming an orderly line in the middle of the arena. All the men were on display in full, waving to the crowds or looking down the line at one another.

What Melody saw did not impress her. There were a few knights among them, clad in polished armors of various sorts. They all held edgeless swords modified for training, their gleaming armor more ceremonial than practical. They were waving to the crowd, smiling good-naturedly at the adoring fans from underneath their protective plating. It was unlikely they had seen fighting outside of their training, much less any sort of magic. They relied on youth and a sense of duty to the kingdom to compensate for their inexperience.

The rest of the fighters were the opposite end of the spectrum. They were positively barbaric compared to their knightly counterparts. An assortment of wanderers and mercenaries from all over the Alliance and beyond, ranging from scruffy mountain men to gruff vagrants. Some held long wooden staves as replacements for their swords, while others used clubs or bare fists. They shifted about like animals in a cage, eager to draw first blood.

It was hard for Melody to imagine one of these men becoming her protector. She cast a fleeting glance at a large muscular man with a bushy black beard and hair wearing little more than a leather loincloth and a pair of braided leather cords crossed over his chest. He clutched a long oak staff in his hand. The archer next to him with a patch over his left eye and a ragged cloak was not much of an improvement. Nor was the pair of weasel-like identical twins next to him, each with a wood gladius in their hand. Melody would have preferred a literal watchdog to any of these men.

A large bald man moved aside to reveal Lord Richard. The man's shimmering golden hair fluttered in the breeze. He smiled to the crowd as he waved, drawing adoring flaps of handkerchiefs from many of the noble ladies but rather lackluster applause from the stands. He looked every part the charming hero dressed in his vest with his sword at his side, like something out of a fairy tale. He glanced up to her, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. He flashed her a smile and bowed elegantly. Melody felt her cheeks flush slightly, her pulse quickening. Why was he flustering her? She felt indecent for it, as though she were betraying the memory of William.

She quickly forgot about Richard when she saw the man behind him.

He was not impressive at all. His outfit was unremarkable, the brown tunic and black pants heavily faded. His black shirt looked too large for his frame, hanging loose on his arms. His hands were wrapped in bandages like a bad chef, and his boots were so scuffed and scratched they looked like they were used by wild animals as a chew toy. He had a black wooden stick stuck through a leather belt at his hip. If anything, he looked wimpy compared to the others.

What had her attention fixated on this man was his face, namely the lack of one. A green and black cloth covered him from the shoulders up. His eyes were obscured behind circular black goggles. The pattern of the cloth across his mouth with the black goggles gave him the look of a skull. There was no doubt. That was the man called Hood she overheard those men talking about.

Suddenly the masked man's head turned in her direction, looking her straight in the eyes. Melody flinched back at his look. It did not feel like he was looking at her so much as looking into her. A chill went up her spine and she quickly looked away.

Eric noticed Melody's sudden distress, reaching out to touch her arm. "Melody? You alright?"

Melody jumped at her father's touch. She turned to see Eric looking at her with concern. "Huh? Yeah, why?"

Eric put a hand to Melody's forehead. "You're white as a sheet. Are sure you're okay?"

Melody pushed his hand away, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "It…it's nothing."

She looked back to the arena. Hood was now scanning the crowd as though looking for someone. She had no idea why, but this man scared her.


The traveler scanned the crowd. There was no sign of Sarah, Isaac, or any of the children among the sea of faces. Nor did it see John or anyone from the Mermaid's Trove. It felt a bit crestfallen at their absence. It could not have asked for a greater motivation than their voices cheering it on. Finding its search of the crowd was futile, the traveler turned its attention back to the royal family. It scrutinized each of them, curious to see these rulers the people spoke so highly of.

The man everyone jokingly called "Sir Grimsby the Longwinded" stood close beside King Eric. The traveler could tell the king was approaching the end of his prime, but he still had a youthful presence to him. He smiled cheerily and waved back to the crowd, his blue eyes surveying the crowd like a father watches his children at play.

Next to him was Queen Ariel, the so-called Saint of Seahaven. She was one of the most beautiful women the traveler had ever seen. It was not just the vibrant color of her red hair or the sincerity of her smile as she waved to the crowd. There was something genuinely lovely about her presence. A softness in her demeanor. She radiated warmth like a sun. The traveler felt at ease just being in her presence. Next to her was a brunette in a blue dress. She was also a beauty in her own right, her brown eyes carrying an energetic spark to them. A sister, perhaps? Or a cousin?

Princess Melody, however, was a different story. It was easy to see the resemblance to her parents, especially when sitting next to her father. The traveler could not deny that she was a beautiful young woman. But any similarities ended there, and not just physically. The aura around her was depressive and cold, as though all the optimism had been drained from her. Her smile was empty as her eyes. The traveler had seen those sorts of eyes in young soldiers returning from the battlefield, their spirits shattered by the horrors of war. That sort of trauma left deep emotional and mental scars on people, some of which never healed completely.

What in the world happened to that girl?

It was prevented from pursuing further thoughts on the princess when Eric stood up and stepped to the edge of the box. He held his hand up for silence. The arena quickly went quiet save a hushed murmur of voices.

"Citizens of Seahaven," said Eric, projecting surprisingly well over the arena. "Visitors from near and far. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Friends. Welcome…to the Tournament of Champions!"

A roar of applause went up from the crowd, making the air vibrate like a plucked cello cord. Several of the more gentlemanly fighters applauded quietly, the rest content to remain as they were. Eric raised his hand again, and silence fell once more. "Before us on this glorious day are the greatest warriors Seahaven and the Alliance have to offer! A finer group of men you will find nowhere else in the four kingdoms!"

"That's what you think," mumbled the traveler, glancing in Richard's direction.

"All those brave men who competed in the preliminaries showed great strength, skill, determination, and courage in their efforts." Eric turned his attention to the fighters now, his gaze lingering on each as he spoke. "Of the many that participated, you seventeen have set yourself apart by your tenacity and ability. Were it possible I would name each of you champion here and now!"

A round of polite applause broke out among the crowd.

"However…" continued Eric. "There can be only one champion in this arena. Only one of you will stand victorious at the end. Only one of you will earn the right to wear the golden wreath and bear the distinction it carries. And so, here, on this hallowed ground, before the people of Seahaven, you will face each other for that right."

His voice began to rise as he spoke. "Show us your strength! Show us your skill! Show us your courage! And in return, one of you will know the honor and the glory of being crowned the one…true…champion!"

At that the arena exploded into applause. People threw white and blue confetti into the air, the paper descending into the arena like a snowstorm. Trumpets sounded as Eric returned to his seat, waving to the crowd as he sat. Grimsby now stepped forward to address the fighters.

"Before his majesty officially begins this tournament, I will take a moment to remind you all of the rules. Some of you are veterans to this arena, and some of you are here for your first time. For those of you that have stood here before, surely you have noticed things are different this year. To ensure there is no ignorance on your part I will repeat the regulations one final time."

There were a few groans from the crowd, including one familiar voice that shouted, "Get on with it, Grimsby!"

"No lethal weapons of any design are allowed here," Grimsby continued. "You have been given suitable replacements or had your own weapons approved for use in this tournament. However, the final two competitors will be allowed to use their own weapons for the deciding match if they so choose. If you yield, are rendered unconscious, or are unable to continue, you will be removed from the arena. If you attack an opponent unable to defend themselves or ignore a desist order from myself or his majesty, you will be warned or expelled from the tournament depending on the severity."

The traveler ran a hand over the handle of its bokken. The sword had already been cleared for use in this tournament. Clearly this event was designed to allow the fighters to battle at full strength while minimizing the risk of accidental or intentional death. Still, something was bothering it. There were seventeen fighters including itself. It was impossible for them to hold a traditional tournament with paired matches with that one extra person, no matter how it was carried out. Something else was going on.

Grimsby cleared his throat. "Finally, there will be no paired matches in this tournament."

A wave of bewildered whisperings went through the crowd. No paired matches? Then how was the tournament going to happen? Even some of the fighters spoke quietly among themselves, just as confused as their audience.

"No, this will not be a normal tournament," said Grimsby. "This year the tournament will be held with all fighters competing against each other at once! A battle royale! The last two standing will go on to participate in a one-on-one match with their weapons of choice!"

An excited wave of chattering went through the crowd. A battle royale was unheard of, but it promised that much more excitement for the onlookers.


Richard glanced at the traveler out the corner of his eye. He saw a slight tremor in its shoulder, leading to a definite shake in its hand. He smirked. Already he was looking forward to watching the traveler grovel on the ground beneath the bone-splintering blows of the other competitors. And even if it somehow made it to the final round, Richard had something very special planned for it.

He would have his revenge today. And Hood would meet his end.


If Richard had been able to hear the traveler's thoughts, he would have known the traveler was not shaking from fear. It was shaking with excitement, like a hound before the hunt. The warrior inside it was howling to be loosed after being caged for so long. Even with so much riding on this fight the traveler was eager for the challenge. Sixteen fighters ready to give their all, and it would fight all of them at once.

The tremor in the traveler's arm increased, as though the limb itself was eager to deal the first blow. Tingles raced up and down its spine as the adrenaline began to flow. A grin was pulling at the corners of its mouth without its knowing.

Grimsby gave an eloquent bow to the competitors. "Warriors, we salute you!"

The fighters in turn bowed back to the royal box in their own style. At least, all except for the traveler. It did not bow but instead it gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"To your positions!" declared Grimsby. The energy of the arena rose towards a frenzied high as the fighters began walking to their respective spots, forming a large circle in the arena.

The traveler breathed deeply as it walked to the easternmost edge of the arena. It could feel the dirt under its feet and the sun on its clothes. Sense the energy of the crowd and the stares of its fellow fighters on it. It felt Richard's eyes, sensed the smug smile on his face. It heard the roar of the spectators as they waited for the start.

It reached the edge of the arena and turned back, letting loose a long breath that discarded all hesitation with its exhale. This was it. Every hour training in the forest had been for this. Every bare-knuckle strike and bone-bending kick to tree trunks as it went through the motions of combat. Every swing of its sword in the night while the kids slept, slashing at falling leaves and imagined opponents. Every drop of sweat and sore muscle as it ran mile after mile at breakneck speed. Every crack and creak of its joints as it stretched to its limits. Everything was for this moment.

"Weapons!" shouted Grimsby.

The combatants readied their weapons. Richard drew his sword from his belt, holding it in one hand with his other arm tucked behind his back. He ground his feet into the dirt, eager to take his revenge on the lone traveler who had offended him.

Eric raised his arm. An immediate tension fell over the arena. His arm trembled slightly as he held it up, waiting to give the signal to begin.

Melody held her breath, her hands unconsciously gripping her chair. Ariel's hands fidgeted nervously, the seconds dragging on as she awaited the start. Aquata reached over and took her hands, as much to stop Ariel's fidgeting as her own.

A large group of children escorted by an elderly man and a young brunette woman frantically worked their way into the arena, spreading out along the lowermost walkway for the best view. An aging bartender followed after them with a pack of waitresses and regulars to his tavern.

The traveler slid into a ready stance, taking the bokken's handle in its right hand. It calmed its nerves, taking steady even breaths as it brought the trembling in its arm under control. It wound up like a spring, ready to unleash itself.

The moment hung in the air like a coin toss, spinning slowly forward into time.


With the excitement of the tournament holding the crowd's attention, no one noticed the magic raven alight on the edge of one of the shades.

Did he need to use his feathered avatar to watch this? Truthfully, no. He could just as easily observe the tournament without, but he wanted to see this in person. There was something he found aesthetically pleasing about physical sight. He made full use of his eyes, taking in everything. The mournful princess next to her parents and aunt. The black hearted noble and his two servants ready to deal out his twisted idea of justice. The traveler standing ready in the arena as its adoring friends watched from the stands.

And most importantly, the two servants of the enemy watching from the stands. The raven could tell the man was not human, nor was the spell ordinary. A tremendous amount of magical energy had been spent to transform that creature into a human. For so much magic to be used it must be titanic in its original form. The woman he was with was no less troubling. The magical power inside her was incredible, larger than any he had seen in a human for a very long time. And so was the bloodlust she was giving off. It was hard to acknowledge it as coming from a human. These two were not run of the mill villains by any means. They were monsters in their own right.

"Begin!" shouted Eric as he dropped his hand.

The raven turned its focus back to the arena. "The stage is ready. The cast assembled. The audience waiting. And so, the curtain rises."


A/N: The day has come. The seconds have ticked away, counting down to this inevitable clash through the cycles of night and day, sun and moon. The black-hearted Richard and the mysterious traveler meet on the field of battle. But there is more than the fate of an orphanage at risk, and more than simple townsfolk watching. And so the swords will start to swing, and they will continue until only one remains. Who will be left standing?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," Disney, or any of its associated characters and intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =)