45th of Season of Air, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

  A group of disciples from five different sects surrounded Dandelion, enthralled by his story.

  “So there I was, in front of an army of fearsome cannibals, them staring at me, me staring at them. My jaw dropped, and I was about to utter a curse, when a tall, handsome young man, bare-chested with skin as black as ebony entered the opening.”

  Dandelion’s voice and accent changed. “‘Great chieftain Eatemall, I, Prince Sidesnack, have come to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage.’ His words broke the spell which kept me safe from a horde of cannibals, and everyone turned towards him.”

  Dandelion’s voice changed once more, growing deeper and more malevolent.

  “‘You know of the quest?’ The massive, scarred chieftain asked, and the young man presented him with a coconut.”

  Dandelion’s voice once more changed to that of the young prince. “‘Indeed, you sought a fruit lavish enough for your daughter. This coconut is the perfect gift for her.’ The chieftain looked at the coconut, then at his daughter, and finally at the prince. ‘I accept the offered fruit, for the final part of the quest stick the fruit up your butt without making a sound. If you cannot, we will eat you.’”

  A surprisingly large number of listeners chortled or giggled, but Newt just stared in horrified shock at what Dandelion was saying, but the man spoke obscenities without skipping a beat.

  “The poor prince stared at the coconut. I deduced his quest was deceptively simple - bring the fruit for the princess; the chieftain omitted the latter, more important, part, which revealed he was seeking royal meals, rather than suitors for his daughter. Anyway, the unlucky prince tried his best, but grunted, and the savages fell upon him.

  “I dared not move, but just then, another man walked out of the forest. He wore exotic furs, decorated with feathers and scales, carrying a fist-sized mango. He introduced himself much the same way as the previous prince, and his eyes went wide when he realized the scam. The army of cannibals stared at him with hunger as he slid the large fruit under his clothes.”

  Dandelion paused, making his eyes bulge. “The man grunted, and the cannibals fell upon him. Just as they murdered him, a third young man appeared. His skin was pale, his eyes heroic blue. He wore the finest silks and carried a bejeweled box.”

  Dandelion changed his voice again. “‘I, Mustard-on-roast, prince of Quicksnack, have come to ask for your daughter’s hand, oh great Eatemall.’ Eatemall asked about the quest, and the snobby prince gestured towards the rather large box he carried. ‘Naturally, here, lo and behold the spectacular fruit I brought for your daughter. It is still fresh.’ The prince then opened the box, and we all stared at him, even the savages wincing in sympathetic pain. He had brought the biggest pineapple I have ever laid my eyes on.”

  Everyone around the table laughed, and even Newt, while trying to fight it, got caught up and chuckled.

  “And, did you fight that army?” Someone asked, and Dandelion shook his head good-naturedly.

  “No, no, one does not fight when they can use their wit and other means.”

  “What did you do? Run?”

  “No, no,” Dandelion chuckled. “I stepped forth and paid my respects to Eatemall. Then I pulled out a dried blueberry from my rations and became the new king of the cannibals after they ate Eatemall.”

  Several people clapped their hands, while others laughed drunkenly. Newt just shook his head in embarrassment.

  “He’s got a way with people,” Maelstrom crashed into his side, head against his shoulder, as she slurred the words. “And he doesn’t get drunk. He toasted everyone, yet he’s perfectly fine. He’s a bottomless well, not a human, I tell you.”

  Maelstrom burped, then started snoring. Newt removed her arm from around his neck and laid her gently on the table.

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  “Let us toast the day’s champion, my dear friend and blood brother, Newstar Blazing Salamander.” A round of cheers attacked Newt with all the embarrassing discomfort it entailed.

  “Tomorrow,” Dandelion continued his speech, “Another shall win the second event, but I will reserve this establishment for our purposes. The best placed amongst us will pay the bill.”

  The crowd cheered again. They knew they stood no chance at beating the handful of elites amongst them, and nobody would say no to being treated to exquisite food and wine.

  “What do you mean tomorrow?” Newt asked after the cheers quieted. “The next event is in two days.”

  “I mean tomorrow, it’s half-past one in the morning.”

  Newt jerked, and Maelstrom looked at him, her eyes out of focus.

  “Hehe, you’re a pumpkin now. Brrr brrr or whatever pumpkins say.” Her head slammed back against the table and she continued her snoring.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Newt stared at the sleeping woman, a line of drool oozing from her mouth.

  “She drank too much,” Dandelion replied with a straight face, then went off to chat with Everlast who was waving him to come over.

  Newt sighed, and went over to the proprietor, opening up some distance from the noise.

  “Please put this on my tab, I’ll come in the morning to settle the bill.” Newt had no doubt Elder Woodhopper was looking for him and his teammates. He went over to them and led them out of the wine-house without saying goodbye to those who stayed behind.

  “Does anyone know how the fourth-realmers and the second-realmers did?” Newt asked without expecting an answer.

  “The second-realmers placed thirty-fifth, our seniors placed twenty-third.” Surprisingly, Flare knew their placements.

  “I asked the hostess to check for me,” she explained while Newt ran the numbers.

  First place is two thousand points, twenty-third is around four hundred and fifty, thirty-fifth around three hundred and fifty. That’s twenty-eight hundred, which is better than a sect which had won eighth place in all three groups.

  Newt smiled. “We should be in the top ten!”

  “Seventh,” Flare confirmed, her giddiness dripping from the single word. “Even if we have mediocre performance until the end of the tournament, we’re almost guaranteed a top twenty spot, possibly even top fifteen.”

  Flare must have spent a while crunching numbers to get that result.

  “We can do better than that,” Newt said. “Let’s aim for the top ten!”

  “Well, aren’t you a greedy little brat?” A deep voice said from the shadow, and a gang of fifteen masked people stepped out of four alleys, cutting off Newt’s lines of retreat. “We lost a lot of money because of you, brats. Now, we’re gonna teach you some respect.”

  Newt held his spear, turning around. All ambushers were peak fourth-realmers, more than enough to mop the floor with Newt and his friends.

  The men and women wore dark clothes, their faces masked, and Newt could only helplessly watch them encircle his group of five. Explorer’s Gate’s disciples formed a ring, their backs against each other’s.

  “We’re not gonna kill you, just put you back to your place.”

  “And pray tell, who ordered you to do this?” A familiar male voice sounded from the darkness, stepping towards them.

  Newt turned towards the newcomer wearing their sect’s clothes. Sect Master Greenthorn walked like a mortal, without a hurry, his voice and bearing relaxed.

  “Was it the ninth-realm elder hiding behind trash over there?”

  A burly man appeared without movement. He wore red robes rimmed in gold, the fabric tight against his impressive physique.

  “My juniors were acting foolishly, I planned to stop them before it came to blows.” The muscular man laughed and gestured at his sect’s disciples. “Come along, you’ve taken your prank far enough.”

  The dark-clad men and women exchanged confused glances, standing stupidly in the middle of the street before the ninth-realm elder cleared his throat. They formed a single group and followed the man away from the scene.

  “Fiery Glory had appalling luck in all three realm categories yesterday.” Sect Master Greenthord watched the hostile group as they left. “It’s been two cycles since a grand sect placed outside the top twelve on the first day. Still, they are mighty touchy for placing thirteenth in an event as huge as the Sage’s Realm.”

  The sect master turned towards his sect’s disciples. “Now, I’m fairly certain Elder Woodhopper mentioned something about not staying outside too long, returning to our accommodations to meditate and recuperate… Anyone care to tell me what that was?”

  “We were supposed to return by midnight,” Flare said dutifully, “but we lost track of time in our celebrations.”

  Sect Master nodded like a benevolent grandfather, despite not looking a day over thirty. “The next time you go to celebrate and socialize with other sects, you should bring your seniors and juniors. The establishment you have chosen is known to charge by the hour, not by the bottle.”

  Sect Master Greenthorn led the way to the Starlit Sky inn, in which the Explorer’s Gate group spent a day resting and preparing for the next event.

  On the morning of the second day after the equinox, the group headed by Elder Woodhopper went to face the second event of the tournament.