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“Good. As for you, Clive, I’ll authorize you to use Magic Society resources to pursue your other idea. If these coins are just some guy with an ability, find him, so we can put the issue to bed.” The Magic Society Director downed the last of his wine, dribbling a little more wine down his chin and onto his shirt. If Clive hadn’t been that close or seen it happen, he might not have noticed, the color of the shirt and wine matched so closely.
Clive realized that it had been too long since anyone had said anything at the same time he realized he wasn’t making eye contact. “Thank you, sir,” Clive replied, making the socially appropriate amount of eye contact with the Director, then with the deputy director to see if there were any more instructions.
“You want some wine, Clive?” the Director asked, while he poured himself another glass.
Clive hesitated, glancing at the bottle. There was only the one bottle, and silver grape featured prominently on the label. Was the offer a joke? He’d die from poisoning before he finished the glass. Or did the director forget that of the three people in the room, Clive was the only iron ranker? “Ah, no, sir. Thank you. I’d best get back.”
“You’d best shove off, then,” the director said. “Anyone staying here has to drink.”
Given a very clear excuse to leave, Clive did so immediately. Now that he had traversed a good bit of the Fortress, he knew a more efficient way to and from the director’s informal office. He walked far enough away that even silver rank perception shouldn’t notice him, especially not plied with drink the way that both the director and the deputy director were. Clive spotted a secluded alcove and made his way over.
Now that he wasn’t in anyone’s way, Clive stopped and faced the arena while contemplating the events in the office. He had long since learned that pretending to watch something when you stopped paying attention to your senses and think raised less questions. Questions that always interrupted you just when the conclusion is about to emerge.
The Director of the Magic Society, Greenstone Branch was happy when talking to Clive. This almost never happens. Clive had made a reasoned argument, even saying that it was most likely not anything illegal, and yet the director had still given Clive everything he asked for. More, really; Clive wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for the contract to be three-star. Afterwards, the director had offered Clive wine. Clive very much doubted the offer was a murder attempt.
Did the director want Clive to also join him in the Fortress? The three people that handled the day to day running of the Magic Society, Greenstone Branch, all enjoying time together? Comradery does help with interpersonal relations, increasing the effectiveness of communications by up to 50% (which, well, that’s subjective) and reducing employee turnover by 54% (which is at least something that can be measured so it got a real number). Of course, Clive wouldn’t mind in the least if either Lucian or Pochard left, but they may have read the same studies and were worried about Clive leaving. Pochard’s “Shove Off” and Lucian’s derogatory mention of Clive’s robes made Clive think that was unlikely. Still, as much as he loathed both people, maybe some tests would be in order.
The next time Clive came down to give a report, perhaps he’d bring his own bottle of wine. He remembered what Pochard drank 13 years ago when he was new to the magic society. Perhaps Clive should bring that, a little reminder that they were iron rank together before Pochard started using cores? That could work. Once Clive saw the reactions of the other two, maybe he could work out the proper way to proceed.
With that decided, Clive started paying attention to what was happening in the Pit. Far below, a cage had been constructed. A magically enhanced voice was announcing something, but with the echoes and the roar of the crowd, Clive couldn’t make out what was said. Given the reaction of the crowd, it didn’t look like anything useful.
A tall human man walked out of a stairwell wearing only red pants and holding out a flaming fist to the crowd, who cheered. Clive recognized the flaming fist ability as mainly defensive or utility: it coated the user’s hands with a protective layer of fire, allowing the user’s hands to be completely unharmed by heat. Adventurers with this ability were frequently sent after magma or fire elementals, while craftsmen used it in a plethora of crafts.
Shortly after, a celestine woman with silver hair walked out a different stairwell without any outward show of magic. She had the smooth gait of someone with a passive speed or movement ability.
Clive watched them both enter a cage. They came together and said something to each other while the crowd cheered again. Their words must have gotten heated because the man, fists still ablaze, stepped forward with no warning and went to punch the celestine. The celestine seemed to anticipate it, though, and broke the man’s arm at the elbow.
Clive realized that the two were there for a scheduled fight, and it was over in the first few seconds. Of course it was a fight, he should have realized that immediately. Clive turned away in disgust when the crowd cheered again. Clive turned back to the cage to see that the woman had broken that man’s leg as well. The man tried to escape by rolling away, the only movement left to him with one leg, but the celestine kicked him in the face, then grabbed the man’s head with both hands and kneed it.
The man was still conscious, but definitely confused and no longer fighting or even trying to get away. Surely now the fight was over. But no. Clive watched in horror as the celestine proceeded to drag the unresisting man by the hair to the side of the cage. She lifted the man up and placed his hands through small holes in the cage wall so the man was hanging from his wrists. She then broke both arms with cracks loud enough to break through the crowd’s cheers.
The celestine looked with satisfaction at the man screeching in pain before slowly climbing out. The man continued to screech in pain and the crowd continued to cheer.
Clive decided that comradery could be for others. He no longer cared about the director’s and deputy director’s intentions if it meant he’d have to watch ‘fights’ like this. If he never saw the sadistic celestine or walked through the bloodthirsty crowd again, it would be too soon.