The Vampire & Her Witch

Diarmuid watched the scenes unfolding around him with a somewhat bemused smile as individual conversations came and went while servants cleared away the dishes from the sorbet course, only to replace them with what felt like an endless collection of tiny dishes containing a variety of colorful soups or sauces; he really wasn’t certain. But whatever the rainbow assortment of viscous liquids was, each diner was given their own complete set of them, along with a bowl of fragrant, citrus-scented water and a fresh pair of soft napkins.

”The next course is something else I wanted to share from the lands beyond the mountains,” Ashlynn explained as Georg’s skilled staff bustled about the table, adding silver goblets of chilled cider and ale to the wine already on the table.

”This is street food from High Fen City, the first major Eldritch city you’ll find on the far side of the High Pass,” Ashlynn explained as more dishes continued to flow into the dining room, carried on large silver platters that were arranged into a neat row down the middle of the table. ”It’s enjoyed by the common people, and you can find it in markets all over the city.”

”You can use a knife and fork if you wish to,” Ashlynn explained as the silver covers were lifted from the serving trays, revealing a vast assortment of spiced, grilled meats, including stacks of long, thin slices of a crisped brown meat that Diarmuid couldn’t begin to identify.

”But most common folk will pile the meat onto a piece of flatbread,” Ashlynn explained, gesturing to stacks of an oblong, thin bread that was about the size of a man’s hand. ”Then spoon on whichever of the sauces you like, and eat with your hands,” she said, demonstrating as she neatly speared a few pieces of flame-grilled chicken, piling them on a small piece of bread before topping it with a dark red sauce that smelled strongly of roasted peppers and garlic, before folding it in half and taking a small bite.

”If we were in the High Fen,” she continued, explaining to the guests who had never crossed the mountains or seen the Eldritch world beyond them. ”We could eat a meal like this while watching a performance, whether it was an opera, or musicians on the streets, or a battle between gladiators in one of the city’s arenas,” she said as she dipped her fingers in the citrus-scented water and carefully wiped a stray drip of sauce off her slender fingers with one of the napkins.

”We have an arena champion right here,” Virve offered helpfully, directing a mischievous smile toward the witch sitting closest to Ashlynn. ”Heila can fight someone to entertain us while we eat, can’t she?” the Oak Witch asked with a wide grin on her lips.

”Does that mean you’re offering to be my opponent, Virve?” Heila asked, refusing to back down from Virve’s challenge. ”You know the dining room is too small to run away from my whip,” she added with a teasing smile of her own.

At the far end of the table, Loman shuddered as he remembered the terrifying range of Heila’s whips. Not only could she strike anywhere in the confines of the small, formal dining room, she’d been able to engage him in a running battle that covered the entire surface of one of Hanrahan Keep’s tallest towers, and no matter how much he ran, he’d never been able to put enough distance between them to be out of range of her living whip.

”Save it for the next feast in the great hall,” Nyrielle chided softly before Virve could answer Heila’s taunt. ”You can invite Kurtz to put on a show with Ipiktok and the other champions of the arena that you defeated in High Fen City. I’m sure everyone would enjoy the show,” she said with a twinkle in her midnight blue eyes.

”So the Eldritch also fight for sport?” Liam asked from the far end of the table as he started tearing a piece of flatbread into small pieces so that he could dip each one into a different sauce.

”You’ve been to at least one tournament in Lothian March, Lady Ashlynn,” the young lord said, recalling her first visit to the march when Owain Lothian had still been courting her. Owain had put on a great show of competing for his lady’s favor, leaving a trail of wounded knights in his wake and making Liam grateful that he’d lost interest in tournaments after experiencing the level of competition available in Keating Duchy during his years at the academy.

”How would you say Eldritch sport compares to our own tournaments?” Liam asked as he nibbled on the bread and sauces.

”I’ve never been to the tournament held in the Royal Capital during the Holy Festival of Light,” Ashlynn said. ”But I imagine the scale there would approach the scale of the great arena in High Fen City. When Heila fought against the sorcerers from the Cauldron of Flame, there were nearly ten thousand people in the stands, and hundreds more in the streets outside the arena who weren’t able to get a ticket to watch.”

”The tournament in the Royal Capital is attended by thousands of people,” Diarmuid said, blinking in surprise at the scale of spectacle that Ashlynn had described. ”People come from all over the realm to watch, and the event sprawls across hundreds of acres of the Crown Reserve,” the Inquisitor said. ”But you’re saying that there were ten thousand people just inside the arena to watch Lady Heila’s battle?”

”Contests of strength are common across the Eldritch world,” Nyrielle said simply. ”We would prefer to settle matters with duels between champions than a clash of armies, but in the High Fen, they’ve elevated the sport of battles between champions to one of the highest levels you can see anywhere.”

”To be called a Champion in the High Fen carries just as much honor as being a knight does in the Kingdom of Gaal,” Nyrielle explained. ”The only difference is that you can’t buy the title of Champion, and you can’t be born to it either. It can only be won with blood spilled on the sands, which is why Heila commands so much respect among the soldiers who joined us to follow her.”

”Don’t worry, Liam,” Virve said with a toothy grin as she gulped down another mouthful of the savory, herbaceous grilled meat, dunked in a generous portion of a bright orange sauce that was both sweet and earthy. ”By the time I’m done training you, you’ll have no problem walking into the arena and claiming the title of Champion.”

”In fact,” she mused. ”It would be good practice to throw you into the arena for a few months over the summer if we get the opportunity to. They might call you a coward when they see the heavy armor you knights fight in, but once you’ve battered down a few of their gladiators, I’m sure they’ll start to understand why the soldiers of the Vale have to fight so hard just to pull one of you down, and that’s before you learn any sorcery.”

”I, I look forward to the, um, opportunity,” Liam said politely as he tried not to shrink back in his chair. He knew that he’d been opening himself up for a range of new things when he told Lady Ashlynn that he wanted to follow her for a few years before taking up the rule of his family’s domain, but... fighting in an arena before an audience of thousands of people?

Just what had he gotten himself into?