Chapter 69: Message

Charon lay on the floor, too stunned to move or speak. ’I didn’t even see him...’ Emerius had beaten him easily, throwing him across the room with a single punch and then playing with him like he was a toy. If he had wanted Charon to die, he could have easily killed him. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to stop him. Holding the Mask of the Jester above himself, Charon saw that the expression had changed, morphing into a thin pressed line. ’Even the gods damned relic doesn’t know what to think.’ It was a terrifying event, and wasn’t something he had been expecting to deal with. They had just been talking, and then suddenly it devolved into a fight. Charon scoffed as he sat up. ’Fight? It could barely be described as a slaughter, let alone a fight! I had my ass handed to me without even making him sweat!’ The level of skill he saw went beyond anything he had seen of Emerius so far. ’What secrets is he hiding?’ His eyebrows scrunched up as he considered something else, a viewpoint he hadn’t thought of before. ’I have multiple things I’m keeping from him, why should I expect him to be any different? He has been involved with these kinds of political situations since he was born, whereas I’m only just starting to witness how things work.’ Though they had only known each other for a little over a week, Charon felt like they were friends, especially after everything they had gone through together. No one else in the River Acheron had been by his side so fervently, even when things were dangerous. ’He has saved my life before, shouldn’t I be more trusting of him by now?’ Charon sighed, exhausted. It was a tall order for him to trust someone. Not that he didn’t want to, but he had never had a good reason to. Back at the orphanage, he trusted his friends Roger and Davos, but only to a certain length. Anything past that was foreign. Rising to his feet, he spared a minute to hide the Mask of the Jester in a cabinet, just in case someone else visited him that night. His eyes caught on the tome as he walked to his bed. ’A quick check couldn’t hurt.’ Pulling it off the shelf, he lugged the inconspicuous brown book and sat down, opening it and rereading the first pages. They were exactly the same as when he had read them before, the next Chapter being locked behind the Fortress of Souls. Touching the ritual, he attempted to pour mana into the glyphs to activate the portal, but they refused him, leaving him trapped. Closing it with a thud, he stood and stretched, his back groaning in protest as he moved. ’Damn, Emerius.’ He had known that his family was a bit of a sore subject in the past, with Emerius proving this at the academy, but he hadn’t realized how deep it went. ’There must be issues I’m not aware of.’ Deciding it would be best to visit him in the morning, he shelved the tome and collapsed onto the bed. It was difficult to sleep at first, with the sun still shining through the windows, but his tiredness eventually won out, his eyes closing and his mind drifting off. Until a loud beeping woke him. Shooting up right, he scanned the room to identify what was causing the noise, until he realized it was in his head. ’What the?’ Momentarily disoriented, he slapped his own cheek to jar his brain into motion, hoping that it was just an auditory illusion. When it continued, Charon’s reaction changed entirely. His eyes shot open as he threw himself out of the covers and sprinted over to his mask, ripping the cabinet open and snatching the item out. Placing it on his face, he sighed as he expected the sound to fall silent. It did not. Growing more confused, he turned to the only thing he thought it could be. Activating his holo-pad, he exhaled when he saw a notification flashing on the screen. A small line of text hovered in the air just in front of him. [Incoming Message From: Stadia] ’At least it’s not anything major.’ He had been worried someone had infiltrated his mind, or a device had been planted. A message, though? Charon was fine with that. If anything, it seemed like a useful feature to know existed. ’I need a way to mute it. I can’t be woken up every night because someone wants to talk to me.’ Mentally selecting the message icon, a new screen appeared. [Message From: Stadia] [Subject: Fight] [Content: Hello, Jester! It was difficult finding your contact information through your pseudonym, but find it we did! I understand the hour is late, but the crowd is large and active. The current Novice fighters we have are sub-par to say the least, so I would greatly appreciate your patronage tonight. Expect a bonus upon your arrival. I eagerly await your showmanship.] The message had no signature, but Charon didn’t need one to know the announcer had written it. His method of speaking was distinct and easily identifiable, even without the boisterous tone accompanying it. ’So he needs someone to make things interesting for him?’ Clicking his tongue, he pressed on his back to pop it, enjoying the satisfying sound it made. His body still ached, but not as much as it had during the previous day. ’Maybe Emerius hadn’t hurt me as much as I thought.’ He yawned, the comfort of the bed whispering in his ear. ’I would like some more sleep, but I also need to advance my standing at the Stadia. A reward does sound nice...’ Before he could convince himself otherwise, he grabbed his dagger and tucked it into his belt. With sneaky movements, he left his apartment. He paused outside Emerius’ room, his fist clenching as if preparing to knock, before he decided against it and descended the staircase, leaving the building and hiding in a nearby alley. With a thought, the Warden of the Acheron appeared from his skin, covering him. He took his knife and stuck it through one of the chain links, leaving it there. ’Easier to grab. Only the gods know what kind of scum prowl the city at night.’ Taking a calming breath, he placed the Mask of the Jester on his face and relished the feeling of the porcelain. It hugged him tightly, like a long-lost friend coming to visit. The wide grin he wore matched the mask’s features. Charon sped across the Fort, the bright sun making it easy to find his way back to the arena. It also banished the last vestiges of his tiredness, waking him completely. The bouncer outside the Stadia gave him a curt nod before opening the door, allowing him entry without a word. Flying down the steps, he ignored the betting counter and went straight for the cage, sparing only a single glance at the board. Near the bottom, he saw his name emblazoned across from a number. 100. ’Is that how much people have placed on me winning my next fight?’ He smirked at the idea of viewers having placed their trust in his skills despite having only participated in a single fight, albeit one that he won without much trouble. Entering the cage, he saw a few fighters point at him and whisper his name under their breath, followed by quiet murmuring. The large group of men he had seen walking out of the sign-up room was also there, glaring daggers at him. Charon held their gaze for a moment. ’If the gods have any mercy, they will make me fight those idiots.’ The screens were currently showcasing the ongoing fight between two female mages, the sand covered in shards of ice and whisps of fire. They seemed to prefer ranged battles as they chucked various projectiles. Although their spells were flashy, the fight was anything but, with very little actual engagement occurring. Shaking his head, Charon looked around at the benches and saw that the only open seat was next to a girl in a familiar blue dress, her eyes red from crying. She saw him too, staring across the floor as he approached with a polite nod and a wave. They said nothing to each other, the silence stretching on as the fight continued, neither making an effort to break the ice. ’I hope she doesn’t blame me for how the announcer treated her.’ It was shocking how the man was able to get away with verbally berating her, considering the blood magic she wielded, but it wasn’t Charon’s problem to solve. ’I have bigger fish to fry, and dinner is being served soon.’ Just like he expected, the fight was winding down, the ice mage managing a lucky shot that froze part of the other woman’s chest. She tried to melt it quickly, but it was too late. A long, pointed icicle embedded itself into her neck, ending her life. With a tamed roar, the crowd showed their approval, the announcer quickly following up with the proclamation of victory. Right after, he promised another fight, this one involving a "comedic figure." Sighing, Charon crossed his arms. ’This guy really assumed I showed up without even checking? All he did was send me a message in the middle of the night hours after I left!’ He didn’t bother acknowledging the fact that he had, indeed, shown up despite the hour.