It was early afternoon once the horse was settled back in and care was given to their own horses, so Kre made his way back to Dain’s room with some lunch in hand. The door was locked, which wasn’t unusual, but there was also no light coming from underneath. There were no sounds either, which was the more unusual.
He rapped on the door and waited the appropriate amount of time before using the spare key that Dain had made for him. It hadn’t taken the arcanist more than a few seconds to duplicate the key, using a piece of clay and a scrap of paper. Another handy trick that Kre hoped he could learn someday.
The room was empty save for all of their belongings. It was unusual for Dain to leave the room, so Kre assumed that it must be something important that he was doing. Beleg, Kre guessed, was likely still out with Barry given that he had said it was probably going to be a late afternoon for the both of them.
So, Kre ate his part of the lunch while it was still warm, and he waited for the others to return. As curious as he was about some of the other arcane accoutrements in Dain’s boxes, Kre knew better than to go looking. With a full belly and nothing else better to do, it wasn’t long before Kre was napping on the floor.
Thankfully, he heard the door lock rattling before it opened, and he was sitting up before his two colleagues walked in. “Ah, perfect,” Dain said happily as he spotted the young man.
“Yes, perfect!” Beleg agreed, spotting the cold lunch tray.
As Beleg ate and Dain puttered about his desk, Kre tried to stay out of the way. When Dain pulled out one of his silence candles, Kre moved quickly to stuff the traditional blanket under the door to prevent any escaping of the arcane light and of their soon to be private conversation.
“Well,” Beleg said between bites, “we’ve had quite the day, I should say.”
“This is my last candle,” Dain admitted as he lit it. “I won’t have the supplies to make more while we’re here. They just don’t have the right components in stock here and I hesitate using a lesser quality ingredient.”
“Let’s hurry it along then,” Beleg muttered. “I have news from Barry. Apparently, he’s here to participate in a tournament of sorts. Some black-market weapons guy has had this set up for a while now, with the contestants using his gear. It seems the entry fee is buying something from him, at a slightly higher than market rate I’d assume, and then the winner takes all of the weapons used in the tourney. Good way to build up an armory, if you win.”
Dain nodded, “That makes sense with what I’ve been hearing. There was some chatter this morning at one of the herbalist shops down the street. Apparently, they’ve been holding off on a large auction until another event occurs so they can maximize participants for both. People haven’t been too happy waiting around, but I expect that the Rakshasa are the least happy of all.”
“Well, the tournament is supposed to start tomorrow night and finish with the final rounds on the evening after. Barry has already submitted my name as an entrant and paid off the bookies to keep us on separate brackets. It’s his hope that we’ll make it to the finals and that’s when he’ll get the duel with me that he’s so desperately been wanting.
“If I die on the way to the finals,” Beleg shrugged, “well, he said he’d be disappointed, but not as disappointed as if he were fighting me outside of my prime.”