D101 Chapter 189

The duel between Dalorn and James had been as cinematic as they came. 

Dalorn had had the upper hand, but thanks to his arrogant Elven pride, James had clinched victory. 

The crowd was roaring for more, and Varrus was eager to answer their call. 

“Good people of the Covenant, James is your victor! Behold, his reward!” Varrus floated over the arena, and levitated Dalorn's enchanted sword into James's grasp. 

Varrus smirked as the youth seemed as if he would toss the gift away. 

Shooting him with a calm spell, he considered siccing Rho'dan on the young man, knowing that the anti-noble sentiment in James may bubble over. But he would rather not be so callous towards a soldier who had fought for him if he didn't have too. For now, he would let lying dogs cool down. 

If anything came of this dissatisfaction, then he'd just have to make another example. 

Smiling and waving at the crowd, Varrus continued with phase two of his plan, and the real reason why he hosted this duel in the first place. 

For a long time he had wanted to establish something like an adventurers guild, but he figured he could explore a similar idea. 

The Duelists Arena. 

“This enchanted weapon is but a taste of what is soon to be open to you all. Weapons, armor, wealth, and other riches await the brave. I am sure many of you are lost, wondering what you might do after the Scourge has been purged. For the martially inclined, I offer you a new path to advancement. The Duelists Circuit!” Varrus exclaimed, and with a flourish of his hand, took out all sorts of mystical items, gold, ingots, Mana Stones, gems, weapons and more from his inventory. 

They shone in the sunlight, and glowed with a lustre belying great power. 

Varrus grinned as the audience had grown silent in shock when they saw a portion of his wealth. It was doing him no good in his inventory, accumulating dust. However, if he could use it to motivate the soldiers’ greed, then it was well worth showing off like some two bit asshole. 

“That's right! All this is within your grasp. To qualify, one need only present 100 Undead heads to one of my clerks, and a note from an officer-or 10 witnesses-claiming you were the slayer of these Undead. Only those with merit and the ambitions to prove themselves are worthy of this prestigious institution!” Varrus spread his arms wide, and announced the qualifying prerequisites for joining the Duelists Circuit. 

Many people began to mutter amongst themselves, and Varrus chuckled as he saw the greed enter their eyes. 

By motivating them like this, Varrus no longer had to rely strictly upon loyalty, or fear when it came to ordering the troops to march headfirst into danger. 

He had made many impassioned speeches, and certainly had swayed many idealogues, but only so many people could be influenced by words. There were bound to be a few who weren't ensorcelled by his bs, and were only interested in survival. 

The battle for Stratholme had been traumatizing, Varrus had seen that with his own eyes. Combating zombies was nightmare fuel, and 100% gave people PTSD. 

Hell, Varrus occasionally had nightmares himself. 

It was due to this lack of motivation that Varrus hoped to appeal to their greed. 

A man could beat his chest over loyalty all he wanted, but Varrus knew of cases where people were ratted out and betrayed over hundreds of dollars. 

That kind of greed was toxic, and people on Earth worked themselves to death over just a couple bills of cash. It was tragic, but also, reality. 

Varrus considered himself a realist, and was no slaver. He was going to pay everyone who fought under his banner a wage, but for those men and women who truly had skill, he wanted to provide for them a way to advance. 

This new institution would come to act as an essential core in his new empire. 

In times of peace, duelists would constantly hone their skills against one another, and keep their edge. By making every duelist draftable by law, Varrus would always have an able bodied army of Elites on call. 

Furthermore, Varrus had a good understanding of fan culture, and knew that arenas would be excellent economic generators. They would also engage the youth looking to escape poverty, and generate a more militant society, one that Varrus refused to see diminish into decrepit decay. 

The strong values that once made nations great often became perverted with time. Especially those that had attained long term peace. 

Rome was a good example of what complacent peace could lead to. 

Varrus had a plan for uplifting his people, and those who followed him. Not out of altruism, but out of practicality. 

It was simple logic that any gamer could understand. ‘The stronger my teammates, the easier the match is, the less I have to carry.’ 

With such thoughts in mind, Varrus was proud to have unveiled one of the early stages to his imagined hegemony.  

A few minutes had passed since Varrus had made his announcement, and the people had settled down, seemingly hungry for more. 

“I can see my words have riled you up. Good! Today, and today only, I, Varrus Vandercross, shall open myself up to the public. I invite all present to participate. Who knows, if you impress me, you may just walk away with one of these.” Varrus pointed a thumb over his shoulder, and widely grinned as the crowd went mad once more. 

Even the typically reserved Elves were starting to show signs of excitement. 

People began to eagerly rise from their seats, only to be stopped by Rho'dan and the Crossguard. 

“Form an orderly line! Any who rush the Highlord, or invade his personal space will be dealt with!” Rho'dan timbre bass brought the almost-mob to heel. 

Nodding at Rho'dan in appreciation, Varrus lowered himself to the arena floor, and welcomed the first person to step forward. 

“C-can I really get one of thems shinies, uhm, mi'lord?” A nervous peasant man stepped forward, and bowed at least five times whilst speaking to Varrus. 

Varrus outwardly smiled, and inclined his head, but inwardly realized he had just signed himself up for a fuckton of work. 

Seeing the incredible line that was beginning to form, he felt as if he were a drive-thru employee that had to service an entire month's worth of customers in one day. 

‘Fuck me.’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hundreds of duels later, Varrus had handed out a few trinkets, one or two promotions, and had given hope to the soldiers that advancement truly was possible. 

Most of the people had cleared out of the stands by this time, and things were coming to an end when a Heroic Elf stepped forward to challenge him. 

It was a blonde guy like any other, yet he seemed to carry himself with an extra dose of pride. 

The Elf man stopped before Varrus with his hand on his pommel, and eyed his outfit with a blank expression, yet Varrus detected the slightest hint of disgust. 

Picking up on the fact that this man may not be so friendly, Varrus decided he would reply in kind. There was only so much appeasement and good will could do. In his experience, the best way to deal with Elves was to show them that they weren't as superior as they thought they were. 

He had liked to imagine that his restoration of the Sunwell, and numerous accomplishments would have staved off such rude behavior, but no one claimed Elves were an intelligent species. Age, after all, did not automatically equate to wisdom.  

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to introduce yourself?” Varrus said in an airy tone, as if he was addressing a nobody. 

Heroes were an important cornerstone to any army or organization, but Varrus wouldn't suffer a liability. 

This Elf had come to challenge him, but unlike the rest, he didn't seem phased whatsoever. 

His calm, collected blue eyes took in Varrus like a predator silently assessing its prey. 

Varrus smiled, considering once again if he should send Rho'dan after a potential problem. 

‘Nah, I'll make an example out of this one.’ 

Varrus had made up his mind. 

He had shown the members of the Covenant the carrot. It was time they had a good look at the stick. 

“It is distressing that the name of Sunsail Anchorage's Governor General escapes the First Seat's recollection.” The man tutted. 

‘So this is what it's about. I recall imprisoning some musician months ago, and he was angrily threatening me with his cousin, the governor or was it mayor? The point is, Rho'dan may have beat him, and we bought entire cargo holds worth of goods on his tab. The Governor must be rather peeved right about now.’ 

“Minor characters are of no concern to Silvermoon. However, this is a duelists arena, one where the hopes and dreams of the less fortunate are gathered. Where merit is attained with the goal of advancing. For a minor official to make his intentions so boldly clear, one wonders if it is greed or stupidity that motivates such an individual.” Varrus waved his hand dismissively, and continued to speak as if there was nothing but an insect in front of him. 

“The people of Quel'Thalas owe you a great debt, Vandercross. Thank you.” The Governor seemingly did a 180, and bowed. However, his next words removed any confusion Varrus felt towards him. 

“That being said, this movement, this Covenant has engendered fear and mistrust amongst the citizens. A minor official must interact with the people they oversee, and hear their opinions. Such lowly government officials may appear worthless in Silvermoon's eyes, but the public is the heart of the nation. They feel the effects of what Silvermoon turns a blind eye to, and suffer the forced edicts of an out of touch oligarchic elite.” The Governor said in a level tone, flourished his robe, then twirled around in dramatic fashion to depart. 

As this conversation had occurred in public, countless Elven ears had picked up what was said. Furthermore, based on several deliberate conversations, quite a few Elves within the ranks shared this sentiment. 

Varrus was impressed by this level of statesmanship. In just a few words, a few dozen of his countrymen had been convinced to bad mouth him, and criticize his policy. 

Such a snake. Why, Varrus wouldn't regret wringing his neck in front of thousands. 

“Governor, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Varrus calmly called out, hiding any feelings of anger or animosity behind a smile. 

Pausing in his step, the Governor didn't turn around, and cocked his head to the side, and waited an extra second or two before replying, seemingly for no other reason, other than dramatic effect. 

“There is nothing more to discuss. Sunsail Anchorage shall do its part to complete this revenge. You have my word, First Seat.” The Governor said over his shoulder, then continued his departure. 

“You misunderstand. This is the duelists circle, you have turned your back on an enemy.” Varrus said in the Governor's ear as his blade slid between the gaps of his ribs, and exited out through his breast. 

Varrus's movement had been both silent and instantaneous as he had activated the Laughing Ghost perk under the Sneak tree to instantly teleport out of the Governor's shadow. 

Variois enchantments on the Governor's robes and rings tried to block the sword strike, but Varrus had too many perks and actives going at once, rendering this Heroes' defenses laughably worthless. 

“You're mad.” The man quietly gasped as blood began to dribble down his chin. 

No further words left his lips, as Varrus's enchanted blade lit up in a fiery glow. 

Within seconds, the guy who had threatened Varrus, and all but declared he would rebel at some future point had become nothing more than ash. 

Glancing at the few Elves that had remained, Varrus grinned at them like a shark. 

“It seems I am in need of a new governor. The heads of 10,000 Undead, and 1,000 victorious duels should qualify one for my test. Good luck, sons and daughters of Quel'Thalas.” Varrus smiled, and flicked his sword free of ash as he sheathed it. 

A few Elves went white in the face at this most casual, brutal display, however, the majority who had witnessed it kept their emotions to themselves. 

But if Varrus was to wager, they would be excited at the prospect. The prestige and power that came with running Quel'Thalas's second largest city was no small prize. 

They had a taste of the stick, it was time to once again dangle the carrot. 

As immortals who never had the opportunity to advance politically, this was the time. Chaos was a ladder, and Varrus was selling ladders like they were going out of business. 

Varrus looked on in glee as already, several Elves were rushing to his clerks, and scheduling duels. 

Humans weren't the only ones whom Varrus could exploit. 

Greed was a universal constant. 

If love, loyalty or fear couldn't motivate someone to action, then Varrus would appeal to desire. 

The Covenant was just taking shape, and Varrus couldn't wait to see where he took it a decade from now. 

Whilst Varrus was internally gloating over having established the duelists circuit, he received a message from Liadran, no, Karwl on his scrying orb. 

‘Hrm? What's this about a message about spiders?’