Chapter 219: Entertainment 

The first sign that they were about to walk into a circus was the sound of uproarious laughter echoing down the dark stone hallway. The voices were distant, the cacophony of jubilation and celebration reverberating like a low hum. 

Leif had long since centred himself, but many of the people around him were jittery with nervous energy. He doubted that many knew what was likely to happen. To most of them, this was their first time visiting a seat of authority, they were afraid that their scruffy appearances and lack of experience in anything close to high society would lead to embarrassment and shame. 

Silas stepped up beside Leif, the old man wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Not a fan of leaving the younger ones behind.” He muttered. “

“Better than bringing them in with us.”

“Aye. Truthfully I’m not pleased with being here at all, but I think I’ve said as much more than enough over these past few days.”

“We’ll be fine. We didn’t plan this out for nothing.”

More laughter echoed down the hall, followed vigorous clapping and a series of heavier sounds, likely the stomping of feet. Servants were scurrying back and forth, occasionally gesturing for the waiting group to move forward. They would reach a corner, then be directed to stop, a closed door, stop again, all the while the sounds of cheer drew louder and louder. 

If this was part of the game, it was infantile, and Leif found himself increasingly unwilling to hold back should there be an incident. And there would be an incident, they were being taunted, even if many hadn’t realised it yet. Servants ran by carrying trays of overly seasoned food, but they didn’t stop to offer any to the subjugation force. In fact, it made no sense that they were passing by them at all, from what Leif could tell the kitchens were in the completely other direction. Well, if the duke’s ‘guests ‘were as tired and hungry as they were supposed to be, then the taunt might be more effective.

Finally they reached a heavy set double door, and without being given any time to prepare, the doors swung outwards. The sounds of the feast, now unbarred, washed over him, as did the warmth of the massive high-roofed chamber, and scents of a hundred platters and dishes lined along four long tables that each spanned half the width of the room, with a gap between for ease of access. They stepped inside as they were ushered forward by members of the staff, but it was strange, it seemed they were at a higher elevation to everyone else.

There were over a hundred people in attendance, most dressed in a lavish manner, their dress dripping with colour in a way Leif hadn’t seen outside of the markets of Ahle-ho. He suspected that, just like the stall owners of the coastal cities, these people too were trying to sell something. Not a product or a service, but themselves. And the potential buyer was the man lounging with apparent ease on the iron backed throne that flanked the hall. 

Duke Wrest was a man who appeared to be in his mid to late forties, but he could easily be double that age. He had a pencil thin moustache and hair so black and glossy that it looked like oil. Compared to his guests, the man was dressed plainly, almost casually, the diadem around his brow made of the same cold iron as the throne he sat on. 

He was being attended to by a dozen servants, with two women, younger looking than he was, standing at the base of the small flight of steps leading up to the throne. The pair, as brightly dressed as the other guests were clearly trying to engage the duke in conversation, but over the din of the feast Leif couldn’t hope to make out what was being said. 

The subjugation force filtered in after him, and slowly the attention of the room shifted towards them. It was like a wave, those closest to the side entrance they had emerged from noticing the group's arrival and falling silent, only for that silence to attract the notice of those further in the hall. 

“There are no spare seats.” Harriet noted under her breath. 

Leif nodded slightly. “And  they have us up here on some sort of stage. It looks like we were right. Unfortunately.”

“Attention! Attention!” The herald called, clapping his hands as he strode confidently into the room. “Our final guests have arrived! Heroes one and all, protectors of our lord’s land!”

Among the colourfully dressed attendees, the herald no longer seemed overly bright. The man directed the crowd to applause, which many did, then he marched between the tables and dipped into a bow with an elegant flourish. 

“You’re late.” The duke said, sounding bored, his chin resting on his fist. 

“Apologies my lord, we arrived as soon as we were able.” The herald straightened. His voice carried unnaturally through the hall, but by now Leif was used to the casual amplification of the man’s words. “Do not let their appearances fool you. These brave men and women were capable, when working together, of subjugating a dungeon. Such a feat is worthy of a great reward!” 

The duke’s eyes finally flicked up from the herald as they swept over the subjugation force. The man’s gaze lingered on certain individuals, including Leif, but never for long. Several people shuffled uncomfortably, some even bowing. The duke’s nobility was almost like a physical force, and his attention was enough to make any he looked at more than aware of his authority.

There was something familiar about this situation, but Leif couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The longer he was in the hall, the more a memory long lost stirred in the back of his mind. Leif blinked, and suddenly he was someplace else. A hall, similar to the one in which he had just been, only far larger stretched out before him. The tables seemed larger, as too did the people. He looked around, stunned at the sight. 

“It’s so bright.” Came a quiet voice to his side, and Leif turned to see a young girl, perhaps six or seven years old. Seeing her felt like he had been stabbed. Dark brown hair tied into a neat tail, tanned skin and a worried expression. Leif felt a tug at his sleeve, and he glanced down, noticing that they wore matching clothes of gold and red. 

He took her small hand in his own of flesh and squeezed. “Don’t worry, sis. It’s a party, parties are fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

She smiled in an unconvincing fashion, then flinched as a hand clapped down onto her shoulder. “Young Leif is right, you should relax, Flavia. This feast is being held in honour of your grandfather, and by extension all of house Vin.” 

“Yes, father.” She said nervously.

“Try to enjoy yourselves. Though Leif…”

“What?” He heard himself say. 

“Try to stay out of trouble.”

The vision twisted, blurring around the edges, and as suddenly as the vision had overtaken him he was back. Leif blinked again, and he realised he hadn’t heard the words the herald had spoken. The world seemed to spin, and he had to focus on centering himself in the present. What was that? A memory? He thought. It was so vivid… 

“- honoured to be here, I’m sure.” The herald finished, bowing again.

The duke took a long drink from a goblet one of the servants handed to him, then stood with a sigh. “Fine, let me get a look at them.” He sauntered forward, handing off his drink to a servant without looking. 

“Line up.” A soldier hissed, and Leif felt something bump into him from behind. Silas cursed and half turned, but to either side of them the subjugation force was shuffling into place. “No quick movements.”

The duke’s steps came to a stop as he stood before the stage, the heels of his boots clicking against the stone floor. The herald leered from behind him, his hands steepled together. “Are these truly warriors who fought within a dungeon?” Wrest asked, looking dubiously up and down the line. “Half of them look like vagrants. Some are still children.”

“They may be a pathetic sort, but their contributions have been verified by trusted sources.” The herald replied. 

A nearby chair scuffed against the floor as somebody stood. Leif, along with most of the room, turned to see Lady Eire, her face half flushed. “Is my testimony being questioned? Is my word not enough?”

“Not at all Lady Eire. Not at all.” The duke said calmly. “Your own exploits in preventing tragedy are well known to all here. I simply struggle to see how the contributions of mere… commoners, could match up to that of our adventurers. Perhaps with a little investment those who show promise may find new opportunities to improve themselves.”

The herald stepped forward as if on queue and cleared his throat, though he had clearly been waiting for just those words. “Rejoice, for your efforts have been recognised by his lordship!” Several seated guests clapped, but they quickly fell silent. “Among us today are guild masters, some of the most esteemed subjects of his lordship. Perhaps, if any on the stage seem particularly promising, they may have the honour to join a guild, and become an adventurer in truth?”

The duke yawned and waved a hand. “Have it done.”

With those words, excited murmuring started among those seated at the feast. Several men and women pointed, some laughing and nudging one another. A fascination had been paraded before them, and now they had been given an open invitation to gawk. 

“Do we act?” Silas asked through gritted teeth. Leif found himself surprised by the older man’s lack of restraint. He was practically boiling with anger. 

“We agreed that being reactive would lessen the risk to our people.” Harriet whispered. 

“We counter after they make a move.” Leif said, projecting his words into their minds. The hall was abuzz with a hundred mixing intents, and the varied emotions of those around him were like an open book, each telling their own story. Leif had to restrain his senses lest the sheer amount of stimuli overwhelm him, but that slackened his restraint on the other layer of presences his perception was picking up.

With every level, Leif’s senses grew keener and keener, the sheer amount of attributes building on top of each other to empower both his baseline and skills. Ever since Ahle-ho he had been constantly training himself to be able to handle large crowds, but it was a constant struggle, and he hadn’t had time to prepare since his last spike in power. It wasn’t too much, not yet, but it did come as a sort of relief when he felt an almost hostile intent bloom from one of the tables closest to the duke’s throne only moments later.

There was a pulse of power, and a man stood. “Apologies, Duke Wrest, but I have a grievance I wish to air with some of our… guests.”

“...As is your right I suppose. Go ahead Guildmaster Mattis, but make it quick.” The duke replied dismissively. 

The man turned and looked at the line. There was a prickling against Leif’s senses, and he recognised him as the man with the insectile presence. Mattis, now that Leif could see him closely, was a well built man with a waxed scalp. His eyes were squinted, almost beady, and the sharp trim of his beard framed a heroic jawline. He puffed out his chest, revealing to the world the golden pin in the shape of a sunflower that glinted from the candles and chandeliers that lit up the hall.

He bowed in the duke’s direction, then confidently strode forward, his barely restrained presence making those closest to his advance shrink back. Leif couldn’t help but wonder if his groomed appearance was a facade for his hungry, chittering power. How would somebody even get offered a class like that? Did this man blight fields of crops for fun as a child?

Leif looked to where the man had stood from, and recognised the adventurers who had fled from battle down in the dungeon. They likewise wore their sunflower badges proudly, and they were nowhere near as cowled as those who should have received punishment for cowardice ought to be. They were all watching their guildmaster closely, except for one, who was glaring at a point a little to Leif’s left with a mix of hatred and smug satisfaction. 

Where Lucia and the other kids are. He thought grimly. Leif wasn’t alarmed, they had planned for this, though he hadn’t expected this exact scenario. His mind moved from possibility to possibility, assessing and weighing what may happen, and how he should respond. 

“You know, it’s hard to believe that those standing up on the stage could be capable of such heroics.” Mattis said, smiling openly. He turned to lady Eire who had half stood from her seat at his words. “But of course, they are. Looks matter little, what truly matters is the heart.” 

The guildmaster placed a hand on his breast and looked around, his smile fading, a solemn expression replacing it. “Which is why it saddens me to know that some of those who have been given the privilege to stand before his lordship are exactly what they seem. Rats and cowards, common to the bone. Those more interested in stealing valour and honour than saving lives.” Mattis shook his head sadly, and concerned muttering broke out among the seated guests. It was as if the man’s words were confirming what they already expected. 

The duke had seated himself and was staring at a platter of food that a servant was presenting him, seemingly unbothered by the show before him. Leif wondered just how much of his attitude was an act. If his indifference was feigned and the man had a vested interest in this scheme then things could get ugly. 

“Alas, yes, it is true.” Mattis continued. “As you all know, a party from my guild partook in the subjugation. Nay, I would go so far as to say they were pivotal to our eventual success.” This time murmuring started among the standing subjugation force, matching the muttered conversion taking place throughout the hall. 

“Quiet.” A soldier hissed, prodding his spear into the back of a man. Another cuffed a woman across the back of the head. Next to him, Leif could feel Silas practically vibrating with barely suppressed rage, the older man grinding his cane into the stage with enough force that if he kept going he may start to make smoke. It was to his credit that Silas wasn’t focusing his hostility on any one person. There were those with the [Noble] class present, the duke being among them, their intentions were almost certainly being read.

Mattis took a cup from a nearby table, not the one he had been sitting at, and brought it to his lips, his eyes raking across the assembled group like how a shopper would study produce. He sniffed the cup, took a theatrical swig, then tossed the cup back onto the table. “And yet, not only were my people slandered, but they were also attacked! Yes, indeed! Heroes of our kingdom were physically assaulted by those they considered their allies! Their comrades in arms!”

There were shouts of outrage, both from the seated guests but also several people on the stage. 

“Specifically, those children there.” Mattis pointed accusingly, the sides of his mouth twitching upwards. “I do not think youth excuses treason. Does anybody else?” 

“Bullshit!” Hylon yelled. “Those fuckers-” His words cut out as a soldier grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked. 

The attention of the room shifted. Silas twitched. The duke chewed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Leif took a single step forward, and the world slowed with the unveiling of his presence, the air itself gaining a tint of gold. Everyone reacted differently and at differing speeds, the weaker people closest to the stage moved as if trapped in molasses, while those who had been radiating a quiet strength were less affected. 

“Enough.” Leif said, his voice clear and crisp in the world of distorted time. “You’ve had your entertainment.”

Mattis shook off the slow quicker than most, but he still looked rattled. The man glanced from side to side, seeing the varying rates those around him were reacting. Leif had already retracted his aura, but the effects lingered for several seconds. 

“You dare stand in the way of justice?” The guildmaster asked, summoning back his dignity after his surprise wore off. 

Leif stepped off the stage, and nobody moved to stop him. Even after losing a foot of elevation he was still half a foot taller than the guildmaster. “No. I do, however, find it interesting that your version of events differs so greatly from my own. Tell me, guildmaster, were you in the dungeon? Because I was.”

Mattis shot a look at the duke, then straightened his spine and forced confidence back into his expression. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“A failing on your part. I am Oak, adventurer of the Twin Heart guild, and you just accused those I have taken personal interest in of a very serious crime.”