Chapter 130 (1/2)

The grand melee was an event that almost all of Qtal came out for, and Claptrap was no exception. The administrators of the event opened up the general challenge cells and cleared them out, so those without the money or status to make it to the central viewing tower could view by running around through the cells.

As per the usual, the merchants moved as a band, heading towards the highest, and largest of the cells, creating a tightly packed “Special Market” where each of the merchants brought their most prized wares, sold at special prices to those individuals who came up to their shops.

For Claptrap’s part, he brought several finely made pieces of armor, as well as the 3 bracers engraved by the Ghosthound. If he could make a sale of these today….!

“Ah, Claps my boy, you came too? Hohoho, tis a good thing our stands are so far apart, otherwise I would worry about you stealing some of my customers with your big city acumen.”

His face red, Claptrap turned to face the speaker, an extremely fat merchant with a well oiled beard, who styled himself ‘Uncle Izzie.’ The space behind Uncle Izzie was filled with a varied spread, where every item of armor appeared to be a precious treasure that would be the valued possession of the current master of a Style. It was infuriating, because Uncle Izzie was Claptrap’s main competition, and Claptrap hadn’t been able to best him in a single category since he had come to Qtal.

“Mr. Izzat, it’s good to see you are doing so well.” Claptrap said woodenly.

Izzat’s eyes narrowed, but his smile remained stubbornly in place. “Hohoho, no need to be so formal, call me Uncle Izzie, everyone does...Are your servants coming later, bringing your wares? Why is it that you only have a small satchel at your side?”

Claptrap bit his lip. One of the things that annoyed him about Izzat is that he insisted on never using an interspatial ring to store his wares, but instead paid servants to physically carry around the armor in boxes, in a show of wealth. The amount of spare coin the man had was maddening.

Embarrassed, Claptrap turned away, leaving Izzat to chuckle at his retreating back.

When Claptrap arrived at his space, his heart sank further. Although he had reserved it so far in advance, why was it so small….? It was the size of a child’s desk, and would basically would have enough room for him to display 5 or so pieces of armor, with him hunching behind them. Worst of all, both of the stands on either side of him were large and splendid, covered in fine red table clothes and Tassle streamers of varying colors, indicating the high support that they had from their customers.

Claptrap made a mental note to ask the Ghosthound for a tassle streamer of his, just to have something to display. It didn’t even matter if it was red, it was better to have something than nothing.

So Claptrap slowly removed a high quality ivory helmet, greaves that sparkled with gold inlay, but in fact were not weakened by the use of the metal, and the Ghosthound’s 3, low quality, dirty and beaten leather bracers, and tried to keep a smile on his face for the meandering customers.

It was going to be a long day.

*****

“Hello Shal.”

Shal’s gaze slid sideways, from his student, who finally became serious about the competition and killed two bottom feeders, to find one of the people he detested most in the world.

“Egger.” He grunted, his gaze returning to the window. The less he was forced to interact with this pompous prick the better.

“I am surprised. Who knew that you would have the delicacy to train a disciple. I suppose even violence obsessed idiots have their moments,” Egger said, stepping closer to Shal, so they were side by side as they looked out the window. “...I have 20 trained and tested disciples in this farce. I have given them explicit instructions that they are to have one of them on each of the stages. We will see whether your disciple will even be able to survive long enough for his Tassle to unfurl.”

And this was why Shal detested Egger. For as children, they had been rivals in Egger’s eyes, until Shal summarily trounced him. Since then, Egger had bootlicked his way into one of the larger Styles, and had become a rather well respected instructor for new disciples, even if he was still a mediocre spear-user. At every opportunity, Egger took the opportunity to lord his training accomplishments over Shal, which was received with stony silence.

After all, previously there wasn’t really any competition. But now Shal had a disciple recognized by the world, although most of the world hadn’t realized it yet; there was another Spear Phantom in training.

Normally, Shal would ignore him, because your ability to train a disciple was secondary to individual strength. But there was another truth here, that Shal didn’t want to endanger.

Shal had never lost to Egger, in anything.

So, despite his distaste, Shal spoke directly. “...On this day, a Tassle of your Iron Spear Style will be taken by the Spear Phantom Style. I will wager…”

Shal paused, considering his opponents financial straights. Then he removed an old spear from his ring, a huge, almost 3 meter long monstrosity that had been forged of obsidian. It glittered black in the darkness, a huge hunk of black metal. “...the Spear of the Devourer.”

Egger’s eyes paled, and Shal experienced a certain satisfaction. All had wondered how Shal’s duel with the Devourer had gone, but Shal refused to speak of it. But the fact that he had the Devourer’s spear could only mean one thing…

Shal enjoyed the expression on Egger’s face as he did some quick calculations over the worth of such a spear, and the fear and panic in Egger’s eyes when he realized what a large bet it was. But strangely, his face stilled, and he smiled. “...alright. I will bet this hunk of DragonHeart ore… as well as a bit of information.”