Chapter 187 (1/2)

The first thing Randidly noticed about Deardun was its size. Not only did the walls tower above them as he approached, but there were tents and lean-to's lining the road to Deardun, where people had set up shop and were happily living. The whole thing had a very festival air to it, and Claptrap whispered that the people were here to witness the Regional Tournament.

Randidly felt a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew, academically, people would be watching this tournament. And there were even people watching the qualifier. But at the qualifier, they were away and above mostly, out of Randidly’s awareness. If this was a more classic style battle, with stands packed with people…

Already, Randidly wanted to vomit. It was not that people made him nervous, but… the possibility that he would have to interact with that many people, or even just interact in front of that many people.

But as best he could, Randidly reassured himself that he had been fine in the qualifier. Before he thought about the issue of spectators. And also when he had been so angry that he had just started lashing out…

Complicating matters, Randidly had spent most of the past two years just sparring and training, perhaps exacerbating his people issues. There had been a lot of people at market day, but not many people paid attention until after he fought Gerel, because he was the cook. And that acknowledgment of his capability, while making no attempt to engage him, was exactly the sort of attention that Randidly preferred.

As they walked further toward the towering walls, more and more spear users were milling about, shouting and laughing, some even sparring, right along the road. Almost instinctively, Randidly scanned them, and didn’t find anyone who he believed was that impressive, but he supposed that was to be expected; no one worth their chops would be fighting out here.

“Hey!” A burly spear user said, turning around. The male spear attendant had been looking around with wide eyes and walked into the man, knocking him off his balance. The male spear attendant recovered and frowned.

“Yes?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, rushing around like that-”

“Heh, I’ll have you know that I am the spear attendant of the Ghosthound with the most dedicated work ethic! My name is-”

As a group, Randidly, Teliph, Helen, and even the new spear attendant of Teliph exchanged a glance and kept walking, largely ignoring this incident. After all, giving it any attention would just be a waste of time.

As the shouting increased in volume behind them, the group continued, very quickly arriving at the gates, where several guards were standing. Randidly produced the token he had received from the qualifiers, and the whole attitude of the guards changed, but not in the way Randidly expected it too.

If anything, they shifted from bored to sneering, waving the group through while exchanging knowing glances.

“They underestimate you because you had to enter through a qualifier.” Teliph rumbled, his countenance stormy.

But Randidly only chuckled. Helen glanced at him sourly. “Why do you not demonstrate your own prowess? It is dishonorable. Don’t be a fucking pussy about it.”

This made Randidly shift uncomfortably, but he said nothing, just continuing to walk. Helen snorted.

“Do you know that 90% of individuals who make it to the Regional Tournament through a qualifier are fucking humiliated in the preliminary? Do you just want to be another number?”

Somehow, Helen’s words sparked Randidly’s temper. He grinned, and then began to walk forward with a much straighter spine. “I will not be a number.”

“Hmph,” Helen snorted. And Randidly spun slowly and gave her a long look, full of primal fury and the desire to kill he had honed in the prison. She faltered, a tiny bit of fear showing in her face.

Rather than bringing him joy, the fear just made Randidly feel extremely sad, and his posture shifted back. Mulling over the person he wanted to be. It was not fury, but it was also not placid or content. Strength without inherent violence, although a willingness to perform violence. Calm, but not passive. The ability to distinguish what was right and what was necessary.