Chapter 236 (1/2)
The crowd milled about the stands, unsure of why there were signs put up, indicating there would be entertainment available in the arena today. Yesterday had been the matches to determine the top 16, so according to the schedule, there should be two days of break, for the people to wander around the city and enjoy the festival like atmosphere. Why did the referees signal something would be occurring here today…?
Claptrap’s smile was sly as he walked up with the male spear attendant and the head referee. This was actually an idea that he had come up with on his own, but when he approached the Ghosthound, he was surprised to find that he already knew of such programming, and offered some very concrete advice for increasing the success of his idea.
The referee coughed awkwardly, then began to speak in halting tones. “Ah… well… we are here today to offer to you, the- err- the supporters of the Northern Regional Tournament, for some analysis in the wider tournament….”
The referee gave Claptrap a pleading look, who simply looked on impassively. They had already come to an agreement, so why was he dragging his feet.
“So uh, here they are….” The referee finished lamely. Claptrap cursed inwardly, but gestured, and a dozen or so of his employees rushed out, erecting a small raised platform off the stage, with a table. Claptrap walked over and sat down, with the male spear attendant.
The one thing the Ghosthound had been very clear about is that they needed to take on different roles. Not just their usual personality, but in terms of what they were saying. One guy needed to constantly blow things out of proportion, while the other needed to offer commentary based more in fact, and reel the other one in. Claptrap wanted to start refining his image as a competent head of his company, so insisted that the male spear attendant be the hype guy. But he was a little worried about how easily the male spear attendant would accept his role…
Realizing the audience was staring awkwardly at them, Claptrap opened his mouth to speak, but the male spear attendant beat him to the punch.
“This!” The male spear attendant bellowed, standing and smashing his fist down, cracking the table. “Is perhaps the greatest Regional Tournament the Northern Region has had in 100 years!”
Claptrap’s eyelid twitched at the damage to the table. The audience began to whisper to each other, wide eyed.
“The-the last 100…” Claptrap said weakly, trying to establish himself, but once more the male spear attendant bellowed.
“NO! You are right, friend! The last 500 years! For the last 100 Regional Tournaments, I have no doubt in my mind that the concentration of heroic spear users we have now can be rivaled! Truly, it is the golden age to live in the Northern Region of the Spearman School.”
The people were more excited now, smiling and nodding. Truly, there hadn’t been-
Interrupting his own thoughts, Claptrap began to vocalize. “Truly, there hasn’t been so many upsets and powerful contestants of note in a long time. Which is why we are here today, folks. We now are down to our best 16, and I think we should take a long look at each one of them, examining their fighting style, and making predictions on the outcome of matches. So why don’t we start with…”
As Claptrap continued to speak, his eyes scanned the stands, as people watched with rapt attention, speaking in low tones to each other and then turning back for the analysis. All the while, they purchased concessions food and ale.
Claptrap could practically feel the gold filling his pockets.
****
Helen sat on the ground meditating, still nursing a burning anger towards Randidly’s dismissive attitude towards her the prior night. The fury had shrunk, but its core was perhaps heating up even further, the longer she mulled over it, because while she was mad…
A small stream of Aether flowed into her, filling her with strength. Ever since he had touched her back, and she had instinctively accepted the gift he was giving her, Aether was constantly flowing into her. And it wasn’t the same as the stiff, almost unhealthy thing she now regarded the Aether from villages to be, but it was pure and accepting. She could easily shape it, strengthening her images and body.
Her ability to level skills increased by leaps and bounds. It was truly a godsend. Her level, under the tutelage of Divveltian, rapidly improved to the level where Helen believed that if they could travel back in time, she could participate in the tournament herself, and achieve modest results.
Which in fact only made her fury grow more vicious. Did Randidly think that she could be placated with Aether, and he didn’t need to respect her? That fucking piece of shit, she would rip off his dirty Aether dick and sell it to the highest bidder.
But now he had disappeared, perhaps following the footsteps of Shal, and Claptrap and the male spear attendant were practicing being clowns in front of the audience. Teliph was strong, but his continued Aether Sickness meant that he couldn’t really spar with her for extended periods of time to work off her anger, especially now as her growth became explosive.
So she was forced to sit alone, waiting-
There was a knock on the door.