Chapter 147
Lamberton Dormitory Building, Cornell Academy, City: Three Prongs Fork, Republic of Shantu, Continent: Barat, the Year 2041, Planet: Grimoire
It didn't take long for word to spread of their presence, and instead of hatred and hostility filling the air, hope, happiness, wicked amusement, and curiosity became the primary emotions perfuming the air. "Now things are getting better." Grifton surveyed all the people in front of him. There was no sign of the newcomers.
"Yeah, this feels much better." Firenze agreed. "So what are you looking for now?" He noticed what Grifton was doing.
"The shadows, but I figure they'll show up with the rest of their party," Grifton informed Firenze with a faint smile. "After all, this'll be the first fun event they're going to get to participate or spectate in that has nothing to do with politics, at least not officially."
"Hah, no politics are involved here." An elderly gentlemen overheard their conversation. "We don't allow that shit to run the rules."
Grifton smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." He admitted.
The gentleman glanced at them. "Glad to see your faces after so long." He smiled. "I figure there'll be a bigger betting pool this time on who the champions will be now."
Since when was betting done officially around here? Exasperated, Grifton blinked when he heard that. "A betting pool is established now?" So much had changed from the earlier days. He rubbed his jaw in confusion. "Huh, I recall there was a time when anyone bet extra funds," Firenze nodded in agreement with what Grifton mentioned. "The winning amount was used to help with basic maintenance." Where had all the simpler days gone when all they had to do was compile copper or silver coins to scrape up enough money to attend as either participants or spectators.
The elderly man shrugged. "Eh, I suppose that is also a good use for the winnings." He shook his head. "It was a special idyllic time when that was all the money went for, besides feeding guards and referees." A small smile tugged at the old man's mouth.
Just then, their attention was diverted at Firenze's exclamation. "Huh, they're in the spectator line,"
The old man frowned. "Say what?"
Grifton grunted. "Oh, you mean the lurkers from earlier?"
"Yep, it is them all right," Firenze remarked.
He grinned when Grifton glanced at him in confusion. "I think I forgot what I was doing earlier," Grifton admitted after a moment.
That's when Firenze clarified. "The shadows plus five younger versions, and I saw Gladys standing with them."
Of course, that's what Firenze had been doing when Grifton was distracted by the other conversation. His shoulders hunched a bit since he recalled when many participated in a team effort. Well, it made sense if Gladys didn't want to participate.
"Oh, what's this?" Firenze was startled.
"Now what?" Grifton looked in the direction that Firenze gazed.
Gladys spotted them and waved for them to wait for her. She spoke to the group with a shrug and a laugh. The others nodded with understanding smiles.
"So glad to see you here." Gladys approached them. Others made a way for her to join Grifton quickly. "Just like old times," Firenze remarked. He laughed at her retort.
She tossed her head with a grin, though it faded quickly enough. "Damn right, I'm not going to miss this opportunity to have a good fight against braggart assholes," Gladys growled in contemptuous disgust, "that seem to think they can crush champions just because they haven't been in the arena for a while."
Her comment was clearly overheard, and cheers erupted noisily when it became apparent that all three of them were in a grouchy mood over arrogant morons.
The old man laughed though he gazed at Gladys with some puzzlement.
"Oh yeah, this was going to be very fun indeed." Grifton agreed with a grin.
Adrenaline began flowing in his veins. "So what is the difference between what we do as spectators and what we do to participate?" He saw the elderly gentleman observing them with raised eyebrows.
"Hmm, you're asking me?" He grinned, though realizing that Grifton was serious.
"Yes, unlike me, you seem to be someone who attended recently," Grifton admitted.
"Hmm, we still have a policy of people being able to buy baked goods and flasks of water or juice for the guards," the gentleman recalled. "The same goes for the participants or spectators who can't afford the fee." He sighed. "Unfortunately, the fee has increased from five silvers to fifteen." The old man shook his head angrily. "Outrageous, if you ask me."
Grifton frowned. "Is that for both spectators and participants or not?"
"Hmm?" The old man blinked. "Oh, it is for both." He sighed. "I heard it was raised to pay for rebuilding the arena facilities."
That didn't make sense to Grifton, and it went completely against what he remembered was the purpose of the sparring. "Is it being used for other events?"
The old man shrugged. "Dunno, I only come for the unofficial games. I abhor the official games." He shook his cane with exasperation, barely avoiding striking Grifton and Firenze.
The old man paid no attention to them dodging his swinging cane. "They're no fun." He sputtered angrily. "It's become a reserved event shown to the elite." He was so angry that he was turning purple and speechless. "Not only that, but it's restricted to invitations only for folks related to the academies or merchants." That's when the old man realized what had happened. "Err, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get that excited." He bowed his head in apology.
Firenze and Grifton exchanged glances before looking worriedly at Gladys. "We're okay," Grifton sighed. "but our friend, here, almost got smacked." Firenze gestured at Gladys, who stood just out of range of the cane.
The old man regretted his actions almost as if he'd come from a dazed state of mind. "Oh," the old man looked at Gladys for the first time, and his eyes widened in shock. "I'm so sorry, lass." He flinched when he recognized her. "Oh dear, it is my daughter." He muttered, looking very nervous.
Gladys blinked. "Dad?" She gaped at him. "I thought you only wanted to attend those fusty old gatherings." Glady sighed. "This is Harold Jennings, my curmudgeonly father."
Harold politely bowed to Grifton and Firenze. "My pardon for the misunderstanding." He looked at Gladys with compassion for the first time in her knowledge. "That was before they began treating you like trash." Anger glinted in his eyes as he spoke. "Once you were seriously injured and had the amputation."
It was as if he understood her problems very intimately. Harold shook his head. "I came here because it was my last chance to see you before you took off into the wilds." His head bowed. "I wanted to find a way to connect with you. After all, we do share something in common." He pulled the glove off his right hand. It was also a prosthetic.
Gladys's eyes widened when she looked at it. "When did... no, I don't need to know?" She broke off before he could continue. "You acknowledging me as something other than a failure is all the graciousness I need from you." Tears glittered in her eyes from the shock of the revelation.
Harold sighed in relief, seeing that she would accept him. "Not a foot," Concern darkened his eyes when he looked at Gladys. "However, I know the torment you've been going through well, daughter." He shrugged with a smile. "I'm proud of you for maintaining your independence through it all, even though I couldn't show it before now."
Gladys regarded him hesitantly and then hugged him hard, keeping him balanced. "Try not to get too excited. I don't want you passing out before we even get inside," she coaxed him with a worried gaze.
Well, this was a surprise reunion indeed. Grifton hadn't known what to expect when coming here. "Errm, I think we need to move ahead in the line." He ventured to remind them of where they were.
"Oh, right. We can talk more inside," Harold harrumphed. He paused. "I can take care of your entry fees." He frowned. "I am joining as a participant. Is there an age limit?"
Wow, this fellow was determined and wasn't going to give up. Grifton shook his head. "Not that I know of." If there was one, it was the first time he'd heard of it.
Firenze grinned with anticipation. "Nope, there isn't an age limit, Mr. Jennings." He hesitated before offering. "You're welcome to join us when the team battle begins."
Grifton nodded with a smile. Gladys' eyes widened at their generosity.
"Yes," She said simply. "it would be wonderful if you would."
Harold smiled. "Sure thing, I would've been lonely if I had to do this alone." He shrugged. "It has been some time since I've actively battled, so I'm a bit rusty."
Grifton didn't know if he was being played or not. However, he merely nodded. "Take your time deciding what categories you wish to enter." It would be interesting to see the old man in action. His name rang a bell in Grifton's head. He'd been someone Grifton had read about, but he didn't recall where or if he'd seen it in some other context.
After entering the gate, Firenze waved for Gladys and Harold to proceed. "I just wanted to tell you, he's a retired adventurer and hunter," he said in a low voice to Grifton.
"I thought so. I don't remember where I saw or heard Jennings's name mentioned." Grifton frowned slightly, seeing Firenze's slight discomfort. "So, what happened?"
"Uhmm, word has it that your mother was his fiancée before she ran off with your father." Firenze gulped. "So, I don't know if he has figured out the connection."
Grifton frowned when the quandary appeared before him. "Well, let's just take each event as it comes," he suggested at last. "If he does something, it'll be when no one expects anything to happen." Eesh, this could get complicated, and the potential for backstabbing just rose sharply. "I just want to enjoy this moment while it lasts."
Firenze nodded. "Sure, we'll just keep on our guard then." He was okay with that decision.
They hurried to catch up with Gladys and Harold, who waited patiently for them.