Honour Under Pressure

The polished limestone structure of the packed coliseum rumbled with a cacophony of cheers and jeers. In the central pit, two figures clad in resplendent gladiatorial armour stood on hovering vessels styled like ancient biremes sailing over a vast holographic lake. Using a strong, lyrical cadence, they took turns hurling accusations of heresy and treason at each other as they circled the roiling waters. Two prominent local heroes, Adaro and Thekseus, challenged each other to Aktara Vartik, an age-old rite for settling irreconcilable grievances.

Only one would leave the arena alive.

The people of Entara’s sprawling capital pushed and shoved their way through crowded roads inlaid with ancient lights to witness the event. They vented their frustrations and anxiety over their future through games and blood sport whenever they could. Convenient for the city’s rulers, who grew weary suppressing the growing unrest wracking their orderly ancestral home.

Two men wearing heavy hooded cloaks parted from the angry throng. The clothing obfuscated the figure in front led the second by holding his handcuffs. They navigated through a bustling market, bypassed a security checkpoint of guards with electrostaves and containment golems, and some dubious back alleys toward their clandestine destination.

They froze as a booming voice pierced the sandy streets. “Halt!” The cloaked men tensed and froze. A clawed hand wrapped around the grip of the leading man’s weapon. A pair of guards multiplied into six, accompanied by a towering golem and drones. They wore the headresses, crests and plasma glaives of Entara’s Elite Guard.

The guard wearing the most impressive headwear said, “Curfew’s in effect and this area’s off-limits. State your business or prepare to meet the Maker.”

The restrained man let out a resigned chuckle before his captor said, “The condor called, and the wolf brings a golden egg.”

Behind her visor, the guard narrowed her eyes. Her compatriot motioned to reveal the captive’s identity, but she swatted his hand away with the butt of her glaive before saying, “You’re late. This way.”

Her shift in tone gave the captive pause. His jaw dropped as the golem stepped through a holographic facade of a building and the elite guards stood down. His mind raced with the implications of this new information as he followed the golem and his captor down a hidden passage.

The golem led them down a long, dark set of stairs. Expecting a dank dungeon, the captive found himself riding a light rail tram under the city before entering a clear, domed elevator that ascended into the sky.

His nerves frayed, the captive said, “If I must suffer more of this insipid subterfuge, I beg you, hunter, end my life now. Grant me that mercy.”

The captor sighed and flipped his hood back, revealing his scarred, lupine face. The famous bounty hunter known as Bael was a vulfar sarakem, a wolf-like humanoid. He reached over a clawed finger and pulled back the hood of his captive. “I’ve never met people so universally melodramatic.”

His mark, a human rebel leader called Eigel, squinted as the elevator emerged from underground and rays of Entara’s setting sun stung his eyes. The human stepped to the edge of the dome and regarded his beloved city, expecting this would be the last time he’d get to take it all in.

Eigel stepped up to the glass and looked out at the glorious citadels and glimmering spires of his homeland. Fading but still bright light soothed a set of deep, recent scars on his handsome face. “You are reputed to be a cultured man, hunter. What say you of Entara?”

Bael stepped up next to Eigel and crossed his arms. “Rare jewel is an accurate description. The people would do well to tone it down a little, though.”

Eigel nodded. “A rare jewel indeed. One worth fighting for. Worth dying for.” He looked down at his restraints and clenched his fists. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask. What would it cost for you to release me, hunter? I don’t fear death, but it pains me to leave my righteous work of saving my home unfinished. What I would give to take my son through the garden of a thousand fountains once more.”

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “I thought your cause was about restoring the rule of honour. You’d ask me to compromise mine?”

The captive chuckled and rested his weary head on the cool glass. “You’re right, hunter. My apologies. How these trying times have pushed and compromised me so. I always believed our strength came from how any issues in our society could be resolved in the open with dignity and grace. Never thought I’d return to my beloved home in chains. Filthy from skulking around in the woods like a bandit, even for the cause of defending my people.”

Bael said, “Nothing wrong with fighting for what you believe in. Sometimes people forget they can lose. That’s how it goes. A harsh lesson for expecting others to play by your rules. You weren’t exactly my hardest catch.”

Eigel scowled. “We are no more than animals if we don’t hold true to our principles. Even when they are inconvenient. A challenge was issued, so I faced it. What cruel and loathsome punishment if my final moments are spent surrounded by ruthless thugs who’d do anything for more money and power.”

As the elevator slowed, Bael stepped over to the door. “In my experience, people show what they actually hold dear under pressure. My time will come one day. I’m guessing yours will be much sooner.”

Eigel stepped forward next to his captor and strode forward with a straight back and his head held high as the door irised open.

The duo stepped into the private wing of an estate floating in the clouds above the city. The richly appointed halls were derelict and silent save for a butler drone that floated toward them and guided them deeper inside. As he walked, Bael’s hand wandered over to one of his trademark pistols. It was a little too quiet in here for the veteran hunter.

A set of double doors ahead of them hissed open, allowing the too loud music inside to spill out into the halls. Notably, not Entaran music. A well-muscled man with no shirt and a wild hairdo sauntered out of the lounge to greet his guests.

After finishing a bottle of expensive imported liquor and tossed it aside, the man flashed a wicked grin and held his arms out wide. “Finally, the main event can begin! Is that you Eigel? I hardly recognized you under all that muck you’ve been hiding under.”

The captive stepped forward and took a deep breath to bite back his hatred for the man before him. He dipped into a formal bow. “Greetings, Jorn, Champion of Erasdau Fields. I, Eigel, humbly accept your gracious hospi—“

Jorn’s forehead smashing Eigel’s nose cut his polite greeting short. Three more well-built warriors wearing a mix of loungewear and foreign goods emerged into the hallway and cheered on their leader.

Jorn wrapped Eigel in a headlock as blood ran from his nose down the champion’s forearm. “Come now, Eigel. Haven’t you heard? We’re done with all that ancient nonsense now. It’s the dawn of an exciting new era. Well, it will be once foolish relics like you are properly disposed of.”

Still holding the captive tight enough that he struggled to breathe, Jorn turned to Bael. “There he is. The legend in the flesh. Or fur…” He laughed and turned to his entourage to join in. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Is it true you once killed ten men with a bottle of wine?”

Stone-faced, Bael replied. “Eleven. And it was a bottle of rum.”

Jorn guffawed. “Classic. I wager bringing in this stubborn splinter wasn’t enough of a challenge to bring you that level of glory.”

Bael wrinkled his keen nose. “Judging by the scent of old blood and tears on you, neither will whatever you were up to. The contract is complete. Where’s my fee?”

Jorn’s grin faded. His boys looked between each other, unsure of how to respond.

Movement out the window to the side drew their attention. A gold-inlaid shuttle craft shaped like a soaring condor landed on the platform next to another vessel.

Jorn’s smile returned, but his eyes remained cold. “Speak of a devil. Our benefactor has arrived.” He leaned into Eigel’s ear and whispered, “And we’ve got a special surprise for you.”

Before they stepped into the lounge, Jorn stopped Bael with a firm hand on his chest. He tutted. “Hold it. Rules are still rules, for now. Can leave your hardware with my men. Don’t worry, you’ll get them back. Couldn’t have a legend running around without his precious antiques.”

Jorn took one of Bael’s pistols and whistled. “Have to say, they’re not as fancy as I was expecting.” He pointed it at a collection of busts nestled along the wall and squinted to look down the iron sights. “Can you believe these things still fire hunks of metal using explosive powder? And they call us barbaric.” He chuckled and pressed the barrel into Eigel’s face.

Bael didn’t protest as the others relieved him of his many weapons. “I wouldn’t pull that trigger if I were you.”

Jorn raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

Bael narrowed his eyes. “Because it’s loud and you might hurt somebody.”

A rush of wind blew through the room as the door to the landing pad slid open. A stern woman wearing a mix of Entaran and imperial noble garb strode inside, flanked by two of her elite guard.

Eigel spat out some blood trickling into his mouth. “Alsina Kelborin, First of her name, Arch Lady of the Entaran Sky. After everything that’s happened, I should’ve known this was your doing.”

Alsina marched close, but remained out of spitting distance. “Surprised, Eigel?”
 
Eigel scoffed. “That you’d sink so low as to sell out your people to a foreign empire for a few trinkets? No. I’m only surprised that you’re so audacious and dastardly to show your face to me in person. Have you no shame?”

She sighed. “I don’t expect a fool like you to share my vision. What with you burying your face in the dirt trying to kiss the backsides of our ancestors. This could have been an easy transition where we all shared the rewards, but you made your decisions and I made mine. Despite what the ballads say, only winners gain any glory. How you’ll be remembered is up to you.

“I’m sure you passed the coliseum on your way in. Adaro stepped out of line, same as you. It was I who granted him permission to invoke the rite of Aktara Vartik. I’ve made arrangements to ensure he won’t triumph, but he’ll be remembered for at least dying with honour as a last gasp of our traditions. I offer you a similar way out. Publicly confess that you made an error in judgement, order your fighters to stand down and support my bid to join the Empires, then you’ll have your pick of rites to atone for your sins against Entara.”

Eigel struggled out of Jorn’s grasp and stood tall. “I’d rather die a hero and a martyr than accept your ‘gifts’, Alsina.”

She offered a slight smile. “I knew you would, Eigel. That’s why it’s not only your life on the line here.”

The door in the back slid open. One of the warriors dragged in a boy by his hair. After surveying the room, the boy screamed, “Dad!”

Eigel’s eyes went wide. “Get your hands off my son, you—“ He rushed forward, but a kick to the gut from Jorn left him doubled over on his knees, unable to breathe.

The champion sauntered over to the boy. “While you were making speeches hiding in the woods, we were testing your little man’s mettle. He’s quite the fighter, but stubborn and stupid, like his old man. A runner, always want to rush in the wrong direction.”

The boy’s tear-stricken face contorted in silent agony as Jorn held his broken and twisted arm.

Alsina bent over and spoke softly. “Do we have a deal?”

Eigel stared at her with rage and despair fighting a bloody battle behind his eyes. Harsh words of defiance crashed against the bulwark of his clenched teeth.

Alsina adjusted her white gloves and said, “You have 24 hours to accept my offer, Eigel. Jorn and his companions will continue watching over your family until you decide.”

Bael cleared his throat. The lady turned and handed him a bag with his fee. “Job well done, hunter. I appreciate your professionalism in this matter. If you last quarry fails to see reason, I may have more work for you in the future tracking down the rest of his band.”

The veteran tucked the credits under his cloak. “Thanks. I think I’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”

“Suit yourself.” Alsina spun on her heel and marched back the way she came. Her cape billowing in the wind as she left without another word.

With the boy sobbing in the corner and Eigel lost in his thoughts under the watch of a warrior with a plasma glaive, Jorn turned the music back on and danced over to Bael. “Job’s done, merc. Feel free to leave the way you came. Unless you’re in the mood to party and show me some of those gunslinger tricks.”

Bael looked down at his captive and sighed, noting the weight of despair crushing down on the man. He held out a hand to Jorn. “My weapons.”

The champion kept dancing. “Ha! Nice try. Best leave with your tail between your legs before this gets messy, dog.”

Bael surveyed the room and let out a low growl. “Aktara Vartik.”

Jorn and his boys laughed. The shirtless man flexed and posed. “The legends didn’t say you were such an amusement. Even if that rite wasn’t only for Entarans, old timer, you’d stand no chance against the mighty Jorn! Butcher of Erasdau Fields! Prime Champion of Alsina Kelborin! Greatest warrior in all of—“

Bael raised his gruff voice. “Waste of my time. All I see is a half-wit and his cronies.” He unclasped his cloak and tossed it to the side. “Tell you what, bub. I’ll take you and all your boys at once. Unless you’ve grown dull brutalizing children.”

The others readied weapons, but waited for their leader. Jorn stopped dancing then smiled wide. “Deal.” He pointed the pistol at Bael’s head, then pulled the trigger.

Not recognizing its owner’s grip, spike jutted into Jorn’s palm and sent an unconscionable amount of electricity coursing through his arm. He convulsed so hard, he bit off a piece of his tongue and fell to the floor, blood gushing out of his mouth.

Before the others could react, Bael lunged to the right and grabbed the shaft of the first thug’s plasma glaive. He yanked it hard in the opposite direction to carve a burning hole in the second fighter’s chest. The third belted out a war cry and leaped off a table. Bael maneuvered the first thug into the blade’s path, cutting him in two. The hunter retrieved his knife from the bisected thug’s belt, spun around to slice the last attacker’s wrist, then buried the blade in his neck.

Struggling to regain control of his body, Jorn looked up with a ruined hand, eyes full of indignation, and a mouth overflowing with blood. “You won’t get away with this… Don’t you know I’m—“

As the song came to a close, a deafening crack filled the room. Bael picked up his pistol, shot Jorn in the head, then spun it back in the holster. “Nobody.”

As the hunter collected his effects. The boy ran up and wrapped himself around his father as best he could. Eigel wept and held his boy close.

They looked up as Bael put his cloak back on and tossed the key to Jorn’s shuttle at their feet. “Good job escaping your captors. Don’t be an idiot this time.”

The hunter disappeared back the way he came.