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ID: Nvh1BTbG/qst/6261156#6267047
6/29/2025, 12:12:47 AM
>>6267046
“You’re Number 59.” A mage pipes up helpfully. In his hands is a piece of paper, and he takes a second to write and check something off. “Tristain d’Rusalka. Thanks for the introduction!”
>“59?!”
“Hey, don’t feel too bad.” A female guard says. “Even natives get lost in the desert all the time. The important thing is that you made it at all!”
At that, the gate guards begin laughing hysterically. Did these little rats think you’d just been frolicking out in the sands for three months?! Did they have any idea of all the shit you had to do to get here?! You’re a few moments away from giving them a verbal lashing when their laughter ceases as quickly as it began. The guards suddenly snap to attention, and the lead one gives a practiced salute.
“Adjunct Alvin! Welcome back, sir!”
“At ease, friends.” Alvin smiles. “I see you’ve met my good friend, Tristain. He plans to take part in the Princess’ competition. What do you think of him?”
“He’s really cool!”
“Wow, and huge too! They make them that big in Fodlan?!”
“Never seen anyone like him before!”
Kiss asses. You figured you shouldn’t be surprised. This was a nation that was currently being run by a bunch of glorified bookworms. As one of their right-hand men, Alvin would certainly command considerable power and influence within these walls. Good thing he was currently on your team.
“We’ll get the gates open and let you and your friends in right away!” The lead guard says. Before he scurries away though, you call out to him.
>“Hold it! You said there was a kid that appeared just before I did. Was he a short lad with green hair? Maybe carrying around a weird sword?”
“Yes, that would be him.” The guard says. He goes through the same list he’d checked earlier, when he’d written your name. “Elric von Boramus. He’s likely off at the Fodlan Embassy.”
>“Fodlan Embassy?”
“It’s a temporary measure. Every nation that has a representative competing has one. They’re places where competitors can rest and resupply before the competition’s start.”
>“I see. Maybe I should stop there and kick Elric’s ass first.”
“Hold, Tristain.” Alvin says. “That sort of behavior may have been fine before. In fact, given the lack of hard rules so far in this contest, I’m sure it was encouraged to weed out weaker competitors. The local authorities were all too happy to turn a blind eye to the sort of trouble you foreigners were causing. But do not expect the same here in the capital. If you cause a scene or resort to violence, I would expect there to be great consequences. At this point, it may not be possible to shatter Elric’s curse until you face him in a sanctioned battle.”
>“Ugh. So, what do you suggest then?”
“You’re Number 59.” A mage pipes up helpfully. In his hands is a piece of paper, and he takes a second to write and check something off. “Tristain d’Rusalka. Thanks for the introduction!”
>“59?!”
“Hey, don’t feel too bad.” A female guard says. “Even natives get lost in the desert all the time. The important thing is that you made it at all!”
At that, the gate guards begin laughing hysterically. Did these little rats think you’d just been frolicking out in the sands for three months?! Did they have any idea of all the shit you had to do to get here?! You’re a few moments away from giving them a verbal lashing when their laughter ceases as quickly as it began. The guards suddenly snap to attention, and the lead one gives a practiced salute.
“Adjunct Alvin! Welcome back, sir!”
“At ease, friends.” Alvin smiles. “I see you’ve met my good friend, Tristain. He plans to take part in the Princess’ competition. What do you think of him?”
“He’s really cool!”
“Wow, and huge too! They make them that big in Fodlan?!”
“Never seen anyone like him before!”
Kiss asses. You figured you shouldn’t be surprised. This was a nation that was currently being run by a bunch of glorified bookworms. As one of their right-hand men, Alvin would certainly command considerable power and influence within these walls. Good thing he was currently on your team.
“We’ll get the gates open and let you and your friends in right away!” The lead guard says. Before he scurries away though, you call out to him.
>“Hold it! You said there was a kid that appeared just before I did. Was he a short lad with green hair? Maybe carrying around a weird sword?”
“Yes, that would be him.” The guard says. He goes through the same list he’d checked earlier, when he’d written your name. “Elric von Boramus. He’s likely off at the Fodlan Embassy.”
>“Fodlan Embassy?”
“It’s a temporary measure. Every nation that has a representative competing has one. They’re places where competitors can rest and resupply before the competition’s start.”
>“I see. Maybe I should stop there and kick Elric’s ass first.”
“Hold, Tristain.” Alvin says. “That sort of behavior may have been fine before. In fact, given the lack of hard rules so far in this contest, I’m sure it was encouraged to weed out weaker competitors. The local authorities were all too happy to turn a blind eye to the sort of trouble you foreigners were causing. But do not expect the same here in the capital. If you cause a scene or resort to violence, I would expect there to be great consequences. At this point, it may not be possible to shatter Elric’s curse until you face him in a sanctioned battle.”
>“Ugh. So, what do you suggest then?”
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