Revenant's Resolve Chapter 29

“H-hat oh-off?” Reznik asked Botezatu as they stood in one of the private areas just for fighters and their entourages. 

Little more than a stable with crown-provided chairs and tables was all it really was. 

“Not until we’re back home, with food in your belly. Luminita’s told me all about how you get testy unless you’ve eaten, especially if you’ve been hurt.” Botezatu grunted from where he leaned back in his chair. “I’d like to avoid any risk of you snacking on the poor people gathered for the tournament. Too much is at stake for a little slip up like that.” 

It was a fair point if Reznik was being honest with himself, but something was frantically itching at the back of his skull. 

He couldn’t scratch it through the thick metal of the helmet. 

As if summoned by Botezatu’s words, a man in a royal house servant’s tabbard stepped through the front of their stall. 

“Sir Botezatu, congratulations on your fighter’s victory today.” The man offered with a deep bow, righting himself to pull free a seal-studded scroll from the satchel at his side. “Lord-Commander Tarron was deeply impressed by it, and has decided to grant Master Reznik the opportunity of sponsorship in the tournament. You’ll find the details in this.” 

Oh? A gift for me? But I’m already being sponsored by Botezatu - can I be sponsored by both, or is it an either/or situation?

With a mental shrug, Reznik figured that Botezatu would explain it in time, likely after reading through and considering the merits of what he was reading. 

“Thank you, son.” Botezatu nodded graciously as he accepted the proffered item. 

Then, the messenger clacked his heels together, bowed, and quickly fled the stall. 

Reznik’s thoughts turned to food, more specifically, the various food carts he’d seen in and around the tournament grounds. 

This morning, he’d seen a man setting up what looked to be a giant chunk of meat on a stick, and wondered if he’d still be there. 

Two birds, one stone he imagined. Food and a chance to get at the fucking itch at the back of his skull. 

“That’s… odd.” Botezatu murmured, drawing Reznik’s attention back to him. Now, Botezatu was flipping the scroll around, back to front. 

Both sides seemed to be blank. 

“Gods dammit, Tarron, what new nonsense are you up to?” Botezatu groused, setting the paper down on his lap. “It’s blank.”

Blank? Is this some kind of threat because I beat his champion?

Reznik looked back and forth, waiting patiently for Botezatu to add to the statement. 

“Blasted Satyrs. Let’s wait a moment longer here, I’m sure -something- will happen. Why on earth would he leave it blank?”

“I left it blank for this conversation, Thomman.” The voice that came around the corner was physically grating to Reznik’s ears, dripping with an energy he didn’t recognize. It was as if the man’s words were a form of magic antithetical to Reznik’s existence. “For us to… negotiate. 

“Velyonis has been a prize fighter of mine for… seven tournaments now. A shoe-in for victor, fighting what’s sure to be a decisive battle for the stakes of the kingdom. 

“And yet… Zarah’s pet here trounced him, proceeding to publicly embarrass him in front of a massive audience.” 

Lord-Commander Tarron wore a dark uniform similar to Zarah’s, but with gilded embossing and tassels around the borders of the fabric. The half-goat, half man leaned up against the side of the stall and seemed to ponder for a moment, running his tongue along rows of square, flat teeth. 

“Many in my position would be… upset. Likely take that as a personal insult of one form or another.”

Tarron’s odd, oval-shaped eyes fell on Reznik as lopsided grin overtook his face. 

“Luckily, I wasn’t born into nobility. I was born into war, and know when to change tact.” Tarron shoved himself off the wall with his elbow and began to approach Reznik, circling him as he continued; “Know where and when to hedge my bets. 

“What Botezatu holds, my dear undead, is a blank check - so to speak.” Reznik cocked his head at the odd man, the phrase ringing a bell in his mind but he couldn’t fathom from where. “Zarah was very much in the right to see potential in you, and I’m deeply sorry that it’s taken this much for me to notice the same. 

“You see, I also want your lovely Elven maiden back and free. She’s too powerful of an asset to be wasted on a cell, gilded or not.

“So I have a proposition. An offer, and just to demonstrate my beneficence, I’m going to let you set your terms. If you wish, you can even have the knight here advocate on your behalf. Zarah told me little of you, as we didn’t have much time to speak since you were allowed to exist, but I do know a thing or two. 

“I think you’re very much your own man in there, though words may come slow or not at all. Tell me, can you speak in full sentences yet?” 

The way Tarron asked the question felt heavily weighted. As if it were a test in and of itself, and he wasn’t actually curious. Biting back on his initial urge to say something snarky in return, Reznik reasoned that this man was Zarah’s boss, and she would appreciate him not burning her bridges. 

“W-word-sss are h-h-hard.” Something flashed behind Tarron’s eyes as Reznik answered. “Figh-ting is ea-sy.” 

Lord-Commander Tarron began to chuckle boisterously leaning back as his smile seemed to grow a little too wide. 

“Oh my oh my, undead -and- a philosopher! I never would’ve expected… but yes, if that weren’t the case, we’d have a million nobles, and seldom few soldiers. But I do applaud you, that kind of realization takes many men years to come to.” 

Reznik didn’t answer that statement with anything other than his continued stare. 

Something about the man still rubbed him the wrong way, as if he were staring at the very top of a deeply buried rock. There was far more beneath the surface to this man than how he portrayed himself. 

“Why? What do you want out of this?” Botezatu questioned, setting the blank piece of paper that was little more than a piece of set dressing on the poorly-crafted table beside him. 

“You know, if it were anyone but you asking, Sir Botezatu, I’d probably lie.” Lord-Commander Tarron’s jaw set and his brows furrowed as he turned to the man. “I want what everyone wants. Power.

“Ever since we came to the conclusion that the undead lands were the result of a curse far older than the kingdom, we’ve been sidelined. Much as your beloved Riverguard has, too.” 

That admission caused Botezatu to lean back in his seat and raise a curious eyebrow, as if to say “go on.”

“By supporting the champion I think has the best chance of winning, and therefore freeing the prince, I have nothing to lose but scant time and coin, while standing to gain so much.” Tarron turned back to Reznik and fixed him with an intense frown. “Given that you’re here, doing all this - I imagine you understand the value of loyalty, a favor owed. 

“And when those debts are held by the Queen, the Prince, and the most powerful telepath in my employ… well, many doors can be unlocked.

“Think on my offer. I’ll be by before the next duel to talk about it. Good day!” With a flurry of his overcoat, the Lord-Commander spun and exited the sad excuse for a room, waving over his shoulder. “I hope to hear good things.” 

Odd man. 

Very odd, but powerful. I probably shouldn’t cross him if I can avoid it. 

Hopefully I can take just enough help from him to make him feel like he has some credit, and then be able to forget about it. 

  *

Now that’s odd. 

Why would they do that? Just, withdraw without even fighting. 

Why even enter the tournament, then?

Reznik currently read the missive over Botezatu’s shoulder. The opponent of his next fight had forfeited abruptly that morning, and without reason. Which meant that Reznik’s final fight would be the one that made or broke their plans to free Zarah. 

"It appears your stunt the other day panned out better than you thought.” Botezatu chuckled throatily, shaking the paper out with a small pop before he set it on the table and shrugged. “I never would’ve expected Sir Karavecz to pull out that easily. He’s been a greedy, stubborn little shit ever since he was a squire.”

Botezatu clucked his tongue and shrugged before taking a swig from the small flask at his belt. 

Then, Reznik smelled it, long before he saw the man. 

A faint musk on the breeze. 

Lord-Commander Tarron neared. 

Reznik turned his head this way and that, awaiting the man’s assured arrival. 

Moments later, the man stepped around, then leaned up against the wall of the stall with a broad, self-assured smirk.

“And just like that, another domino falls.” Tarron proclaimed proudly, extending his arms wide to his sides. “I hear your reputation has spread through the people of this city, o’ Deathless Knight. The rumors in the pubs, the gambling dens, and even in the noble quarters all say that you’re unkillable. 

“Unstoppable, even. So much so, that convincing a brash young knight in the employ of a mercantile house was probably easy. A splash of coin, and a tincture of mushrooms. Clearly, he’s forfeited not because he’s intimidated, but because he’s come down with such a horrible flu.” 

Reznik cocked his head, unsure if he should trust the insinuation that Tarron was behind all that. 

“Mm, how fortunate for us.” Botezatu noted with a pronounced frown. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it sounds like we have someone powerful working on our behalf.” 

“Funny how that works.” Tarron replied almost immediately, his smile growing a shade brighter. “But now, I ask; have you thought more on my offer?”

As it turned out, they had. 

And we’re gonna go with no for you, Tarron. 

Mainly because you seem slimy, and Botezatu doesn’t trust you. 

“Lord-Commander, respectfully, I believe we need to decline.” Botezatu offered with a polite nod. “I’ve had little use for my own pay for years, and have more than enough to see us through to the end of all this.”

While that was true, there was another reason why they were declining the offer of sponsorship from the man. 

Botezatu had explained that he was a political shark, and not the kind of man to be indebted to. Working for him as Zarah did was one thing, but owing favors to a man like him would likely lead to Reznik getting sucked into things he really didn’t want to do down the line. 

Honestly, the number of conflicts between factions in the nobility made Reznik’s head spin. 

Tarron sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Well, can’t fault me for trying. Just remember, when the time comes - you could’ve had my backing.” Tarron pushed himself off the wall and simply turned away. “Ta’!” 

The man threw a hand over his shoulder as he exited without a further word. 

There was something ominous to the tone of his farewell, but Reznik couldn’t actually tell if it was just his imagination or not. 

“That goat is up to something…” Botezatu murmured with notable frustration in his voice, pushing out of his chair. “My guess is that he’s about to go offer his support to our competition. 

“Too bad all the money in the world can’t fix simply being unprepared for the fight ahead of them.” 

Botezatu thumped the pauldron of Reznik’s armor with the meat of his fist, grinning proudly. 

“Just remember. No reason to hold back in the next one. They’ll mean business, and you don’t need to keep any of those tricks up your sleeve for later.” Botezatu began to lead him out of the stall as he continued: “The only thing that matters tomorrow is victory. 

“Today, however… hmmm. I think the lovely ladies that have been doing such a good job of caring for us need to be thanked properly. Let’s hit the shops before heading back, yeah?” 

Reznik allowed himself to be led by the man as he put together his question. It was one that had been brewing for several days, but in some ways had itched at him since Carcal. 

“Y-yoou lo-ve Oooo-nah?” Reznik asked as they walked, causing Botezatu to stiffen and take a deep breath. 

He turned his head fractionally back to Reznik, exhaled a breath that seemed relieved, and nodded.

“Since I was just a young Lieutenant in the Riverguard. The entire reason I stepped into my first tournament was to provide her a better life than just a butcher’s son could provide.” Botezatu sighed deeply and slowed his pace down to match Reznik. “I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy my new title by the time the old King squirreled me away on campaign.” 

There seemed like there was more on the way from the man as he seemed to stare blankly ahead of them. 

Knowing Botezatu, there probably was. 

The man was always a font of stories and information, asked for or not. 

“I called off the wedding from inside the healers tent. I didn’t want her to be left a widow before her twenty-first winter.” Botezatu groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. “I was an idiot. 

“A scared little idiot who’d never seen more than the inside of this city.” Botezatu smiled in a sad way over to Reznik as they exited the restricted area of the arena, the sounds of battle coming from just beyond the gates to their left. 

They turned right, and into the merchant’s quarter. 

“Wasn’t all bad, in the end. Fifteen years or so, they give me my own section to command, and set me down in Carcal, where they’d just paid for a bunch of settlers to relocate to, and who’s there but her?

“And with a young girl, curiously close to fifteen years old, at the time.” 

The way Botezatu had said itched at Reznik’s mind. 

Wait. Is Luminita, Botezatu’s daughter? 

Is that why they they feel so strained around eachother?

Reznik decided that asking couldn’t hurt. 

“L-Luminita is y-yours?” 

Botezatu looked him in the eye with a resolute stare, and nodded.

“Yes.” The singular word carried with it a weight that felt like an axe being raised. 

However his next question felt like the axe was being dropped. 

“You know, she seems to have it in her head that the two of you are meant to be something more than… friends.” Botezatu quirked a brow as an amused grin tweaked the corner of his mustache. “I think she gets her taste in men from her mother. A literal knight in shining armor? Positively irresistible. 

“Though it does beg the question, is that even something you can do?” 

Botezatu let the question hang as they approached one of the food carts. 

Reznik’s joy that it was the mystery-meat-on-a-stick cart was overshadowed by his introspection. 

Was he capable of something more than just friendship? 

Inside himself, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a chasm where whatever he was used to be. 

A bottomless pit in his soul, shouting questions into it only for his thoughts to echo back distorted and unintelligible. 

Whatever was there was gone now, sleeping or dead. 

For years, the lie that whatever he did wasn’t him but this nebulous thing, like a spirit possessing his body wasn’t believable any more. 

All that was left was him, alone in his own mind. 

He followed Botezatu silently as the man perused the stalls, picking a piece of jewelry here, a bouquet of flowers there. When they neared the end of the gaggle of merchants and citizens, Reznik’s eyes caught on a nearly-empty stand, and something that sparkled there. 

Going over to it, Reznik found it was a necklace. 

Artfully crafted from silver and blue gemstones, the pendant depicted a bird in a death spiral with a serpent. 

It was beautiful, and he slowly reached out for it. 

“Ahh, customer!” an old crone pushed herself off a crate nearby as she croaked out a sputter of laughter. “And here I thought my wares had already been picked clean for the day.”

Her sightless eyes seemed to pin Reznik in place before she glanced down at the necklace. How she could see with her eyes full of milky white cataracts, he wasn’t sure. 

“Ah that one… so beautiful. Pretty. Shiny! Many birds chase what shines the shiniest, and oh…” she began to cackle in a way not that different from one of the crows that nested around wherever Luminita spent most of her time. “How death glitters.” 

Reznik looked back to the piece of jewelry that touched his finger, inhaled, and realized that it would look wonderful on Luminita. 

“H-how m-m-much?” 

The crone cocked her head to the right, then the left, sniffing the air once. 

Her pupils dilated wide once before they shot to pinpricks. 

“For you? Mmmm? For wife? Mistress?” her question felt searching in a way that was far more than mere curiosity. 

“F-forrr f-frien-d.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes, grunted in a croaking way, and shook her head dramatically from side to side. 

“No, no, no, no, no. Mn-mn. Not for friend. Not for -just- friend.” She countered, snatching the pendant from his hand. “Is special, for special.”

“Sh-she is sp-spec-ial.” Reznik pushed out, almost without his input. As if the words came of their own volition. 

“Mmmn, so -is- friend, seek more? Mmh-hm, yes. Yes thats okay - for you then? Three silver shinies! Only three, today only!” 

Reznik assumed that meant silver coins, and instinctively felt around his waist. 

On their trip back from fighting the necromancer, Zarah reasoned that he might actually have need of his own money on rare occasions, and had given him a small pouch with a handful of coppers and four silver coins for emergencies. 

This… wasn’t an emergency, not by any means. 

However, Reznik felt that Luminita would appreciate it, much in the same way he genuinely appreciated her cooking, and all the time she’d spent reading him stories. 

A little bit of appreciation like this would go a long way, I think. 

Given how much she gets on with birds, something like this will fit her perfectly. 

And besides, it’s really pretty, and so is she. 

Reznik fidgeted with the clasp on the pouch for a moment, his thick leather gloves not helping with his lack of dexterity. He managed to get it open, and pulled out a myriad of coins, using his other hand to fish out the silver ones before placing them on the table. 

With a smile, the woman placed the necklace in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. 

“She will like, yes yes.” The crone nodded before shooing him away. “Now go, you have places to be, woman to woo.” 

Reznik nodded thankfully, and spun to find Botezatu watching him with an odd, bemused expression. 

Reznik fell in beside him and they continued their walk down the street. 

“Find something interesting?” Botezatu asked with an amused bent to his voice.

“Y-es.” Reznik nodded, holding up his hand and opening his palm just enough for the man to see what he held.

Botezatu leaned over and viewed the item before he snorted, which turned into a chuckle. 

“Ah. I was wondering what you were talking with her about. She always has odd things at her stall - I think she’s a wilder, who comes in from the mountains whenever theres a big market. 

“That’s for Luminita, I assume?” 

Reznik nodded.

“Interesting.” Botezatu’s one-word reply held an air of finality and judgment to it, like he just got an answer to a long-held question, and wasn’t sure how he felt. 

The rest of the walk was silent.