Ambera smacked her gum and looked around. “And, you all feel that way, do you?”
A few of the priestesses nodded reluctantly.
“You know what I feel?”
She waited for someone to answer, but no one did.
“Poverty.”
She took a moment to let the point sink in.
“I feel poverty staring me in the face. Poverty for all of us. If some other goddess takes my job, do you really think she’ll want to keep around the people who served under her rival? People whose loyalty she cannot be certain of? People who might try to sabotage her and spy on her?”
“We would never do that.”
“She won’t take that chance. She’ll replace all of you with her own people. If I default on my tithes, it won’t just be me out on the street, it will be all of you as well.”
A hushed gasp spread throughout the sanctum.
“Do you know what the job prospects are for an ex-fertility priestess?” Ambera asked, taking time to look each one in the eyes. “Not exactly a useful resume filler. Or perhaps you imagine you might just retire and marry some rich suitor? Good luck finding a wealthy man interested in someone who slept with half the city.”
Anxiety and fear began to fill the room like a fume.
Ambera put her hands out magnanimously. “Help me help you. Help me keep you all employed and living comfortably. I don’t know about you, but I like soft pillows and warm baths, I like good food and good music.”
She floated over to Ophira, and lifted her chin with her glowing finger.
“Whaddya say? Will you help me keep your fellow priestesses off the street?”
Ophira looked around for validation. The other priestesses reluctantly capitulated.
“All right,” Ophira relented.
Ambera encircled her in her arms and embraced her warmly. “Thank you.”
As she turned around to float back to her throne, Ambera’s peaceful countenance became a devilish grin.
Too easy.
* * *
Storgen had trouble finding his way through this part of the city. Like most residential districts, one block of shanty looked pretty much the same as the next. There were no signs to help one weave between the sulking huts cobbled together from whatever materials could be acquired; only subtle differences in the half-buried garbage along the side of the pathways gave a hint as to where one was. Yet for all the filth, the people who lived there kept themselves clean and tidy, carefully weaving around the mud puddles, careful not to splash themselves as they sought out the dry sots between the seeping cart furrows and wagon tracks.
Storgen recognized the pile of old diapers the man with one tooth had directed him towards, and guessed this was the place. He would have knocked on the door, but there wasn’t one, so he just clapped three times rather than risk poking his head into the mud hut and getting clobbered for his trouble.
A young girl with no shoes walked up to the doorway, the material of her yellow dress growing thin, the size becoming too small as she grew. Half her hair had been braided into a pigtail, while the other half hung down her back.
“Nobody’s home,” she said flatly, looking up at him with sappy eyes.
“Well, can you ask your dad when he will be home?”
She thought for a moment, then ran inside.
“Dad, he wants to know when you will be home?” she shouted.
Storgen couldn’t help but laugh.
Markus came to the door wearing a simple tunic, a girl’s hairbrush in one hand. He frowned when he saw Storgen.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, the bobby pin in his mouth flicking up and down.
“Heard you lost your job.”
“Yeah, well that happens when you punch a champion during the dispensing of your duties.”
“You really should work on that temper of yours.”
“Did you just come here to make fun of me? I put in a decade of hard work, and you screwed it all up. You broke the law, assaulted citizens, stole property, and what did you get for it? They made you a champion. YOU. It makes me sick just to think about it.”
“I tried to give you the key back.”
“Do you even care that you are a citizen now? You disgust me.”
“Relax, I did you a favor. Getting fired means you can go find a better job.”
“With what? If I was a citizen I could work anywhere, but I’m only a resident. I can clean shoes and wait tables, thanks for asking.”
“Actually, it was about that very thing I came to see you.”
“Get out of here. I’m through listening to you flap your lips.”
“You see, I’ve been looking over my contract, and it seems that, as Champion, I am allowed to hire one person as my personal servant.”
“So?”
“Well, you said you were looking for a job, didn’t you? I could use someone to shine my shoes and wait my tables.”
Markus stared at him stupidly. “But…wait, you want me to work for you?”
“I’ll warn you, it doesn’t pay much. But, it does come with full citizenship for you and your immediate family.”
Storgen reached inside his cast and pulled out a talisman. Markus could only stare at it as Storgen held it out.
“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of having your name inscribed on the back already.”
Marucs shook his head, trying to make sense of this. “But…but I beat you to a pulp.”
Storgen rubbed his scarred chin. “And I appreciate you going easy on me back there. It was nice of you to pull your punches.”
“I wasn’t pulling my punches, those were my best shots.”
“Really? Then you probably deserved to be fired.”
Storgen grabbed Markus’ callused hand and set the talisman down into it. “There you go, citizen Markus.”
Markus looked at it in disbelief; afraid to touch it as if he feared it would vanish. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, just shine my shoes.”
Markus looked down at Storgen’s bare feet. “But, you don’t wear shoes.”
Storgen put his hands on his hips. “You know, I think I’ve had just about enough back talk from you.”
“What?”
“You’re fired.”
“Wha…”
“You heard me, you’re fired. You don’t work for me anymore. Go out and find some cushy desk job with good benefits and a smoking hot office assistant. I don’t want to ever see you again.”
Storgen turned round and walked away, leaving Markus stunned in his doorway, holding the talisman.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Storgen said, glancing back. “My contract doesn’t allow me to revoke your citizenship even if I fire you. So, as much as I’d like to ask for it back, I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.”
As Storgen walked off, Markus held the talisman tightly against his chest. He tried to say thank you, but the words didn’t come.
The young girl came back up, tugging on his pants leg. “Daddy, who was that?”
Markus smiled. “A very rude man, sweetie.”
He picked her up and gave her a kiss.
“A very rude man indeed.”
* * *
Pops wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. He had to pinch himself just to make sure it was real. Row upon row of little figurines lined the shelves. The Scarlet Bandit in her tight little toga, The Black Gate with her huge broadsword, The Ackerman wearing her special alternate bride costume, and The Blank Fox, with her nine tails fanned out behind her.
There was a good variety of heroine figurines, ranging from ridiculously busty to absurdly busty, and even a few even more ludicrous than that.
“So, let me get this straight,” Pops said, picking up a figure to peek underneath her skirt. “You had a half-naked Amazon in bed and you said no?”
Storgen took the figure from him and returned it to the shelf. “Actually, I said I was already spoken for.”
Pops snorted and stooped over to get a look at the lower shelf. “I thought I raised you better than that.”
“As I recall, you didn’t raise me at all.”
Pops tapped the sigil on a prohibitively expensive one and it began to dance, trailing and swirling a beautiful ribbon around herself. “Who’d have thought there was a specialty shop like this on Ápinso?”
Storgen stood up and looked around the shop. “Yeah, it’s kinda hidden away.”
Storgen glanced over and noticed a familiar face rummaging through the stacks of heroine paintings. “Heya, Piers.”
Piers peeked up. “Well, hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well, Pops is trying to rebuild his harem, so I thought we’d check this place out before our ship leaves in the morning.” Storgen thought for a moment, then became concerned. “You’re not going to arrest me again, are you?”
“Nah, I’m off duty.” Piers pulled out a picture of Ulna, the legendary blacksmith. “However, those three might.”
Storgen turned around. Standing there with a look of satisfied smugness was Lord Demos, flanked by his wife and Nyfitsa.
“How do you keep finding me?” Storgen complained.
Lord Demos pointed up at the silver monitoring eyes located along the walls. “I own this store.”
Storgen grabbed a body pillow with the alluring Countess DeLire painted on it. “I didn’t know you were a fan of this stuff.”
“Tch. I’m not a fan of this garbage. I own this entire block. The perverted shopkeeper rents the space from me.”
“A man after my own heart,” Pops gushed, trying on a headband with fox ears attached to the top.
Nyfitsa stepped forward, a golden scroll in hand. “You never showed up to court.”
“Was that today? Oh, I’m so bad with dates.”
He unfurled the scroll. “Docket number IV-II-IX. Judge Themistocles, 2nd District Special Session Court. Noting the failure to appear of the defendant and the overwhelming preponderance of evidence, court finds in favor of the estate of The Saber of Warestus. ”
Storgen yawned lazily, looking out the window at the sun setting in the west.
“The judge found against you,” Lady Demos said, holding her kitten tightly as she struggled. “We are now authorized to enact punitive damages in the amount of two hundred thousand drachmas.”
“Wow, for a single punch? What would a kick have cost me?”
Lord Demos stepped in close. “I’m going to give you a chance to save yourself. Sign this contract, voluntarily leaving Ambera’s household, and I’ll make this little misunderstanding go away.”
Storgen placed his hand on his face. “Hmm.”
“It’s a difficult decision, isn’t it?”
“What? No, it’s not, I’m just trying to think of the right way to respond.”
Lord Demos held up the contract and a quill. “Refuse, and I’ll find your little girlfriend and prune her, leaf by leaf.”
Storgen punched him square in the face, knocking the wiry man to the ground, his cape spilling around him on the floor.
“There, take four hundred thousand instead. Consider it a tip.”
Lord Demos held his bleeding nose. “How dare you! I’m going to destroy you.”
“Good luck. I’m a champion. You can’t arrest me.”
Nyfitsa twitched his nose. “No, but we can garnish your wages, seize your holdings, nullity your titles.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Nyfitsa took out his tablet, glowing sigils and pictures floating in the air above the device. He tapped the seal on the bottom of the court order and it vanished into the tablet, bringing up Storgen’s picture and files.
The man went pale when he looked over what he saw.
“Oh, no.”
“What?” Lord Demos demanded.
“He has no titles to withdraw. He owns no property, he has no wages to garnish.”
Lady Demos scoffed. “Impossible.”
Nyfitsa dropped the tablet to the ground and fell to his knees. “He’s immune to the bureaucracy!!!”
Pops gave Storgen a wink. “It’s nice living off the grid.”
Lord Demos took out his talisman. “That’s enough.”
Touching the crest of Ambera, the talisman opened up like a book, bathing the room in a blue light.
Storgen looked around in surprise. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
A sigil circle appeared around the two men, the glassy energy rising into the air and passing into the ground as a column of light. It connected with the conduits beneath the street, the clockwork mechanisms whirring faster and faster as the conduit began to glow, a tracing circuit running along all the way to the city center, where a second column rose up like a beacon, signaling the acknowledgement of the duel.
“Storgen, I challenge you to a circle of equals.”
Storgen cracked his knuckles. “Works for me, I don’t mind hitting you a few more times today.”
“We’re not savages. Combat is forbidden in grievances between household members.”
“Shame that. So, what will it be then? A card game? A cook off? I hope it’s not a fashion show, because I haven’t shaved my legs.”
“This will be a test of knowledge. As accuser, I decide the location and time, and I choose right here, and I choose right now.”
Storgen touched the edge of the circle. The invisible wall pinged solidly. “All right, then. What are the stakes?”
“If you lose, you renounce Ambera and leave her household forever.”
“You’re kind of obsessed with that point, aren’t you?”
“Your compatriot, the daughter of Thavmos, will also render to me the essence I need to save my father’s life.”
“It’s Thavma, and I can hardly accept terms on her behalf. It’s not like she’s my tree or something.”
“No matter, with you out of the way, taking her essence will be a simple matter.”
Lord Demos stepped aside. “My wife will be my combatant. I know she doesn’t look it, but she was at the top of her university classes, with a doctorate in Erotanian history.”
Lady Demos stepped confidently into the circle, the kitten in her arms struggling and hissing as it tried to get free. “Thank you husband.”
Suddenly her eyes shot open. “Wait...”
Storgen leaned back against the invisible wall. “All right, then, my combatant will be Pops.”
Hearing his name, Pops popped his head up from the bargain bin, a pair of bikini-clad figurines in his mouth. “Wha?”
“Come on over.”
As Pops entered the circle, Lord Demos leaned in confidently to his wife. “This will be too easy.”
“Just what did you mean by, ‘I don’t look it?’” she hissed back.
“Shhh.”
Nyfitsa wiped his brow, noting the sun setting and recalling Ambera’s threat. “We’ll need a judge.”
Storgen cupped his hands. “Hey, Piers.”
Piers poked his head out from behind a rack of costumes, a pair of cat ears on his head. “Yeah?”
“We need an impartial judge from the household. You wanna officiate?”
“I don’t really like either of you, so sure.”
“Thanks buddy.”
Piers, still wearing the ears, stepped into the circle and accepted the talisman. He placed his hand over it, and it chimed, accepting him as judge.
“All right, what are your stakes?”
Storgen held up two fingers. “Two things: If I win, you will buy every heroine figurine in this store and give them to Pops.”
Pops began to jump up and down excitedly. “Oh, will he, really? This is wonderful! Marvelous. I can begin my collection once again.”
“Calm down, Pops, you haven’t won yet.”
Piers entered the terms. “And second?”
He pointed at Lady Demos. “You’ll set Gáta free.”
She recoiled. “Katsaros?! No, she�
�s my baby. She loves me.”
The kitten spit and hissed, trying to bite the lady’s fingers and scratch her face.
“That poor thing is miserable and you’re torturing it.”
Lord Demos nodded. “We accept.”
Lady Demos was mortified. “What?!”
“Calm down, wife. His combatant is a drooling idiot.”
“I resent that remark,” Pops complained. With the back of his hand, he wiped the drool off his chin.
Piers tapped away at the sigil panel, and the circle grew red. “We are ready to begin.”
Lady Demos grinned confidently.
Storgen folded his arms. “As defender, I get to choose the subject of the test.”
“Does he?”
Piers nodded. “Yes, he does. I’m actually kind of surprised he knew that.”
“…and I choose history.”
Lord Demos reeled back and laughed. “You idiot. I just told you my wife has a doctorate in…”
“…Legendary Heroine History”
“Wait, what?”
The sigil circle powered up to a golden white.
Piers held the talisman above his head. “Question number one: The Lady of the White Lotus was inspired by a short story written by which author?”
Lady Demos’ face went pale. “What?”
Pops raised his hand. “Jacobus Kaden Rowling.”
The circle shifted to blue.
“Correct. Question number two: The Countess DeLire is weakened when she is near this one thing.”
Pops raised both hands. “The bones of her victims.”
The circle became blue.
“Correct.”
“Whoo Hoo!”
“This is a farce!” Lord Demos objected.
“Come on, you sell this stuff at your store, you should know all this,” Storgen teased.
“I told you, it’s not my store!”
“Question number three: “The Canterbann Saga was written by the poet Gilam Thrases while residing in this place.”
Pops raised his hand. “Too easy. Niall Prison in Fenrall.”
The circle became blue.
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