“Good evening, Sir Altruit. Please, come in.”
“Thank you for having me.”
“Of course.”
Ignatius Verga smiled as the Puppet Master entered the residence, a rich but modestly sized abode on the outskirts of the capitol.
They both entered a guest room where Willow Verga was waiting on a couch. She was dressed nicely but casually given the late hour.
After they all sat down, the Puppet Master spoke.
“I’d like to provide a report of something that recently happened regarding your son Vetsmon.”
“I see. I was wondering what might have prompted the urgent meeting. Is he alright?”
“Yes, he’s perfectly healthy. It’s his team that’s not. While in the medical ward today, he and John had an argument.”
“Oh? That’s surprising. John is Vetsmon’s best friend. What could they possibly have argued about?”
“Well, I’ll let you see for yourself.”
The Puppet Master suddenly waved, a holographic projection of the medical room appearing on the small table between them.
“- can still fight, even if I’m not expecting to win. I can test myself. There are still several benefits to be had from the battle.”
“What a sorry excuse. A sorry purpose, actually. Why don't you just come out and say you’re a pussy?”
“...”
The conversation ran through from the Puppet Master’s earliest recollection, the figures of Vetsmon and John in the room, as well the others, shifting about as the tension gradually rose.
Ignatius and Willow were both laser focused, realizing what they were seeing. Still, they found it curious, wondering how John could so easily insult their son when they were supposed to be friends.
“...In what fucking universe…”
“...You’re scared shitless… It would be humiliating…”
“I don’t fear anybody… acknowledge that he’s better…”
“Who’s fault is it?!”
“I could kill you with a squeeze of the hand, friend.”
The images showed Vetsmon grabbing John. How hard, they didn’t know. But that didn’t matter.
Ignatius stood with fury on his face.
“He wouldn’t dare…”
“Well…”
The Puppet Master was silent, letting the projection continue.
“At least you’re confident…”
“Does it matter…?”
“Yea.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“...I just want my friend to be better… just try to fucking kill me!”
The couple twitched when the bone snapped like a brittle cracker, a violent departure from even the loud and angry voices.
The video ended after the Puppet Master entered.
Silence reigned for several moments before Ignatius looked over.
“Where’s my son?”
“Still at the Magisterium. But what happens now is something I need to discuss with you.”
“I don’t believe there’s anything to say. I didn’t think I could ever be so disappointed in my son like this, but he’s proven me wrong. It seems like he’s in dire need of education and training, and it shocks me to realize that he’s grown to be so immature. Thankfully, John was able to draw it out of him. I should thank that man.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m here to request that you delay whatever education and training you might have in store. This request comes from myself as well as John.”
The Puppet Master went on to explain the situation, how they still had another excursion and John wanted Vetsmon on his squad for it, else it may be too dangerous.
“I want him to be punished as much as you, but there’s still some time left. John says he needs his shield. Of course, the decision is up to you. Just know that Vetsmon’s presence is still worth something to his squad. After that, he’s all yours.”
“...”
Ignatius was silent, looking to his wife for input.
She sat there with a frown on her face before letting out a sigh.
“I suppose there’s no reason not to have mercy for another month or so. After all, his re-education will last years, no less than three. What do you think, dear?”
“Hm, well, I’d prefer something more like a decade. But if he hasn’t shaped up after three, we’ve done something wrong. Very well. He’ll have his last month. But he’s not to compete any further in the tournament. Instead, I want you to put him through hell until the day he leaves for his excursion. I’ll compile a Writ for him, and if it isn’t followed for its duration, I will be taking legal action against both him and the Magisterium.”
“Understood. I can deliver it when you’re ready.”
“No need. I’ll send my Guard. They’ll be responsible for overseeing and enforcing what they can.”
“Very well.”
The Puppet Master nodded. It seemed Ignatius would be taking this deed seriously. There was no room for negotiation on Vetsmon’s part.
At that moment, Willow spoke.
“That girl Vetsmon was cuddling. That was Tana, correct?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Hm, I saw her battle. She fought valiantly. I quite like her. And she deserves a better man than what my son currently is. Perhaps if she doesn't move on, he’ll be allowed to try her hand once more. Until then, he can only blame himself for what we’re about to do. To think he would dare…”
She stood with a huff, walking out of the room.
With that, Ignatius and the Puppet Master stood, shaking hands.
“I appreciate this report, Benedict. It has been most enlightening.”
“Of course. Please, have a good evening.”
“After that, I’m not sure I can.”
The Puppet Master saw himself out with that, leaving Ignatius in the room.
And as soon as he was gone, Ignatius grit his teeth and turned, throwing a kick at the nearby table.
The moment the wood contacted his leg, it splintered, then disintegrated, a wave of Vigor washing over its constituent particles and wiping it from existence.
The only trace it ever existed was a minuscule chip in the opposing wall where a larger dust particle had impacted.
……
…
As the next day was the day of the finals, the stadium was packed with people.
Unfortunately, I had to be up at the butt crack of dawn for my own battles. Since nobody cared about the summoner battles, they started first and would be out of the way by the time everyone was actually here so they could enjoy the good stuff.
At least we got the entire arena this time. But of course, nothing eventful would be happening. At least, not entirely.
The battle for fourth and fifth place happened first between two summoners I didn’t know. After that, I was up.
Umara was on the sidelines, along with the five other people who actually cared enough to show. Those were mainly the parents of some of the summoners.
And surprisingly Maxwell, who came to me before my battle started.
“I heard you were hurt. If it will affect your performance, drop out now. You were already treading a fine line before. Now, it’ll only be more difficult.”
“I’ll be fine. I was healed anyway. It’s just a bit sore now.”
I moved my arm around, feeling some brief pains, nothing out of the ordinary.
One of the few benefits of being a completely ordinary human was that magic had a far greater effect on you, for better or worse. It meant that I could be hurt much more easily, but could also be healed with the same level of ease.
Right now, whatever pain I felt in my collar was just some lingering issues that would heal over the next couple days. It was nothing that would prevent me from doing anything. It would just be an annoyance.
Maxwell let out a breath.
“Fine. Just keep in mind that playing it safe should be your first priority.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure if you do, but I’ll trust your judgment for now. Will this child be forfeiting?”
“No. I want to test these weapons against a normal summoner. He’s going to humor me.”
“Mm. Just don’t kill him.”
Maxwell waved with those words, walking off as my battle started.
I walked up to the arena, seeing Max across from me with a smile.
“Let’s see how long I can last against the Magisterium’s greatest summoner.”
“Well, unfortunately I don’t have the leeway to play games.”
I took out an STG with those words, my hands finding their way and gripping it with novel familiarity.
Without suspense, the judge put his hand down.
The instant that happened, Max summoned several beats. It seemed he was going all out from the get-go. After all, nobody else knew about my injury besides the squad and the Puppet Master. He had no reason to hold back.
But that’s exactly why I went with the STG. Taking aim, my iron sights snapped to a burly bear beast that came charging forward.
And I pulled the trigger, letting 3 rounds fly forth and bury themselves into the head of the bear.
They were fully empowered since I expected some toughness from a bear such as that.
However, the reality was cruel. Those three rounds were enough to punch straight through the bear’s head and cause it to vanish. It seemed the spirit didn’t like being hurt and retreated automatically.
My brows raised. It was almost too easy.
After that, my iron sights shifted to all the remaining beasts in sequence.
There were three wolves besides the bear as well as five eagles of some sort. With quick shots, I killed all the wolves before shifting to the birds.
Those were slightly more difficult simply because it took a bit more time to aim. That and it hurt like hell to actually wield the rifle properly. Every shot made my bone feel like it was being fractured all over again.
But that was easy enough to ignore. If not for me taking this battle casually, I might not have even paid it notice.
Like that, all the summons were unceremoniously slaughtered, each one of them vanishing back into their dimension one after the other.
Once I was done, I still had a bit less than half my magazine left. I used at most 20 rounds to kill those beasts.
And Max seemed winded too. He had poured all his energy upfront into those summons. That was how they usually did things, and it was why Maxwell’s Call was superior. I didn’t have to pay upfront for all the energy I would use. I could just give it as I needed it.
With that, Max raised his hands in defeat.
“My loss. You didn’t even try.”
“Hm, so that’s the state of summoners, huh? To think the smartest ones couldn’t find their way.”
“Well, you seem to be doing something right. What’s your secret?”
“Above your paygrade, unfortunately. And not mine to give away.”
“Hm, I figured as much.”
He shrugged as the judge called the match.
“The winner is John Cooper!”
“Good luck, John. We hold high hopes for you. And if you ever need help, just come find us at the Tower. We may not be the strongest but we have resources.”
“Mm. Thanks for the offer.”
I nodded to him as we left the arena. He looked almost unsteady as he walked off, clearly having exhausted most of his reserves.
I walked back to Umara, who smiled.
“Finally realizing what kind of anomaly you are?”
“It was enlightening, yes. And quite disappointing. I knew they were weak, but not that weak.”
“Yeah. Part of me gets excited because you seem to be paving the way for a new generation of summoners. The other part of me gets scared since you’ll get so much attention.”
“Well, I’ll just need to stay ahead of the curve now, won’t I?”
I smiled at her before giving her a peck on the forehead. After that, we walked off the arena with linked arms.
Maxwell had disappeared at some point. I doubt he cared much about a battle he knew the outcome of, so it seemed he didn’t bother watching. Not that I minded. I wouldn’t have bothered either if not for the fact that I was the participant.
So, because of that, I now had the rest of the day off. The stadium was almost entirely empty aside from all the workers getting it ready for the real events.
However, after a bit of walking around, Umara and I heard an announcement wash over the entire Magisterium.
“Vetsmon Verga. Approach the gates and receive a Writ from the Tower Master Ignatius Verga. Failure to comply will result in forceful retrieval.”
“... What the hell?”
We both looked at each other before breaking out into a run.
We headed right for the gates of the Magisterium, and that’s where we saw an entire escort of armed knights.
No, they weren’t knights. They were Templars, soldiers of the Holy See bearing the crest of the Verga Paladin Peerage.
There were at least two dozen of them composed of knights, warlocks, and even summoners. I could see a few flying beasts, probably for observation, the only thing a summoner would be good at.
Otherwise, the knights were decked in thick white armor while the warlocks had flowing white robes. They were orderly, professional, and radiated the power of Authority 11s.
They were seriously pissed at Vetsmon. And they were showing it.
The Puppet Master had naturally spoken with Vetsmon’s father Ignatius, and he was reacting quite fiercely.
I sighed, seeing Vetsmon approaching.
Once he stepped foot outside the gates, a Templar approached in front of him, grabbed his shoulder, and pushed him down.
His knee slammed into the cobblestones, digging through the ground and leaving a hole. I heard a deep grunt escape his lips in the process. That had to have hurt.
After that, another Templar came up with an Orb in hand, projecting out its information and allowing him to see the Writ.
“Vetsmon Verga, by the decree of the Verga Tower Master, you shall have your power stripped and suppressed henceforth until the day of your departure for the Magisterium’s final fourth year excursion to the front lines. During this time, you will be subject to nigh ceaseless battle for half of the day, every day, until the day of your departure. At the end of every day’s battle, you will be required to write a letter to a recipient of your choice detailing any of the values, traits, and ideals of a proper knight. All responsibilities and extenuating activities will cease for the duration of the stipulated time period. Finally, upon completion of the final excursion to the front lines and return to the Capitol, you will report directly to the Tower Master at the entrance of the Verga Tower, with all of your valuables and belongings packed, dressed in full combat attire, and at a time to be specified in the future. Failure to carry out any of the listed duties will be met with disciplinary and legal repercussions exercised by the authority of the Tower Master.”
The Templar read through the Writ from start to finish, uncaring that everyone in the vicinity heard its contents… or perhaps intentionally broadcasting his voice.
It didn’t specify why the Writ was being delivered, but it was clear that it needed to be followed. The involved parties were already crystal clear on why this was happening.
The Templar pinning Vetsmon to the floor took out a set of interconnected chains. He clamped the largest onto Vetsmon’s neck, and the rest of the chains came alive, snapping to ensnare each of his limbs.
Once the magic was activated, Vetsmon let out a low roar. I watched as his power was sucked out of him forcefully, and he was reduced to an ordinary man.
With that, the Templar released his hold, letting Vetsmon collapse to the ground in weakness.
The Writ was tossed in front of him, and just like that, the Templars packed up and left.
By now, there was a whole crowd watching, one even bigger than that in the stadium. The commotion had drawn much of the spectators making their way over.
Just like that, Vetsmon was out of the game. He sure as hell wouldn’t be competing, that was for sure.
Ponteck won by default. I could already hear some teachers giving out commands, herding all the students and getting ready for the final bit of the tournament.
As for Vetsmon, he was just left there. Umara and I watched from the side, seeing one of the Templars staying behind. He seemed to be the one who would keep an eye on Vetsmon.
After walking up to him, the Templar tapped him in the gut with his foot, sending him flying a few feet.
“Get up. You’ve got a battle to do and not a lot of daylight left to do it. Head to the training grounds. The Puppet Master already has your stage set.”
“...”
Vetsmon struggled as he pulled himself up to his feet and started trudging off. He didn’t look at us as he passed, and I didn’t say anything either.
Everything that needed to be done was done. At least he would be there for the excursion. As for how much I could count on him, given what he would be put through on account of the Writ, I could only hope he would be fine physically and mentally.
Sp4de
So I don't know where that Beans comment chain came from but you all had me worried since most of my game usernames are some form of Bush's Baked Beans and I thought you all found me.
But no, you guys just like beans apparently. And are now going on bean crusades in my comment section. If you're going to do it, at least stop forgetting to make your sacrifices to the God Emperor of Beankind. The throne is thirsty. It must be quenched by the blood of our cookie enemies.
“Good evening, Sir Altruit. Please, come in.”
“Thank you for having me.”
“Of course.”
Ignatius Verga smiled as the Puppet Master entered the residence, a rich but modestly sized abode on the outskirts of the capitol.
They both entered a guest room where Willow Verga was waiting on a couch. She was dressed nicely but casually given the late hour.
After they all sat down, the Puppet Master spoke.
“I’d like to provide a report of something that recently happened regarding your son Vetsmon.”
“I see. I was wondering what might have prompted the urgent meeting. Is he alright?”
“Yes, he’s perfectly healthy. It’s his team that’s not. While in the medical ward today, he and John had an argument.”
“Oh? That’s surprising. John is Vetsmon’s best friend. What could they possibly have argued about?”
“Well, I’ll let you see for yourself.”
The Puppet Master suddenly waved, a holographic projection of the medical room appearing on the small table between them.
“- can still fight, even if I’m not expecting to win. I can test myself. There are still several benefits to be had from the battle.”
“What a sorry excuse. A sorry purpose, actually. Why don't you just come out and say you’re a pussy?”
“...”
The conversation ran through from the Puppet Master’s earliest recollection, the figures of Vetsmon and John in the room, as well the others, shifting about as the tension gradually rose.
Ignatius and Willow were both laser focused, realizing what they were seeing. Still, they found it curious, wondering how John could so easily insult their son when they were supposed to be friends.
“...In what fucking universe…”
“...You’re scared shitless… It would be humiliating…”
“I don’t fear anybody… acknowledge that he’s better…”
“Who’s fault is it?!”
“I could kill you with a squeeze of the hand, friend.”
The images showed Vetsmon grabbing John. How hard, they didn’t know. But that didn’t matter.
Ignatius stood with fury on his face.
“He wouldn’t dare…”
“Well…”
The Puppet Master was silent, letting the projection continue.
“At least you’re confident…”
“Does it matter…?”
“Yea.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“...I just want my friend to be better… just try to fucking kill me!”
The couple twitched when the bone snapped like a brittle cracker, a violent departure from even the loud and angry voices.
The video ended after the Puppet Master entered.
Silence reigned for several moments before Ignatius looked over.
“Where’s my son?”
“Still at the Magisterium. But what happens now is something I need to discuss with you.”
“I don’t believe there’s anything to say. I didn’t think I could ever be so disappointed in my son like this, but he’s proven me wrong. It seems like he’s in dire need of education and training, and it shocks me to realize that he’s grown to be so immature. Thankfully, John was able to draw it out of him. I should thank that man.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m here to request that you delay whatever education and training you might have in store. This request comes from myself as well as John.”
The Puppet Master went on to explain the situation, how they still had another excursion and John wanted Vetsmon on his squad for it, else it may be too dangerous.
“I want him to be punished as much as you, but there’s still some time left. John says he needs his shield. Of course, the decision is up to you. Just know that Vetsmon’s presence is still worth something to his squad. After that, he’s all yours.”
“...”
Ignatius was silent, looking to his wife for input.
She sat there with a frown on her face before letting out a sigh.
“I suppose there’s no reason not to have mercy for another month or so. After all, his re-education will last years, no less than three. What do you think, dear?”
“Hm, well, I’d prefer something more like a decade. But if he hasn’t shaped up after three, we’ve done something wrong. Very well. He’ll have his last month. But he’s not to compete any further in the tournament. Instead, I want you to put him through hell until the day he leaves for his excursion. I’ll compile a Writ for him, and if it isn’t followed for its duration, I will be taking legal action against both him and the Magisterium.”
“Understood. I can deliver it when you’re ready.”
“No need. I’ll send my Guard. They’ll be responsible for overseeing and enforcing what they can.”
“Very well.”
The Puppet Master nodded. It seemed Ignatius would be taking this deed seriously. There was no room for negotiation on Vetsmon’s part.
At that moment, Willow spoke.
“That girl Vetsmon was cuddling. That was Tana, correct?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Hm, I saw her battle. She fought valiantly. I quite like her. And she deserves a better man than what my son currently is. Perhaps if she doesn't move on, he’ll be allowed to try her hand once more. Until then, he can only blame himself for what we’re about to do. To think he would dare…”
She stood with a huff, walking out of the room.
With that, Ignatius and the Puppet Master stood, shaking hands.
“I appreciate this report, Benedict. It has been most enlightening.”
“Of course. Please, have a good evening.”
“After that, I’m not sure I can.”
The Puppet Master saw himself out with that, leaving Ignatius in the room.
And as soon as he was gone, Ignatius grit his teeth and turned, throwing a kick at the nearby table.
The moment the wood contacted his leg, it splintered, then disintegrated, a wave of Vigor washing over its constituent particles and wiping it from existence.
The only trace it ever existed was a minuscule chip in the opposing wall where a larger dust particle had impacted.
……
…
As the next day was the day of the finals, the stadium was packed with people.
Unfortunately, I had to be up at the butt crack of dawn for my own battles. Since nobody cared about the summoner battles, they started first and would be out of the way by the time everyone was actually here so they could enjoy the good stuff.
At least we got the entire arena this time. But of course, nothing eventful would be happening. At least, not entirely.
The battle for fourth and fifth place happened first between two summoners I didn’t know. After that, I was up.
Umara was on the sidelines, along with the five other people who actually cared enough to show. Those were mainly the parents of some of the summoners.
And surprisingly Maxwell, who came to me before my battle started.
“I heard you were hurt. If it will affect your performance, drop out now. You were already treading a fine line before. Now, it’ll only be more difficult.”
“I’ll be fine. I was healed anyway. It’s just a bit sore now.”
I moved my arm around, feeling some brief pains, nothing out of the ordinary.
One of the few benefits of being a completely ordinary human was that magic had a far greater effect on you, for better or worse. It meant that I could be hurt much more easily, but could also be healed with the same level of ease.
Right now, whatever pain I felt in my collar was just some lingering issues that would heal over the next couple days. It was nothing that would prevent me from doing anything. It would just be an annoyance.
Maxwell let out a breath.
“Fine. Just keep in mind that playing it safe should be your first priority.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure if you do, but I’ll trust your judgment for now. Will this child be forfeiting?”
“No. I want to test these weapons against a normal summoner. He’s going to humor me.”
“Mm. Just don’t kill him.”
Maxwell waved with those words, walking off as my battle started.
I walked up to the arena, seeing Max across from me with a smile.
“Let’s see how long I can last against the Magisterium’s greatest summoner.”
“Well, unfortunately I don’t have the leeway to play games.”
I took out an STG with those words, my hands finding their way and gripping it with novel familiarity.
Without suspense, the judge put his hand down.
The instant that happened, Max summoned several beats. It seemed he was going all out from the get-go. After all, nobody else knew about my injury besides the squad and the Puppet Master. He had no reason to hold back.
But that’s exactly why I went with the STG. Taking aim, my iron sights snapped to a burly bear beast that came charging forward.
And I pulled the trigger, letting 3 rounds fly forth and bury themselves into the head of the bear.
They were fully empowered since I expected some toughness from a bear such as that.
However, the reality was cruel. Those three rounds were enough to punch straight through the bear’s head and cause it to vanish. It seemed the spirit didn’t like being hurt and retreated automatically.
My brows raised. It was almost too easy.
After that, my iron sights shifted to all the remaining beasts in sequence.
There were three wolves besides the bear as well as five eagles of some sort. With quick shots, I killed all the wolves before shifting to the birds.
Those were slightly more difficult simply because it took a bit more time to aim. That and it hurt like hell to actually wield the rifle properly. Every shot made my bone feel like it was being fractured all over again.
But that was easy enough to ignore. If not for me taking this battle casually, I might not have even paid it notice.
Like that, all the summons were unceremoniously slaughtered, each one of them vanishing back into their dimension one after the other.
Once I was done, I still had a bit less than half my magazine left. I used at most 20 rounds to kill those beasts.
And Max seemed winded too. He had poured all his energy upfront into those summons. That was how they usually did things, and it was why Maxwell’s Call was superior. I didn’t have to pay upfront for all the energy I would use. I could just give it as I needed it.
With that, Max raised his hands in defeat.
“My loss. You didn’t even try.”
“Hm, so that’s the state of summoners, huh? To think the smartest ones couldn’t find their way.”
“Well, you seem to be doing something right. What’s your secret?”
“Above your paygrade, unfortunately. And not mine to give away.”
“Hm, I figured as much.”
He shrugged as the judge called the match.
“The winner is John Cooper!”
“Good luck, John. We hold high hopes for you. And if you ever need help, just come find us at the Tower. We may not be the strongest but we have resources.”
“Mm. Thanks for the offer.”
I nodded to him as we left the arena. He looked almost unsteady as he walked off, clearly having exhausted most of his reserves.
I walked back to Umara, who smiled.
“Finally realizing what kind of anomaly you are?”
“It was enlightening, yes. And quite disappointing. I knew they were weak, but not that weak.”
“Yeah. Part of me gets excited because you seem to be paving the way for a new generation of summoners. The other part of me gets scared since you’ll get so much attention.”
“Well, I’ll just need to stay ahead of the curve now, won’t I?”
I smiled at her before giving her a peck on the forehead. After that, we walked off the arena with linked arms.
Maxwell had disappeared at some point. I doubt he cared much about a battle he knew the outcome of, so it seemed he didn’t bother watching. Not that I minded. I wouldn’t have bothered either if not for the fact that I was the participant.
So, because of that, I now had the rest of the day off. The stadium was almost entirely empty aside from all the workers getting it ready for the real events.
However, after a bit of walking around, Umara and I heard an announcement wash over the entire Magisterium.
“Vetsmon Verga. Approach the gates and receive a Writ from the Tower Master Ignatius Verga. Failure to comply will result in forceful retrieval.”
“... What the hell?”
We both looked at each other before breaking out into a run.
We headed right for the gates of the Magisterium, and that’s where we saw an entire escort of armed knights.
No, they weren’t knights. They were Templars, soldiers of the Holy See bearing the crest of the Verga Paladin Peerage.
There were at least two dozen of them composed of knights, warlocks, and even summoners. I could see a few flying beasts, probably for observation, the only thing a summoner would be good at.
Otherwise, the knights were decked in thick white armor while the warlocks had flowing white robes. They were orderly, professional, and radiated the power of Authority 11s.
They were seriously pissed at Vetsmon. And they were showing it.
The Puppet Master had naturally spoken with Vetsmon’s father Ignatius, and he was reacting quite fiercely.
I sighed, seeing Vetsmon approaching.
Once he stepped foot outside the gates, a Templar approached in front of him, grabbed his shoulder, and pushed him down.
His knee slammed into the cobblestones, digging through the ground and leaving a hole. I heard a deep grunt escape his lips in the process. That had to have hurt.
After that, another Templar came up with an Orb in hand, projecting out its information and allowing him to see the Writ.
“Vetsmon Verga, by the decree of the Verga Tower Master, you shall have your power stripped and suppressed henceforth until the day of your departure for the Magisterium’s final fourth year excursion to the front lines. During this time, you will be subject to nigh ceaseless battle for half of the day, every day, until the day of your departure. At the end of every day’s battle, you will be required to write a letter to a recipient of your choice detailing any of the values, traits, and ideals of a proper knight. All responsibilities and extenuating activities will cease for the duration of the stipulated time period. Finally, upon completion of the final excursion to the front lines and return to the Capitol, you will report directly to the Tower Master at the entrance of the Verga Tower, with all of your valuables and belongings packed, dressed in full combat attire, and at a time to be specified in the future. Failure to carry out any of the listed duties will be met with disciplinary and legal repercussions exercised by the authority of the Tower Master.”
The Templar read through the Writ from start to finish, uncaring that everyone in the vicinity heard its contents… or perhaps intentionally broadcasting his voice.
It didn’t specify why the Writ was being delivered, but it was clear that it needed to be followed. The involved parties were already crystal clear on why this was happening.
The Templar pinning Vetsmon to the floor took out a set of interconnected chains. He clamped the largest onto Vetsmon’s neck, and the rest of the chains came alive, snapping to ensnare each of his limbs.
Once the magic was activated, Vetsmon let out a low roar. I watched as his power was sucked out of him forcefully, and he was reduced to an ordinary man.
With that, the Templar released his hold, letting Vetsmon collapse to the ground in weakness.
The Writ was tossed in front of him, and just like that, the Templars packed up and left.
By now, there was a whole crowd watching, one even bigger than that in the stadium. The commotion had drawn much of the spectators making their way over.
Just like that, Vetsmon was out of the game. He sure as hell wouldn’t be competing, that was for sure.
Ponteck won by default. I could already hear some teachers giving out commands, herding all the students and getting ready for the final bit of the tournament.
As for Vetsmon, he was just left there. Umara and I watched from the side, seeing one of the Templars staying behind. He seemed to be the one who would keep an eye on Vetsmon.
After walking up to him, the Templar tapped him in the gut with his foot, sending him flying a few feet.
“Get up. You’ve got a battle to do and not a lot of daylight left to do it. Head to the training grounds. The Puppet Master already has your stage set.”
“...”
Vetsmon struggled as he pulled himself up to his feet and started trudging off. He didn’t look at us as he passed, and I didn’t say anything either.
Everything that needed to be done was done. At least he would be there for the excursion. As for how much I could count on him, given what he would be put through on account of the Writ, I could only hope he would be fine physically and mentally.
Sp4de
So I don't know where that Beans comment chain came from but you all had me worried since most of my game usernames are some form of Bush's Baked Beans and I thought you all found me.
But no, you guys just like beans apparently. And are now going on bean crusades in my comment section. If you're going to do it, at least stop forgetting to make your sacrifices to the God Emperor of Beankind. The throne is thirsty. It must be quenched by the blood of our cookie enemies.
