Dead Tired - Volume Four - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I was in a rather good mood, until the dire news arrived. Or perhaps it wasn’t so much dire as it was merely... offbeat.

“Oh-hohoh!”

“Did you come upon yet another fantastic bit of wordplay, my lord?” Sir Cophagus asked politely. The Death Knight was standing guard a few paces behind and to my right, the position usually reserved for a head butler or maid, which I supposed he was filling at the moment.

I wasn’t entirely sure how things would shake up with regards to that. Would Sir Coughagus push Alex aside or would the maid keep the honoured place based on seniority. It was an interesting dilemma, made all the more interesting because it wasn’t my problem.

“Indeed,” I said, allowing a bit of pep in my step. “Through even the most awful of times, there’s always a moment to find a few linguistic gems to brighten the mood, wouldn’t you say?”

Sir Coughagus nodded along agreeably. 

The two of us, as well as a small cohort of undead, were making our way to the Grand Arena.

I’d have to work on that name, actually, because ‘Grand Arena’ was cemented in everyone’s mind. Something more appropriate was due. Perhaps with some thematic flair? “Are ballrooms still in vogue?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not, my lord,” Sir Coughagus said.

“Hmm, so that’s a ‘no’ for The Brawlroom,” I muttered. Goodness, I might actually have to make an effort to interact with modern society. Good wordplay demanded some amount of cultural awareness, after all. 

Or perhaps I could ask the person I was going to meet? The very thought made my bones shudder.

“Ah, here is the Lady Empress Limpet now, my lord. As well as the maid and her apprentice,” Sir Coughagus said.

I paused my jaw-rubbing to turn and behold the Limpet moving our way with some alacrity. She had that almost-a-jog-but-not-quite motion that all good apprentices learned already, as if she wanted to move faster, but her lack of cardio and her remaining dignity prevented it. The irony that the motion was worse for both was likely lost on her.

“Ah, Limpet,” I said. “Good, you’re here. I’ll need you to act as an ablative layer between myself and our guest.”

“The bard?” the Limpet asked. “Are they really that dangerous?”

“Perfect. Keep up that attitude of uncertainty, it may well convince the bard that you’re not aware of their proclivities and they might lower their guard,” I said.

The Limpet blinked, then looked to Alex and Sir Coughagus for support. “Wait, I thought bards were just like... wandering minstrels and troubadours and storytellers? They spread news sometimes.”

“Yes, and sleep with dragons and dabble in the arcane and sorcerous arts,” I continued. “Don’t underestimate them so casually. That doesn’t mean that you should respect them either, except for holding the kind of base respect you might hold for a large herbivore.”

“Like a cow?” Alex asked.

“Yes, exactly, bards are like cows.”

I think the Limpet was more confused, not less, but that was hardly an uncommon state for her.

The bard was waiting for us within the yet-unfinished and yet-named Grand Arena. The edifice was something of a colosseum. A great, round building that would one day soon have a towering presence in the centre of the new city we were building around it. The outer walls were going to be some hundred necrometres tall and there should be seating for as many people as the limpet could manage to convince to attend. 

At the moment, however, the Grand Arena was neither particularly grand, nor really an arena. While magic was being used unsparingly in its construction, and teams of undead golems and purpose-raised workers were toiling day and night, the full construction would still take some time.

This wasn’t a few hundred smaller homes that could be conjured up by some mid-ranked undead, this was a grand construction.

I could summon something like it from scratch, of course, but there was something intimidating about seeing such a large structure growing out of the ground day by day. Already, citizens of Yu Xiang proper were grouping up not too far from the edges of the new city, occupying a small hill nearby to watch as scaffolding was raised and cranes lifted stones and raw materials.

We entered one of the arched openings on the arena’s side, a space wide enough for fifty skeletons to stand abreast. This is where the ticketing booths would be, and where the riff-raff would be funneled towards their seating.

The interior led into a great round chamber, one which circled around the ground floor of the arena. Below this floor were the rooms for storage, staff, and for the participants in the tourney, but for now, those were mostly unfurnished or unfinished.

We crossed a few wooden planks over a gap in the stonework and made it onto the main arena. For the moment, it was mostly just a hole where the arena would be, but there was a band of completed stonework along the edges.

And that is where the bard was. 

Lu Changge, leader of the Celestial Sound Stage Performance Sect. The young man was standing with his arms folded at the small of his back, with some companions from his little travelling sect nearby. He glanced our way, then lit up upon seeing us approaching. “Ah! Here you are. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you all.”

Ah, disgustingly charming and friendly and nice. Typical bard. “Greetings,” I said. “I hope you’ve been enjoying the view?”

“Very much. This is going to be a stage to rival the Great Golden Echo Stage in the Jade Empire,” Lu Changge said.

“Hardly,” the Limpet said. She smiled at the bard. “It’ll only seat a tenth as many people.”

“It’s still very impressive. And it’s going up so rapidly. Just in the time we’ve been here I swear the project has leapt forward a week.”

“Well, we’re on a very short deadline,” the Limpet continued. “So, I take it you’re here because you’re interested in the position of master of ceremonies?”

“Very much so,” Lu Changge said. “My sect, the Celestial Sound Stage Performance Sect, are the greatest actors and performers and musicians this side of the world! Few can rival us.”

Hopefully, few tried. “Do you mean in matters of musical performance, or in matters of... treble-making?”

Alex giggled and Sir Coughagus chortled darkly behind me.

Lu Changge blinked, then he smiled slyly. “Now, now, we may have been accused of some dis-chord-erly conduct, but I assure you that we’re quite professional.”

I leaned back onto my heels a little. Wordplay... hmm. Not bad, but also, I wouldn’t be so quick to trust.

The most colourful snake may well be the prettiest, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t venomous as well. These silver-tongued bards were tricky sorts. 

“So, what are you looking for in a performer?” Lu Changge asked.

The Limpet bobbed her head. “Mostly, we’re looking for someone to be our master of ceremonies and to get the crowd, ah, acting up and such while the combat tournament is underway.”

Lu Changge hummed. “Yes, we can do something like that. I’ve commentated on a few fights, and I think I can make even a fast bout exciting for the crowds. Though I am curious, what kind of array are you working with here?”

“Array?” I asked.

“For the sound. I have a good voice, and I can carry it far, but this arena, with an active crowd? I don’t know if I’ll be able to make myself heard. Do you have a team of cultivators who can inscribe an array for sound projection? Or someone with a special technique?”

“I imagine that you have something of the sort already?” I asked.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “We might. Though they’re not any cheaper than the rest of our sect.”

“I see. Don’t worry too much about the sound. You’ll find that we have some skill with magic and I can ensure that everyone hears every word you say.”

“Interesting. And can this extend to music? Will this be just a tournament, or will you be having performances between the bouts? For that matter, how long do you need me and my crew for? I can’t imagine building something so grand for a one-day event.”

“Some things are yet to be determined,” the Limpet said. “But I think we can afford to keep you on for a week or so? Assuming that your sect is willing to spend the off-days, ah, working the crowds outside of the arena?”

“We can do that,” he said with a grin. “We know a few good theater shows, and if you allow us to set up across the city we can keep people entertained.”

That would be good. Bored people tended to work surprisingly hard to find entertainment for themselves. And it was often the rather destructive sort.

I’d have to see if this bard was decent, but for now, I had some hope. At least, the meeting hadn’t been too... awk-bard. Ohoho!

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