The chatter here, in their language, was lively. Rhythmic. Familiar.
Children with small masks ran between stalls, their footsteps light on the stone paths. Some of them looked our way and pointed. Their glances weren't fearful. If anything, they seemed curious. Friendly. Maybe even impressed.
"Weird that we're taken this well, considering we're supposed to fight their warriors to the death," I said, mostly to Jackal.
But the woman answered instead.
"The ritual is sacred. Anyone who takes part in it is treated with deep respect," she said. "But there cannot be two Yuxina. There must always be one of another race."
Jackal asked, "A tradition?"
Her voice shifted slightly, firmer now. "No. That is how the Deities commanded."
We didn't respond.
A moment later, we reached the vendor. A small shop wrapped in vines, cozy and nothing extravagant from the outside, but as we stepped through the entrance, it seemed to stretch inward.
The shopkeeper stood behind a wooden counter. His mask was broken, cleanly down one side, exposing a rough cheek and part of his jaw. The remaining half still clung tightly, shaped like curling bark.
His presence was heavy. Not oppressive, but solid. Like a boulder that chose not to move.
Here, it seemed the warriors contributed more than just their strength.
The shopkeeper looked up and spotted the woman. His eyes lit up as he called out, "Elicia!" in a booming voice.
I assumed that was her name.
The two talked a bit in their language, the conversation seemed warm, although we could not understand it. Then, without warning, the man stepped out from behind the counter and pulled us both into a hug.
It was like being wrapped in a bear's hug. Though a bear that meant well.
Jackal made a surprised noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh.
The man stepped back, nodded once, and smiled behind the broken half of his mask. It wasn't hard to read the emotion in it. Respect. Gratitude, maybe.
He was glad to meet us. Proud, even.
"Jan," he said, tapping his chest.
"Darian," I said, then pointed to Jackal. "Jackal."
He made a short bow, then gestured for us to follow him toward a section lined with robes.
Elicia stepped beside us and spoke softly.
"He is a very warm-hearted Yuxina. More talkative than most. Not that others aren't, but... Jan is special. He has lived a long time and helped build the peace we enjoy today."
We reached a row of robes hanging from carved wooden bars. Each was made from the same layered material as hers, some smooth and dark, others marked with patterns or threads of faint color.
"Now," she said, turning to me, "what color would you like? Darian first."
"Black." I didn't really have a preference. It just felt... neutral.
Before she could ask Jackal, he answered for himself.
"White. With how I look, I'll stand out no matter what."
I glanced at him.
"Jackal likes attention."
He shrugged. "Might as well look good doing it."
Elicia pointed out our selections to Jan, who gave a pleased nod and turned to fetch the robes. He handed mine over first, folded neatly in both hands.
I took it, stepped to the side, and began taking off my clothes. Elicia turned away quickly, a bit embarrassed.
The robe felt light but layered, the material cool to the touch. As soon as I slipped it over my shoulders, I felt it shift. Adjust. It clung to my frame, not tightly, but perfectly, like it had been made for me specifically.
I glanced at Elicia, who still had her back turned.
Jackal was already dressed.
"Did it before you noticed," he said, arms spread, robe white and crisp against his scarecrow form. "What do you think? I wear it well."
"You wear anything with arrogance," I said.
He didn't deny it. Just grinned.
We left the market the same way we came, though the way back felt quieter. Less staring. Less chatter. Maybe word had already spread.
Elicia glanced at Jackal. "The fear radiating from you, you can't do anything about it?"
"I can adjust it a bit," he said, shrugging. "But everyone still feels it. Sorry... I guess."
She shivered slightly. I could tell Jackal was holding back the worst of it, dialing down the ooze, even though we were here for a death match. Was he starting to like this place?
Elicia was quiet for a moment, then said:
"You will begin training tomorrow morning," she said, her voice even, but with a hint of expectation behind it. "Be ready."
Jackal raised an eyebrow. "What kind of training?"
She didn't answer. Just offered a polite nod, then turned and disappeared into the corridor's dim curve.
Our chambers were the same as we'd left them. Still warm food on the table, though the edges of the meat had started to lose their heat. I sat down and finished eating in silence. Jackal did too, surprisingly, without a single comment.
Afterward, we found the bathing area tucked into a separate section of the room. The water was hot, steaming in a carved stone basin fed from above by a thin, constant stream. It smelled faintly of minerals and herbs.
We washed without speaking.
It was strange, watching Jackal wash. He wasn't made of hay, whatever his body was, it was still… washable.
When we returned to the sleeping area, I dropped onto the bed without ceremony. The fabric was unfamiliar, but comfortable. Soft, but firm enough to keep shape. My robe hung neatly nearby, folded once.
Jackal had already settled into his own spot, one leg hanging over the side of his bedding like he hadn't a care in the world.
Sleep came faster than expected.
And morning waited.
When we rose, a warrior stepped into our chamber without a word.
His mask was different from the others, sharper, more weathered, with a deep crack running along the bottom edge. A massive sword was strapped across his back, the hilt worn but well-kept.
Elicia appeared behind him, saying, "Time for training."