Michael dragged himself to the infirmary to get himself a restorative draught. By the time he finished drinking it he was starting to feel like he was recovering, but he’d need a good night’s rest to get back to a hundred percent. The games were the end of the tournament for the day, and after one more bout of healing he doled out to everyone, the team had made plans to meet again the next morning after breakfast. The individual fights between teams wouldn’t start until late morning, so that would give them some time to put some fine points on the strategies they’d already discussed.
He was nearly back from his walk when he was approached by four regular recruits. He looked around and noticed his guard was conspicuously absent, and it made little sense to see them so close to the Penitent barracks. He squared himself up, his exhaustion making him slower than he’d like.
Most of the recruits just ran in to rush them, but one stayed a few paces back to say, "You shouldn't be taking our places in the tournament, taker."
Michael muttered “fuerte,” under his breath, channeling his magicka and forming a shield over his fists. He knew he wouldn’t have much time before he got overwhelmed, so he needed to do as much damage as he could as quickly as possible.
The nearest attacker angled his body for a tackle, and Michael did a quick step backward, dropped low, and brought his shielded fist up under the boy’s chin with the full force he could muster. The recruit was thrown back, and Michael was certain that he heard some of his teeth shatter as they slammed together from the blow. He went to follow his hit up with a straight on another recruit, but he was too sluggish and his fist was easily brushed aside before another fist slammed into his gut, making him crumple.
From there it was a flurry of fists and feet as he curled himself into a ball to keep himself from taking too much damage. He considered healing himself during the beating, but felt it would make more sense to wait until they were done.
He heard more footsteps approaching and very suddenly the beating stopped. Michael looked up to see his attackers being beaten back by Davi, Ollie, and Marcus. They were laying into them fiercely, and Marcus was actually pinning one down as he rained down strikes on him.
Michael healed himself, feeling another wave of exhaustion hit him like a powerful wave and forced himself up.
Ollie, who was nearly Michael’s size now from his catch up injections, was the first to stop and let his opponent go. Davi practically tossed the one he was fighting away, but Marcus didn’t stop.
Michael touched him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. Let him go. He’s just a stupid fucking kid.”
“Maybe better he dies before he becomes a stupid fucking adult,” replied Marcus, but he got up, spitting on his foe as he did.
Michael leaned down and healed the battered recruit, then healed the one he’d struck first that was still laid out on the ground.
He pointed at him. “Get him out of here and don’t do that shit again,” said Michael, too tired to mince words. The one recruit picked up the other and started dragging him away.
Michael stumbled again, re-exhausted after all the healing. Davi caught him. “Come on, let’s get you into the barracks.”
Michael didn’t protest the help, and was grateful to be sat on his bed and handed his canteen to chug his water.
Pyotr was sound asleep in his bed despite the fact it wasn’t even dinner time yet.
“Is he alright?’ asked Michael, pointing at him.
“He’s fine, just wanted a midday nap. Something we don’t usually get to enjoy here.” said Ollie. “You just got the shit kicked out of you, maybe you should worry about yourself for a second.”
Michael shrugged. “I’m fine. Just need some rest.”
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Ollie shook his head. “You just ran a marathon and then got jumped. You should be dead.”
“Maybe Aussies have a bit less stamina than Americans?” he said with a smile.
“I’m pretty sure they’re all fat and lazy,” said Davi. “You may just be the exception.”
“Oh no, fat and lazy would certainly be my preference at the moment,” said Michael pulling off his boots.
“Christ,” said Marcus looking at the boots. There were small patches of dried blood throughout them and the smell they were giving off could charitably be described as ‘a dead skunk drowned in sweat’. Marcus and the others exchanged a glance. “Why don’t you take a shower and get some rest. We can wake you up to give you some food.”
“I can make it to the cafeteria.”
“You aren’t going to though,” said Davi in a voice that reminded him of when he forced his own children to stay in bed when they were sick.
Michael sighed. “Fine. Grab me some extra salted fish though. It’s strange how different this body’s taste buds are from my own.”
They nodded, and Michael made his way to the showers in the back. The blast of cold water perked him up a bit, and it was nice to feel clean. He dragged himself back to his bed and fell into it. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but next thing he knew he was woken by his friends bringing him a meal wrapped in paper. He devoured it quickly, and silently, then went back to sleep, not even bothering to brush the crumbs off himself before he did.
Michael woke up the next morning feeling much better. There was some soreness in his legs, and he felt wobbly as he tried to stand, but it felt more like he’d had a rough leg day at the gym than he’d run thirty miles. He stretched and made his bed before getting a fresh uniform from his trunk. He put it on and buttoned the jacket in the mirror, making sure everything was in order for the morning inspection. He did not want to do any extra calisthenics. The fact that he’d have a one on one fight later was trouble enough.
As he looked in the mirror, he took a moment to divine himself. Something felt different. He waited for the floating motes of gold in front of him to settle into words.
He was right, he had a new deed. He focused on it, trying to glean more information.
Very Minor Durability
He couldn’t think of a better condition under which to be granted minor durability and speed than when he was running. Good for a retreat or a charge. So far the very minor boosts he’d experienced were exactly that, very minor, but he could definitely feel the difference when they were active. He imagined if he was earning them in more dangerous or impressive situations the reward would be increased, but even the small benefits would all add up quickly if he kept it up. He looked away from the mirror and took some time to wake up everyone else. He didn’t want them caught in bed by Kline.
After a heavy breakfast where he wound up out-eating even Davi, he went to the training yard to see Lance twirling a spear. It seemed it was just the two of them so far. Lance interrupted what he was doing to nod at Michael.
“Sorry, it helps me think.”
“No worries. I personally like to pace and mumble to myself.”
“Ah, that's a favorite of mother’s. I could hear her rambling from one end of the estate to the other some days.”
“Where are the others?”
“We already had a talk at dinner, so I asked them to sleep in and get some extra rest.” He paused for a moment. "I heard about the scuffle yesterday. Are you alright?"
Michael shrugged. "Not the first one I've been in since I got here. I'm fine."
Lance frowned a bit. "If you say so."
“Alright, so what’s the plan for me then?”
Lance stroked his chin, where there was a small patch of whiskers on the way to a beard. “It’s going to depend on what kind of risk you want to take on.”
“The first team we’re fighting has a recruit named Rein Aber. He’s a captain, like me, and the son of a Duke. His brother is also on his team.”
Michael could see the problem immediately. Two heavily titled recruits on the other team would make one on one fights very difficult.
“I know I can beat his brother, though it would be close. I am uncertain I could beat him.”
“Could Cohle, or Jakub?”
“It’s possible, but not in their favor. Less likely than if I fought him. The issue is that we must announce our fighter first. That means they have control over who fights who in the first bout. I think Leana may actually have a chance against their weakest fighter as he hurt his leg during the Wisp hunt. If I can take Rein off the board, then we can win the rest of the bouts, but if he fights me it becomes much dicier.”
“You want me to fight him somehow?”
Lance nodded. “He had a sister who was taken. He hates you by default. If you bait him a bit and we send you up first, I think it will mean the rest of us can win even if you lose.”
“But I’ll be fighting a lordling full of titles and experience that hates my guts.”
“Is there a chance I could beat him?”
Lance’s face stayed impassive. “Anything’s possible,” he managed in his most neutral tone, which told Michael all he needed to know.
He laughed a bit. “Well. Let no one say I wasn’t a team player in either my previous life, or this one.”