Sardin casted the net on the right side of the canoe and waited for several minutes while Herring watched the waves. Two hours had passed and not a single fish got caught. Herring picked up his fishnet and tossed it to the other side of the canoe.

“That's it for today.” Sardin enunciated as he stood to pull out the fishnet.

“Says the man that it was a good day to go fishing.” Herring half mocked as he pulled out the last of the fishnet.

“You gave away a great mackerel, which is rare to catch.” Sardin remarked.

“Piros gave it away, I wanted to sell it.”

“But you went out to fight in the tournament and you fell for the bait.” The old fisherman recalled.

“You would've done the same for 300,000 rories.” Herring retorted vehemently.

“I would, if the tourney wasn't a ruse.” Sardin replied, “May I remind you that slave owners have used that tactic to lure strong fighters to trap them and enslave them.” Herring rolled his eyes at Sardin's rant. “I once encountered a stowaway with large muscles. He had a tattoo on his back and an earring, and he also confessed that he entered for the prize without knowing that the price was him.”

Herring took out the oars and rowed away and ignored him, or at least feigned to ignore what Sardin told him.

“The tournament wasn't a trap.” Herring said as he rowed.

“What makes you so sure?” Sardin questioned.

“I have an eyewitness.”

“Who? Haeji?” Sardin guessed.

“You'll have to see for yourself, if you'll excuse me.” Herring rowed away. The elderly fisherman didn't buy his bluff, he was convinced that the young lad was hiding something. Sardin waited for a couple of minutes before he followed Herring to Meno.

Herring also knew that Sardin was the kind of person that likes to investigate during his leisure. Sardin can consider himself a wise fisherman, but deep down he was a sneaky busybody.

Once Herring arrived on the dock, he tied one end of the rope to a post and the other to one of the seats of the canoe. Sardin had watched Herring fade into the city as the older fisherman stood up as the canoe dithered beneath his feet and rowed closer to reach the dock. By the time Sardin had tied the canoe, Herring took a route and perused the market. Kiosks of pottery, embroidery, clothing, beads, instruments and grains were flanked in rows as there a smaller group of people.

The sun descended at its hottest as the merchants hollered for water and its price. Sardin had looked for Herring around the city block before a man carried a large pot that doubled the size of his torso and a little splash of water escaped the brim of the pot and fell on the dry soil while the man walked to a kiosk.

The brief distraction made Sardin's throat dry up from the thirst and lost sight of Herring.

Sardin's eyes darted to find him amidst the bustling group of people that crossed from side to side forming lines to get something to drink. The elderly fisherman had to wriggle his way through some of the strangers that were waiting line to cross.

Herring made it to the town square as he was merely a couple of miles away from reaching the Alvonian Stadium.

As much as Sardin ran to catch up to him, he panted from running, his ligaments were not as solid as when it used to during his youth, especially in an intense afternoon where people were demanding water. He coughed and hobbled to a tea shop as he sat on the ground.

Herring entered the stadium and walked down the halls, only the light the came from the windows invaded the abandoned infrastructure. He couldn't understand it. He looked around the rows and the arena, and it was empty.

Where is everybody?

Herring looked for every nook and cranny. He was certain that this was the right place.

Buid carried a box full of his belongings along with the rolled up currency that his erstwhile boss had given him before his departure. He had carried it on his way to his residence, though he hadn't expected a heat wave to occur at the time. He headed to the nearest tent to buy something to drink. Within the tent, a merchant sold beverages; water, mead, cider, beer, tea and dried herbs of different varieties. There were three men waiting in line before Buid. The first man ordered water and paid for it as the merchant filled the canteen from a barril and gave it to the customer.

“There has to be someone. Anyone.” Herring looked frantically and ran around the stadium searching for anyone that was in the tournament but there was no sign of them. Then he remembered the receptionist from earlier, the man that gave the Buddha-like smile. “Of course.” Herring snapped his fingers and ran out of the stadium in search for him.

Sardin walked a couple of miles until he entered the same tent that Buid was. There were two men, Sardin being the third in line by the time the second customer had taken a canteen full of water and dried leaves to make tea. The third customer ordered water and apple cider. Sardin saw the merchant give away a glass bottle of cider and another one full of water to the customer before the customer paid as the customer walked out of the tent, the merchant saw Buid and greeted him.

“Oi, Buid, how are you?” The merchant queried, as Sardin looked up at the roof of the tent with a why me facial expression.

“I feel great, a little parched, but grateful.” Buid replied.

“It has been a while since the last time I saw you. How is work cutting out for you?” The merchant asked, making up conversation and prod some information.

“It brought results. I received my last pay.”

“You don't say?” The merchant asked, peeping at the box Buid carried.

“I just need supplies to build a tent and I'll start my new job.” Buid hinted at his friend.

“The competition is getting fierce out here, the sun rays are burning hotter.” The merchant commented before he noticed Sardin. “Silly me, what would you like to order?” The merchant asked Sardin.

“Water.” The older fisherman requested before he gave a glass bottle and filled it.

“That will be Ř300.” The merchant mentioned.

“I barely have that amount.” Sardin rasped.

“Sorry about that sir.” The merchant withheld the glass bottle from him.

“Come now, Deghin. Don't be stingy.” Buid opened the box and took out six bills of Ř50 and gave it to Deghin before he paid for Sardin.

“Here you go.” The merchant passed the glass bottle to Buid, and Buid passed it to Sardin.

“Thank you.” Sardin rasped before he drank it.

Herring had searched for the kiosks and tents for Buid and the one he hadn't searched yet was Deghin's tent.

Herring approached the mustard colored tent that had the Titian flag.

“So you want to sell your own wares.” The merchant started as he poured tea for Buid while Sardin savored the cold water he drank.

“Precisely, hope you don't mind some friendly competition?” Buid smirked as the merchant had finished filling the cup.

“You had plenty of other jobs before. Are you sure that this will be the right one for you?” The merchant cocked an eyebrow.

“I'm certain of it.” Buid affirmed.

“If you say so.” The merchant said when Sardin drank to the last drop in the same time Herring entered the tent and found Buid.

“There you are!” Herring shouted just as he went up to Buid and grabbed him by the collar, the box slipping from his arm. “Where are the others?” Herring interrogated him as his dark brown eyes glaring daggers.

“What are you talking about?” Buid asked confused. Herring punched Buid in the face as the box fell out of Buid's arm and fell to the ground.

“Don't act dumb! You were there when I signed up to fight in the tournament! Where are Piros and the others?!” Herring demanded for answers before Sardin jumped on Herring's back and had him in a headlock as he pried him off of Buid.

Buid regained his posture despite he gained a black eye. “I have nothing to do with them.”

“You calling me a liar!?”

“I said no such thing.”

“That's enough, Herring!” Sardin interrupted and chastised him.

“It's true! He was the one who handed the form!” Herring pointed accused Buid while the erstwhile receptionist picked up the box he dropped.

“That's correct. I was the one who gave you the form, but there is more,” Buid started, “I got fired for omitting information.”

Looks like Sardin wasn't the only busybody, the omitted information piqued the merchant's curiosity. “What is it? I'll give you a glass cistern if the omitted information you got is scandalous.” The merchant bartered.

“If you must know,” Buid glared at Herring, the zen that Buid exuded was replaced woth contempt, “I got fired for allowing this young man to sign up another contender without their consent.”

Herring's eyes widened like saucers and immediately made Buid shut up.

“Who is it?” The merchant prodded but Sardin already knew who Buid was referring to.

“You did what!?” Sardin bellowed, the seagulls and pigeons that were perched nearby the tent flew away.

“Unbelievable! I already warned you about the tactics slave traders use and you acted like one of them.” Sardin shouted, irate.

“I DID NOT!” Herring bellowed.

“You set him up into fighting! You tricked him into fighting despite that he refused! You forced him to fight regardless!” Sardin scolded him.

“I wanted him to overcome his fear.”

“Not like that! You of all people know what he went through!”

“Not all the fighters in the tournament are like Urdinak.” Herring reminded him.

“Hydromancers are highly dangerous, you got tossed around like a rag doll and he hadn't used a sliver of his power.” Sardin continued with his tirade while Herring rolled his eyes, “When I went fishing that day, I found Piros by chance when I pulled him out of the water. If I hadn't gotten him out in time, he wouldn't be among us today.”

Herring headed back to the stadium with or without Sardin's help. The last thing he needed was to hear Sardin compare him to a slave trader, or worse, being compared to Coral.

“Despite that Piros didn't have education at least he has more common sense.” Sardin added before he spotted a red light shoot out from the Alvonian stadium. A red light that projected a gem embedded on the entryway skyward as it flickered into a kaleidoscope of colors before it faded.

Herring ran to see it up close.

Sardin followed him as quickly as he could before Herring entered the stadium. He followed Herring to the darkness to find a lively lounge full of fighters and some commonfolk passing by with attire of different varieties that he hadn't seen before.

Sardin marvelled at the sight of the Deity of Discipline as she lowered her fan as she walked from him.

“Fish face!” Ratu shouted at Herring, “You're not gonna believe this. There was a cult of mages and all kinds of spellcasters throwing spells at everyone. You shoulda seen it.”

While Ratu rambled on about mages, spellcasters and the like, Sardin turned around and saw Piros accompanying a winged woman with coppery skin and light red eyes. Sardin went up to salute Piros.

Herring whined, “Aw man, I missed all the action.” Then he slouched as he pouted, then he noticed someone was missing. “Where is Haeji?” Ratu shrugged his shoulders.

A Korean albino by the name of Juuzou Soma had called out to Haeji. “Patricia is waiting for you.” That's not good. The Daoituen thief thought as her friend had gestured her to follow him.