The imperial overseers were curious beings, though unsettling to behold. Cloaked in black and blindfolded, they stood tall and lean in immaculate dress, almost like wraiths. Their voices were identical. No one could tell whether they were male, female, or human at all.
The overseers never seemed to notice anything beyond the match itself. Anyone who tried to tamper with their equipment passed straight through both overseer and wares, as though all of them were apparitions. Had the overseers not worn the imperial court’s crest, they might have sent the crowd fleeing.
Each overseer attended a magical hourglass enclosed in a glass bell, with four heart jars suspended beneath it like hanging teacups. When a match began, one jar for each competitor rose above the hourglass and cast a glow in the color of its house master. The floor beneath each competitor shone with the same color.
Every spectator received one token, and hearts were collected at the end of the five-minute round. House members worked the crowd on their guild master’s behalf, rallying support wherever they could.
Today’s match was between Marquess Diana Vale and Sir Rafael Laurington.
The Marquess was a stunning beauty. Her blonde hair was always perfectly arranged, and her gowns were the height of fashion. Our Lord God, however, had not blessed her with much personality. She was said to have all the charm of wood shavings and relied on her beauty to hold an audience’s attention.
Sir Laurington was short, portly, and exceedingly wealthy. He used his fortune to curry favor, and crowds laughed at his dreadful jokes in the hope that his generosity might one day bless their enterprises. He seemed entirely unaware that, without his coin, no one would laugh at all.
Eva stood among the onlookers with Celia in tow.
“This is going to be a bad match,” Eva said.
“How can you tell?”
“The Marquess relies on her beauty to win favor at court. She’ll draw the attention of men who want to bed her, but little else. Laurington may look jovial, but he’s dull. I’ll wager you a silver that, if he thinks he’s losing, he’ll start throwing coin to the crowd before the match is over.”
Sure enough, when Marquess Vale took the stage, she ignored Sir Laurington and began preening for the crowd, blowing kisses to the men. The women looked decidedly less impressed.
Sir Laurington laughed. “Marquess Vale, you may be a beauty, but you’re making the women angry and the children cry. Perhaps you should lessen the rouge, lest someone mistake you for a common bedmate!”
A few of the annoyed women laughed with him.
“Sir Laurington, your gut seems to know more than you do,” Diana replied. “At least it knows when to keep quiet.”
The sting of her remark rippled through the crowd.
Then Rafael’s stomach growled loudly enough for everyone to hear. The audience roared with laughter. His face reddened with rage.
He seized Diana by the wrist.
An alarm sounded from the overseer, and Sir Laurington was hurled backward onto his backside.
“Sir Laurington is disqualified for physical contact with his opponent,” the overseer announced in its eerie, even voice. “Marquess Vale wins.”
“I WASN’T GOING TO HURT HER!” Laurington roared.
The crowd jeered.
“Well,” Eva said, “I didn’t see that coming.”
Sir Laurington offered the overseer gold crowns to overturn the ruling, but it paid him no heed. He turned to demand a rematch from the Marquess, only to find that she had already left the stage, celebrating her victory. In desperation, he planted himself in the overseer’s path to stop it from leaving. It passed straight through him. The crowd gasped, and even Eva found the sight unnerving.
“Interesting,” Eva murmured.
“What is?” Celia asked.
“The rumors are true. The overseers are either ghosts or a spell. Whichever they are, they can’t be bought, tampered with, or persuaded.”
Eva watched the overseer depart.
“That makes this much more interesting.”
Leave a comment