A week had passed of intensive rest and the wild pursuit of more knowledge on the Baratheon Kingdom. What Xerxes particularly focused on was local news, called 'The Baratheon Times'.
Once he had read it, it only gave him further motivation to enter the tournament. In the Baratheon Times, key information about each tournament was mentioned; on average, they occurred once every two years, but in recent years, they had become annual events.
This is simply because they have been able to attract a significant amount of money from investors, largely thanks to the increase in popularity.
The tournament is known to cover a variety of challenges that would be integral for an adventurer to overcome. There were research tests, magical potency tests, 1 - 1 combat, team combat, too many to even list.
Something that caught Xerxes' eye was the winner of each tournament. For the past 2 years, an adventurer named Tristan Godfrey had won. He's 12 years of age and is regarded as a prodigy in the Baratheon Times.
He's not a dwarf but a human and what makes him revered is his demeanour, his approach to combat is singular and unitary, he fights alone, only finding random people to enter the tournament last moment, which means at the age of 11, he won a tournament as grand as this one by himself.
He had been ranked back then for an under-12 age bracket, which brought his adventuring rank to an A, whilst Xerxes was barely scraping a D rank at that age. Now, in this new year, he was to be reassessed, in a new age bracket, to get a full-fledged adventuring license.
Whilst Xerxes was unveiling more information regarding the tournament, Leiya was attempting to decipher portions of the past.
She gathered a collection of books from the library and read them extensively. Her interest was captivated by 'The great war of succession', the era where mages reigned supreme and battled with gods.
What she was able to discover, with Indonyia Magic Academy graded books, were theories of what truly happened in the Great War of Succession. Generally, the consensus is that 7 races: Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Daemons, Fairies, Orcs and finally gods had fought.
Only 7 races fighting was still a sceptical matter, raised for debate. This was because some historians took the opinion of more races being involved, whilst others took a lower number of races.
What was definitive was the fact that all Fairies were killed to extinction, and the Orcs were killed to near extinction. The person who finally ended them was Xerxes Draedon himself.
It was said that the mortal races fought against the gods, the gods who feared the collective power of the mortals, which resulted in the death of the,. A representative from each race was said to challenge the gods, with the most revering human of the time: Durok Knight, the creator of the aspects, leading the charge.
The overall contents of the war and what happened were extremely vague; it was, to put it bluntly, unreliable. The names of specific 'God Races', which Aemon had told Xerxes and Leiya about, such as 'The Atasis', weren't known or even mentioned in the book.
However, a key piece of information they were able to uncover that seemed legitimate was 'Apostles'.
Apostles were referred to as an extension of God's power. There were many apostles throughout the times of the Great War of Succession, though their names were lost to history, but what confirmed their legitimacy was a key detail that was preserved through manuscripts of soldiers at that time.
It referred to a sinister man, whose mana was irregular; he spewed power of decay and shadows, he acted like a child who had just received a new toy. This was towards the end of the war, and what soldiers were able to uncover was the number 3 on the man.
The same number Leiya and Xerxes had both seen, which confirmed Yves was an apostle similar to Aemon, but the power he was receiving was likely on a different level to Aemon.
Aemon had told both of them, his god whom he had inherited the power from had died, meaning his power was dwindling over time; his extended life span, his physical and mental strength were declining.
Whereas Yves seemed to be full of life within the battle, his power dwarfed Aemon's, which brought Leiya and Xerxes to a conclusion that shut down the 'truth' the books had told, not all the gods had died and that there were still some gods out there.
The question that played on their mind was 'why?', why would the truth of the past be hidden, or was it simply unknown, and filled in by historians who simply wanted a story to tell, whatever the answer was, Leiya and Xerxes were sure to discover the answer.
Besides the rest they needed, they had both been training to work in the Tavern. Xerxes and Leiya immediately took the role as soon as they were better, Leiya found her clothes quite questionable and uncomfortable compared to her freeing wild clothing, whilst Xerxes didn't mind how it looked.
The tavern doors exploded open with a resounding crack, and the aged wood groaned as they slammed against the walls. Conversations died mid-sentence, mugs halted halfway to lips, and a hush fell like a shroud over the room.
Standing at the threshold was a teen barely past 15. His hair fell in layered waves to his chin, the colour of dirty blonde gleaming like molten brass, with a few loose strands falling over his eyes. His frame was narrow and lacked muscular definition.
Leather armour clung to his frame with ease, the clasps of his cloak wrapped around his body, and a half smile tugged at his lips. Equals parts challenging and amusing. He was backed by a thick horde of drunken adventurers, sharp-eyed and cloaked mages.
"Evening," he drawled, the word lazy, yet striking everyone, "Hope the ale's still warm."
Bertha sighed, whilst Leiya was bringing drinks to a table, "It's Nicolas, of noble house Shmire. Cocky adventurer, has too much daddy's money to even give a shit about life and is a cunt."
Bertha yelled, "Watch'a want Nicolas, because you certainly ain't getting ale from here, remember the ruckus you made last time, now take your possy and go to hell!" she roared.
Nicolas began waving his hands left and right, making himself welcome to the tavern. Some adventurers lowered their gaze, in fear of upsetting Nicolas' father, whilst some didn't care in the slightest.
"You know, it reeks of death in here. I've heard a few things going around town." He mused, whilst taking the drink Leiya was serving for someone, and glugging down half of the cup.
"I don't know what ale you've ben' drinking because it certainly isn't mine!" Bertha roared, fury evident in her voice.
"Might I tell you, I'm quite sober. I'm not drunk in the slightest, I'm not acting foolish, I've just heard that you have someone people are calling a 'zombie boy'" His eyes scanned around the room, to kids of similar ages.
He looked at some of the other younger people, and his eyes finally landed on Xerxes, "Ah, you're the one, aren't you?" he said whilst walking over.
"You're the boy, whom a few adventurers remember seeing. You're from Layne, the Crossed Seas guild, right? There was a huge thing about you dying, it even made local news in Layne. But I thought you died in a mission going to the Fallen Kingdom, what happened? You ran away for a new life in Baratheon."
"You know what they say, the women here are great, especially when you go towards certain parts of the city, the adventure is amazing no matter what you do, there's so much gold and fame to acquire here, honestly it's quite perfect, don't you say so, Zombie boy."
The entirety of the Tavern gasped, whilst some had already realised before that the person was Xerxes based on the description. After all, he had made a small name for himself, 'The executioner', Xerxes Draedon and now his title had been changed, 'Zombie boy'.
Xerxes didn't want to give Nicolas the satisfaction of being a nuisance, so he responded simply, "I prefer the executioner, not zombie boy," and he nonchalantly returned to cleaning the cup and moving on to the next
The entirety of the adventurers began drinking, chuckling, as if diminishing Nicolas' presence. His face started turning red from embarrassment, whilst he waited there. Xerxes' cold gaze shifted upwards, unnaturally slowly, his sharp eyes peering into him.
"Anything else?" Xerxes questioned.
"I guess dying gives someone a skewed sense of humour, doesn't it?" Nicolas questioned, whilst tapping the shoulders of his other friends, searching for approval in his words.
Xerxes put down the cup and looked Nicolas straight in his eyes, "Nicolas, I don't know what you are trying to achieve by being a fool, but if you want to talk to me, I finish at 9 pm then I'll have to train till 11 pm."
Nicolas frowned at Xerxes, "Don't tell me you're considering entering into the tournament?" Turning towards his friends, he said, "Lads, this is going to be our competition, some runaway, haha." He chuckled, trying to boost his already heightened ego even more.
"How about it, Xerxes? Try to train with me, I'll test ya!"
Bertha immediately got in between the two of them, who were almost face to face, "Nicolas, enough of this, leave! Otherwise I'll get m'broom and beat ya!" She shouted, whilst a grin was smeared across his face.
He raised his hands, surrendering, "Sure, sure but Zombie boy, believe me when I tell you I am eager, eager to build up a bigger and better reputation taking out anyone with a name, first it will be you, next it will be that damn Tristan, after what he did last year, I won't accept it." He frowned whilst walking out of the tavern with his friends.
The tension in the air slowly subsided, as people's gazes shifted to how they once were, the simple worker had now been seen as something stranger, something more enigmatic.
"Bertha, I'm sorry about that, it won't happen again," Xerxes said awkwardly, as the past he was trying to hide was slowly coming out.