Davies
Legend
Introduction
It's really sort of ingenious, in its own way. That way, unfortunately, is a cruel and merciless way, and has other problems besides that. But I can't say that it's not clever.
We start with the individual who's sponsoring this tournament, whose best-known alias can be translated into English as 'Thunder Dragon'. He's ruled the nation of Bhutan for twenty-three years, now. A whole generation of the Bhutanese have known no other life than his rule. There has never been any serious opposition to that rule, no rebellions or coup attempts. But there is well-hidden dissatisfaction with the fact that the nation is ruled by someone who makes no pretense of respect for those over whom he reigns. But the dissatisfaction is not so well-hidden as to completely escape Thunder Dragon's notice and is something he must deal with in some way.
The way he chooses to deal with it is to sponsor a tournament of martial arts, whose victor is given the chance to fight Thunder Dragon himself. The champion doesn't even have to defeat the ruler of Bhutan, merely strike him a meaningful blow. If they accomplish this, Thunder Dragon will grant them any one wish that lies within his power. And he has quietly and subtly made it known that one such wish that might be granted would be for him to abandon the throne and leave Earth again.
The dissatisfaction I mentioned? It turns into hope, specifically hope that someone can manage this deed and that the current circumstances of Bhutan can change. Whether that change is a reversion to the monarchy that existed before Thunder Dragon usurped the throne, to a Western-style democracy, or to some other form of dictatorship, that all depends on the character of the person who hopes. Hope, unfortunately, is not the absolute positive that some people think.
But there's even more to the situation than what I've said. First, not just anyone is allowed to walk in off the street and take part in this Tournament, named after a similar exhibition in a Japanese comic book that Thunder Dragon apparently enjoyed reading. There is the question of an entrance fee. I'm honestly not sure how much he demands from those who want to take part, but it's enough that most of them needed to obtain corporate sponsorship in order to pay it. All that money – or nearly all – will be funneled into Bhutan's development, rather than being used for Thunder Dragon's vanity. He does have some admirable qualities, I'll admit.
The same is true, to a degree, of all the money that's coming in from those who've come to spectate, or who are purchasing the streaming rights to this event. This alone is probably enough to cover the expenses of the construction of the arena where this is all taking place, even though it covers six hectares and has some decidedly super-technological improvements that no other venue in the world possesses, like the force field dome that I'm looking through right now, about five miles below my present altitude. I think even those who admire Thunder Dragon will have to admit that this constitutes a vanity project.
Right now, the ruler is standing in his (also force field protected) box and addressing the crowds who have gathered to watch the start of these 'festivities', and he looks very pleased with himself. (I can't hear what he's saying, of course, but then most of his audience can't do so either. What they're hearing are translations piped in through their earbuds.) He's stripped to the waist, as he usually is, wearing only his pants and forearm bracers, with a pair of sandals for footwear.
As it happens, he is not alone in the box. Seated in a chair only slightly less ostentatious than his own throne-like seat, to his left, is one Shaitan Topaz, whom he placed under his protection earlier this year. She doesn't look anywhere nearly as happy as he does, dressed as she is in a blue blouse and red skirt, completely unlike the black garments that she's usually been seen wearing. I'd probably feel sorrier for her if I didn't know that she's the agent of a regime that makes Thunder Dragon's rule over Bhutan seem enlightened and merciful.
Well, if I'm reading his lips right, he's coming to the end of his oration, and it's time for me to make my move. I move downward, towards the force dome, keeping up that speed even when it looks like I'm about to smash into its surface. Fortunately, the technical specifications we were able to obtain aren't misleading, and the instant before I would strike the dome, a hole wide enough to admit me opens within it, and I'm able to slow down enough so that I only land with a moderately loud noise on the ground floor of the arena, lifting my face and looking up at Thunder Dragon as I do. Now that I'm in hearing range, I can hear all the many ways that my name is said by the people gathered in the seats surrounding the arena. I won't deny that there's something thrilling about that sort of recognition. But I'm only concerned with the reaction of one individual, who's stopped orating and is glaring down at me.
"Paragon," he says, in perfect English.
"Thunder Dragon," I reply.
"The deadline for admissions was some time ago," he says, with a calm that he clearly doesn't feel. "Should you wish to hold a brief exhibition match before the Tournament begins, I would be more than happy to –"
"No," I interrupt. "That's not why I'm here. I haven't come to participate in this … sport of yours, nor have I come to put a stop to it. Whatever my personal opinions of them, I accept that these things are going to happen." I pause, to let that sink in and let the translators express it for the rest of the audience. "But if that is so, then they're going to happen with some slight oversight to prevent them from becoming a complete bloodbath."
"And what exactly –" he starts to ask.
Before he can finish the sentence, I fish the tiny star-shaped device out of my belt pouch and toss it on the floor in front of me. It's one of Donna's devices, so I can't claim to understand the theory behind it. What I do understand is the effect it has. A moment after it leaves my hand, a teleportal lasting about a second or so opens, and someone steps out of it, moving from the Argo's current position to here in a flash of light. She stands in front of me, in a suit almost as red as my own, and looks around with an expression on her face that shows an even greater level of disgust than I'm feeling right now.
"I am the Lancet," she says after a moment. "And no one is going to die here. I realize that may interfere with your enjoyment of these proceedings. I would express my regrets for that if I felt any. No one is going to die here," she repeats. "You may take whatever sick pleasure you wish in the fact that my treatment might make them wish for death. I would express my regrets, for that, as well."
With that, she falls silent, and we both look up at Thunder Dragon. I'm honestly not sure what he's going to do, now. Well, if he decides that he doesn't want this, we're going to have that exhibition match regardless of what I said earlier, and I think he knows that. We've fought seven times, and only twice did results reach an actual conclusion. In neither of those instances did he come out the winner, and I wonder whether he wants to see what will happen if we fight somewhere that some of my advantages don't apply. I look up at him, and he looks down at me. In as much as the roar of the crowd permits, silence descends.
"Very well," he says, after a moment. "I judge this to be an admirable addition to these events. Thank you."
He doesn't look very thankful, but he's agreed, and we are on our way. The Lancet looks back towards me and offers a polite nod before she starts walking towards one of the arena floor's exits. I prepare to depart as well.
"But on reflection," Thunder Dragon continues after a moment, stopping me before I lift off, "I think that there is another admirable addition to be made. Yes … yes, now that I have had the opportunity to consider, it seems to me that it is hardly just that I will be the only one made to pay a penalty for my defeat, should it happen that I lose the ultimate match of this tournament. Therefore, I now declare that at the end of each of these conflicts, the victor of each match may demand a boon from the vanquished, which must be granted if it is within their power to do so. " His voice goes lower, colder. "And should the loser refuse this demand, they will face my immediate displeasure."
This is both unexpected and greatly unpleasant. It's bad enough that four people I know and like, as well as others I haven't had the pleasure of meeting but have heard good things about, are putting their bodies at risk in this monstrous fiasco, but now they could have demands made of them that are potentially even more contemptible. What I want is to put a stop to this, immediately. And of course, what will come of that is exactly what Thunder Dragon wants, right now.
He's gotten a lot more cunning than he was the first time we clashed.
I take a deep breath. "My best wishes to all who participate in this event," I say, lying through my teeth. And with that remark, I fly up and away from this game of deceit -- if not of death, as the Lancet has promised.
And with that, the Strongest Under Heaven Martial Arts Tournament is officially under way.
The Contenders
Amari
The Avatar
Bravo
Fuego
Ibuki Kruger
Li Zuwen
Logan Stormstrider
Prydwen
Luis Almeida
Rocco Christopher
Sheng Long
Sun Wukong
Talante
Tarmund the Hunter
Trijata
Trouble
It's really sort of ingenious, in its own way. That way, unfortunately, is a cruel and merciless way, and has other problems besides that. But I can't say that it's not clever.
We start with the individual who's sponsoring this tournament, whose best-known alias can be translated into English as 'Thunder Dragon'. He's ruled the nation of Bhutan for twenty-three years, now. A whole generation of the Bhutanese have known no other life than his rule. There has never been any serious opposition to that rule, no rebellions or coup attempts. But there is well-hidden dissatisfaction with the fact that the nation is ruled by someone who makes no pretense of respect for those over whom he reigns. But the dissatisfaction is not so well-hidden as to completely escape Thunder Dragon's notice and is something he must deal with in some way.
The way he chooses to deal with it is to sponsor a tournament of martial arts, whose victor is given the chance to fight Thunder Dragon himself. The champion doesn't even have to defeat the ruler of Bhutan, merely strike him a meaningful blow. If they accomplish this, Thunder Dragon will grant them any one wish that lies within his power. And he has quietly and subtly made it known that one such wish that might be granted would be for him to abandon the throne and leave Earth again.
The dissatisfaction I mentioned? It turns into hope, specifically hope that someone can manage this deed and that the current circumstances of Bhutan can change. Whether that change is a reversion to the monarchy that existed before Thunder Dragon usurped the throne, to a Western-style democracy, or to some other form of dictatorship, that all depends on the character of the person who hopes. Hope, unfortunately, is not the absolute positive that some people think.
But there's even more to the situation than what I've said. First, not just anyone is allowed to walk in off the street and take part in this Tournament, named after a similar exhibition in a Japanese comic book that Thunder Dragon apparently enjoyed reading. There is the question of an entrance fee. I'm honestly not sure how much he demands from those who want to take part, but it's enough that most of them needed to obtain corporate sponsorship in order to pay it. All that money – or nearly all – will be funneled into Bhutan's development, rather than being used for Thunder Dragon's vanity. He does have some admirable qualities, I'll admit.
The same is true, to a degree, of all the money that's coming in from those who've come to spectate, or who are purchasing the streaming rights to this event. This alone is probably enough to cover the expenses of the construction of the arena where this is all taking place, even though it covers six hectares and has some decidedly super-technological improvements that no other venue in the world possesses, like the force field dome that I'm looking through right now, about five miles below my present altitude. I think even those who admire Thunder Dragon will have to admit that this constitutes a vanity project.
Right now, the ruler is standing in his (also force field protected) box and addressing the crowds who have gathered to watch the start of these 'festivities', and he looks very pleased with himself. (I can't hear what he's saying, of course, but then most of his audience can't do so either. What they're hearing are translations piped in through their earbuds.) He's stripped to the waist, as he usually is, wearing only his pants and forearm bracers, with a pair of sandals for footwear.
As it happens, he is not alone in the box. Seated in a chair only slightly less ostentatious than his own throne-like seat, to his left, is one Shaitan Topaz, whom he placed under his protection earlier this year. She doesn't look anywhere nearly as happy as he does, dressed as she is in a blue blouse and red skirt, completely unlike the black garments that she's usually been seen wearing. I'd probably feel sorrier for her if I didn't know that she's the agent of a regime that makes Thunder Dragon's rule over Bhutan seem enlightened and merciful.
Well, if I'm reading his lips right, he's coming to the end of his oration, and it's time for me to make my move. I move downward, towards the force dome, keeping up that speed even when it looks like I'm about to smash into its surface. Fortunately, the technical specifications we were able to obtain aren't misleading, and the instant before I would strike the dome, a hole wide enough to admit me opens within it, and I'm able to slow down enough so that I only land with a moderately loud noise on the ground floor of the arena, lifting my face and looking up at Thunder Dragon as I do. Now that I'm in hearing range, I can hear all the many ways that my name is said by the people gathered in the seats surrounding the arena. I won't deny that there's something thrilling about that sort of recognition. But I'm only concerned with the reaction of one individual, who's stopped orating and is glaring down at me.
"Paragon," he says, in perfect English.
"Thunder Dragon," I reply.
"The deadline for admissions was some time ago," he says, with a calm that he clearly doesn't feel. "Should you wish to hold a brief exhibition match before the Tournament begins, I would be more than happy to –"
"No," I interrupt. "That's not why I'm here. I haven't come to participate in this … sport of yours, nor have I come to put a stop to it. Whatever my personal opinions of them, I accept that these things are going to happen." I pause, to let that sink in and let the translators express it for the rest of the audience. "But if that is so, then they're going to happen with some slight oversight to prevent them from becoming a complete bloodbath."
"And what exactly –" he starts to ask.
Before he can finish the sentence, I fish the tiny star-shaped device out of my belt pouch and toss it on the floor in front of me. It's one of Donna's devices, so I can't claim to understand the theory behind it. What I do understand is the effect it has. A moment after it leaves my hand, a teleportal lasting about a second or so opens, and someone steps out of it, moving from the Argo's current position to here in a flash of light. She stands in front of me, in a suit almost as red as my own, and looks around with an expression on her face that shows an even greater level of disgust than I'm feeling right now.
"I am the Lancet," she says after a moment. "And no one is going to die here. I realize that may interfere with your enjoyment of these proceedings. I would express my regrets for that if I felt any. No one is going to die here," she repeats. "You may take whatever sick pleasure you wish in the fact that my treatment might make them wish for death. I would express my regrets, for that, as well."
With that, she falls silent, and we both look up at Thunder Dragon. I'm honestly not sure what he's going to do, now. Well, if he decides that he doesn't want this, we're going to have that exhibition match regardless of what I said earlier, and I think he knows that. We've fought seven times, and only twice did results reach an actual conclusion. In neither of those instances did he come out the winner, and I wonder whether he wants to see what will happen if we fight somewhere that some of my advantages don't apply. I look up at him, and he looks down at me. In as much as the roar of the crowd permits, silence descends.
"Very well," he says, after a moment. "I judge this to be an admirable addition to these events. Thank you."
He doesn't look very thankful, but he's agreed, and we are on our way. The Lancet looks back towards me and offers a polite nod before she starts walking towards one of the arena floor's exits. I prepare to depart as well.
"But on reflection," Thunder Dragon continues after a moment, stopping me before I lift off, "I think that there is another admirable addition to be made. Yes … yes, now that I have had the opportunity to consider, it seems to me that it is hardly just that I will be the only one made to pay a penalty for my defeat, should it happen that I lose the ultimate match of this tournament. Therefore, I now declare that at the end of each of these conflicts, the victor of each match may demand a boon from the vanquished, which must be granted if it is within their power to do so. " His voice goes lower, colder. "And should the loser refuse this demand, they will face my immediate displeasure."
This is both unexpected and greatly unpleasant. It's bad enough that four people I know and like, as well as others I haven't had the pleasure of meeting but have heard good things about, are putting their bodies at risk in this monstrous fiasco, but now they could have demands made of them that are potentially even more contemptible. What I want is to put a stop to this, immediately. And of course, what will come of that is exactly what Thunder Dragon wants, right now.
He's gotten a lot more cunning than he was the first time we clashed.
I take a deep breath. "My best wishes to all who participate in this event," I say, lying through my teeth. And with that remark, I fly up and away from this game of deceit -- if not of death, as the Lancet has promised.
And with that, the Strongest Under Heaven Martial Arts Tournament is officially under way.
The Contenders
Amari
The Avatar
Bravo
Fuego
Ibuki Kruger
Li Zuwen
Logan Stormstrider
Prydwen
Luis Almeida
Rocco Christopher
Sheng Long
Sun Wukong
Talante
Tarmund the Hunter
Trijata
Trouble
| Side A | Side B | |||||
| Round 1 | Round 2 | Round 3 | Round 4 | Round 3 | Round 2 | Round 1 |
| Match 1: Prydwen vs. | Match 1: Ibuki vs. | |||||
| Talante | Match I: Talante | Match I: "Ibuki" | Trijata | |||
| Match 2: Almeida vs. | vs. | A Side Semifinal: Winner, Match I | B Side Semifinal Winner, Match I | vs. | Match 2: Tarmund vs. | |
| Bravo | Bravo | vs. | Finals: Side A vs. Side B. | vs. | Amari | Amari |
| Match 3: Logan vs. | Winner, Match II | Winner Fights Thunder Dragon | Winner, Match II | Match 3: Fuego vs. | ||
| Sun Wukong | Match II: Wukong | Match II: Winner, Match 3 | Trouble | |||
| Match 4: Zuwen vs. | vs. | vs. | Match 4: Sheng Long vs. | |||
| Rocco | Winner, Match 4 | Winner, Match 4 | The Avatar |
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