Chapter 199: The Crown Trial (5)

Unfortunately, the next person to approach them appeared determined to compensate for Bleit’s good manners.

"Hey you." The voice came from somewhere behind Misha, loud enough to interrupt her conversation with Astrid.

Misha turned toward the voice and found a man standing several paces away with his arms folded across his chest. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a thick neck, cropped black hair, and a sleeveless uniform that displayed an impressive amount of muscle. A jagged scar ran from his left shoulder toward his collarbone, and he wore the confident expression of someone who expected other people to find his presence intimidating.

The man’s gaze traveled over Misha, lingering shamelessly on her chest before moving down to her waist. He made no attempt to conceal what he was doing, and the slow smirk spreading across his face suggested he expected her to be flattered by the attention.

Misha’s fingers twitched at her side. For a brief moment, she considered whether punching someone before competition officially began would count as a violation of the rules.

’This fucker.’

When his gaze finally returned to her masked face, the smirk widened. "Name’s Brody Build-ir. You might’ve heard of me." He hooked his thumbs into his belt and lifted his chin. "I’ve won three sanctioned combat tournaments in Ashmoor’s southern district."

Misha stared at him, momentarily distracted by something considerably more interesting than his achievements. ’Brody Build-ir? Why the hell does that sound like somebody tried to turn ’bodybuilder’ into a proper name?’

She waited for him to continue, assuming there must be a reason he had approached her beyond announcing his existence. Brody, however, appeared equally content to wait, his chin raised and his chest pushed forward as though she were supposed to recognize him immediately.

Apparently, that was his entire introduction.

"Congratulations," she said eventually, giving him a polite nod. "Did they give you a trophy?"

Someone seated nearby snorted.

Brody’s smirk faltered, although he recovered quickly enough to answer. "Three trophies, actually. One for each tournament."

"That’s nice." Misha gave another approving nod before turning slightly toward Astrid. "See? Hard work really does pay off."

Astrid lowered her gaze toward the bench, but Misha caught the slight movement of her shoulders. The girl had apparently recognized the danger of making eye contact and was doing her best not to laugh.

Brody, unfortunately, seemed to mistake their lack of enthusiasm for ignorance. He stepped closer, deliberately placing himself between Misha and the bench she had been about to occupy.

"I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Gravekeeper." His gaze moved over her again, though this time he appeared to be assessing her height. "Gotta say, I thought you’d be taller."

Misha looked up at him with a blank stare. ’Wonderful. We’ve reached the height inspection portion of the event.’

"Sorry to disappoint," she replied. "Were you expecting someone who could reach the ceiling?"

His eyebrow twitched, and the smile he had been wearing grew noticeably strained. "I’m saying you don’t look like much. Especially considering all the rumors going around about you."

"Ah, the rumors." Misha folded her arms and tilted her head. "Which ones? I’ve heard several interesting versions of myself lately."

Brody ignored the question and glanced toward her cloak instead. "They say you’ve got some impressive equipment. Expensive weapons, all that fancy stuff. Must be convenient having your gear do most of the work for you."

"Very convenient," she agreed without hesitation. "Sometimes I even let the weapons fight while I take a nap."

His brows furrowed. "I’m serious!"

"So am I. You should see how hardworking they are." She sighed as though the matter genuinely troubled her. "Honestly, I’m beginning to feel guilty. Perhaps I should start paying them."

A quiet laugh escaped from one of the nearby benches. Brody glanced toward the sound, his jaw tightening before he turned his attention back to her.

"Laugh all you want," he snapped. "Without those fancy weapons, you’ll be nothing! This tournament’s going to show everyone what you’re really capable of!"

Misha regarded him for a moment. "So?"

The simplicity of her answer seemed to irritate him more than any insult could have. His fists clenched at his sides, and he leaned forward slightly, using his superior height to loom over her.

"So maybe you should know your place," Brody said, his voice carrying far enough for several nearby participants to hear. "You’re a pretty little thing, I’ll give you that, but you don’t look exactly like someone who can handle herself without expensive toys. A woman built like you would be better off warming a man’s bed than pretending she belongs in a combat tournament."

The amusement disappeared from Astrid’s face. She rose immediately, her green eyes narrowing as she turned toward Brody.

Misha noticed the movement and lifted one hand slightly, signaling for her niece to stay where she was. There was no need for Astrid to involve herself just yet.

She looked back at the man standing in front of her. She had encountered plenty of unpleasant people outside of the Tower, but there was something especially irritating about a stranger who apparently believed having larger muscles entitled him to pass judgement on what women should do with their lives.

For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she took a step closer.

"That’s an interesting conclusion," she remarked, her voice remaining pleasantly conversational. "How did you reach it?"

Brody blinked, evidently having expected anger rather than a question.

"What?"

"Your conclusion. I’m curious about the evidence." Misha gestured vaguely toward herself before continuing, "We haven’t fought, and you don’t know anything about my physical abilities. Yet you’ve already decided what I’m good for."

Brody scoffed. "Just look at you. It’s obvious."

"Is it?" Misha allowed her gaze to travel over his broad shoulders, down to his muscular chest, and finally toward the front of his trousers. She paused there long enough to make the inspection unmistakable before looking back up at his face.

Brody’s smug expression faltered.

She tilted her head. "Well, since we’re apparently judging people by their bodies, I have a few observations of my own." Her tone remained calm, almost thoughtful. "Though I suppose it would be rather embarrassing if I announce them in front of everyone."

For a moment, Brody did not seem to understand. Then he followed the direction of her earlier glance, his face reddened.

"W-What the hell are you looking at?!"

Misha raised an eyebrow beneath her mask. "Oh? Suddenly uncomfortable?"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Why? You didn’t seem particularly concerned about manners when you were staring at my chest." She crossed her arms, making no attempt to hide her amusement. "I was simply returning the favor."

A few contenders nearby began laughing.

"She got you, man!"

"You were practically undressing her with your eyes minutes ago!" another called out. "Now you’re complaining because she looked back?"

"That’s different!" someone protested on his behalf.

"Different how? Because he’s the one getting embarrassed?"

That earned another round of laughter.

Brody’s ears turned red. "Y–Y–You little—"

"Though I have to ask," Misha continued, completely ignoring him and the laughter that filled the room. "Did you approach me because you wanted to fight, or because you were hoping I’d invite you to bed? Because if it’s the latter, you could’ve saved us both some time by asking nicely."

A contender leaning against the wall grinned. "Come on, give the poor bastard a break. He’s already lost the argument. Don’t make him lose his dignity too."

"Pretty sure he lost that the moment he opened his mouth."

"Someone get him a healer! That one looked painful!"

Brody stared at Misha, looking momentarily incapable of speech.

"I—You—That’s not what—"

"Oh, so you weren’t interested?" Misha sounded almost relieved. "Good. That would’ve been awkward."

"YOU—!"

"Although if you were planning to ask, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline." She gave him another deliberate glance before returning her attention to his face. "You don’t quite meet my standards."

The laughter grew louder.

Brody’s face had turned an impressive shade of red, and Misha suspected he was rapidly discovering how unpleasant it felt to become the subject of someone else’ unsolicited assessment.

She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice just enough to make him strain to hear.

"How does it feel?" she asked. "Having a complete stranger look at your body and decide what you’re worth?"

Brody’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Misha straightened herself. "Not particularly flattering, is it?"

For a few seconds, the man remained motionless. Then his face twisted with anger.

"YOU ARROGANT LITTLE BITCH!!!"

His fist shot toward her face.

Misha saw the movement before his shoulder had fully turned. Her weight shifted instinctively, and her hand had already begun to rise when someone stepped between them.

A hand closed around Brody’s wrist, and the punch stopped.

Brody jerked forward, visibly surprised by the sudden resistance, but his arm refused to move another inch. He turned toward the person restraining him with a furious look.

"What the hell do you think you’re—"

The rest of the sentence died in his throat.

The newcomer was a man with short ash-blond hair, a narrow scar across his chin, and a dark leather jacket worn over his armor. He had been sitting quietly near the wall since Misha and Astrid entered, watching the room with an expression that suggested he had already formed several unfavorable opinions about the people occupying it.

His grip remained firm around Brody’s wrist.

"That’s enough," he said. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to.

Brody’s anger faltered the moment he recognized him, his shoulders stiffening while his gaze flickered toward the hand restraining his arm.

"F-Fen?"