leverage his connections. And that made him a great fight promoter. The word about Mighty Murray Pearson’s return to the Circle spread quickly.
The Deep hawkers’ guild were the first to promote the fight across the Underground. Within a day of the fight announcement, an ad was aired on SystemView showing footage of Murray’s old fights spliced with the Dragoon’s most recent wins. Murray was made to look like a young Grievar who had a decent chance against the notorious merc.
The hawkers also packaged fight tickets with some of their wares. “Need a Surfacing Day gift for the brood? Treat yourself to something as well, all for one great price! Buy the latest from ArkTech Labs and get two free tickets to Lampai’s biggest fight of the season!”
Builders were quick to erect massive lightboards along the Underground’s bustling thoroughfares. In a matter of days, Murray saw his face plastered across Markspar Row, flashing out at him from the huge displays. Again, they used clips from his early years at the Citadel. Murray barely recognized the chiseled Grievar with the flashy smile staring down at him.
Drawing even more attention than Murray’s comeback was the fact that he was fighting for some slave Circle kid, an unknown Grievar brood. A lacklight. The gossip was tremendous. “The boy is Murray Pearson’s illegitimate son” or “the boy is Commander Memnon’s bastard” or any other sensational story the hawkers could come up with to sell the fight. At the Bat, Murray even heard some folk speculating on the Citadel’s secret involvement, how they planned to use the fight as a catalyst to usurp the Underground’s Circles.
Deep folk started to recognize Murray again, pointing at him, shaking his hand, asking for his attention on the street. He was one of the Grievar from below—representing the underdogs, the downtrodden, the lacklights. Murray didn’t get it. Why was everyone making such a big deal? This was his fight, not theirs.
The more he thought about it, though, it was a big deal. He hadn’t been in the Circle for over a decade. He’d left with a loss—the worst of his career.
Now was his chance to dispel those bad memories, to feel the light again. He could redeem himself. Show people that there was more to being a Grievar than pulling in the highest bit-purse. It was about honor. Adhering to the Combat Codes.
He was going up against the Dragoon, though. Even the Citadelians spoke about the Dragoon with respect. The former Grievar Knight had won several land disputes between smaller villages just outside of Mercuri early on in his career, but ended up taking the merc path like so many others, deciding he’d rather pad his purse than honor his nation.
Despite his lack of honor, the Dragoon was dangerous. Deadly, even.
Murray needed to train.
*
Murray found his way to Anderson’s home that evening, walking beneath the sleepy glow of the Farmoss district.
Murray exhaled deeply as he walked along a cobbled road beneath large swaths of lumin lichen that grew from the cavern roof above him, casting the cobbles in a deep, green hue. Murray passed by traditional Grievar homes inlaid into the cavern walls, intermixed with modern steel-framed buildings set farther out along the streets.
Farmoss was the one place in the Deep that Murray still considered Grievar land. Unlike most of the Underground districts that faced the constant glare of the spectral arrays, Farmoss was shielded from the light by the slope of the steppe perched above it. The Daimyos had tried to desecrate it just like the other districts, but somehow, Farmoss had rejected their incursions.
The Daimyos had made numerous attempts to install their arrays in Farmoss, but the spongy roof had slowly expelled the metals, diluting the mortar and stripping the screws and eventually spitting out the chewed-up refuse like a finicky eater.
Sometimes, Murray truly believed he could settle in Farmoss, tucked away from the light and far
The Deep hawkers’ guild were the first to promote the fight across the Underground. Within a day of the fight announcement, an ad was aired on SystemView showing footage of Murray’s old fights spliced with the Dragoon’s most recent wins. Murray was made to look like a young Grievar who had a decent chance against the notorious merc.
The hawkers also packaged fight tickets with some of their wares. “Need a Surfacing Day gift for the brood? Treat yourself to something as well, all for one great price! Buy the latest from ArkTech Labs and get two free tickets to Lampai’s biggest fight of the season!”
Builders were quick to erect massive lightboards along the Underground’s bustling thoroughfares. In a matter of days, Murray saw his face plastered across Markspar Row, flashing out at him from the huge displays. Again, they used clips from his early years at the Citadel. Murray barely recognized the chiseled Grievar with the flashy smile staring down at him.
Drawing even more attention than Murray’s comeback was the fact that he was fighting for some slave Circle kid, an unknown Grievar brood. A lacklight. The gossip was tremendous. “The boy is Murray Pearson’s illegitimate son” or “the boy is Commander Memnon’s bastard” or any other sensational story the hawkers could come up with to sell the fight. At the Bat, Murray even heard some folk speculating on the Citadel’s secret involvement, how they planned to use the fight as a catalyst to usurp the Underground’s Circles.
Deep folk started to recognize Murray again, pointing at him, shaking his hand, asking for his attention on the street. He was one of the Grievar from below—representing the underdogs, the downtrodden, the lacklights. Murray didn’t get it. Why was everyone making such a big deal? This was his fight, not theirs.
The more he thought about it, though, it was a big deal. He hadn’t been in the Circle for over a decade. He’d left with a loss—the worst of his career.
Now was his chance to dispel those bad memories, to feel the light again. He could redeem himself. Show people that there was more to being a Grievar than pulling in the highest bit-purse. It was about honor. Adhering to the Combat Codes.
He was going up against the Dragoon, though. Even the Citadelians spoke about the Dragoon with respect. The former Grievar Knight had won several land disputes between smaller villages just outside of Mercuri early on in his career, but ended up taking the merc path like so many others, deciding he’d rather pad his purse than honor his nation.
Despite his lack of honor, the Dragoon was dangerous. Deadly, even.
Murray needed to train.
*
Murray found his way to Anderson’s home that evening, walking beneath the sleepy glow of the Farmoss district.
Murray exhaled deeply as he walked along a cobbled road beneath large swaths of lumin lichen that grew from the cavern roof above him, casting the cobbles in a deep, green hue. Murray passed by traditional Grievar homes inlaid into the cavern walls, intermixed with modern steel-framed buildings set farther out along the streets.
Farmoss was the one place in the Deep that Murray still considered Grievar land. Unlike most of the Underground districts that faced the constant glare of the spectral arrays, Farmoss was shielded from the light by the slope of the steppe perched above it. The Daimyos had tried to desecrate it just like the other districts, but somehow, Farmoss had rejected their incursions.
The Daimyos had made numerous attempts to install their arrays in Farmoss, but the spongy roof had slowly expelled the metals, diluting the mortar and stripping the screws and eventually spitting out the chewed-up refuse like a finicky eater.
Sometimes, Murray truly believed he could settle in Farmoss, tucked away from the light and far
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