Vesper Rayne's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The square still buzzed after the glow faded from Vesper's chest. He could hold a crowd now. But holding a crowd was not the same as winning a contest. That night, a doubt gnawed at him. He knew how to look good. He did not know the rules. If he stepped onto that stage blind, one broken rule could end him before he flexed. He needed someone who had already won. He knew a man who had. Years back, a fellow swordsman had taken the contest's top prize, then hung up his posing strap for good. Vesper found him at dawn, splitting firewood behind his house, shirt soaked through, still built like a door. The man swung the axe once more, then leaned on the handle and squinted. "Vesper Rayne," the man said. "You never wanted this before. What changed?" "I want to win," Vesper said. "I've got the body. I've got a strap and a glowing rune. But I don't know the judging rules. I could get thrown out before I pose." The man laughed and set the axe down. "Half the fools who enter never read the rules. That's how they lose." He waved Vesper inside. From a drawer he pulled a folded sheet, creased soft from handling. His old rulebook. He smoothed it on the table and pointed. "Three passes, not one. Judges score each. Miss a pose call and you drop points fast." His finger slid down the page. "Here. This one matters most." Vesper leaned over the paper. "What is it?" "No glowing runes," the man said. "No paint, no light tricks on the skin. The judges banned them two years back. Called it cheating the eye." He tapped the line twice. "A rune on your chest gets you disqualified on the spot." Vesper straightened. His stomach dropped. The glowing rune was his whole plan. It was the one thing that made the crowd stop breathing. Rosie had built his presentation around it. And it was the one thing that would get him tossed. "Only the strap is legal," the man went on. "That's it. No help. Just you and the light they give you." He folded the sheet and pressed it into Vesper's hand. "Take it. Read every line. Then figure out how to win with nothing but muscle." Vesper walked home with the rulebook crushed in his fist. He now knew the rules cold. He would not be disqualified for a stupid mistake. But the knowledge had cost him. His best weapon was illegal. The trick that turned every head in the square could never touch his skin on stage. He had four weeks, a strap of leather, and a body that had to sell itself alone. He stopped in the road and looked down at the plain dark strap in his other hand. It would have to be enough.