Okay, it's been a long while. Like two years long while. But here it is, the next part in the story of Youth. F3no255 is, from here on out, Michael the Sling. This is partly because I don't like F3no255 as a name and partly because my account was dead for two years (actually, I don't know I HAD an account then) and I had forgotten both the username and password. It was kinda hectic, reading through my dated work and trying to figure out where I was going with it at the time, but in a short ten minutes I had figured that out and more. So, this will probably stand to be continued. If you notice any changes in style or character, that's because I've had quite a bit of experience writing something else. But I digress.

Notes: Asmen's last name is no longer Ran'shadda. It's Ransel. If you don't know why I changed it, then there's no need for me to tell. Not that it comes into play here; just wanted readers to know.

Also, this is a bit of an interlude between battles, and as I wanted it to remain coherent time-wise, I attempted to make some kind of a mangled explanation of what actually happens during a Monster Rancher tournament. That being said, the times expressed within are pure speculation. I may revise it as I go along.

Sorry if the end seems a little cut short, or sudden.

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

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A long wait followed Duality’s victory over Bastan’s Barkuu. In a typical free-for-all battle (existing outside league regulations) the waiting period in between groups of matches was around ten minutes, which trainers typically used to recuperate and the stadium used to advertise. There were only two battles per round, typically lasting a minute max for each. With the resting time in between, each round lasted about five minutes. With three rounds, that made fifteen, and with two ten-minute waiting periods, small tournaments typically lasted for less than three-quarters of an hour.

In larger tournaments (typically eight people involved), waiting periods were much smaller as there were more matches to worry about. In that kind of situation, there was a rather large controversy over the subject of those breeders who managed to get seeded for earlier matches, as first fighters had a considerably larger wait time between their fight and their next than the last pair. Rounds consisted of four one-minute bouts, and with wait time added in, they amounted to around ten minutes. Waiting periods lasted five minutes; considering that a tournament had seven rounds of four matches with six waiting periods in between, it was estimated that a tournament would last upwards of an hour, settling around an hour and a half max, excepting for fast matches.

Since there were only four participants in the free-for-all, and Duality had gone first, they had to wait a little more than ten minutes before the second round started.

Their resting room was sparsely decorated with a few benches and chairs and a large table for restorative work. The space was lit by torchlight, as it was not only on the ground floor of the stadium, but it was in the interior. The wooden lockers were all gaping open and Jorus had not bothered to put anything in them, nor had Asmen. Both had brought relatively little with them and what they had could be carried.

Jorus and Asmen were seated across from each other, making a line perpendicular to the bench between them that Duality was currently sitting on.

Still surprised from the results of the fight, the assistant’s eyes flitted back and forth between the breeder and the hare. Jorus was somewhat slouching in his seat and appeared to be having a staring contest with Duality, who was swinging his two-dimensional legs back and forth like an impatient child.

They had been settled down for no more than half a minute when one of the stadium orderlies knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Jorus said, not glancing away from the hare.

The portal opened and the attendant walked in. Asmen did a double take, realizing that the orderly was a woman (or had just become one, from the looks of it). Since she had run the FIMBA circuits so frequently, she was more used to the groups of adolescent boys running messages back and forth.

The attendant was surprised, though perhaps on a greater scale, for though she was familiar with Doodles, she was sure that monsters couldn’t have Doodles as a sub-breed, even what with the mixing of FIMBA and IMA leagues. With her eyes fixated on the hare, she spoke.

“J-Jorus Konath?”

“Ye-e-ess?” the breeder said, his gaze still locked with Duality.

“The L-Lamast Stadium has s-sent me to tell y-you that the next m-match of the…the Kajet Cup shall begin shortly. Featured are Cwakan of Ghostan Mickaehl and Dorkan of Valdar Smithe. It is said that Cwakan is favor… fa…”

She realized that though she had regained her composure, she was rambling, and lapsed into silence, still looking at the hare.

After glancing at the others, Asmen rolled her eyes and asked, “Is there anything else you wish to tell us?”

“N-No,” the attendant said, seemingly entranced.

“Peach?” asked Jorus, casually.

“Wha… What? For ME?” She broke her eyes away to look at the breeder.

“Catch,” he said, fishing out a peach from within his jacket and forwarding it to her. Almost caught off-guard, she fumbled with it for a moment before getting her grip.

“This doesn’t look like a peach,” the orderly said, furrowing her brow. “It doesn’t have the right color.”

“Trust me,” he offered. “It’s a peach.” He reached into his jacket and brought out another one, this time tossing it to Duality, who broke eye contact to grab the peach. Asmen wasn’t sure exactly how the monster was holding it, but the hare had it wand was somehow eating it. After a moment had passed, though, it raised its eyes to Jorus and gave him a smoldering look.

Laughing, the breeder looked away for the first time since they had entered the room and looked to the attendant, his eyes measuring her in a quick sweep from her feet to her face. His eyes squinted, as if trying to recall a memory.

“Pardon, sir?” the woman said, turning pink.

“Ah!” Jorus said, pointing his right index finger in the air. “You would be a Geasharn, then?”

Her mouth hung open, she being utterly astounded. “How…did you…?”

“You are the spitting image of your grandmother,” the breeder explained. “I trust that Salkis is doing well? Or has she gone on?”

“…She is at the Geasharn Ranch as we speak,” the woman said, leaning up against the wall. “We’re amazed at her vitality; I would hazard that she looks younger than my mother!”

Asmen examined the woman for a second time. Her hair was a light shade of brown, and long, to about halfway down her chest. Most of it was behind her back and kept straight, but she had two shortened locks hanging down before her ears in the traditional style of the local female breeders. Her figure was slim but toned, suggesting that she was no stranger to manual labor. On the right side of her breast was a nametag that displayed the name “Liszai.” Asmen decided that she couldn’t have been any older than seventeen, in part by her features and also because of a suspicion that Jorus’s next question confirmed.

“She is quite a woman,” the breeder remarked, glancing at Asmen for a moment. “Say; is she training you as a Rancher right now?”

“Why, yes!” Liszai replied. “She is having me work her at Lamast so that I can get a feel of what to expect during tournaments and the like.”

“An excellent decision,” Jorus replied, looking thoughtfully off into space.

“Your…mother is a breeder, then?” Asmen queried, tilting her head a little to the right.

“No, no,” the attendant answered. “Grandmother says that she isn’t born for raising monsters; she had her sent off to the city, instead, to be educated. Mother’s more of a merchant, but she travels a lot, leaving me to grandmother.”

“Does… Karyna, is it?” Jorus hazarded, steepling his fingers. Liszai slowly nodded her head, dumbfounded again by the breeder’s knowledge. “Does Karyna approve of the path Salkis has put you on?”

“I think my mother herself dreams of monster breeding, but she respects my grandmother’s decision, on both accounts.”

“Good, good,” the breeder said, breaking apart his hands. A moment passed before he continued. “Say, would you be willing to go do a favor for me?”

“What would you have of me?” Liszai said, drawing herself up.

“Go find Bastan and that Golem of his… Barkuu, I think. Tell him that if he wishes to parlay, he can find me here.”

“Certainly…Jorus,” she said, cautiously. When she was not rebuked for her informality, she continued. “I shall find the breeder Bastan and deliver your message to him.” She bowed to the occupants of the room, then turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

“Well?” Asmen asked, looking at Jorus.

“Well what?” he replied.

“Bastan is liable to be angry over his golem’s loss; his emotions will have trebled if the poor thing was injured. He’ll look at your offering like an insult.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jorus replied, moving his eyes to his assistant. “Look at it this way; no matter what happens, I’m bound to get a worm full. At least I’m choosing the time and the place; the better the conditions, the more likely I’m going to get a beaclon out of this.”

“Interesting analogy,” Asmen said, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “I wonder, though. Did you stop and think of what might happen to that girl?”

Jorus chuckled to himself as his eyes turned up to the ceiling. “If Salkis is her trainer, then I have more worry for Bastan.”

“How do you know about her family, anyways?” his assistant asked, peering at him suspiciously. “You don’t seem to leave your ranch much.”

“Her grandmother and I met some time ago over an…accident,” the breeder replied. “I compensated her for a…personal injury and met with her a few times after that. The last time we saw each other was, oh, maybe ten years ago.”

“Doesn’t she have a husband of some kind?” Asmen said.

“Aren’t you married?” Jorus said, smiling sardonically.

“That’s different; I don’t have a child or a grandchild and I doubt I’m old enough to think about the latter.”

Jorus sighed. “Look; the women of Geasharn are fiercely independent. The only reason they’d ever get married is to get out of another marriage.”

“But… Wouldn’t they have to be married in the first place?”

“Now you see the problem,” Jorus returned, winking at Asmen.

The assistant opened up her mouth for a moment, as if she was going to rebuke her breeder, but she paused.

“Would you care for a peach?” Jorus asked, looking at Asmen with a cocked head.

“Why not?” she replied, catching the fruit when it went airborne. “You’ve certainly got enough of them around the ranch, by the looks of it.”

“Say,” she said, after taking a bite from the peach. “I never asked you how much money you made from your crop.”

“Money?” Jorus said, almost laughing. “Money is the middle man. I am far more accustomed to bartering with my peaches.” He looked to Duality, who had finished his peach and was somehow juggling the pit back and forth. Slowly, almost methodically, he pulled out a fourth peach and, after buffing it on his jacket, held it up to the light of the indoor torches.

“What is it?” Asmen asked, noticing the sudden attentiveness of her breeder.

“It is strange; no?” He turned the apple about in his fingertips. “People put such a large price on such a little thing. Want of it drives them mad, and they will never find enough of it to sustain them forever, though they shall try.”

“A rather depressing view on produce, isn’t it?” Asmen commented.

“Oh, sorry,” Jorus said, startled. He took a bite out of the peach and held it out to his side. “Just warn me if I start to ramble on. Usually the hare does a better job.” This earned a look of enmity from Duality, who made to throw the pit at his master. Jorus in turn stuck out his left hand and hefted the bitten peach in his right, looking prepared to retaliate.

Asmen, though, was perturbed. She suspected that the breeder had been talking about something entirely different.

“Blast!” Jorus said, breaking from his play and looking at the door. “Bastan should have been here a minute ago!”

“What?” asked Asmen, confounded. “Hi- How would YOU know if or when Bastan showed up? Looks to me like you thoroughly embarrassed him and his golem a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well he ought to know by now that scissors beat rock if they’re sharp enough.” Suddenly, Jorus perked up, as if he had heard something.

“Do you realize the ignorance a statement like that indicates?” Asmen said, chastising him. “What are the chances that a breeder who has never participated in a sanctioned tournament would bring in a monster powerful enough to compete as if it were ranked S or higher? Well, besides today. It just doesn’t happen! You can’t get enough money, or enough resources for that kind of action to be expected. And another thing!” She stood up, out of her chair and held her hands out to her side. “Where is your sense of decency? You’ve been treating this tournament like a joke ever since I told you that you had to fight. You’re disrespectful towards other breeders, other monsters; you’re TERRIBLY informal; despite your skill, you seem to have incredibly bad ju… ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!”

The breeder had his head towards the door. Asmen saw that he was holding four fingers out, on his leg, as if he were counting. Then, he mouthed the words “four,” “three,” “two” and “one” and pulled a finger in after each one. A second after he pulled in the last finger, there came a pounding on the chamber portal. “MR. KONATH!” came a voice from the other side. “What is the MEANING of this…this INSOLENCE?!”

“Come in, Bastan,” Jorus said, sounding rather cheerful.

The door swung open and the breeder stepped through. His face was a shade of crimson, exaggerated by his pale blond hair. He opened his mouth to begin another tirade, but saw Asmen standing, and bowed to her. “My lady,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting a woman of your talent to be mismatched with such a…horrible…lout. Please forgive me for my uncharacteristic behavior.” He shifted his gaze to Jorus for a moment, and then let it switch back. “Why are you standing? Has this ingrate barred such a common courtesy to you?”

“N-No,” Asmen said, still startled. “I had just gotten up when you—”

“There is no need to cover for this miscreant,” Bastan said, turning to the other breeder. “When this is over, FIMBA shall have a full—”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Jorus interrupted. “Breeder MacDonaugh? Or should I call you Breeder Bastan?”

“Breeder MacDonaugh, for I shall have no—”

“I ask that you stop this nonsense with the talk, the insults and the high-and-mightiness. It won’t get you very far in this room.”

“I was afraid of that,” Bastan said, and he lifted his hand up. Two rather large and burly men stepped in from the hallway and sidled in behind the blond breeder. “I suppose you are more accustomed to this kind of negotiation?”

“Actually, Breeder MacDonaugh, the people I usually play in tournaments are more forthcoming than yourself. But, since you asked, I would have you direct your attention to the bench before you.”

Bastan lowered his eyes, which widened. He took a few steps backwards, jostling the men behind him. “WHAT—IS—THAT—THING—DOING—HERE?”

“Well,” Jorus said, easing out of his chair, “unlike you, I’ve more of a mind to keep my monsters about me.”

“No wonder we couldn’t find it in the stables,” one of the men said.

Bastan turned his head around slowly and looked at the man who had spoken. “I didn’t pay you to TALK,” he said. “I paid you to—”

“Show the hare a good time?” the other breeder interrupted, again. “Look,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s forget all the unnecessary beating of our chests and talk as if we were both respectable, level-headed breeders. Okay?”

Bastan took in a deep breath, slowly, and let it out. “Okay.”

“Just send off your goons and we’ll talk.”

The breeder turned around and whispered something to his hirelings, after which they backed out of the hallway. He shut the door and looked from Jorus to Duality and back again. “Alright. For the time being I will PRETEND that you are a person worthy of my attention, capable of compassion and understanding.”

“Then I’ll play the part,” Jorus said. “How badly was Barkuu injured?”

“The golem?” Asmen noticed that Bastan’s choice of words and dismissive tone made Jorus wince. “It will be out for the rest of the tournament… In fact, it is Carsy’s opinion that the golem may be injured for a month or more.”

“Who is Carsy?” Jorus asked, stooping to pat Duality on the head.

“My battle assistant and an excellent monster doctor,” Bastan said, “or so I am told. She became rather…anxious when she saw the damage.”

“And her recommendation was…?” Jorus asked, head cocked to the side.
“I don’t know,” the other replied. “It was about that time when…”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Jorus pointed to a chair sitting near the door.

“Thank you,” Bastan said. As he moved towards the chair, it became rather evident that the man was pained and seemed to walk .

“That’s an awkward gait you’ve got there,” the other breeder commented.

“What?” Bastan said, turning red. “I was, ahem, I was… Attempting to… Help… Yes, attempting to help my golem, and I…pulled a leg muscle.”

“Funny, that,” Jorus said, looking towards Asmen. “You must have pulled both; you’re walking like you’ve been riding a dino for months!”

“Ye-yes, I must have,” Bastan said, hastily. “Have to go see a doctor about that.”

“Don’t you have one?” Jorus said, focusing his eyes on Bastan.

“Carsy? No, no… Girl’s a monster doctor.” His eyes began to shift again. “Look; can we get on with this? The waiting period’s bound to be starting soon.”

“By all means,” Jorus answered. “Now; what would you say if I could have your monster healed by next week?”

“I’d say you were crazy,” Bastan replied. “If Carsy says it can’t be done, then it can’t be done.”

“I’d like to talk with this Carsy of yours,” Jorus said.

“We don’t have the time. What is it you want?”

“Here. I’m going to hand you a peach. Feed it to the golem. In fact,” he said, “I’ll give one to you, too. Eat it. Toss it. Burn it. I don’t care. Just feed the golem either peach. After the tournament’s over, I want to meet with this Carsy of yours. After we talk, you’ll go back to your ranch and do whatever Carsy says. When a week has passed, if your golem isn’t healed, I will personally reimburse you for the costs.”

Bastan looked at Jorus curiously, as if he had suddenly seen him for the first time. “You of course know what kind of costs that kind of backing could entail.”

“I wouldn’t say I’d do it if I wasn’t sure I could.” The breeder let his eyes drift to Asmen. “I have important plans for the future, none of which involve getting sidetracked in a private breeders’ war.”

“Then it is settled. After the tournament, I shall have you speak to Carsy.” As Bastan stood up, there came a knocking at the door.

“That would signal the end of round one,” said Jorus, beaming at his assistant.

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The story will continue with "Smith's Eye."

great storry so far!
i hope you countinue it, though i doubt you will, it's been 2 1/2 years now...