BACK TO THE ARENA
They trek north, now cloaked in a mantle of fine dust, hands instinctively shielding their faces from the gritty wind.
Guards stand at every road that leads back to the small town.
"Hey! What are you two doing there? Come on, hurry up from there", one of the guards shout.
They run through the dust while the guard points them to a good direction. Into the town they came through to meet sights of magical grandeur.
Horrifying and powerful, unimaginable and dangerously death's acquaintance.
They reach the brighter sides of town, away from the rising dust.
"You", Braga calls out the first guard he sets his eyes on at the end of the dust. Voice deep like a tiger's roar, gaze piercing like blades.
"What roads lead to the colosseum? We wish to bet on ourselves" he says boldly.
"Gladiators", the guard shake his head, "Go forward…", he dishes out directions.
PYRRHUS
The gates of Grimstone pry open for a man both known and welcomed. His black silky hair is tied into a manly bun but his fine clothes cover the roughness beneath them.
With hands behind his back he walks escorted by two of his own guards. A guard ushers them into the meeting room. Memnuh and Barabas, already ensconced, exchange mugs of ale as the new arrival enters.
"Blessed are the Lords of Grimstone. Thank you for your forthcoming hospitality", the man says with a smile.
"It's been a long time, Herron", Barabas says and gestures for him to sit down, "As always Grimstone is protected from Pyrrhus' curse".
"Of course. In this cursed country it takes more than good warriors to protect wealth", Memnuh says as he drinks from his cup.
Herron can see darkness under his eyes, a somnolent look about Memnuh's face.
"What brings you to Pyrrhus, Herron? I don't imagine you came all this way to see your sister", Barabas asks.
"No, I recently came to sell some slaves at Slave Harbour. The visit is simply one of opportunity. It would be rude for me to not pay my respects, then see my sister", Herron says.
"You are always so modest. Did you have any interesting slaves in your stock?", "Slaves, haven't we had our fill of interesting slaves?", Memnuh says with a grunt behind his voice.
"I did have in possession a rare breed of elves. Dark elves to be precise", his words pique interest and the brothers raise eyes to meet his.
"Did you just say dark elves?", Memnuh says under a growl.
Brows twist into a frown as his hand grips his cup tightly, "Don't tell me you happen to sell a prick with white hair and blue eyes as well", he says.
Herron raises a brow, "Well I did save two dark elves as gifts for your pleasure. I will send them to Grimstone shortly".
"Dark elves are extremely rare…" "Frankly we have had enough of the troublesome species. We would sell them quickly", Memnuh interrupts Barabas.
"You've had purchase of such creatures", "Yes Herron. A dark elf was recently my slave but she escaped", Barabas says.
"Dark elves are fine, very much appreciated but I'm curious, do you happen to have a creature with white hair and blue eyes? One that looks very much like a human", Barabas asks.
Herron squints his eyes as he thinks. This is the second time they have mentioned the man with white hair and they had a dark elf, "It cannot be a coincidence", he deduces.
"No lord. Please, with your permission I would like to see Raven", he requests.
"Sasha", Barabas calls the slave whom stands at the edge of the room, "Take him to the physician, let the man see his sister", he orders.
Sasha gives a bow and gestures for Herron to follow her, "Thank you", he says and follows the slave.
Sasha guides him to the physician's chambers. There, he discovers Raven stretched out on a cot. A Sith stands vigil at her side and a bandage is wrapped around her arm.
The bandaged arm has been severed.
They both share a gaze without speaking words, only a silent language between siblings is perceived.
"What?", she says like a cornered lioness breaking the silence, "Who did this?", Herron clenches his fists.
"A slave", she groans as she tries to sit up, "Did he have white hair, blue eyes and an uncanny ability to vanish into thin air", he says.
Raven's brows jump on recognition to his accurate description, "You know him?", "No, your masters said enough".
Herron does not dangle long at Grimstone, making swift return to Slave Harbour where a magic barrier protects his camp, "Lord Anarchy, you seem enraged from your visit", his subordinate says.
Herron doesn't linger at Grimstone. He makes a swift return to Slave Harbour, where a magic barrier shields his camp. His subordinate observes his features, "Lord Anarchy, you appear enraged by your visit".
"A little bit. An elusive boy has been born and I want him for the clan.
Where are you, Skyborn?".
ROLANDIA
Kane and Braga parade the streets in their loincloths, of course this identifies them as slaves as only slaves are brave enough to walk in their undergarments.
The former champion of Pyrrhus' arena walks with chest raised, proud as if he is known to all around.
The town people run around, some carrying their belongings with them as they try to make haste with whatever plagues them, "Fear reigns in these lands since the attack of the dragon", Braga says.
Of course fear reigns. Wouldn't you shit yourself if you saw a dragon flying over your roof?
Braga grabs a man by his shoulder, almost throwing him to the ground against the force of his run, "Unhand me brute", "Not before you tell us where the colosseum is.", his voice deep and threatening against the man's ears.
He gulps and swallows his saliva as present fears of the huge man take precedence over the fear of the giant lizard that appeared hours earlier.
"North. Just keep going forward", he preaches as he fears the hands of the brute.
Braga releases him, "It seems we are on the right path", he says.
Kane playing mute to the situation. He did not anticipate that he would be fighting in the arena anytime soon but here he walks searching for an arena to fight in.
He rages inwardly as he realises that no matter the world, money is important.
They arrive at the colosseum after a half-hour journey. This colosseum is a far cry from the one in Pyrrhus. Here, the grounds are covered in sparse grass and sand.
The grandstand boasts over a thousand seats for fans to cheer and jeer.
They can see gladiators standing in a uniform line, something they both can relate to.
The arena, curiously, lacks the usual heavy guard one expects.
For some reason the place is less guarded than a colosseum would usually be.
Before the gladiators, stand a tall but thin man dressed in fine clothes of status.
His hair short and grey, smoothens flatly on his scalp. His eyes meet the gladiators, with keenness he quickly identifies them as warriors for their battles are written on their bodies.
He opens his hand, "Young fine men", his dark eyes light up like a lantern while gold earrings dangle on his pointy ears, "Warriors, who is your master? Can we interest you in games?", the man says with vibrant energy as he puts his hands around them.
"We are no slaves", Braga sharply spits and throws the man's hand off him, "Alright, alright… no problem", "We want to fight in your arena", Kane says, pulling the man's mind from the brute.
"Someone speaks my language", "We expect fair share" "How much?", the man asks.
Kane's brain clicks like a pendulum, he realises he doesn't know much about money in this world.
Even when Maeve gave them some coins back at Grimstone and it was Emmet that handled it.
He opens and closes his hand repeated and suddenly glances over to Braga with melancholic gaze.
"What?", the giant asks, ignorant to Kane's plight.
"Damn the gods. Of course they are illiterates. Look a good match is worth ten bronzii and you guys look hungry so five should be good for you", the man says.
"I'm worth at least five silver coins in the arena. Do you know who I am?", Braga snarls, veins bulging from his muscles as he stares down at the man.
"Okay ten", suspicious eyes glare intensely at him. Braga grunts while staring down at the man like a hungry beast, "Okay twelve bronzii, only because I like the white one", the man says and backs away from the giant, "Follow me".
"That's how you get a good price", Braga winks at Kane before following the elf.
"By the way illiterates, I am Chandler Foreshadow. Coordinator of this colosseum", the man says.
Soon Kane find his chest heaving up and down, sweat drip down the side of his head as he feels the sun's heat even underground the colosseum where they get ready.
Not long he had just escaped a life that sent him into the arena to bleed for entertainment. Now? He finds himself returning to the arena to cater for his daily bread.
He hated being a slave but at least he had something to eat. No, it is not the mindset he should have. He is free, he should use his skills in the arena without guilt or hate against them.
He sighs as he feels the weight of the shield in his hand, Braga taps his shoulder, "Don't be so tensed White Death. You can fight, be confident", Braga says with a smile. He lifts an axe before carrying a small shield. He glances over at Kane and hisses behind his teeth, "Switch?".