Arwyn stood in front of her vanity having just been ready by her maidservant. She was still upset about the revelation of Kastor's death, he was a friend to her and a teacher. She hated the assassins people so greedy and so fixed in their ways that they'd stop anyone trying to make the world a better place. Well, It didn't matter what they did Arwyn would make sure that the Templars would succeed. She looked at herself again turning her head to the side and inspecting the makeup that had been placed on her. She didn't look different in her opinion, she didn't see the point in wearing it, but Niketas insisted that it was a symbol of status in the city and she would get more respect if she were to wear this.
In private Thea told her that it was a load of bullshit that he just made up and that men just liked women who wore it as they looked more attractive. 'Men...' Arwyn thought to herself as she rolled her eyes. She turned away from her vanity and went to the wardrobe that served as her weapons draw. She opened it to reveal a number of high-quality swords and daggers. She couldn't wield a sword in public without drawing attention, but she wouldn't need one. Instead, she equipped herself with a number of daggers under her dress.
*Knock*
*Knock*
*Knock*
"Come in," she said as she closed the cupboard.
The door opened and Thea stepped in, calm as always. She smiled the moment her eyes met Arwyn's and crossed the room without saying a word. She didn't need to. As soon as she was close enough, she leaned in and kissed her. Arwyn let it happen and kissed her back, her hands lingering at Thea's waist for a moment before they fell away. She was still smiling when she pulled back.
"What are you doing here?" Arwyn asked quietly.
Thea reached up and adjusted a loose strand of hair near Arwyn's cheek. "Niketas says most of the arrangements are done. A few days from now and the competition will begin."
Arwyn nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. She felt lighter hearing that. It had been her idea from the start — gladiatorial matches open to any fighter in the city, a show for the people and a test for the strong. The winners would be offered a place among the Templar ranks. It was a way to draw in fresh blood without relying on noble families or their politics. A way to reach people who actually had skill, not just a name. She'd brought it up to Thea one night, just talking in bed about how they needed more than cloaked recruits who thought themselves above real combat. Thea had liked the idea right away. She'd told her to bring it to Niketas. He had, and he'd claimed the Queen approved of it too. Arwyn didn't know if that part was true, but it didn't matter. It was happening.
"We should go see it," Thea said. "The Colosseum. Before it starts. Could be fun."
Arwyn hesitated. "You sure? The sun's out today." She glanced toward the balcony where the light was spilling through the curtains. "I don't want you burning again."
"I'll be fine," Thea said without pause. "I've been careful lately."
Arwyn narrowed her eyes for a moment but didn't press. Thea always said it was a skin condition. Something rare and foreign from her homeland, worsened by heat and sunlight. Arwyn had believed her at first — still did, mostly.
"Alright," Arwyn said. "Let's go."
They left the room together, passing through the stone halls of the estate before heading down into the streets of Constantinople; Thea putting up a large hood that covered most of her face. The city was already awake; merchants calling from their stalls, carts rolling over uneven stones, beggars sitting in corners with their heads down. There were banners hanging from balconies and temple bells chiming in the distance. Arwyn walked with her head high. People moved aside as they passed. Even in plain clothes, they could tell she wasn't someone to stop. A few people stopped to stare, mostly men, but neither of them paid it much attention. Arwyn kept thinking about what Thea said — that everything was nearly ready. It didn't feel real yet. But it was happening. The Templars were growing. The rot that infested the city, the backstabbing politics and shadow games, all of it would be cut out. Piece by piece. Niketas promised reform. Arwyn believed in it.
"It's working," Thea said quietly beside her. "All of it. What we've been building. This city's going to change. No more corruption, no more gangs selling children to brothels. No more chaos masquerading as freedom."
Arwyn glanced at her and smiled. "We'll be part of that."
"We will."
The Colosseum came into view soon after, a massive structure of curved stone and tiered archways that towered over the neighboring districts. The outer plaza was already being cleared, new banners strung up, and scaffolding laid along the upper galleries. Workers moved about in small teams carrying timber and iron rods, while a few merchants lingered at the edge, no doubt trying to figure out how they could turn the upcoming event into coin. Two Templar guards stood at the gate. They spotted Arwyn instantly and stepped aside without needing to be told. Neither of them spoke, just bowed their heads slightly and pulled the iron doors open for her and Thea to pass.
Inside, the first thing Arwyn noticed was the scale of the place. The arena itself stretched out wide and oval-shaped, with the sand floor already partly cleared and fresh paint being applied to the inner barriers. A man approached them before they had made it far. He was short and broad in the shoulders, wearing a tailored tunic with a Templar insignia that looked like it had been washed too many times. He was smiling before he even got close.
"Lady Arwyn," he said, his voice far too smooth and eager, "it is a tremendous honour to receive you here. Truly. The Colosseum stands ready, and preparations have been running ahead of schedule thanks to your brilliant foresight. And Lady Thea... radiant, as always." He gave a small bow. "Would you care for refreshments? We've set aside citrus water, wine, olives, dried figs, whatever suits your taste."
"We're fine," Arwyn said while barely slowing. "Walk me through the competition."
"Of course, of course," he said, spinning to fall in step beside her. "My name is Dorian, by the way. I'm overseeing the games, the rosters, the safety, the beasts, and so forth. All under Niketas's authority, of course."
They continued on through the upper corridor, the stone echoing under their steps. Below, the sun lit the arena floor in stripes between the columns. Workers continued arranging wooden racks and dragging long crates toward the lower cells. Dorian kept talking, gesturing toward various spots.
"Due to overwhelming participation, the first event will be a free-for-all," he said. "We'll have every fighter in the ring at once, unarmed to start with. Weapons will be scattered across the field. The last twenty standing will advance to the next round."
"Then?" Arwyn asked without looking at him.
"Then we divide them into teams of two," Dorian said quickly. "They'll each face a series of challenges, some beasts, some man. We've secured a wide range of opponents."
"What kinds of animals?" Arwyn asked.
He smiled like a man who'd been waiting for that question all day. "Bears. Lions. Panthers. We have a pair of northern rhinos we purchased from a trader's caravan, still alive, still furious. And," he paused, his voice lowering slightly, "we even have a creature from legend. Taken from a cursed isle. Caged, bound, and fed raw meat daily. We don't know what it's called exactly, but it has broken its cage twice, we had to forge iron bars three times as thick to contain it."
That made Arwyn glance at him. Thea too. Dorian's grin widened at their interest.
"After those trials," he continued, "the remaining fighters will enter single combat until we are left with one. That one will be your winners. The strongest. The most determined. The ones most worthy of standing at our side!"
Arwyn nodded slowly. "Good," she said. "You've done well."
Dorian beamed and gave another small bow, clasping his hands behind his back like a merchant, likely expecting them to praise him more. Unaware of the fact that he annoyed both women.
"Can we see the animals?" Thea asked casually, not looking at him.
"Of course," he said. "Follow me. This way, down through the lower chambers."
They turned and descended a narrow stone stairwell, the smell of blood and straw already starting to rise as the light dimmed. Arwyn followed without a word, her mind turning slowly over what she had just heard. She had no doubt the event would draw eyes from every corner of the city... and every enemy as well. Good. Let them come. Let them see what strength looked like. Let them look at the new warriors that would be joining them. They moved deeper into the Colosseum's underbelly, down another winding staircase and into a stone hallway that reeked of blood, piss, and damp straw. The torches along the walls burned low, casting flickering light across rusted bars and thick wooden doors. Chains rattled somewhere nearby. Dorian kept ahead of them, motioning toward the cells on either side.
"This is where we keep the animals," he said, gesturing to the first enclosure. Inside, a panther paced back and forth, its ribs showing beneath its fur, eyes like burning coals tracking every step they took. "This one came from the eastern steppes. Had to tire it just to move it safely. It killed two handlers before we even got it in the cage."
They passed another iron gate. A pair of lions lay within, one missing an ear, the other with blood on its muzzle. Both looked up as they walked by. The lions didn't growl. They just stared. Arwyn didn't look away. Across the corridor, another enclosure held two massive bears. One stood up as they approached, slamming its paws against the bars hard enough to make them shake.
"Captured from the highlands," Dorian said proudly. "We haven't fed them in two, should make for a good spectacle."
Thea didn't say anything, but she looked at each animal as they passed. Arwyn kept walking, but her eyes shifted as they turned down another corridor, this one filled with cages of a different kind. Men. Dozens of them. Unwashed, gaunt, clothed in rags. Some sat against the walls. Some clung to the bars. Most stared at her as she passed. Not with fear. With hunger.
Arwyn slowed. Her brow furrowed. "Why are there slaves here? I thought this competition was voluntary."
Dorian turned back and chuckled. "Not slaves, Lady Arwyn. Criminals. All of them. The worst kind." He pointed to a large man in the nearest cell, his arms covered in scars and burn marks. "That one there? Used to cut off ears and collect them, he used to pleasure himself while covering himself with them. Twenty-three before we caught him. That one—" he pointed again, this time to a pale, narrow-eyed man with black teeth, "—ate three children. In one night. Swore he thought they were pigs. The one in the corner there, hiding his face? He ran a brothel that sold boys. Except these boys were sold to be tortured and killed."
Arwyn's stomach turned. She looked at them again and this time her disgust wasn't subtle. "And what were they offered to fight?"
Dorian smiled and gave a small laugh. "Their lives, of course. And if they win... freedom." He winked at her.
Good, Arwyn thought. If no one had planned to kill them, she would've insisted on it herself. Thea touched her arm gently, a subtle pressure that reminded her to stay composed. Arwyn glanced at her, then nodded slightly. The moment passed.
One of the men in a cage leaned forward, fingers gripping the bars. "I'd break you in half," he muttered, eyeing Arwyn's waist. "Pretty little thing like you..."
Another one whistled at Thea. "Both of you. Together. I'd make a night of it."
Dorian snapped his fingers and three guards rushed down the corridor. The cages shook with the impact of boots and clubs as the men were silenced. Bones cracked. Cries echoed. Arwyn didn't flinch. She kept walking.
Eventually, they reached a larger chamber sealed by a reinforced iron door. Two guards stood on either side, holding long spears. The door itself was locked with three separate bars and covered in deep gouges. The floor beneath it was scuffed, as if something had thrown itself at it repeatedly.
Dorian stopped at the final door and turned to face them. "What's behind here hasn't been seen by anyone outside this building. Not in this city. Not anywhere on the mainland. It came from an island west of the Pillars of Herakles, a place that doesn't appear on any map. The locals don't speak a language anyone can translate. It took a hundred men and a hundreds of chains blessed by three separate priests to get it on the ship. By the time it docked, half the crew were either missing or dead."
He gave a nod to the guards. They said nothing as they unbarred the heavy iron doors. The bolts creaked. One of them had to slam his shoulder into the right side to get it open.
The chamber was cut deep into the rock, with two layers of thick bars forming a cage within a cage. The floor was scored with claw marks and black stains. In the center, bound by four chains thicker than a man's torso, was the creature. It sat hunched low, resting on the flat of its knuckles, head bowed slightly as if asleep. Its entire body was covered in coarse black hair, matted along the spine and shoulders. It was massive. Three times the size of a full-grown man at least. Its arms were longer than its body, coiled with muscle so dense it looked unnatural. Scars ran along its back, old and deep. Its chest rose and fell with slow breaths. The iron shackles around its wrists and ankles were the same ones used to bind siege weapons. They were bolted into the floor with double reinforcements.
Then it moved.
The creature lifted its head. Its eyes were small and dark, set deep beneath a heavy brow. They didn't flicker or twitch. They just watched. There was no confusion in its stare. No fear. Just awareness. Understanding.
Dorian didn't speak for a moment. Then he said, quieter than before, "The locals called him Kong."
Thea took a step forward without realizing it. Her expression didn't change, but she stared like someone seeing something they didn't believe could exist. Arwyn stayed still. Her hands were loose at her sides, but her eyes didn't leave the thing. The silence in the chamber felt heavier than the air.
Then Kong shifted. His arms tightened. His spine straightened. The chains clinked slightly, then groaned. He let out a sound... not a roar, not a breath, something in between. It started low and climbed higher as he leaned forward, teeth bared, muscles straining. In one motion, he slammed both fists into the floor and lunged forward. The chains snapped taut. One of the bolts cracked. The bars of the inner cage bent with the impact. Dust rained from the ceiling. The whole room shook.
Arwyn stepped back. Her hand dropped to her hip, ready to draw. Her jaw was tight, her eyes locked on the creature.
Dorian moved fast, stepping in front of them. "We should go," he said quickly. "He reacts poorly to company."
The guards slammed the door shut behind them with both hands. The bolts were thrown back into place. The growl behind the wall faded, but the sound of the chains still echoed faintly.
Outside, Dorian adjusted his collar and cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Lady Arwyn," he said. "I thought you might want to see our most valuable attraction. I didn't expect him to react so strongly."
Arwyn kept her eyes on the door for a second longer, then nodded. "Next time, warn me before it tries to tear itself free."
"Yes, my lady," Dorian said, managing a strained smile. "Absolutely."
...
The rest of the tour passed without incident. Dorian led them through the upper halls and viewing chambers, pointing out the layout of the arena, the various entrances the fighters would use, and the holding pens beneath the floor that allowed beasts and warriors to be released at will. Eventually, they arrived at the viewing box reserved for them—a high platform built into the stone wall overlooking the entire arena floor. It was spacious, covered in fresh tapestries and thick cushions, with shaded canopies drawn to block the worst of the sun. The view from there stretched across the Colosseum in full, every tier, every gate, every corner of sand.
"And you'll be sharing it with the Empress herself," Dorian said with a smile too wide. "She insisted."
Arwyn didn't answer immediately. Her stomach tightened. She'd never met the Empress before. She'd only ever seen King Alle from a distance at court, and he had the presence of a tired old man with nothing left to offer. But the Empress... that was different. People whispered about her. About the way she ruled. About the things she had done. Arwyn didn't know what was true and what was fear dressed up as fact, but either way, it made her nervous.
She dismissed Dorian soon after. Polite words, a nod, and nothing more. He bowed and left, leaving them alone at last. They didn't go back the way they came. Instead, Arwyn and Thea wandered deeper into the upper levels, through empty corridors lined with old shields and faded banners.
"What if none of them survive?" Arwyn asked. "The criminals will die. The beasts will kill the rest. What if there's no one left to recruit?"
Thea glanced at her and kept walking. "There'll be someone. There always is. You'd be surprised what desperation does to a person. Or pride."
Arwyn still wasn't sure, the whole point of this was to bolster their forces; she understood getting the best of the best, but all seemed pointless if all of them were going to die. This competition was a lot more ruthless than she imagined between the rhinos the criminals and the big fucking Kong she wasn't sure anyone could survive.
Thea turned and looked at Arwyn and gave her a side smile, "Srop worrying so much, everything will proceed as planned and we will get our warriors."
*Bang*
Both of them stopped. It hadn't been loud, but it had come from close. Not the arena below, but somewhere on this level. Arwyn frowned. As far as she knew, only nobility and senior Templars were allowed up here—and none of them had cause to be alone. She exchanged a look with Thea and stepped toward the nearest door. It led into a private office. The space was well-furnished; lined with dark wooden shelves filled with scrolls and books, a long desk with ivory inlays, cabinets of sealed letters and maps, a half-empty decanter of wine on a side table. Sunlight poured in through stained glass high on the wall. The room looked undisturbed. Peaceful.
But something was wrong.
Arwyn stepped further in, glancing around. Her eyes scanned the desk, the windows, the corners. Then she sniffed the air.
There was a scent. Faint. Not of blood or rot or animal. Not Thea, either.
Something familiar.
She froze.
No. It couldn't be.
She sniffed again. It was there, faint and faded, but still strong enough for her to notice it. The scent carried something unmistakable. Leather, sweat, iron, ash. Him.
Thorfinn.
Her heart tightened. That was impossible. Niketas had told her he'd left months ago, that he'd sailed north again, back to Kattegat. He was gone. She had accepted that. Told herself she didn't care.
But now...
A deep sadness crept up through her chest. No matter how angry she'd been, no matter how much she'd hated him for what he had done, it still hurt. He had left her.
'He would never join you.'
'He doesn't want the world you're building.'
She clenched her jaw, then exhaled. 'I still miss him,' she thought.
"Arwyn?" Thea's voice broke through gently. "Is everything okay?"
Arwyn didn't answer at first. She stared at the bookshelf, then slowly nodded. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "It's fine."
She stepped away from the desk, heading back toward the corridor. "Let's go. We should get back to the manse."
_____________________________________
Things started to move fast as the days passed, with the gladiatorial match barely a day away. The assassins brotherhood had to work hard to account for the new information that Thorfinn and Sophia had brought to light. Nearly everyone was working overtime and all of it was nearly ready the masters and the grandmaster all stood in the hall around the round table along with the Witchers and Thorfinn.
Idris stood leaned against the table, the Grandmaster has a serious expression on his face, all of the masters did. Cassain, Malik, Sophia, even Leo; all of them knew how important this was, if this plan didn't work then it was unlikely they will get another and that meant certain death for their brotherhood.
"I will not mince any words as there is very little time left, you all know why you're here," Idris said as he looked to everyone in the room.
"The day has come, soon we will enact our plan, that means Thorfinn and Lambert, they will be entering the gladiatorial matches." he looked at those people specifically.
" I can't emphasise enough how important it is for you to win," Idris said, his expression getting even more severe. "It is up to you too to get close to the queen and puppet master, if we can't do that, then we lose."
Thorfinn nodded. "I won't fail. I'll win the matches and stick my sword between vampire myself," he spat.
Sophia slapped his shoulder. "You'll do no such thing," she replied. "Stick to the plan and get inside the palace you're our only shot at this."
Geralt nodded. "She is right Thorfinn no theatrics, and also no magic, that will bring suspicion on you, win all of this with your skill."
"Agreed while those gifted in the esoteric arts are not uncommon it will bring attention," Idris said in agreement.
Thorfinn was a little put out by that, but it didn't matter that much. He was still the best swordsman in this room. He had long since taking that title from Malik, much to the masters dismay.
"After you have won and you've been taken to the palace make sure you're there to enact the second part of the plan, this is by far the most important." Idris commented. He then looked to everyone in the room once more. "This will be the final battle for Constantinople, it is here that will be decided whether the people of the city will be free or whether they will suffer under Templar rule."
"Never has there been such an important day, not only will we strike at the heart of the Templar order, but we will eradicate a vampire of the face of the Earth."
"Never forget what we fight for brothers... never forget what we will one day die for!"
"Freedom!"
...
The meeting broke not long after Idris gave his final words. No one asked questions. No one needed to. Every man and woman in that chamber understood what was at stake and what would be asked of them come morning. Their roles were already set, their tasks burned into memory. Plans this precise didn't survive uncertainty. One by one they filed out, Malik first, then Leo and Cassain, then the rest, each lost in their own thoughts. The sound of boots on old stone echoed through the hall as the group scattered, leaving behind only the faint smell of steel, ink, and the heavy tension that still clung to the air. Thorfinn remained where he stood, near the doorway, his arms crossed. His eyes were locked on the center of the round table as if he were already picturing blood spilled across it. He didn't move until her voice called out to him.
"Thorfinn," Sophia said softly.
He turned and saw her waiting by the corridor. She didn't need to explain. He fell in step beside her without a word. Together they walked through the passage that led back toward the eastern wing of the tower. The torches along the walls flickered with the slight breeze passing through the high slits in the stone. Banners fluttered faintly overhead, bearing the insignia of the Brotherhood. It wasn't until they reached the balcony corridor that overlooked the garden courtyard that Sophia finally broke the silence.
"I've got a bad feeling about tomorrow," she said, while her arms folded tight across her chest, her eyes staring straight ahead. "Something isn't right. I can't explain it, but I feel it in my bones."
Thorfinn slowed his pace until they came to a stop beside one of the tall archways. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he reached out and set his hand gently on her shoulder. "You worry too much," he said, a small smile on his face. "I'm not afraid of them. Not the beasts they'll throw at us. Not the nobles up in their glass towers. Not the damn Empress, either. I've fought monsters. I've fought worse things than anything they could dream up. This... this is just another battlefield."
Sophia didn't say anything at first. She looked at him, studying his face, the hard lines of it, the faint scar across his cheek, the tiredness in his eyes that never really left. "That's not what I'm worried about," she said after a while. "It's not about whether you can fight. I've seen what you can do. I know what you are. But this city isn't like the north. It doesn't play fair. Nothing here does and a lot of the time strength isn't enough to win here."
He gave a breath of a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting for the first time that night. "Then it's a good thing I don't play fair either." He stepped a little closer, letting the silence settle again before speaking. "Look, whatever happens tomorrow, I'm going to get through it. I'll win the matches. I'll do what needs to be done. And when this is over, I'll take you back to Kattegat. You'll be part of my family... and you can meet the others too."
Her smile was faint, tired. "I've heard it's cold up there," she said.
"It is," Thorfinn replied. He leaned down, just enough to bring his forehead to hers. "I suppose I'll have to keep you warm."
Then he kissed her. Their lips met and pushed together, Sophia's mouth opened and allowed his tongue inside where it moved against her own. When he pulled away, she looked at him again with a different kind of sadness behind her eyes—one that hoped tomorrow would end well, even if every instinct said otherwise.
She smiled again. "That doesn't sound so bad..."
_____________________________________
It was a new day in Constantinople, but not just any day. From the earliest hour, the city had stirred like a beast coming to life. Word of the tournament had spread through every district, from the poorest alleys in the Harbour Quarter to the marble avenues near the palace gates. Every street was filled. Market stalls overflowed. Rooftops were crowded with spectators clutching wine and bread, shouting to one another and pointing toward the grand structure that loomed above them all. The Colosseum stood like a monument to the gods, its towering archways draped in crimson banners, the Templar sigil gleaming above the main gate. A line stretched for miles in either direction—men, women, even children packed shoulder to shoulder, all desperate for a place in the stands. Some scaled the outer walls with ropes or ladders, clinging to ledges and broken tiles just to steal a glimpse of what was to come. The guards had stopped trying to contain the crowd hours ago.
Inside, far below the cheers and music, the air was different. In the stone chambers beneath the arena floor, the fighters had already been gathered. The holding hall was large snd pretty open, lit by braziers spaced along the walls. The scent of sweat and blood was thick. Sand coated the floor. Iron racks lined the sides with weapons waiting for the rounds to begin. Some men paced, others knelt in prayer, and a few shouted threats at one another like animals testing the cage. No one looked relaxed.
Thorfinn sat with his back against one of the support pillars, his arms resting over his knees, his eyes moving from face to face. His hair had been dyed black earlier that morning, slicked back to hide the pale strands he'd worn for most of his life. His eyes, still that same piercing blue, stayed low beneath his brow. Beside him, Lambert stood with his arms folded, leaning against the wall with the same black hair, the same bored expression. Both of them wore plain leather tunics, simple enough to pass for mercenaries. No medallions. No signs of the Brotherhood. Nothing that might give them away.
They watched in silence as a pair of fighters argued over a helmet in the corner. One had already drawn blood with a punch, and a nearby guard had to step in with the butt of his spear.
Lambert tilted his head. "See anyone to worry about?"
Thorfinn smirked. "None of them'll even touch me."
Lambert laughed. "Cocky bastard." He pushed off from the wall and cracked his knuckles. "Be right back."
Thorfinn glanced up at him. "Where are you going?"
Lambert shrugged. "Gotta drain the dragon."
Thorfinn grunted. "You better not get lost. We start soon."
Lambert waved him off as he disappeared down the corridor, muttering something under his breath. Thorfinn leaned his head back against the pillar again and went back to watching. The other fighters didn't know it, but they were already dead. Most just hadn't figured it out yet.
Thorfinn leaned his head back against the stone and closed his eyes for a moment. The cheers from the crowds above barely reached this deep into the ground, but he could feel them all the same. The whole city was waiting for blood. After today, when the vampire was dead and the plan complete, he would finally leave this place. He would return to what mattered. Dahlia. The trail had gone cold years ago, but now that the mission was almost over, he would have time. Time to track her down. Time to bring his family back together. When that day came, he would finally be at peace. He had dreamed of it since the day they were taken from him.
But his thoughts shifted, and they took a different shape. Arwyn. Just her name in his mind made his chest feel heavier. He hadn't seen her in months, hadn't spoken to her since before the Brotherhood. He hated what happened between them. Hated how it ended. She was still in the city, of course, with Niketas, being held hostage. When he thought of her, all he felt was that same hollow ache that never fully left. He missed her. He wished it had ended differently.
Before the thought could go any further, someone slid down beside him smoothly as if they belonged there.
"You look deep in thought there, my friend," the man said with a wide grin, flashing a full mouth of perfect white teeth.
Thorfinn opened his eyes and looked over. The man was huge, all muscle. His skin was dark as pitch, his tunic sleeveless, his arms like sculpted stone. Gold earrings hung from both ears and a thin cord necklace bounced slightly with every breath he took. He looked like a man who smiled often.
"Fuck off," Thorfinn said flatly.
The man threw his head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard in weeks. His voice carried easily through the chamber.
"I can't do that," he said with another grin. "Fate has brought me to your side."
Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at him. "Speak plainly and tell me what you want."
The man made a small show of chuckling again, then leaned back against the same pillar with his hands behind his head. "From you? Nothing, Northman. But fate," he said, lifting one hand and twirling his fingers, "has decreed that I would be much safer being on your side than against you."
"What are you talking about," Thorfinn muttered, his voice starting to tighten with irritation.
The man didn't answer at first. Instead, he reached into his pocket and flicked his wrist. A coin appeared from nowhere. He held it up with both reverence and flair.
"This, my friend, is my lucky coin. If I flip it and it lands on the face of my king, then only good things may follow. And I just flipped it. It told me to come here. To sit by you."
He smiled again, as if that explained everything.
"So you see, Northman. Fate has decreed us friends."
Thorfinn stared at him for a long moment. The man was definitely crazy. His grin was too wide, he spoke of talking coins that somehow knew where he would be safest. Thorfinn did not have the patience for this today. "I see," Thorfinn said at last. He pushed off the pillar and stood. "Very well. I won't target you during the free-for-all. But if we're matched in single combat, I won't hesitate."
The man's grin widened. "Fate would never be such a cruel mistress," he said, flipping the coin again. It danced across his knuckles before vanishing in a flick of his fingers.
Thorfinn said nothing else. He turned and walked away, not interested in spending another second near the madman. He moved through the corridor, passing other fighters who sharpened blades or muttered prayers to themselves. Eventually, he found Lambert near the outer gate, speaking with one of the arena guards. Thorfinn found that strange, but concluded he mustve been trying to find confirmation. He waited a minute for them to finish their conversation before he approached.
Thorfinn said nothing as he waited, watching Lambert finish his quiet exchange with the guard stationed at the outer gate. Their voices were low, nearly drowned out by the rising noise above. The guard handed him something small before walking off, leaving Lambert with a smug look on his face. Thorfinn approached once the man was gone.
"What was that about?" he asked.
Lambert glanced at him and shrugged casually. "Just bribing him for a bit of information. Wanted to know who was sitting in the upper boxes."
Thorfinn narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
Lambert grinned. "The Queen. Niketas. Two of her aides. A few nobles. And..." he paused, letting it hang there for just a second longer, "Lady Arwyn. And her maid servant. Thea."
Thorfinn didn't respond right away. His mind seemed to stop. Arwyn? Here? The blood drained from his face before the heat returned all at once. If she was here, in the box with the queen, then what did that mean? Was she no longer a prisoner? Was she being forced to watch? Was she complicit in this madness? None of it made sense. She shouldn't have been here. She couldn't have been. She had been—
Lambert reached out and grabbed his shoulder, snapping him back. "Hey," he said, voice low and firm. "Stay focused. Whatever she's doing here, we deal with it later. Right now, we stick to the plan."
Thorfinn clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod. "You're right. Let's get it done."
Moments later, the gates began to rise.
Above them, the crowd roared like a storm. From every level of the colosseum, people shouted, whistled, banged their fists on stone. The sky overhead was pale blue, cloudless, and merciless. The arena floor was wide and dry, scattered with debris, broken columns, half-buried statues and makeshift barriers. The fighters emerged in waves, some running, some walking, others already shouting war cries. Hundreds had been gathered for this match. All shapes, sizes, origins. Some had armor. Most didn't. All of them carried nothing. Not yet.
A man stepped into the central platform raised above the stands. His robes were gold and crimson. His voice rang out across the colosseum with unnatural strength, likely amplified by some form of arcane projection.
"Warriors of blood and steel!" he boomed. "You stand now in the heart of the empire. You fight not for gold, not for glory, but for your lives! There is no surrender. Not unless you reach the marked gates. There is no mercy. The only path to victory is through blood!"
A pause, long and theatrical. The crowd hung on every word.
"Weapons will be thrown into the arena throughout the match. Until then, you are unarmed. You may use anything you find. Anything you take. Only the strong will endure!"
He looked to the central balcony. The one carved from marble and veiled in silk. All eyes followed his gaze.
"And now," he said, bowing his head low, "we await the command of Her Radiant Majesty, Empress Lysandra."
The box was silent for a moment, and then a single figure stepped forward. She was tall, her face and body concealed entirely by an ornate veil of silver threads and shimmering cloth. No flesh was visible. Even her hands were gloved. She raised one arm, slow and graceful.
And then, her voice cut through the colosseum like a blade.
"Begin."
(AN: So the fight begins and our hero is in the thick of it, everybody knows. Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter, support it you can, otherwise I'm just glad you're enjoying this.)
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