Damien: Listen, Rakaia, are you absolutely sure that the Theo you've fought during the still night is the same person as the one we're dealing with now? I mean, it's been six hundred years, right? No one would blame you if you were to make a confusion after all this time!
Rakaia: Damn it, this is the third time you've asked me this exact same question. Yes, it's the same Theo from six hundred years ago. Get it through your thick skull, already!
Leah: Damien, why are you finding this so hard to believe? We already knew that he was six hundred years old and that he was an old acquaintance of Rakaia and the golden vixen. Given his power, it wasn't that big of a stretch to assume that he was the one who defeated Rakaia all that time ago.
Damien: It's not the fact that he could beat Rakaia that I find hard to believe. It's the fact that he is known as the founder of this continent's civilization, when all we've seen him do so far is wreak havoc, for the sole purpose of his amusement!
Leah: People change over time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Theo tell you when you first met that the reason he is keeping his eyes closed is because he got tired of seeing the ugliness of humanity? You've seen the way he acted around the earl and the ambassador of Oleandor. It's clear that he no longer holds anything other than disgust and disdain for the inhabitants of Avalon.
JÒN: Leaving Theo aside, shouldn't we rather be discussing our plans for the arena?
Hagrid: Don't worry about the arena! I alone should be more than enough to deal with whatever the ambassador can throw at us!
JÒN: Oh, yeah? And what if they separate us?
Damien: Jòn makes a good point. The first thing we need to make sure of is that we can still communicate with each other, even if they decide to throw us in different cells.
Damien takes off his backpack, and then he takes three transceivers out of it.
Damien (hands out transceivers): Leah, Hagrid, Lily, take these. Jòn, you already have a transceiver. I don't think I've shown you this before, but you have a dial on the right side of your transceiver that you can use to change your calling frequency, in order to match the signature frequency of one of the other transceivers. Each of the transceivers is assigned a number, which corresponds to its own unique signature frequency. Make sure you memorize everyone else's number so you'll know who to contact, when the need arises. The numbers are engraved on the back of the transceivers.
I look at the back of my transceiver and see that I am assigned the number two. When we exchange our numbers, I learn that Leah was number three, Lily was four, and Hagrid was five.
Damien: Alright! Now you all know your numbers. As an aside, if you ever need to communicate with transceivers that weren't enchanted by me, there's a small button next to the dial which you can use to switch to normal frequencies. I'll be using the transceiver with the number six.
Jòn: What about number one?
Damien pauses for a few seconds.
Damien (in a low tone): That's the number of the transceiver I was using originally. The one I gave to Rachel.
JÓN: Oh, I say
We all stay silent for a few moments.
Hagrid: So, uh, do we know for sure that they're going to allow us to keep our transceivers after we get sent to our cells?
King's squire: You will be allowed to keep any items you wish. You will each have your own personal cells in which you can store your belongings, but you will be allowed to carry items with you as well.
Damien: What about weapons? Are we allowed to use our own weapons and armor during the fights in the arena?
King's squire: Yes, as long as your weapons don't cast any spells, you are allowed to use any weapons you have at your disposal
JÓN: What do you understand by casting spells? Would an item that enhances your physical abilities be considered spell casting?
King's squire: It depends on the nature of the item. Without knowing what item in particular you are referring to, I cannot give you a definitive answer to your question.
I show him my stat device
JÓN: I'm talking about this item. Do you know of it?
The servant smiles.
King's squire: Yes, I am familiar with it. Do not worry. The stat booster's effect does not count as spell casting. The magic detectors in the arenas will most definitely ignore it.
Damien: Hey, Jón!
As both the king's squire and I turn our heads towards him.
Damien (to the servant): How long can we delay our trip to the arena? Can it wait half an hour? I was thinking that I could cast some basic sharpness and durability enchantments on my friends' daggers, if I find a shop that sells elven steel along the way.
King's squire: There is enough time, If you're looking for a shop that sells enchanting materials, there should be one in the marketplace we'll be reaching shortly.
JÓN: Why do you need elven steel, specifically?
Damien: Elven steel is the best quality steel that money can buy and basic enchantments like sharpness and durability are highly dependent on the quality of the materials used for enchantment.
JÓN: Is there any chance you could enchant my crossbow as well?
King's Squire: You are not allowed to use ranged weapons within the arenas of Avalon.
Damien: I'll be honest with you, Jón, even if ranged weapons were allowed, I would still not recommend getting your crossbow enchanted. It would be much better to buy a new one. Basic enchantment just isn't enough to compensate for poor craftsmanship. With daggers, it's different, because the quality of the metal is much more important than the way the blade was made.
Hagrid: Why do you keep talking about basic enchantments? Aren't you supposed to be one of the most skilled enchanters in the world? Why don't you just cast some of those crazy enchantments that you have on your sword on Jón and Leah's daggers?
Damien frowns at him.
Damien: The more advanced the enchantment, the more time and resources it requires, It would take me weeks to cast the enchantments I used on my sword, and it would cost a small fortune to acquire the needed materials. I doubt that I'll be doing anything other than basic enchantments for the duration of this tournament. Jón, Leah, give me your daggers. I will enchant them both as soon as we reach that shop.
Once he finds the shop, Damien goes in, and he doesn't come out until exactly half an hour later. After Damien gets out of the shop, he first gives Leah her dagger, and then he stops in front of me, with his hand held out, looking as if he were expecting some sort of payment.
Damien: That will be ten gold coins. You can pay me with money from the Western Continent, if you want.
JÓN: You're charging me money?
Damien: Well, what did you expect? It's not like I was given all that elven steel for free, you know.
JÓN: But you didn't ask Leah for any money!
Damien: That's because I didn't happen to see her pocketing a few dozen expensive gems in a certain ogre fortress a few days ago. You, on the other hand, should have money to spare.
JÓN (grins): So, that's how it is
Damien: Cough it up
JÓN: Fine, fine
I place ten gold coins into Damien's palm, and then take back my dagger.
It took us about two more hours to get from the marketplace to the arenas. Once we reached our destination, we waved goodbye to the king's servant, and then we went inside a small building near the arena which we were told was the 'main office. The room we entered looked more like the inside of a prison, than an office, but there was a man sitting at a desk in front of us, who seemed to be arranging some papers when we came in. The man paid us no mind until he finished what he was doing, and then he got up and greeted us with a curt nod.
Desk worker (disinterested tone): I was told that you'd be coming here tonight. Only three of you will be participating, am I correct?
Hagrid (grins): Four
He hands his admission letter from the king to the desk worker.
Desk worker: I see. Very well, then. Given that I am the only one who is still working at this late hour, I will have to ask you to wait patiently in this lobby, while I lead each one of you to your individual cells.
Hagrid: Can't we just all go at once?
Desk Worker: No, the ambassador of Oleandor insisted that none of you are to know the locations of each other's cells. He also made sure that you are each placed into separate divisions, so that you cannot work together during the arena events.
Damien: Divisions?
Desk Worker (ignores Damien): We'll start with the thackeray.
He walks to a door behind him, and he turns to me.
Desk Worker: This way
I take one last look at everyone else, and then I go to follow the desk worker.
Lily: Good luck, Jón! Lettie and I will be cheering for you from the audience! And I'm sure Rakaia will too!
Once the door closes behind me, I start to walk slowly behind the desk worker, as we both begin to make our way down a very long flight of stairs. We don't exchange any words while we traverse the dark corridors beneath the arenas. With all of the twists and turns we're taking, it's hard to tell if I could still find my way back by myself. The torches inside the underground tunnels are dimly lit, and all of the doors look the same. After a long period of silence, the desk worker finally chooses to speak.
Desk Worker: There are currently two empty cells left in your division. Cell number three and cell number five. They are located on opposite sides of the recreational area. I haven't been ordered to place you in any specific cell of the two. Which one would you prefer?
JÓN: I don't know," I say. "What's the difference between the two of them?"
Desk Worker (bluntly): There is no difference
JÓN: No difference at all?
Desk Worker: None whatsoever.
JÓN: So, why are you asking me, then?
Desk Worker: I'm asking you so you can make a decision. Now choose. Which will it be? Cell number three or cell number five?
Jón: I guess I'll go with cell number five, then.
Desk Worker: Very well! Cell number five is located on the right side of the respite pit. Its number is written on the door.
He stops in front of a door, and he pulls a key out of his pocket.
Desk Worker: This is the key to your cell. You are advised to leave your belongings inside your cell and to lock the door when you are away. You can choose to spend most of your time locked inside your individual cell if you wish, but you will be required to spend at least two hours a day in the respite pit during the recess, in order to learn to get along with your new teammates.
The desk worker then pulls another key out of his pocket, and he uses it to open the door in front of him.
Desk Worker: This door will lead you to the respite pit of your division. I recommend that you go directly to sleep, because your next recess is scheduled for tomorrow morning.
I nod to him and then go through the open door.
The room I am now finding myself in is only being lit by a few candles. The respite pit appears to be empty, except for one particularly bulky man, wearing leather armor, who is now steadily approaching me.
Gravox (menacing tone): I've been waiting for you. I heard that they'd be bringing you in tonight.
JÓN: Do I know you?
He stops a few feet in front of me.
Gravox: No, I don't see why you would. I don't know who you are either.
JÓN: Then why were you waiting for me?
Gravox: Because I've heard the guards talking. They were talking about a group of mages who killed the earl of Oleandor, and I heard them say that a member of that group would be sent to our division tonight. I'll have to admit that I wasn't expecting a stillborn.
I remain silent. There would be no point in correcting him. I'd much rather have everyone think I'm an all powerful stillborn than give away the fact that I'm not a mage at all.
Gravox: It doesn't matter, though. You may as well be one of the four sages, for all the good it will do you. Magic is not allowed in here. I could very well crush your puny head with my bare hands and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it."
JÓN: Now, why would you want to do that? Aren't we supposed to be part of the same team?
The man's face contorts into a snarl at the sound of my words.
Gravox (shouts): Do you have any idea what you've done, you little bastard?
JÓN: Nope! No idea whatsoever. Why don't you explain it to me?
Gravox (grinds his teeth): Oh, I'll explain it to you! Your little stunt with that noble has sealed all of our fates. I heard the guards saying that the next arena event will be the greatest in all the history of Avalon. They're not expecting any of us to make it out alive. They are sending us all to our deaths, just to make sure that they also kill you in the process.
The man is now clenching his fist so hard that blood is starting to drip out of it. While the two of us were talking, the doors leading to the individual cells were opening one by one, and people who had been woken up by the sound of the bulky man's voice were now stepping out of their rooms, to watch the show.
Gravox: The only reason why I came to Thilias was because I heard the gnome king would rarely let the arena events in his city endanger the lives of the gladiators. I came here because I thought there was some easy money to be made. But now?… Now I'm just sitting here, waiting for my execution. Cursing my fate. Cursing you!
JÓN: Why don't you just leave, then?
Gravox: You think I didn't try?! The owner of the arena isn't letting any of us go. It's the first time in years when he's being allowed to make the show as deadly as he wants. Do you know that he's been collecting rare beasts and keeping them in the underground tunnels for the past ten years, waiting for a chance to parade them in front of an audience? Well, now that he's finally been given permission, the man is planning to make us fight every single one of them! He wants to make this the crowning moment of his career. He doesn't care about what the king of Thilias will do to him if he goes overboard. As long as this one show is successful, he may as well die, for all he cares, and so can we.
JÓN: Get a hold of yourself. You're acting as if we're being sent to the gallows, not to a gladiatorial event. I didn't come here to waste time, wallowing in self-pity. I came here to win.
After hearing what I had to say, Gravox completely loses the little self-control he had left, and he swings his right fist at my face, with full force.
Knowing that I've recently upgraded my toughness stat, I make no attempt to dodge his strike, and the man's fist hits me in the bridge of my nose. The impact from the blow makes me feel almost no pain, and it doesn't even make me move an inch from my original position. As the bulky man retracts his arm, I look at him with the same disinterested expression in my eyes as the one that the desk worker had when he looked at me.
This makes the man even angrier, and he begins to put more strength behind his punches, but that doesn't help him much. After about twenty seconds of continuously hitting me in both my head and my stomach, during which I never even bothered to block a single one of his strikes, my attacker suddenly steps back, as if he's only just now understood the futility of his actions. The astonishment is clearly visible on his face, as he just stands there and looks at me, without saying anything.
JÓN: Are you done?
Gravox (shocked): Maybe I was wrong about you, stillborn
He then puts both his hands on my shoulders, and he looks at me with the hope of a man who had not dared to hope any longer.
Gravox: Maybe you were right! Maybe we can still win this… as long as we work together!
JÓN: How about you apologize for attacking me, first?
The man starts to laugh, and he takes his hands off me.
Gravox: If it's an apology you want, stillborn, then you can have it! I am not ashamed of admitting my mistake. I should not have assumed that you were weak, just because you were a mage, and I should not have attacked you without reason. Now, will you fight alongside me in the arena?
JÓN: I guess so. We are part of the same team, after all.
Gravox (grins): That we are!
With these last words, Gravox turns away from me, and he heads towards his cell. Of the four people that were spectating our fight, two are now going back to their cells, one is heading towards me, and the last one is still standing by the door, watching me intently. The one who is heading towards me is a man about my age, who is wearing his hair in a ponytail, and who has a way of smiling that reminds me of Theo. The one that remained by the door, watching me is a girl with long silver hair, who appears to be no older than twenty two.
The man with the ponytail stops in front of me and he smiles politely.
Brann: I see that you were able to hold your own against Gravox even without your magic. Impressive! Not many would dare to face him head on like you did just now. May I ask you your name?
JÓN: Yeah, it's Jón
Brann: Jón? That's an unusual name for a mage.
JÓN: So I've been told.
Brann: Forgive me, I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just that most of the mages I've met in the past have had very unique names. Most parents who find out that they have a mage in the family feel the need to show it off in any way they can, so they usually give them pretentious sounding names like Zalnir or Vasiroth. It's almost like a tradition. But to give you such a common name as Jòn…
JÒN: My parents have never been the type to follow tradition.
Brann (smiles and extends hands towards me): I see. My name is Brann. Pleased to meet you!
As I start to shake the man's hand, I suddenly get a vision of him stabbing me in the back with an orange hilted dagger, in the middle of an arena (premonition stat).
Brann: Is something wrong?
Jòn: No, everything's fine.
Brann: Listen, I know that you haven't really gotten the best of receptions here in our division, but I personally think that there's nothing worse than having a fight with a teammate before a life threatening event such as this. I just wanted to let you know that I'm on your side.
JÒN: It's good to know that you're watching my back, Brann!
Brann: Well, that's all I wanted to say for tonight. We should both go to sleep. I hear that the recess is starting early tomorrow.
JÒN: Yes, I've heard that too. Have a good night!
Brann: Same to you!
JÒN (to himself): An orange hilted dagger, huh? If my memory doesn't fail me, those are a special kind of enchanted daggers that are used by trained assassins to help conceal their presence. I'd better be careful around this guy.
After Brann closes his door, the girl with the silver hair watches me for another few seconds, and then she also goes inside her room, shutting the door behind her. I decide that there's no use in lingering around any longer, so I head towards my room as well. When I get inside my cell, I see that the only piece of furniture available to me is a bed made entirely out of stone. I lock the door with the key I got from the desk worker, I throw my backpack on the ground, and then I go to sit down on the bed.
The only source of light in the room appears to be coming from a very small window above me, which gives me a direct view towards the corridor outside the recreation area. There doesn't seem to be any movement in the tunnels outside my cell. The guards must either be sleeping, or patrolling a different corridor. I take a sweater out of my backpack and I use it as a makeshift pillow to put on my cold stone bed. As soon as I place my head on it, I fall asleep, and I wake up about seven hours later, to the sound of a guard's voice, coming from outside my cell.
Guard: Get up! It's recess time. Go do something. Come on, get out of here!
I reluctantly get out of bed, put my sweater in my backpack and then head back towards the recreation area. I make sure to lock the door behind me on my way out, and then I head towards a corner of the room where there are no people around.
I take a quick look around the room to see who else they placed in my division. Aside from Gravox and Brann who I met yesterday, there's the silver haired girl that was staring at me, and then there are two more individuals that both look like the gladiator versions of Cutthroat Tzotzil. The two thugs seem to be the only ones who are actually talking to each other. The other three are each standing somewhere as far as possible from everyone else, leaning with their backs against the walls, their arms crossed, waiting for the recreation period to be over.
JÒN: What am I supposed to do now? I can't say that I feel like talking with any of these people. What is there to talk about? We weren't even told what the first round will be like. How are we supposed to make a strategy? Maybe I should just go back and get a book to read or something.
As I stand there and think about going back to my cell, Gravox suddenly moves away from the wall, and he starts to head towards me. When he stops in front of me, I see that he has an unusually serious look on his face.
Gravox: Listen, I saw that you were talking to Brann yesterday, after your fight with me, so I wanted to give you a warning.
JÒN: A warning?
Gravox: Yeah! About Brann. He might seem like an ordinary guy to you, but in reality he's a trained assassin. I can tell by the way he moves and speaks. These assassin types can never be trusted. They're not real warriors like you and me. The only way they know how to fight is by stabbing people in the back. You should be careful around him. Don't believe anything he says!
JÒN: Oh, yeah, I figured that he was an assassin. Don't worry, I'll look out for him.
Gravox: Just make sure that you don't get yourself killed before the arena. You're the only one besides me who can actually put up a fight in this blasted division.
Gravox then pats me on the shoulder, and he goes back to where he was standing at the beginning. Just as I was about to go get that book, it is now Brann who is approaching me, with a determined look on his face.
Brann: Listen, I'm not sure exactly what you were talking about with Gravox, but you should be careful around him.
JÒN: Should I now?
Brann: Yes! You already saw the way he treated you yesterday. He is the kind of person who likes to act before he thinks, and these types of individuals are always dangerous. He might act friendly towards you now, but who knows what he'll do tomorrow. When you're up against unpredictable brutes that prefer to rely on their fists instead of their reason, you can never know when they'll turn against you.
JÒN: That's nice. But I have a feeling that this isn't what you came here to talk to me about, is it?
Brann: No, it isn't. What I wanted to tell you is that from what I've heard, in a few hours from now, the ambassador and the arena's owner should be discussing important matters about the organization of the arena events. The guards from this place have a habit of overhearing these types of conversations and they usually like to discuss them amongst themselves. Make sure you pay close attention to what they're saying when they're outside your cell. I will do the same.
JÒN: I see, I'll keep that in mind.
Brann: Alright! That's all I wanted to tell you. I'll make sure to let you know if I hear anything. I hope you will do the same.
JÒN: Of course
I suddenly realize that the girl with the silver hair is staring at me again. In fact, I think she's been staring at me for a long time. Brann notices me looking towards the girl, and he gives me a smirk.
Brann: I wouldn't waste my time trying to talk to that one, we've all tried, but she wouldn't say a word. I think that our little silver haired princess is either mute, or she's taken a vow of silence of some sort. Either way, I doubt that you'll get anything out of her.
He then bows politely, and he goes back towards his corner of the room. As Brann walks past the girl on his way back, she pays him no mind, and she keeps looking directly at me.
JÒN: Okay, now I'm certain that she's doing it on purpose. But what does she want from me? Does she want me to go talk to her? I guess there's only one way to find out.
I calmly start heading towards her, while paying close attention to her reactions. The girl seems unfazed by my decision to approach her, and she keeps looking me in the eyes, even after I stop in front of her.
Now that I take a better look at the girl, I see that she is at least one head shorter than me, and that she has a very frail constitution. I can see why Brann would choose to call her a princess. She definitely doesn't look like a fighter. Her clothes, however, are nothing close to what a princess might wear. She is wearing a simple beige blouse, short leggings that seem comfortable to move in, and wooden sandals.
Despite her frail looking body, the girl is wearing two knives on her belt, and her arms and legs are full of bruises, which indicates that she's likely been in a fight, shortly before she was incarcerated. One other thing I'm noticing is that unlike all the rest of the gladiators, she is the only person without a warning sign above her head, which implies that she is either a tournament participant, or someone who is not a citizen of Avalon, and therefore not protected by their spell.
Seeing that the girl has no intention of saying anything, I take it upon myself to initiate a conversation.
JÒN: So, are you going to tell me why you've been staring at me for the past five minutes?
The girl gives me no sign of having heard me, and she keeps looking at me, without any change in her expression.
JÒN: Well? Aren't you going to say anything?
JÒN: Still no response. Brann was right. This is pointless.
I turn away to leave, but then I suddenly feel something pulling on my sleeve.
Elena: Wait! Is it true, what they say about you?
JÒN: What do you mean? What do they say about me?
Elena: They say that the reason why you were brought here is because you attacked a noble. Is that true?
JÒN: Yeah, that would be the main gist of it
Elena: But why would you do such a thing? Didn't you know how dangerous it would be to attack a noble in Avalon, let alone kill one?
JÒN: We did! But we were trying to free a slave. And either way, that bastard had it coming.
Elena: You don't seem to like our nobles very much, do you?
JÒN: Oh, I hate them with a passion.
The girl smiles. It is the first time that I see an actual change in her facial expression.
Elena: I see! Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Elena, and I have also been brought here because I tried to free a slave from a noble.
The girl then extends her hand towards me.
JÒN (shakes her hand): I'm Jòn! Pleased to meet you!
Elena: Jòn, I have a favor to ask of you. Could we continue our conversation inside my cell? There's something else I want to ask you, and I'd rather do it in private.
JÒN: Alright, let's go
Elena nods, and she opens the door to her cell. As we both enter her room, I notice the fact that Brann was watching us attentively, and there was a bit of disappointment on his face when he saw that I accepted the girl's request so easily.
It is only after Elena smiles and locks the door that I suddenly start to feel a sense of danger, and I jump back from her, watching her carefully.
>>>End Of Chapter 18<<<