I had thought I was getting numb to this city. The coliseum proved me wrong. The inside was worse than the outside. We emerged from one of several tunnels into stands that stretched outward until the highest rows blurred into the grey sky.
There were people here. So many people. We had emerged from a tunnel wide enough for a carriage, yet the press of people had almost made that small. Still, most of the seats were currently empty. I suspected that if this were not just an exhibition match, then they might not be.
I found myself doing the math. The stone alone in this structure would have rebuilt every cracked wall in the Veyne District twice over. The Magical Implements lining the staircases could have lit our streets for a decade. The King’s Tournament was one thing. There must have been other events here to justify building something this excessive. I told myself that, at least.
“Woah,” Violet said eloquently.
“Woah,” I agreed just as eloquently.
“If you like this,” Anias said, “then you will like the one in the capital even more. That has more color to it.”
I had nothing to say to that. We changed seats twice. Violet rejected the first section because she "couldn't see a damn thing" and the second because it was behind a column. By the time she was satisfied, the arena had filled considerably around us.
Sere sat on my left. She had a small plate in one hand, and on it was a brown cookie flecked with black. They sold food in this stadium. Sere might not have normally cared, but she had seen the sweets, and had demanded them. Naturally I had obliged.
Violet sat on my right. She was eating a skewer of meat she’d gotten from a different vendor. It didn’t look too different from the street food we’d had that day. Violet had offered with very messy hands. I had politely declined. Anias, Damian and our guard sat farther right still.
"You do know we could be doing something productive," I said. The seat was surprisingly comfortable for what was essentially a stone bench.
“Like what?” Violet said. She said it with her mouth full, but I had gotten good at understanding her through her chewing.
“We could have scouted out the city. Maybe tried to meet up with one of the local guilds. It isn’t like we have to go directly to Duke Solaire, that would just be the fastest.”
“Do that tomorrow,” Violet said, in between another mouthful.
I did not know why I was arguing. As far as the day had gone, we had already made as much progress as could be hoped for. Violet’s red eyes were practically glowing as she looked around the arena. There was nothing quite like this back in Aelheim. Yes, it should be fine to spend a day just like this.
It wasn’t long before a man came and stood in the central arena. Even from our good seats, he was more shape than man from the distance. Well, for everyone but me.
He was a short and stocky man, wearing what looked like a black suit in silver trimmings. His hair was a literal square atop his head. That was only the second strangest hairstyle I had seen since I had come to this city. In the man’s hand was a small rectangular device. When he spoke, his voice carried.
“Thank you one and all for joining us for the Myrrheim Exhibition Matches! I know you’re all no doubt here for our main showmatch. The famed hero of the North Bairam campaign, making his first public appearance after years, the Northern Lion, Magnus Canres! And who to face him but the King's Guards newest favorite, the Whispering Blade, Leonhardt!”
The noise that followed nearly drowned out my own thoughts. “Are they a big deal?” I had to shout slightly just to make sure Violet could hear me.
Violet looked at me. The skewer almost fell out of her hands. “Of fucking course they are!” She said, her eyes were alight as she leaned in close. Perhaps a little too close, with how close our seats were. “The lion held a bridge for three days. By himself. Against an army. Don’t know much about the other one, but he must be tough too.” It seemed that even Violet could read things if it was about fighting. “Wouldn’t mind getting the chance to beat the hell out of one or both of them.”
I knew the name North Bairam. A small nation on the Kingdom's northern border that had become a vassal state after a war five years ago. The details beyond that were hazy. There had been too many ledgers and too few hours to study any and everything after all.
I turned to Sere. She did not seem particularly interested by our conversation. With her cookie devoured, she had taken to sketching this arena. She had already drawn me again. As a dark, brooding and mysterious figure…again. I was starting to think she might have the wrong idea about me.
There was a row of cheers and roars. I turned to look at the arena. In one corner of the arena stood a bear of a man. Anias was imposing. My father was the most imposing person I’d seen in this new world. The man in the arena would have put them both to shame. Almost I didn’t think of him as human at all, but as some kind of beast from a child’s storybook.
He wore the pelt of some striped red and blue beast I did not recognize, its massive head rested right next to the man’s own head. The man’s head was just big enough to match. The man surveyed the crowd, and when he raised his arms out, a sword erupted into his hand. It was not the nothingness one moment and blade in hand the other that a Godblade was. This felt more like a construct of mana. A Gift.
The sword would have put even the name Greatsword to shame. The thing along must have been four times my size, with golden trimmings in intricate patterns I did not recognize.
“I didn’t think he’d be so goddamn big,” Violet muttered. “Should call him the Northern Giant instead.” Violet said, leaning forward. So this was Magnus then. That at least explained which of the two this was, though I doubted anyone would have ever seen this man and even considered the word ‘whispering’.
“So where’s the other one?” Damian asked. Violet had leaned forward in feral excitement. Damian was watching more calmly, but far more seriously.
Some of the people near us in the stands had the same question. They were all looking around, towards both of the two mouths that fed into the central oval. The minutes stretched. The large man began to pace in the center of the arena. On a frame that size, even frustration was visible from the cheap seats.
The announcer -such as I had dubbed him- made idle attempts to pacify the crowds. Which really just amounted to him asking people to wait over and over again. It was Violet who finally pointed. Straight up at the sky. I followed her finger.
The clouds parted where Violet pointed, and where they did, a dark shape streaked down from the heavens. It struck the center of the ring, and the sound that should have followed never came.
In its place, was a wicked and curving blade. And on the hilt of that half-buried blade, stood a man. His arms were folded, and he balanced on the hilt of a sword as if it were normal. This must have been the Whispering Blade, though the word whispering didn’t fit him any better either.
“Holy shit that’s so cool!” Violet shouted. She had leaned far forward. I reached out an arm towards her, ready to restrain her if need be. It really wouldn’t be that surprising to me if Violet decided to leap off the stands and try to rush into the arena.
“Well folks- it seems like we have both of our competitors today!” The announcer called out. He sounded only slightly shaken, which was impressive, considering that blade had landed within six feet of him. “I don’t want to keep any of you waiting any longer, and so, let’s get started with this showmatch!”
A roar of cheers went up at this proclamation. Perhaps I should have turned down these sounds with my Gift. I felt Vaelin stir inside me. He gave me the impression of a man/blade/thing leaning forward. Even Anias looked genuinely interested, judging by the set of her shoulders.
The two fighters stepped onto opposite edges of the ring. Someone sounded a bell, and the fight began.
Magnus raised one of his tree-trunk arms into the air. In the next breath, a massive black warhammer settled into his grip. The weapon was absurd. It was longer than he was tall, and thicker at the head than my entire torso. He did not charge forward like someone reasonable. He threw it.
The hammer crossed the arena in less time than it took me to blink. I only tracked it because my Gift was still running. Where Leonhardt had been standing, stone shattered and dust bloomed. The crowd screamed.
The Northern Lion looked around, then roared. “Come face me you coward! Let’s give them a show!”
Leonhardt was already in the air. A blade floated beneath his feet, holding him aloft. He hung there, thirty feet above the arena floor, and then the weapons came. They fell like rain. Swords and spears and shields and weapons I didn’t recognize, materializing from nothing, each one aimed at the man below. I counted twelve in the first second. Then I stopped counting.
I layered mana sight over my Gift. I saw mana gathering in the air above Leonhardt’s outstretched hands, condensing into shapes in a fraction of a second before each weapon appeared. It was almost impossibly fast. Every weapon was fully formed by the time it left his range. It didn’t matter.
Magnus had a wicked black greatsword in hand now. His hands moved fast, so fast it was hard to believe. Each swing scattered three or four weapons at once. The ones he missed hit his shoulders, his arms, his back. They bounced off. The man had a layer of mana around his skin like armor. It was a stupid amount of mana to use on just reinforcement, but he did it anyway.
“He can’t keep that up for long,” I said.
“Longer than you think,” Violet muttered. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the fight. “He’s condensing mostly right before they hit. The rest of it is just…well, how he is normally.”
I looked again. She was right. The layers of blue mana darkened the moment before each weapon hit. That only made it go from absurd to absurd for a different reason. Could I do something like that? With my Gift, perhaps. How this man did it without only the Gods could say. Still, it might have been worth coming here after all.
Magnus planted his feet. The Northern Lion pulled his arm back and swung at the air. The wave that left the blade was visible even without enhanced sight. It tore a line through the arena floor and climbed, rising toward Leonhardt like a cresting tide. Leonhardt threw himself sideways. A dozen blades materialized beneath him, forming a staircase of steel that carried him out of the wave's path. The wave struck the arena wall behind him and shattered in an instant.
The man landed, went down to one knee, breathing hard. His right arm hung at his side -that attack had clipped him. He didn't stop. More weapons formed around him. Shot forward at Magnus.
The Northern Lion leapt above them. He leapt a dozen feet in a single leap, his wicked blade going for Leonhardt’s side. Shields materialized in front of the Whispering Blade. I saw four of them materialize in the air in front of him. All of them had intricate markings. All of them didn’t matter. One swing of that great blade shattered all four of them, and the only thing left to take the blow was just a man.
The blade struck Leonhardt and threw him to the side. He almost fell out of the ring entirely. A chain materialized in the air above him, barely keeping him in. The Northern Lion was already on him again.
The Whispering Blade kicked the bull of a man in the face. Or he tried to. His leg only went up to Magnus’ chest. I saw the air shift around the blow. If Magnus felt the blow, then he certainly didn’t show it. He grabbed the Whispering Blade’s leg, and slammed him into the arena behind him.
“Looks like this is over,” Violet whispered. She had leaned forward into my arm, which told me now was when she was considering leaping in. “Should have stayed in the air. I mean, come on.”
The Northern Lion raised his arm in the air, and the Whispering Blade rose with it. Leonhardt might as well have weighed nothing. Magnus was saying something, I realized now. Something I couldn’t hear.
Click. Click.
A thousand different noises collided into me all at once. With them, came sharp pain. I ignored it, focusing only on the arena. There was no reason for me to know. None at all. Yet, I could admit to some curiosity.
“-well boy? How is revenge tasting to you now?” Magnus growled. “Still think it’s something worth dying for brat?”
He’d pulled Leonhardt close to him. The Whispering Blade struggled in the man’s trunk of an arm. Swords materialized in the air above him, came down on the Northern Lion. They bounced off his skin.
“-I’ll…I’ll kill you you bastard.” Leonhardt growled.
Whatever conversation this was, it was clear it had nothing to do to me. The large man sighed. I heard him sigh, even over the crowd. “You won’t today, lad. Not like your father would have wanted you to go to an early grave.” The man muttered. His voice sounded almost sad. An odd thing to be, to someone who was apparently trying to kill you in an exhibition match.
“You bastard how dare you take his n-”
The Northern Lion swung his arm, slammed the Whispering Blade into the ground. A great plume of smoke and dust rose into the air, and when it cleared, Leonhardt lay in a small crater on the ground. He did not move. The Northern Lion looked down at him. He looked down at him for a long time, and on his face was genuine grief.
“Well folks- it looks like this match has a win-”
The announcer prattled on after that. I did not pay attention to him at all. Not to him, and not to the cheering crowds. Not to Violet, who alone contributed perhaps half the volume to all the cheering. Not to Sere, who clung to my other arm.
Strange. Vaelin murmured.
The world is a strange place, Vaelin.
There were more showmatches after the first. Smaller matches between people unknown from far and wide. Much of the crowd had already left the coliseum. It seemed they only cared about the fighting when it was between names people recognized. Violet was not one of those people.
“You’re really going to watch more?” I asked.
“Hell yeah I am. That was awesome!” Violet said. Her eyes were beaming. I did not think they’d stopped since that first match.
“I doubt they’ll be as exciting, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she paused. “Unless you wanna leave?”
“It’s fine,” I said, rising. “We can stay for a bit. Just need to go to the bathroom first.” Damian and Anias both moved to rise, almost on cue. I raised a hand. “I think I can find one bathroom myself.
“My-” Anias paused. “There are many people, Ellaine.” She said, “Someone should accompany you, even if you won’t take long.”
Sere nodded fiercely and…vanished. The disorientation lasted only a moment. That, at least, was something I had gotten very used to. “It seems the spot of my guard is filled. I don’t need an entire escort.” Anias finally nodded. Damian nodded much more slowly.
I turned to Violet, reached out and flicked her forehead. “Please don’t get into any trouble,”
Violet grinned. “What the hell do you take me for?”
I chose to be diplomatic and not answer that. I left them seated where they were, and moved towards a set of stairs that led to an exit. The exit opened into a great hall, though perhaps the word ‘tunnel’ made more sense. I pulled my hood close and moved. Sere was no doubt somewhere close by.
I took the chance to eye the people around me. I had been watching them from the moment I had first come to Myrrheim. It wasn’t like there was anything greatly different about them from the people back home. They all walked the same way, and had the same gait. Some of them wore finer clothes than many of Aelheim’s Lords, but not everyone was dressed like that. Many were dressed in the simple clothing you’d find anywhere, I suspected.
Perhaps my initial dislike of this city was simply because I wanted to dislike it. How strange. I’d only been in this world for a few months, and yet I already claimed Aelheim as my own.
I walked aimlessly, moving in a great circle around the coliseum. Every now and then, there would be a narrow path branching sideways. Some of them were doubtless to go into the stadium proper. Others I knew not where they led, nor did it really matter.
It was only because I’d never turned my hearing down that I heard the voices.
“Well looks like you’re- a little far from home.” A voice said, slurring every other word.
“Let’s see if the little brat has some gold on her,” Another added.
It came from the nearest small passageway. I stared at it. I am not-
“Looks like the kid pissed herself!” The first voice said.
"Oh, for-" I sighed, and pulled my hood down, and stepped into the passage.