Harlequin's Tales: Fate of the House Rerieri

Chapter 3 - Tomb of Orcus

„The legend has it, Bellona herself appeared to the great Caesar in his dream before the battle of Pharsalus, leading his legions to the most glorious victory of all times."

Amusingly rolling her eyes at another tale from the arena master, the young girl dipped her two fingers into the scarlet paint and drew the last few lines over the dried golden layer on her forehead.

"When his troops finally stood over the bloody mash of corpses of their defeated enemy-", she heard his spellbinding voice, painting the macabre picture in the minds of countless spectators doubtlessly holding their breaths, hanging on every single word dancing from his mouth.

A short laugh escaped her lips as she returned her attention to her red-stained hands and the small bowl with the remaining paint. Without giving it much of a thought, she took the bowl and dipped the ends of her shoulder-long, golden-paint-covered hair into it. The shiny wet colour dripped from her straight, paint-glued strands over her bare shoulders onto the cold grey stone of the floor.

"But we all know that these are no legends because the Goddess lives, and she lives among us!" He celebratory concluded his storytelling time and the girl understood her cue. 

She threw one last look into the mirror. A layer of golden paint covered her face and hair like a second skin while the elegant scarlet pattern accentuated the mask-like appearance. The painted bracelets above her elbows echoed the design on her face, finishing her look. The boyish trousers and a simple piece of white cloth - now stained with red colour from her dripping hair - tightly wrapped around her chest, were the only clothes she wore. Ensured that her identity is buried under layers of paint, her bare feet took her to the gate, behind which laid the heart of the Tomb: The Arena.

"And she is here for you today to mercilessly fight anyone who dares to challenge her in a battle to the death." He left a dramatic pause to increase the impact of his next words. "Citizens of Venice, allow me to humbly present to you the legendary Goddess of the bloodiest war - Bellona, the undefeated champion of the Tomb of Orcus!"

His strong voice got swallowed by the roaring cheers from the viewers on the tribunes around the arena as the girl stepped into the lit sandy ground. Bathing in the ovation of the audience, her entire body vibrated in anticipation of the events of the night. Like a piece of cloth in water, she soaked in each passing moment as she has been waiting for weeks for this night to feel alive again.

As usually underestimated by her petite appearance, the first challenger didn't let to wait for himself and stepped into the arena sharing her spotlight. The crowd went wild. 

Ignoring the presence of her opponent, the girl let her eyes wander over the full tribunes, packed with easily a few hundred people from every social background. She couldn't help but notice the steady increase of spectators over the last couple of years. By now they all barely fit into the basement of the large watchmaker shop, that served as the cover for its underground activities. The guild would soon have to move its events to a bigger space.

A young boy stumbled into the centre of the circular field, presenting an ancient-looking vase to the arena master but she knew better that it was just a cheap replica for the show.

"As the tradition dictates," the old arena master raised his voice making the blood-thirsty audience fall silent. Despite his simple attire of white shirt and dark brown loosely fit trousers, he radiated nothing but pure authority, so no one dared to make a noise when he spoke. "The warriors are only allowed to use the weapon the Gods bless them with."

It was time to draw.

As the challenger had the right to draw first, Bellona used the moment to examine her opponent. Just as she expected, it was a tall bold man, graced with scars all over his body. After a while they all looked the same to her, so she didn't bother to even look at his face. Instead, she evaluated his physique: big heavy muscles and several old, healed burn-wounds over his arms indicated the physical work making her assume that a long time ago he used to be a smith. Most of the time, he was likely to rely on his fists or short knives, so she would make sure to keep him on distance, though she wagered, if he was to draw a heavy weapon like a hammer, it would make him a rather dangerous opponent.