𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖, wlw

III.

chapter three.
Ψ
↳ ੈ‧₊˚ ┊» talk of the town.

5 DAYS LATER
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The journey to Vilidan had been long, but travelling is a regular thing for me. I'm always on the move, and I've travelled to many different places, mostly for missions.

I have never been to Vilidan before, I've never had a reason to travel there. However, I have heard of the Arena of Death before. Thousands have died in that arena.

It is said to be a tradition.

The rulers of Vilidan are to watch each battle not only because they have to, but because they want to.

The people that are victim to the arena are thrown in because of crimes they committed, willing join (rare occasions), or they were sold and bought by Armsmen.

Armsmen purchase people from slavers who are in shape to fight in the arena. They train the slaves and turn them into warriors to fight to the death, leaving only one man standing — one victor, a champion.

They fight whilst the King and Queen, alongside crowds of people, watch and cheer.

Some warriors come to enjoy what they become good at doing — killing — whilst others do it for survival.

I do not know if I am against the idea of the arena or not.

As I was riding atop Neró's back, a small wooden structure came into sight — a tavern.

I guess I could use a drink or two, as well as a bed to sleep on considering it is almost completely dark. A change in scenery wouldn't hurt either.

When Neró and I had arrived at the tavern, I hopped off of him, grabbing his reins and tying them tightly around a pillar beside a few other horses.

After tying his reins, I walked towards the tavern door and immediately spotted a couple drunken men laughing, as well as a few passed out beside the door. And they say men are the stronger sex.

I wiggled my way through the nasty smelling men and pushed open the door to the tavern, stepping inside, causing the floor to creak when I did.

I turned my head in many directions to look around and noticed the tavern was filled with drunken men and laughter, including women — whores. The women were sat upon the laps of men, laughing away with them.

Gods, I could smell their ale-riddled breaths in the air.

When the people in the tavern had noticed me, the tavern ran silent. All that was heard was the sound of crickets outside, marking the rise of nightfall.

During the tense moment, I walked towards the broad-shouldered bartender, only to witness his eyes widen.

"S-Shadow! That's the Shadow!" A deep voice called out from within the crowd of men.

The tavern remained in utter complete silent, heads turning to glance at each other and whispering to those near by. This time, no crickets were heard in the background.

A few taut moments later, a man laughed out, followed by many loud roars of laughter from the fellow drunken men, causing it to rip straight through the tension like an iron steel sword.