Kings Game

Chapter 3 - Calm before the storm (3)

Chase herded his dogs back into their kennel and locked the door, watching them as they settled back in. Roran wandered around the room, looking at the various cages piled all over the place.

"What are the cages for?" asked Roran.

"Various things," said Chase, "usually exotic animals that they want gladiators to fight. Every now and then they bring in some strange creatures and set them loose on the gladiators. My focus is on dogs so I don't know too much about that."

"Will I have to fight animals?" Roran wasn't even sure he could fight another human. Adding exotic creatures into the mix sounded terrifying.

"Not in the standard Crucible matches, those are already chaotic enough. They only add animals to the special rounds. Come on, let's get you home."

Roran grimaced at the word 'home.' He may live in the dungeons but it didn't feel like home. Nowhere had felt like home since his mom had died.

"Yeah, alright," said Roran.

Chase locked up the animal room and started heading through the hallways. "Which town were you with again?"

"Millgrove."

"Gotcha, this way."

"How do you know your way around here so well?" asked Roran, who was completely lost after only a couple of turns.

"There's a rhythm to the place. You get used to it after a while. Though, I guess they don't let people like you wander around so it would be hard to figure it out. Try not to worry about it just yet."

After a series of seemingly random twists and turns, they arrived at one of the staircases leading below.

Roran sighed and muttered, "Here we go again."

"Cheer up kid, if you choose to fight in the Crucible again you'll be out in the fresh air in a week. Even less if someone comes to scout you again."

Roran wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or worried. He would have a week to stew before having to choose between starving in the dungeon or risking his life in the arena. He would also have to decide if he was going to accept Kell's offer, though that would mean killing someone.

Chase headed down the staircase and, swallowing a lump in his throat, Roran followed. At the bottom, the two faceless wardens nodded at Chase.

"Hey guys, how's the night shift?" asked Chase.

The two wardens said nothing.

"Right, well it was worth a shot." Chase turned to Roran. "I'd swear half of the other wardens are mutes. Nobody likes to talk around here."

The wardens continued to say nothing as they unbarred and opened the doors.

"Can you guys take him from here? He's in Millgrove."

One of the wardens nodded and gestured for Roran to follow.

Roran hesitated. "Hey Chase," he said, "thanks again for everything."

"Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye kid?"

"I don't know if I'll be coming back up," said Roran.

"Yes you will," said Chase. "You've tasted fresh air. You know what's out there. You'll be back for more. I'll see you in a week, kid." He winked at Roran then turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Roran alone with the silently grumpy wardens. One gestured for him to follow and they escorted Roran back to his dingy little dungeon.

Crossing the threshold, and hearing the door lock behind him, Roran felt the world squeeze back down around him. The tons of stone and rock above him had never seemed so heavy. He took a breath and realized Kell was right, it did smell like shit down here.

Around him, his kinsmen slept fitfully. A handful were awake and eyeing him, curious and concerned. Naturally, Yora was the first to come shuffling over to him.

"Oh gods, you're back!" She grabbed his shirt and gave him a shake. "I thought we'd seen the last of you boy."

Roran put his finger to his lips. "Not so loud. We don't need to wake the others."

"Your mother is watching over you boy," said Yora, lowering her voice, "she won't let anyone kill you."

"You really think so?"

"I know so, boy."

"What's this, what are you doing causing a ruckus at night!" Murrin stumbled to his feet, his lethargic limbs barely able to lift him off the cot. Regaining his energy, he stormed over to Roran and Yora.

Roran closed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath. The fetid air caught in his throat and he almost coughed.

"Where have you been, boy?" asked Murrin, his voice loud and grating, rousing several of the other sleepers.

"The gladiator wanted to talk to me."

"That little brat? What can an obnoxious child do?"

"I'm pretty sure she's older than me," said Roran, "And she's a titled gladiator, she makes a living in the arena."

"You shouldn't believe the lies of children," said Murrin, waving his hand. "Where did you get those clothes? And why do you smell like perfume? Were we wasting money that could have been helping us boy?"

"The gladiator took me to a bathhouse and got me the clothes, I didn't spend any money. I don't have any."

"I don't believe you! Unlike you, I don't listen to the lies of children. Empty your pockets."

Roran rolled his eyes. "I don't have any-"

Murrin shoved Roran up against the wall. "I said empty your pockets boy." He shoved his hands in Roran's pockets, searching for any scrap they could find.

"I told you," said Roran, becoming angry, "I don't have-"

"And what's this?" Murrin pulled out the small coin Chase had given him.

Roran froze. He'd forgotten about his sole possession. "That's a good luck charm one of the wardens gave me. It's not worth anything."

"Lies!" Murrin shoved Roran back against the wall. "You're a liar and a thief."

"Thief? I haven't stolen anything!"

Murrin waved away Roran's protest. "You withheld money from me, which is the same thing. Enough of this nonsense. Go sit quietly and reflect on your crimes. No rations for you for a day."

Roran stared at the man, enraged. "I risked my life so you could have favors. I risked my life so you could have extra rations. You can't treat me-"

Murrin slapped him. Roran stood stunned.

"Enough, boy. Go sit quietly."

Stunned and frustrated, Roran retreated into his usual corner. Murrin dusted himself off and muttered, "Ungrateful brat," under his breath.

"You should be kinder to him," said Yora, scolding Murrin.

"Oh go back to sleep, old hag," said Murrin, eyeing the coin.

Yora continued scolding Murrin but Roran ignored them.

Sitting down, Roran stared down at the dirt and thought of his mother. She had never once hit him. She had always been so gentle and kind. Over the years many people had sought her out, looking to purchase a small amount of that kindness for themselves. Murrin had been one of those people.

Roran squeezed his eyes shut and tried to purge the thought from his mind.