Kings Game

Chapter 18 - Family (3)

Carrick took Roran through the winding hallways, dodging between wardens and other clerks bustling about. The usually spartan hallways were lined with crates and sacks of goods. There seemed to be more wardens than normal and their uniforms were tidier, their armor polished and shiny.

"It's busy around here."

"The kings rarely visit the Crucible so the higher ups are scrambling to make everything presentable."

Roran eyed Carrick. His black robes were the same as always. No extra effort from him.

"You don't seem too worried about it."

He shrugged. "I stopped caring what those fools think a long time ago."

"Do you mean your higher ups, or the kings?"

"Yes."

Carrick paused and opened a door, gesturing for Roran to step inside. Inside was a ready room like the one he'd waited in before the Troll's Gambit. He eyed the weapons along the wall. He wouldn't be needing them this time.

"Take a seat, you'll be here a while. Feel free to snack while you're waiting. Any last minute questions?"

"Can you give me any hints about the final round?" Roran asked, not expecting much.

"It will be an all out deathmatch between the survivors of round two. Some participants will have lost their nerve and will just be there as blood sport. Inside the arena will be some minor obstacles that force the combatants towards each other. They're easy to avoid but they're big and have iron spikes on them, thus the name Iron Gauntlet.

"My advice to you is to keep moving and show no mercy. There will be unwilling combatants that throw their weapons down at your feet and beg for their lives. The only thing you can offer them is a quick death. This is a deathmatch, there will be only one survivor. If the king gets bored, he'll give orders for our superiors to make it more interesting, usually by adding unknown elements like making the arena collapse or setting things on fire."

Roran blinked at him, stunned. "Good to know, thank you. I thought you weren't allowed to give us any information about the matches."

"We're not. If they find out I told you this much I would likely lose my job and be quietly executed for dissenting."

"Oh... Thank you for taking the risk and telling me."

Carrick shrugged. "You've proven yourself to be a shrewd person. If anyone will put that information to use while practicing discretion, it's you. Despite my banter with Kell, I do believe your odds of winning are good."

"Did you bet on me as well?"

"No, I'm not one for gambling on the despair of others."

"I appreciate that. You're actually a good person, aren't you?"

Carrick shrugged again, the bony outline of his shoulders visible through the robes. "I just want to see Kell succeed. Sometimes that means poking her pride and checking her ego, other times it's supporting her comrades."

Roran smiled. "Kell is good at picking people."

Carrick snorted. "No, she's terrible at picking people. What she's good at is giving people opportunities and pushing them to go beyond their limits. Those that survive tend to be good. You're a prime example of that."

"Can I ask why you're helping Kell? The other clerks barely talk to me, to us. Honestly I can't even tell them apart most of the time."

"That's intentional. The higher ups don't want you dungeon fodder getting attached to clerks. We're meant to be interchangeable, a series of unrecognizable faces. It's the same with the wardens. It keeps distance between us and our charges. The last thing any of the kings want is us treating you like humans. The reason I'm different is because..."

Carrick paused, as if catching himself before divulging a secret. Then he sighed, his shoulders drooping. For the first time, he seemed like an old man.

"The reason I'm different," he said slowly, "Is because of my wife. She was a champion before she died. She was a lot like Kell. I suppose that's why I have a soft spot for our obnoxious little Squall."

"She died in the arena?" Roran asked.

"No, she killed herself. But that's a story for another day. Anything else?"

Roran winced. Wanting to change the topic, he asked, "You haven't happened to see Chase? He's the warden in charge of the hounds. He's a friend of mine and I haven't seen him around in a while. I'm worried about him."

"I'm aware of the hound trainer. If I see him I'll send him here. If you have no other prying questions—" Carrick's eyes twinkled as he teased Roran about the awkward question. His sense of humor was as bad as Kell's. "—then I need to ask you one last thing before I depart."

"Sure."

Pulling out a small notebook and a pen, Carrick asked, "Should you win, what boon would you ask of the king?"

"Oh, do I have to decide now?"

"They want to know these things ahead of time so the announcer can use it to excite the crowd and they can prepare in case it's something big. You don't have to know the details, just the general idea. Money, status, power, etc..."

Roran hesitated. His initial request was going to be to free his kinsmen. To make them citizens so they could leave the dungeons below the Crucible to live and work in the city above. Now he didn't know. Freeing the people that murdered his mother and had spent that last four years covering it up didn't sit right with him. But did that justify leaving them to die down there?

Roran wavered, unsure. He wondered what his mother would have done had the situation been reversed, had she been here and he was the one in the ground, put there by their very own kinsmen. Would she have granted clemency, or would she have the same urge to bury them all alive.

No, his mother would never kill them, even if they deserved it. Swallowing, his throat tight and his lips dry, Roran said, "I want to release people from the dungeons, granting them citizenship."

Carrick nodded, his pen dancing across the notebook. "I figured as much." Snapping the notebook shut, he said, "You have a while before the match. They're putting on a couple rounds before the Iron Gauntlet and they still haven't finished collecting the participants. Get comfortable."

As he was about to leave, Carrick paused. He looked at Roran.

"Roran."

"Yeah?"

"Prepare yourself. Iif all goes according to plan, this will be the second hardest battle of your life. It will be chaotic and you'll be facing many opponents as strong, if not stronger, than yourself. After this you'll have comrades to lean on and focus markings to help you survive. But, for today, you're on your own out there."

Roran nodded. Then, "Second hardest?"

"Well," Carrick began with a sly smile, "If everything goes to plan, then you'll be on your way to fighting the kings themselves. Good luck Roran."

With that, the clerk turned and left.

Roran settled onto the couch to wait.