Rise of a Champion

First Steps in the Arena

The sounds of the crowd were almost deafening in the concourse beneath the stadium; this month's games seemed to be turning into a resounding success already. Granted it wasn't every month the city and the kingdom celebrated the wedding of a princess, rarer still that it was a new princess that was crowned for it.

Some had scorned the news, but Timothy would hear none of it. His mothers had been the greatest gift he could have wished for, and woe betide any that denigrated his mothers or others like them in earshot of him.,

"You alright there, greenie?" a boisterous dwarf shouted and punched him in the shoulder tearing him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" he answered eloquently, his brain not catching up with his ear.

"You greenie, I'm talking to you," the dwarf nudged him before standing up and making his way to a stand to gather arms and armour for his upcoming bout. "You looked like the wall there had insulted your family."

Timothy just shrugged in answer, he wasn't usually the most talkative at the best of times and he found the eyes of the other fighters finding their way to him, thanks to the dwarf calling him out, unsettling.

The dwarf huffed at his answer, before hefting up a sword that seemed to be about twice the size it should be for him to wield properly.

"I guess that's as good as anyone is before their first," the dwarf laughed before giving his weapon a few test swings, the conversation seemingly over.

With that done the tenser atmosphere in the room dissipated somewhat and the others went back to focusing on their own preparations. The dwarf however seemed undeterred as he made his way back over to Timothy, ignoring the organiser that was trying to usher him to his assigned area.

"A word of advice greenie," the dwarf gestured for him to come closer, and even sitting Timothy's head was at the same level as the dwarf's was while standing. "Best thing a target like you can do to make it through this is to stick to the outside. You're big and big means slow, usually, so keep your back covered and watch for anyone trying to sneak up on you."

Timothy chose not to correct the advice he was offered and relaxed at the idea that someone as experienced as the dwarf seemed to have read him so wrong. To cover his relief, he passed a questioning glance over the dwarf's armour; the wear and tear, knicks and gouges, dents and bumps that told a story of a fighter that would rather wade into the thick of it swinging all the way.

"Hey, I said it was the best way," the dwarf laughed at him while finally allowing himself to be directed over to his assigned area, "I didn't say it was mine."

The other assembled gladiators, those that had tasted the fights in the arena at least, laughed along with the dwarf. Most looked upon Timothy with mixed looks of pity but some held disdain in their eyes.

Strange, Timothy thought, surely new blood is good for them.

"You need no validation from others," the voice of his mater reminded him, "only belief in yourself."

Timothy only wished that she knew it was that belief that brought him here and not the pursuit of others' opinions.

Any further worries or thoughts were cut off by the metal gates of the arena slamming open and the fighters from the previous round making their way out from under the eyes of the spectators. Most of them under their own power, at least until they were out of sight, but some being held and in one case outright carried by the green tunic-clad healers of the arena.

"I thought the wards kept people safe," another voice asked, tinged with worry.

"Aye lad," the dwarf from before answered distractedly looking over his armour one last time before he left for his fight, "they'll stop you from dying, for sure, doesn't mean you can't get hurt, or your bell rung."