Rise of a Champion

Backstage Surprises

Still somewhat struck by the fact that he was now a part of the Iralmas Arena's roster of fighters Timothy found himself milling around aimlessly, unsure exactly what to do with himself.

"Always be sure of your equipment," a memory of his mother chastised him, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to check his gear in with the arena quartermaster.

It will be weird having them maintained by someone else, Timothy thought to himself, used to doing the monotonous task. While it was not one, he would miss all that much, if he was honest, he still resolved to check his gear whenever he got it. His mother would murder him if she found out he didn't.

Finding his way to the quartermaster's section of the arena he was quickly directed to one of the arms-masters by one of the attendants. And following the directions he found himself waiting in line, a short one, with only one other in front of him. One of the fighters who had made it through the same fight he had, one that without her intervention he may not have.

Timothy was both thankful and cursed the coincidence, he had wanted to speak to her, thank her for the aid she gave him and maybe, if he was lucky, learn her name but he still wasn't sure he could manage a conversation with her yet. Not if she spoke like she had last, he was sure she'd be laughing her ass off at him and his red face if she did.

Before he could talk himself into just seizing the opportunity, however, she had handed over the weapons, and another attendant directed her off to another side of the section. Leaving him alone with the arms-master waiting impatiently for him to talk.

He quickly moved forward and carefully handed over his greatsword.

"You did well out there," the arms-master said while looking over the blade, "we don't get someone like you in here often."

Despite the clunky words, Timothy could hear the compliment in his voice but still, he wished to know what exactly he meant.

"Like me?" he asked his tone gruffer than he meant but it had the desired effect.

"I meant no offence," the arms-master said not looking up from his work of noting down the vitals of his weapon and any distinguishing features. "Most fighters lean on an advantage, speed, strength, smarts, magic prowess, you know?"

Timothy nodded despite the fact the arms-master never looked back at him even while he continued to speak.

"Sure, they all have a little of each, but they normally focus on one over the other," he continued while calling an arms-tender over to take Timothy's greatsword for cleaning and maintenance, "sometimes you'll see a fighter that is supremely strong and faster as lightening or some other combination of the two, they usually do well. Three is rare and those fighters usually go on to do great things but four, that is truly something special."

"I didn't show any magical prowess though," Timothy said while going over the fight again to see if he had exposed his secret.

"Didn't you?" the arms-master asked with a comforting smile that didn't quite do it for Timothy's nerves.

"Nothing like the other one," another of the arms-tender interrupted casually. And the easy, carefree way that they spoke about his power made Timothy relax just a bit.

"The other one?" Timothy asked instead of letting them continue down the path of his power.

"The woman that was here before you," the continued, looking around to try and point her out but quickly noticing they had lost her in the busy armoury.

The arms-master shuffled away his talkative subordinate before speaking to Timothy again.

"Yeah, like I said, special but not unique," he said with a thoughtful look, "though two at the same time might never have happened before."