The Arena

Chapter 3 Fight

Fights had lost appeal to most of the locals, despite that fact the seats still filled up at the beginning of each fight. As the fights went on people would go home, either bored of the arena or had seen their fight and not interested in the rest. Isabella's fighter was always left until last, as the strongest fighter he was not as popular as the others. Her fighter never lost, so everyone knew the outcome, no need to watch. Warden of the Arena was obviously trying to get the popularity of the Arena back up but no one was interested from local towns. The king himself even stopped visiting the fights; however his son still attended with the general. The arena was something all little boys loved to watch as they grey up, mocking the fights with wooden sticks as swords and broken wood work as shields. Isabella grew up as one of those children, one of the boys she swung a wooden sword and declared herself a victor as she chased the boys away. Now she watched as the boys near her in the front row pretended to be those fighters in the arena, swinging small sticks and jabbing at each other. Parents around them would tell them to be careful whenever a stick flew too close to an eye. The boys would stop and lean forward on the balustrade, watching each fight carefully as they began, twitching with excitement as those men fought each other. Isabella would smile to the boys and when they were not too busy being in awe she would often ask them which one they wanted to win.

"Fry!" A little boy smiled bright, gesturing the shortest fighter in the arena. That man wielded two weapons, moved fast and ducked under his opponent. A cocky fighter that loved to wink to the ladies in the audience after a win, if he knew he would lose he would submit and sheepishly shrug. Fry was not the one Edmund bet on, his fights were fifty, fifty and Isabella had urged her father to bet on Fry, his opponent was a tall, lanky man who had hardly won a match since his arrival.

"Today is his day, I just know it." Edmund said as he looked at the fighter, fingers crossed. This was the second to last fight, Edmund had placed a bet on each fight except the last, that was Isabella's fight to bet on. She had bet on her man, the crowd's favourite to chant for and her favourite to watch, Lukas. When Fry stood triumphant over his lanky opponent Edmund cussed before running a hand through his hair, lost again. Trying her best not to tell her father off, Isabella looked at the arena grounds, hoping her father would not catch the disappointment in her eyes.

"I will go to the window." Edmund mumbled before he stood up and headed off. The window was where the bets were placed, where Edmund would have to go and hand his papers of bet over while winners collected their winnings with smug grins. The arena organised the bets, the percentage of each loss they gained was used to pay guards, buy food and cloth for the fighters. Minimum bets were raised so more money was going into the arena and less was going out to the winners. No one made complaints however, they understood. In the blacksmith's absence Isabella leant forward, back straight as she watched the opponent come out, smug and confident, before what was left of the crowd, including herself roared with excitement. Feet stomped on the wood, hands clapped and mouths screamed as Lukas strode out, selected a one handed sword and shield stained with blood. Shortly cropped dark hair untouched by the wind that zoomed over his head, dark eyes and stubble on his chin, the fighter looked around the crowd. Shifting his broad shoulders about Lukas looked to his opponent, being the largest of the fighters, it did not take much to strike fear into each opponent. The leather pants and grey fabric tunic were lightly covered with leather armor straps to help lessen the damage done by the swords. The excitement slowly died down as everyone leant in to watch the opponent sacrifice himself to entertainment. Swinging and clashes of swords drowned out the aggravated and exhausted grunts from the opponent while Lukas barely broke a sweat. A swing of his own sword and Lukas had his opponent on one knee, with a light kick to the head the fighter was down and the crowd jumped up to cheer again. Amongst them was Isabella, clapping and wooing at the fighter she admired. Pure strength and power was displayed in the arena. Strategy and mind on how he took each opponent down. She was one of the only women who admired him for his skill and not his looks and masculinity. His one hand raised in the air in a fist to claim victorious cheers from all around, Lukas looked around the crowd until his eyes stopped on one person. Heart jumping in her chest, Isabella realised she was the one he looked at, his eyes on her for a moment before he lowered his arm and turned to leave the arena.

Wanting to avoid the crush of the audience that remained to the end of the fights, Isabella staid where she was, sitting on the bench seat and looking into the arena. At the back, beneath where the prince and general once sat, she could see the injured and unconscious fighters waiting to be seen by the doctor. The sturdy wood poles that helped keep the roof above their heads lined the area as a boarder, leaning upon one, his arms crossed over his chest and chin slightly up was Lukas. From what Isabella could tell he was watching the boys near her play fighter as they jumped amongst the benches, swinging the sticks as wide as they could.

"Hey, boys." Isabella said getting their attention. The four boys looked to her for a moment before looking to each other. "That fighter is watching you." She said gesturing into the arena, their eyes all lit up as they rushed to the balustrade to get a glimpse. The boys started to wave frantically while calling out to Lukas, fighting over who he was looking at the most. When Lukas lifted a hand to wave back the boys all started cheering and jumping up and down with glee causing Isabella to smile to them. If she was the only adult she may have joined the children in their excitement. His gaze shifted, she looked to the stairs to see what had caught his attention and sighed before rolling her eyes. Standing up, Isabella moved along the balustrade, hoping the person who had stolen the fighter's attention would not follow suite. However he did and met her at the stair entrance.

"Hello again." James said, his green eyes smiling down to her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. James leant down to her, his mouth pouting for a kiss he would not receive as Isabella leant away and stepped back. His tall workman build barred her way from the stairs, his cologne filled the air and she tried not to be rude by gagging on the scent.

"What do you want?" Isabella asked crossing her arms.

"I thought that would have been obvious after my last visit." James looked hurt for a moment before smirking and grabbing at her hand. Pulling on her hand until Isabella frowned at him.

"Let go of me." She said with a stern voice, her face however was only calm, not letting him see just how much he frightened her.

"I will never let you go." James leant down again, his lips to her ear this time as he whispered. "When we marry I will never have to let you go." Shocked, Isabella stepped back and pulled her hand from his sharply.

"I will never marry you." She snapped as she pushed past.

"Marry me, Isabella and your father would never have to pay me back." James called out after her. Edmund did not have to pay him back, he already pained off that loan Isabella thought. Isabella groaned when she looked to her father and the sheepish look on his face. He had taken out another loan.