Marionette

Chapter 6- The Pits

The sunlight was harsh, shining down on the blood-stained sands of the arena. The people in the surrounding stands looked down and cheered as two men in armor fought. Their swords clashed violently, impatiently; both hoped the next strike would be the last. The scorching heat was taxing, and their stamina was running out. From a well-shaded and cool terrace, a middle-aged man sat beside a young lady, watching the day's games. They sat alone, surrounded by guards; their vestments were fine, well-tailored, and brightly-colored, like a beacon of style shining down on the peasants beneath. Sitting on the opposing side of the arena, Hialur sat expectantly. I didn't think the man himself would be here... Is this luck, or should we retreat? He wondered. Around the arena was a garrison of about thirty men, but Tokil Catan were to bring an elite guard would make this a lot more difficult.

No... This is no time to be hesitant. Atlas already made her way inside, and the main event is about to start. There's no turning back now. One dog finally felled the other. The mob celebrated, chanting the victor's name over and over incessantly. The boy cringed at the sight of blood and guts spilling; he shut his eyes and shook his head as he tried to rattle out all the images that flooded back. He looked up at the lord's area once more. Both man and girl sat unfazed, clapping curtly. Hialur examined the girl's face, and couldn't help but be impressed. She had fair features and large green eyes, her pale skin made her dark-brown hair seem almost black. Her air was one of being sheltered, always attended by a handful of servants and guards, never leaving the comfort that travelled in Lord Catan's wake; yet she showed no signs of shock like he did. He's either been bringing her to these for a long time or she's way better than I am at keeping a straight face...

They cleared the body and sounded the horn. The main event was about to start. A man stepped forward up to the edge of the Lord's area, fully clad in blue robes, the same color as the citadel's guards. "Citizens of Seagate, by the grace of His Lordship, we now bring you a spectacle of the grandest skill in the entire continent! A match that will be remembered for years to come! Our first contestant is our beloved, admired, feared and revered champion, the mightiest of warriors, Heracles!" The gate raised, pulled by four struggling guards, and through it came a man of monstrous proportions. Atlas was tall, but this man dwarfed even her, standing over two meters tall and looking like he outweighed a draft horse. He wore no armor, only a black tunic around his waist that covered his thighs and knees. He carried an enormous cleaver with one hand, resting the blunted edge on his shoulder. He looked pleased as the crowd cheered and chanted as he walked into the middle of the arena and turned towards the gate in wait of his opponent.

Hialur gazed at the gargantuan man standing down there. Oh, crap... this is going to be hard... No armor and little clothes meant few options for him to manipulate his opponent with Rupture. The only safe option is trying to swerve the swings of his cleaver, if it means I'll end up ripping his tunic I'd almost rather die... This would be a fight he'd need to end quickly and with strong blows, one hit of that blade would mean his death. Fighting at full physical power will be tiresome, I can't let it drag on...

The second man stepped out from the gated tunnel's shade and into the bright sunlight arena. He wore brown leather armor, with a pelt covering his back. This man was not very tall, seeming tiny when one compared him to his opponent. His black hair draped over one side of his face, his eyes were of a savage red, emanating violence. He walked with his back slouched, taking slow steps as he walked with a piercing gaze and a feral grin. "And his opponent," The announcer exclaimed. "Brought in from the faraway land of Vinzo, the beast of the West, Ephrem!" Ephrem approached Heracles, jerking his head to the side to move the hair from the right side of his face, and unsheathed two knives almost the size of his forearms from the small scabbards strapped to his thighs.