Valadel

Chapter XX

Tytus' sword lay before him. No matter how many times he caressed the blade with his whetstone, the edge still didn't seem sharp enough. He took the blade in his hand and stared at his reflection. In some instances, he would still see himself as an arena fighter, a man who would take the lives of begging men in the name of sport and coin. The man they called the Black Baron...

*****

"Get ready, Baron...you're up next!" Said the keeper. He had his big book of the scheduled fights in his arm, and thin spectacles over his eyes. He wore white baggy robes and lots of gold, chains, rings, and earrings. Tytus liked to think the assorted pieces of jewelry represented whoever had bought him, using their money to influence the fights and outcomes of the arena match, so that their pockets might be heavier when they left than when they came in. And everyone who attended knew the Black Baron would make their coin purses heavier.

Tytus stood, and grabbed his sword and shield. He heard the clash of steel from outside in the fighting pit, grunting, ringing, applause and cheers after every move. Finally, the crowd roared loud, and the pangs of steel ceased. The crowd chanted, louder and louder, the word "unworthy" echoing throughout the arena.

Seems someone didn't put on a good enough show...

Finally, the crowd roared in satisfaction, and the applause sent vibrations through the stone of the fighting pit. Two men came in with a stretcher, a dead, armored man atop, his throat hacked through like a butchered animal. The keeper came over to the corpse, made some scribbles and marks in his big book, and sent them on their way. The keeper eyed Tytus.

"Alright, Baron, you're up...you got a lot of gold riding on you," he patted him on his shoulder, "make us all rich!"

Tytus grunted and started for the pit opening. The words of the announcer were barely audible over the cheering of the crowd, but he assumed the announcer was preparing his entry.

"The Victor of Valdor, the Blood Champion three times over, the one the other arena fighters pray not to ever cross steel with...men and women, I give you the Black Baron!"

Tytus felt cheer and applause shake through his chest, and the sun nearly blinded him as he emerged into the pit. He threw his arms up, turning around before the crowd. He took in each and every face that wanted him to kill someone to make them richer. There were thousands of the them, packed in and nearly overflowing into the pit. He yelled a few times, feeding off the frenzy of the crowd. He finally came to the center of the pit and stabbed his short sword into the sand. He held up his arms messianic like, and basked in the glory of the cheering crowd. Though his actions were all for show. The sooner this fight was over, the better.

The announcer came back to the center. "Today, the Black Baron will face a new challenger, a Valdorian native," the mention drew in some applause, "a young man seeking gold and glory, silver with sword, men and women, I give you...the Serpents Tongue!"

A young, lanky man came into the pit, wearing only a leather chest piece and sandals. His eyes boasted a false bravery, the fear prodding and peaking through. He had only a spear, the steel tip shaped like the tongue of a snake.

Hmph...clever...

He came to the center of the pit, only a few strides away from Tytus. The announcer left to his podium among the crowd, waiting for the cheering to subside. Tytus eyed his foe up and down. The fighter was just a lad, probably in a bad way, living on the streets, desperate for some, any gold. Tytus knew the feeling all too well.