My trip back to the suited man was surprisingly uful and rather quick. Boriss’ presence spread the sea of bodies like Moses spreads water, plete with susurrus from their amazed audience.
As roach Mr. Suit, the guy practically goes cross eyed in Boriss’s presence.
“Boriss, did you agree to fight this young man?” he asks.
“No, Arron. rade Quasi is strohan me,” Boriss’s puts a hand on my shoulder, “I e request he make bear his suka. Is ok, yes?”
“Bear is- you want him to fight Tibbers?”
Boriss nods like it's the most normal request to ever make.
Arron rubs his temples, “No do. I’d have to get permission from the guards, and they aren't going to release Tibbers on a random gold-rank, even if you ask for it. He is ued and unknown, but, if he fights you and wins, then I might be able to.. pique their i.”
Boriss shakes his head. “No, I not like to lose. Is bad for health, yes? Maybe he fights another?”
He grimaces. “Hmm, it’d be a harder sell, but if you vouch for him, I set up some fights with the better knowerans.”
“Da, I vouch.”
Aaron sighs, “Alright, give me an hour and I’ll have some tenders,” he looks at me, “if that's alright with you.”
I shrug, “Should be easy. Are there any rules I o know about?”
“If they yield, you stop fighting. Other than that, go nuts.”
“Simple enough. Will y them to me or-”
“Head to the fighting pits. Shed seven is empty. Sit, prepare, and wait. I’ll have someone pick you up when it’s time.”
“rade Quasi,” Boriss’s grins, “win slow, py with food. Is good fambling. I go make many passes now.”
And like that, Boriss walks off without another word and a grin on his face.
Once Boriss leaves, Mr. Suit, I mean, Arron, summons a ckey who leads me to a ramshackle hut with a chair and desk- both of which are well made. The chair is even padded too.
I only wait a half hour before Lackey A fetches me to ehe ring.
The crowd boos me as I walk onto the sandy floor of the pit. I stroll nguidly to the ter. salute each half of the jeering audieh my rapier. The crowd switches from jeers to cheers the moment my oppo ehe arena. The rge, burly man, decked in armor like ara from a Mad Max movie, strides a third of the way into the arena. In each hand, he holds a m star that he waves in reply to the crowd’s adoration. I re they might hurt, if they hit me.
The man turns to me and looks me up and down, “Heh, did Boriss really vouch for you? I kinda feel cheated for accepting the fight.”
I go the crowd and find Boriss grinning from ear to ear. He gives me a thumbs up and then mocks a stabbing motion.
I roll my eyes at him.
“Wele one and all to the Pit.” Aaron yells aloud and walks up to me in the ter of the arena. Today, I bring you a brand new fighter, a newer to Downside.” His words spark a series of boos directed in my dire. “A man fresh from the outside world and graced with a Gold Rank.” The boos beixed with i as they g the shiny gold band on my leg.
“Yes, this man is a Gold Rank! The first Gold Rank with the balls to fight is.”
The boos, for the most part, go away and are repced with muted cheers.
“To award such bravery,” Aaron points at my petition, “Galvin the Mauler will teach this young maly how much their rank means here!”
The crowd roars with appuse and screams as Galvin, “the Mauler” strides forward, his mstars held overhead. Theurns away from the rapturous audiend grins at me, then snaps his facepte down.
“Fighters! When I ring the bell, you may both begin,” Aaron yells. He walks off the stage and arrives towards a bell.
I take a duelists’ stah my rapier, one leg forward, sword extended in my right hand, a hand behind my back.
Arron takes a hammer, raises it, and then sms the bell.
The fight begins and my mind jumps into overdrive. Time slows as adrenaline surges. I stare at my oppo, watg his every miovement and a. I gaze into his eyes and study his posture, reading him like an open book- well, as open as I read a man covered in armor.
Galvin rushes forward, directly towards me, fully intending to pster me into the ground. I lower my stand lean towards his left. As expected by the posture of his movement and dire of his eyes, he raises his right hand to swing downward. When he raises the mstar, I dive towards his left and under his other on with a burst of speed that professional sprinters would struggle to reproduce.
As I pass by, I kick towards his raised leg with enough force to push it into the path of his other one. Galvin trips and falls violently on the ground. His armor scrapes the t floor until his momentum times out.
Not a sed ter, aempts to push himself back up, only for the weight of my entire body to nd on his bad sp him back down on the ground with a violent bang. Then I hop off, do a backflip, and nd several feet away.
During these few seds of a, the crowd is pletely silent. They stare at me fbbergasted, unsure of what they’d just seen.
With my stance made once again, I tio point my rapier at Galvin, who is slowly getting back up again.
He turns to me with a pissed off gre.
“You’re fug dead.” he curses. Theches his helmet and throws it to the side, revealing a broken nose and bloody teeth.
The crowd cheers at the sight of all the blood.
“Galvin,” I point my rapier at his discarded helmet, “Mind putting that ba? Your face is a bit ugly right now.”
“HA, is good taunt!” I hear a certain Russian yell from the stands.
“Your ass is fug mine!” he roars and rushes forward, barbarian style.
I kinda wish those weren't mstars. I’d holy really love to parry them.
Learning from his first mistake, he keeps his momentum leveled as he swings in my general dire without an ounce of skill.
I dodge and pivot around the strike while cirg around him. He follows and blindly sshes with his mstar, but I’m always a tad bit out e. After a good twenty seds of this, he starts to show exhaustion, which eventually causes him to stop chasing.
“Are you just going to run and dance around?”
“Well, yes. A Russian guy asked me to py with my food- whivolves not killing you instantly.”
Galvin ughs.
“Kill me? You go fuck yourself you cocky shit. There ain’t no way your sy ass take me out.”
“Not cocky, I’m just throwing out facts. Just watch.”
I aim my rapier upwards, and then I let it slowly fall and twirl around my arm, and then spin it up my shoulders, ay neck, down my left arm, and then I flick it up into a spin in the air.
All eyes look up and watch the rapier spin and then fall bato my arms.
Then Galvin falls choking on the ground with a dagger in his throat.
“See, facts.” I say with a grin.
The audieares dumbfounded, unsure how to react.
“Da, is very good kill. Like sneaky mom with belt.” Boriss starts g.
Then the g spreads and I am given a standing ovation.
I bow to the audiend then look expetly at Aaron, who is ping the bridge of his nose.
________________________________________________
When the g dies down, I am directed bato the waiting area. Not five mier, both Boriss and Aaron arrive. One has a grin on his face, and the other looks like he’s suffering from stipation.
“Why did you have to kill him?” Arron asks, “He ur fighter for the shows.”
I raise an eyebrow, “Didn’t you say killing is fine?”
He groans, “No, it's not fine when a plete nobody kills a well-knoweran. I’m getting swarmed by veterans who want to teach you a lesson. They’re not happy about Galvin’s death, nor the fans.”
I grin. “Perfect. How many of these veterans do you think I o kill before you get me a fight with the bear?”
“Da,” Boriss nods, “fight maerans. Is good for passes.” He says while raising up a small crate brimming with engraved metal s.”
Aaron’s eyes pop out at the crate. “How much did you gamble to make that much?”
“Everything,” Boriss grins happily. “But I give half to rade Quasi like good unist, yes?
I lean bato my chair, “Aaron, just set up the fights. Give me five minutes between fights, and I’ll have everything ed up today.”
“You’re insane.”
“Da,” Boriss affirms, “Like crazy Russian mother. Dangerous, scary, but always wins. Is very fun.”
Aaron pihe bridge of his nose.
