by Demetri Grim
Ahead of her the Colosseum loomed. Each marble column of the building rose over a hundred feet into the air, and each was at least ten feet across. Each pillar was set wide enough for a cart to pass through, topped by flags bearing the heraldry of every nation of Cross and Septa. The Kingdom's own banner, a dark blue field and gilded gold cross, was by far the largest, flapping in the light summer wind directly over the Colosseum’s cardinal entrances. Septa, with its vast seas and many great green and brown continents, filled the sky behind the impressive structure, always visible along the southern horizon of Cross. The clear land around the Colosseum making the view of the larger sister world seem closer than ever.
“I wonder if it is closer during the alignment.” Beka mused not for the first time. The alignment only related to what land on Septa was facing the smaller world, and its single cross-shaped landmass that was its namesake. The single continent of Cross reached from the world’s frozen northern pole to just shy of its southern and spanned a good ways around the equator, but unlike Septa it always faced its larger sister world. Arcane gateways built in an age long forgotten by even the oldest races bridged the twin worlds of Septa and Cross, and remained dormant save for a few hours every month as the worlds spun slowly around one another.
It was only once every two years on the summer solstice that the gateway would open to the lands of Dilanar on Septa’s northernmost continent. A gate guarded over by the peaceful Kingdom of Arcadia, whose many-varied races and customs mirrored that of the lands of Cross. Giving rise to a celebration and the hosting of the great tournament of arms within the Colosseum. A second gate on Septa’s southern continent of Aranor opened in the off years but remained connected for only a short week during the winter solstice. The southern alignment was never cause for much of a celebration however. The southern gates location high in the mountains of the Kingdom of Ara, and the dangerous monster-filled forests surrounding the gate’s location prevented many would-be travelers from venturing between worlds on its openings.
As she approached the Colosseum she frowned, the entry of the eastern gate was closed with a heavy porcellus, the inner door barred with several thick iron bars that glinted with an etching of runes. “Looks like I'll have to find another way in.” She planted her fists on her hips and looked around the rows of columns for another passage. “And I'm out of luck, hope the southern gate is open.” She glowered. She really did not want to use the only gate she knew was open. The northern entry, on the palace’s side. If she was hoping to avoid the mage, she had to avoid the palace. That left only the southern entry, the barracks gate. The main city barracks were housed within the Colosseum complex to guard the entry into the city on southern openings. The arena floor served as the bottleneck and battlefield for whatever came through.
Beka grumbled as she hesitated, the tolling of the noon bells resounding throughout the city, the noise sending roosting birds into the air. “Great, now I’m late.” She turned around, heading back north at a jog. The kingdom had constructed an embassy and several low buildings around the northern gate entry, facing the palace to welcome and ferry people into the city. As well as keep order among the many thousands of travelers who would come and go from the gate while it was open. It was almost always open even if not to the public, and a lot closer to the market road from where she entered.
Jogging around the Colosseum, she took in the carved murals of the outer wall. Depictions of heroes and monsters and quite a few primals all doing battle, separated occasionally by a small window or heavily barred iron door. Every mural ending with a hero standing triumphant. Skipping up a flight of steps she neared the terminal, glancing up at the rippling banner of Cross fluttering overhead. An instant later she slammed to a stop as she ran headlong into an armored and broadly muscled chest of a guard, hard enough to make them both stumble back a step. The spear on Beka’s back shifted and she cartwheeled her arms to not fall. A hand caught her around the wrist and she turned her attention to the city guard she had run into. His strong hand wrapping around her slim wrist was hard as iron as he leaned on his halberd. The guard’s smirk half-hidden behind his helmet’s visor. He took a step forward and pulled her away from the steps.
“Oi there where you off to in such a hurry. Is there something I can do for you? If not I must insist you be on your way. The tournament grounds will be open in a fortnight.” His tone sounded rehearsed and his smile was a little forced. He waited for her to respond, his halberd now resting across his shoulders.
“I am here on official business. My name is Rebeka Galten, Apprentice of the Silverlight Smithy. I have a delivery to Sir Lavets Fineret of the Kingsguard, of Our Lord Liam of Cross. He is to meet me on the tournament ground any minute now and I must see him!” She pulled her hand free of the guard’s grip and straightened her rumpled tunic. Trying to appear as confident and dignified as possible. Despite her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Well now!” He blew out a breath and chuckled, leaning forward on his spear. “You don't have to go all formal on me my lady smith.” The guard chuckled again, his eyes wandering down her form a moment longer than she would have liked, causing her confident pose to falter slightly. “I was told someone would be coming for Sir Lavets, I did not realize that little guttersnipe meant someone so...“ the guard winked and cast his gaze over her once more settling on her chest long enough for her eye to start to twitch, “Attractive.” His eyes never once met hers. “ I figured it was some gutter trash wanting to pawn a useless bauble on the nobility. I’m glad to be wrong.” He put on his most dashing smile, finally looking to her directly. She flushed despite herself.
“Okay, good, so you were expecting me? I'll just be on my way then.“ Beka tried to brush off the overly flirtatious guard’s comments with an eye roll and took a step to move around him. He side-stepped to block her path once more, coming well into her personal space. She frowned at him. “Let me pass.”
“Oh yea, you were expected, but why don't you just stay right here sweetheart, I’ll have my mate over there go fetch Sir Fineret for you.” The guard nodded over his shoulder to another man behind him. The other man nodded, giving a thumbs up and a sly grin before quickly moving inside the complex through a small door that the pair of them must have been stationed to guard. “So, you handy with spears, sweet thing?” The guard’s lecherous grin made her want to kick in his teeth, as he looked between the spear across her back and her chest.
“You, can't be serious...” Was this guy for real? She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared. “How rude are you? You are the most obvious, most typical, most repulsive human, I have ever met. Did you practice being a lecherous bastard with your sister, or your dog? Because you are just pathetic.” She hid a satisfied smirk as the guard’s grin vanished, his face turning red. She was not sure if it was embarrassment that she hit the mark, or just anger. The anger at least was obvious enough, as he took a step back and readied his halberd her way.
“You watch your mouth when talking to the guard you filthy little bitch.” His tone menacing as he clenched his halberd harder, taking a step forward. “You better know your place, or I will put you in it! Then I’ll tell Sir Fineret that a worthless, little street rat stole his...”
“Stole my what?” A deep and rich voice sounded from behind the guard, whose snarling face turned pale instantly, his eyes widening. She could not help it; she smiled and took a step forward coming inches away from the guards weapon, so she could whisper quietly to him.
“I'm not a street rat, definitely not a bitch. I am however Sir Fineret’s sister.” With a smug wink, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I guess it was your dog then, since you like calling women bitches.” She gave him a mocking pout. “Now I feel sorry for your sister, having to come in second to a mutt must be hard on your inbred kids.” Beka pushed the halberd aside, striding past him. The guard was trembling with anger and no doubt fear. He slowly stood to attention and turned to meet a cold unwavering gaze from Lavets
.
Coming around the guard, she smiled up at her brother, whose gaze did not leave the trembling man. Standing over six feet tall, the Kingsguard easily looked over her head as she came up to him. He was thin and lean, with defined muscles wound like steel wire under his sun-tanned skin. His eyes were a piercing blue green that glinted with magic. He shared the same nose and freckles as her but that is were the similarities ended. His features were long and sharp. With shoulder length black hair that turned a pale silver as it neared the ends, pulled into a tight professional ponytail designed to fit under the helm he held tucked under one strong arm. His ears were considerably longer than her own, though still not the length of a full-blood elf like the man he was championing. His true half-elvin heritage clear in his lean but muscular build, and slightly more exotic features compared to Beka's own softer more human curves.
“Greetings sister, is there a situation here?” She nodded at him and turned to look over her shoulder at the guard. Lavets placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a firm but affectionate squeeze as he dropped his helm into her hands. Stepping around her, he pulled hard on his armored gloves and flexed his hands into fists a few times. She marveled over the helmet. It was solid metal of fine craftsmanship but not as heavy as she would have thought. His armor was nearly identical to the guards. Polished silver steel scale mail with an inlay of gold across the chest in the shape of a cross and a flowing dark blue cloak that was clasped by a single gold cross brooch for easy removal should he need to fight. His armor however was well fitted, made just for him alone, compared to the guards’ mass produced and poorly-kept set of basic steel. She smiled as she recognized the telltale silver glow of her family's enchantments laid into the polished metal of the helm and no doubt the rest of his armor as well.
“You are so screwed.” She smirked as she slid behind her much larger brother. The guard looking between the two of them with a disgusted sneer.
“You don't look related,” the guard challenged as he stood as tall and imposing as possible. Though he was still forced to look up to the now glowing blue-green eyes of her brother.
“Be silent, guardsman. Regardless of if we are related or not, your behavior is not tolerated. You’re a disgrace to that uniform. It does not matter if the girl...”
“Woman..” She cut him off, still smiling evilly at the guard. Lavets sighed and continued.
“If the woman,” he paused as she snickered to glance back to her, a glint of magic sparking in his eye before turning back to the fuming guard. “If she does not feel safe walking the streets of our fair city. Then the guards are not doing their job.” He took a step forward and gripped the side of the guard’s armor, easily lifting him onto his toes to look at him eye-to-eye. “Your purpose is to make the streets safe, guardsman. What is your name?”
“R-Reginald Dalton, Sir. My name is Dalton.” The guard gripped Lavets’ forearms, trying to steady himself in the iron hard grip of the Kingsguard.
“You, Guardsmen Dalton, are relieved of duty. You are not to set foot anywhere near the tournament grounds until after the gate closing. In addition you are hereby ordered to guard the latreen entry of the barracks for the remainder of the alignment celebrations. You will perform your duties to the best of your ability and report back to me. At which point I will re-evaluate your performance.” Lifting the man entirely off his feet he pressed his face close to the pale guard and growled. “If I hear so much as a rumor of you not learning from this experience, or treating anyone without respect. You will be permanently assigned to guard a caravan that exclusively transports fertilizer to the southern desert.”
“You can't possibly!” The guard protested as Lavets dropped him back onto his feet. To the guard’s credit he did not stumble or fall, but the shaken expression on his face left no doubt that Lavets had left an impression on him. “My commander isn't simply going to-”
“Your commander will follow orders. If not he will be joining you on your southern excursions. Now get out of my sight, before I put you in your place.” Crossing his arms, he watched as the guard retrieved his halberd that had unwittingly been dropped when Lavets picked him from his feet and slowly marched away.
“I would have roughed him up a little. But guarding the shit shack will have to do,” Beka said and grinned up at her brother. He only sighed and rolled his eyes, the flicker of magic fading back to a dull glow before breaking out into a wide grin of his own.
“I have no doubt little sister. Now tell me, is that my patron’s requisition you have there?” He gestured to the spear across her back. “I was not expecting it to be completed until right before the tournament.” He smiled, striding over to her once more and clapping her on the shoulder, hard enough to make her tip to one side.
“Hey! Quit pushing me around you oaf! You’re just as bad as that guard.” She snickered at him again as his face dropped in apology. “Ha! Okay not that bad, I guess. And yes this is it.” She bit at her bottom lip and looked around the stone columns for any eavesdroppers. “Look, your patron. He's not what you think.”
“I know the rumors sister. Do not worry so much. No weird old magister is going to get the better of Sir Lavets Fineret, Kingsguard of His Majesty King Liam of Cross!” He flexed his arms and struck a heroic pose. She started laughing and he deflated slightly. “Well he's not. Now can I see my new weapon?” His eyes glinted and made grabby hands at the spear but missed as she ducked away still laughing.
“No! Not out here. Lets go inside, I did not come all this way and work so hard making this spear to simply pass it off on the front door to the Colosseum! I want, no, I demand to see the inside damnit.” She planted a fist on her hip and thrust his helmet back out to him. He took it and made another swipe for the spear but she dodged away once more and started marching towards the door. Beka heard him grumble in defeat and move to join her.
Chapter 9: Unexpected Delivery
Beka practically exploded out into the stands. Her eyes fixed on the massive gate on the far side of the complex. It towered above the arena floor, carved white stone mottled with black in the shape of two dragons clasping an orb over the center. Septa loomed within the gate matching the elaborate curve of the mottled stone. The distant word’s oceans and forests bathing the open arena in a faint light, casting twin shadows with the sun. She had been dreaming of this moment, to stand in the Colosseum, to watch the battles and cheer for her favorite champions, to witness the delegations of Septa as they came through the Gate. The elaborate performances each nation would present. Every kingdom of Septa trying to show up the others year after year. It was quite the spectacle, if the rumors were of any truth.
“Where do the monsters get released from? Is that the Knights gate? Do they keep the prisoners down there? Are there more rooms underground?” She bounced from foot to foot and pointed at everything as she rambled off her questions. She squealed and raced towards the stairs of an alcove that led deeper into the complex, nearly careening into a tall, lean, and unfortunately familiar form exiting the passage. As she skidded to a stop, her throat was suddenly dry and her stream questions cut off instantly. As Lord Kindredstar emerged into the noonday sun.
“All, very good questions.” He said, his voice the same rich and cultured tones she remembered when addressing her in the smithy. “I believe I can answer them for you.” He smiled at her, too wide and thin-lipped for his narrow face. She once more felt the sensation of spiders crawling along her back followed by an unnatural chill.
“Oh! My-my lord I would never want to ask that of you!” She stammered out as her face flushed brightly. Her heart pounding so hard she feared the spear had come unwrapped. What in the worlds was he doing here? She looked around desperately for her brother, tucking her hair behind her ear as was her usual nervous habit.
“Interesting choice of words that, ‘Never want to ask…’ hmm.” He smiled, and tapped his chin with a thin finger, his eyes glinting with blue light. “Rest assured young miss, I would never want you to d
o anything you do not desire.” The feeling of spiders returned to creep up her spine, his gaze and words spinning cold webs around her limbs. She swallowed hard.
“I meant no offence my lord!” Beka said and took a step back before bowing her head, trying to get some distance but still remaining polite.
“None taken. I was merely making an observation.” His eyes flashed blue as he looked up. Heavy footfalls of armored boots jogged up behind her. “Ah Sir Lavets. See, just as I predicted, your kin would have the weapon ready before the alignment.” The noble elf took a step forward, closing the distance faster than she expected. Her voice caught in her throat. Coming out as a surprised squeak as he rested a bony hand on her shoulder. His face split far too wide as he smiled another insincere smile.
“Right you are My Lord. I was just about to come and find you. I wanted to thank you for the commision, and wanted to offer the first demonstration of the weapon to you,” Lavets said with all sincerity, bowing in a well polished courtly manner. Beka just wrinkled her nose and took a step away from the Elf, pulling free of his hand and turning to face her brother.
“Well this is a good a time and place as any. I did not want to unveil this weapon on the street corner. I assure you, this is one of the finest weapons the Silverlight Smithy has ever forged.” She steeled herself. She was not going to let the unwelcome encounter and failure of a simple plan to avoid him put her off now. With her nerves frayed she swept the spear from her back, nearly hitting Lavets with the handle, almost dropping it as she twisted to avoid hitting the Elf lord and tried to play it all off as an elaborate flourish to pull the wrapped cloth free. To her credit, her antics did indeed pull the wrapping hard enough across the keen blade of the spear to split the simple sailcloth. The starched white fabric fluttering free from the blade, exposing the gleaming crimson metal to the pair.