by R. A. Mejia
I stare open-mouthed at my fairy friend. Unable to find the words to describe how I feel about what she’s said. Finally, I say, “You robbed a bank without me? You know I’ve always wanted to rob a bank.”
Mary snickers. “Well, you made a jailbreak without me. So we’re even.”
My mind is already imagining the bank robbery, and I admit, “Ocean’s Eleven is fine and all, but I would have Point Break’d instead.”
“Yeah, but where were we supposed to get masks of U.S. presidents?” There’s a pregnant pause as Mary and I look at each other, and then we break out into fits of laughter. As I wipe the tears from my eyes, I remember that Mary and I aren’t alone in the room and look around to see everyone else staring, confused, at us.
“Sorry, everyone. There are famous bank heist stories where I’m from. I’ll tell you all about them later.” Returning my attention to Mary and the massive amount of wealth she’s apparently been hiding from me, I say, “So, show us the money, Mary.”
She looks at me confused. “Huh? What money?”
“Don’t play dumb. The four gold you said you had.”
Mary scrunches her nose and twists her tiny fairy dress in her hands. “Oh, that gold. Well, it’s all gone.”
“What?!?! How could you have spent it already?”
She winces at my shout, and I calm myself. Four gold, already gone. There go my dreams of buying a bunch of new equipment and magic spell books. I calmly ask again, “What happened to the money, Mary?”
Instead of Mary, it’s Vrax that answers. “Mary told me the ponies ate it.”
She gives Vrax another dirty look before throwing her hands up, exasperated. “How was I supposed to know Lucky Luigi was going to lose in the third race? He was supposed to be a sure thing.”
I can’t help but slap my head. Just a few moments ago, I thought we were rich. Now, we’re poor again . . . Wait. Mary never actually answered my question, did she?
“So, you don’t have the four gold. How much do you actually have?”
“Oh, about fifteen silver, eighty-four copper. I had more but spent some on those clothes I gave you after you got out of prison.” She pretends to sniffle and wipe an imaginary tear from her eye. “And you don’t even wear them anymore.”
I playfully nudge her, “Oh, stop it with the pretend tears.” Mary smiles up at me.
I feel a warm hand on my arm and see that Sonya has made her way across the room to sit on my other side. She slides her arm into mine as she sits down. There’s a smile on her face, but for some reason, there’s also a bit of tension in her eyes. She looks at Mary and then back at me, and I feel her arm tighten briefly around mine. “While I admit I don’t understand the stories you and Mary are referencing, I find the story very entertaining. But I’m curious why you haven’t asked me how much money I have for the group?”
I’m honestly surprised by the question. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m so used to sharing everything with these two that it never crossed my mind that you’d share your funds to help the ‘save the kobolds’ cause.” Sonya’s eyebrows crinkle, and I quickly add, “It’s just that Mary and Vrax are family to me, and I . . .”
“And I’m what to you?”
Uh, oh. That can’t be a good. It’s never good when a woman says that, right? My inner Admiral Ackbar is screaming, “It’s a Trap!” I’m saved from the tricky question by none other than Keans.
“Well, Armon, I have to say I’m offended as well. Here all of us have broken you out of jail, crossed a vast desert, and traveled with you all the way into the heart of the kingdom known for their liberally-applied death penalty, and you never thought that we’d be willing to open our purses to help?”
I stare at the man, not sure where he’s going with his speech but glad that it’s captured everyone's attention. The reminder of what we’ve all gone through is enough to distract everyone. “Umm . . . I’m sorry, man. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.” I turn to Sonya and hug her. “I’m sorry, Sonya. You’re right too. I should have thought to include you. I know you have my back as much as anyone else.”
As I’m hugging Sonya, I give Keans a thumbs up behind her back and mouth the words, ‘Thanks, man.’
When I’m done hugging Sonya, the five of us count out our resources. Together, we have fifty-two silver, seven copper. We still need to purchase supplies and food for all of us while we’re here, but it looks like we have more than enough to get by for now.
Chapter 25
The next day, we begin our search for clues about the where the Red Claw kobolds were taken. We know from the decoded inventory ledger that they were purchased by someone in Attilius, and we’ve heard that the governor of the city has kobold guards, but we don’t know for sure if they’re the same ones that were kidnapped. I’m excited that we’re finally getting close to our goal. The kobolds are here in this city somewhere. We just have to find them.
We break up into three groups. Keans goes to the Adventurer's Guild and sees if he can get any information from them, Sonya and Mary ask around the Colosseum to see if the kobolds were ever seen there, and Vrax and I plan to search through the commercial centers of the city to look for information about the governor.
Our various searches have mixed results. Over the course of the next couple days, we only gather a small bit of new information. Sonya and Mary find out that a group of kobolds were brought into the city and trained as gladiators earlier this year. They rose steadily through the ranks through the use of never-before-seen group tactics and became famous. They were known as the Sinister Seven, though not all seven always fought at the same time. They did so well, in fact, that they became Gold-Level Champions, whatever that means.
Keans, having talked to several guild contacts in the city, confirms what Sonya and Mary found out, but also that the kobolds met with the governor after becoming champions. He is apparently a huge fan of the gladiator fights, and he purchased the Sinister Seven from their owner at double their value. He now employs them as his personal guards. They travel with him everywhere, and it’s become fashionable amongst the elite to have rare monsters as servants and guards because of him.
Vrax and I had less success nailing down information on kobolds, but we did find out about the governor. The rumors we’d heard about him before are the same here. He was appointed after the last governor took ill suddenly and died. Since then, he’s been taking away the few rights slaves have and eliminating penalties on practicing dark magic. It’s not the most popular political platform, but he insists it will help end the war with Monstrum if they don’t tie their hands with restrictions on what magic is taboo.
Of particular interest is that Vrax and I found a unique shop in town--one with a triangle, a circle, and an X carefully carved near the purchase counter. We’d found a member of the Smuggler’s Guild.
Vrax and I walk inside the shop and find it filled floor to ceiling with rugs. There’s barely space to walk to the front counter but once we do, we’re greeted by a bored-looking man reading a newspaper. He doesn’t even glance up as he says, “Welcome to The Rug Emporium, where our slogan is ‘We have you covered.’”
I smile at the slogan, but take Pauline’s signet ring out of my inventory and wave it in front of the man’s face. His demeanor changes instantly, and he puts down the paper. “Oh, you’re one of those clients. Please, follow me to the backroom where we keep out ‘special’ selection.”
He shows us to a room hidden behind a pile of rugs, and there inside is a variety of drugs, weapons, poisons, illegal tools, and much more.
After he closes the door behind us, he says, “Here are our real goods. If there’s anything you don’t see here, we can procure it. It doesn’t matter if it’s an item or a bit of information. We have the resources to get you what you want.”
My ears tingle at the mention of getting information, and I ask, “What can you tell me about kobolds? Specifically, any that have been seen in the city in the last year and the
ones called the Sinister Seven?”
“Information, is it? I can tell you that information will cost you ten silver.”
It’s a bit expensive, but I hand over the money.
“There have only been seven kobolds in the city in the last year. Specifically, the Sinister Seven.” He glances at Vrax who was listening intently behind me. “Well, now eight. But the others were purchased by Ellie Estevierius and brought to the city specifically as a special attraction for the gladiator arena. However, the seven fighters went through training and fought. They did wonderfully and became known as the Sinister Seven. They made it all the way up to the Gold Level, which is very unusual. That’s when they came to the attention of governor, who’s a huge fan of the gladiator arena. He bought all of them and they became his personal guards.”
“What did kobolds look like?” Vrax says from behind me. The smuggler gives me a suspicious look, but I nod for him to answer. He shrugs and walks out of the room. I can hear him shuffling through some papers, and he comes back with a description of each of the kobolds in the Sinister Seven. He reads from it, and as he does, Vrax’s eyes widen, and he nods vigorously that he recognizes the descriptions.
That confirms it. The governor bought what’s left of the Red Claw Tribe. I close my eyes and feel a huge sense of relief. We found them. We really found them.
I ask, “Do you know how much the governor paid for them?”
The smuggler nods. “Yes, I do. But it won’t matter. If you’re thinking of trying to buy them back, the governor won’t sell. He’s already been offered three times what he paid from several collectors of rare monsters. The kobolds have been so successful as guards that they’ve even stopped two assassination attempts. The governor just won’t part with them.”
When I inquire about ways to steal the kobolds, we’re told that was tried too. The kobolds killed the thieves that tried to take them.
The information doesn’t make sense to us. Why not just escape with the thieves then make a run for it later? Perhaps the kobolds know something we don’t.
Traveling to the governor’s estate, just outside of town, helps us understand what we’re facing. He has a two-story mansion surrounded by dozens of soldiers and a high fence. There are men with dogs that regularly patrol the property, and getting in there unnoticed is simply beyond my group’s skill set.
Still, if purchasing the kobolds and sneaking onto the governor’s property to steal them are out, how are we supposed to save them?
After talking it over, we decide that the only way to reach the governor is to earn the right. The Sinister Seven did so well in the gladiator ring that he had them visit him. Why can’t we do the same? Once we’re inside, we’ll figure out someway to free the kobolds.
Except, it turns out becoming a gladiator isn’t as simple as showing up at the Colosseum in a skimpy outfit and yelling, “I am Spartacus.” Sure, we can fight in any number of smaller arenas as street brawlers, but to fight in the Colosseum and become champions, we need special training. We learn all this when I try to convince some attendants at the Colosseum that I have what it took to fight there. They ask me three questions: Who usually fights in a fish and fisherman match? What weapon do the Laquerii use? How many points does it take to add another member to your team? I can’t answer any of the questions and prove the attendant’s point: I am out of my depth. It’s so infuriating to be so close and yet so far from our goal. The attendants at the Colosseum are nice enough to tell me that there are several places in the city that train gladiators and teach them all the rules associated with the sport.
The next week, our group goes to each of the major gladiator training centers to try and join them. Most take one look at our group and refuse to even let us try out. A few ask us to pay a gold piece each to train there. Again and again, we are turned away. We are feeling dejected after again being denied the chance to train and are stuffing our faces full of food, when Vrax points out Race walking by. We call him over and learn that he’s been training with the Familia Pontius and, as a favor to us, will arrange for a meeting with one of the trainers there.
Chapter 26
Race leads us through the city back toward the Colosseum, and the sounds of training and sparring are everywhere when we enter the district of gladiator trainers. We walk past the Colosseum itself along with the fanciest training facilities and instead approach a large spartan-looking building. It’s a simple single-story structure made of compacted brick and covered with a coat of white stucco. The tiled entryway leads through a single reinforced wooden door.
Race ushers us through the front entrance with a proud smile. “Welcome to the Familia Pontius compound. This is where I’ve been doing my training.”
A heavy-set older woman seems to appear from nowhere. She’s wearing a blue long-sleeved dress and a white apron. “Novicius, Race! What do you think you are doing? You were supposed to be back twenty minutes ago.” Her words are sharp and make Race wince when he hears them.
He slowly turns around with a guilty look on his face. “Mistress Sevanna, I was delayed when I met my old friends.” She glances briefly at us and then her eyes narrow. Race quickly continues, “They are interested in training here.”
Sevanna’s eyes return to our group and look us up and down. They linger on Sonya, and the woman’s head nods in approval at the warrior’s look. She turns back to Race. “Fine. I accept your excuse for being late, but why do you think the Lanista should waste his time on these people?”
Race’s posture relaxes now that he knows he’s not in trouble. He gestures to us. “I have personally witnessed the battle prowess of these people. They have fought monsters, raiders, and even a minor deity. They overcame every obstacle put before them and aided me in coming to this school.”
The girthy woman rolls her eyes and waves her hand as if she were clearing an unpleasant smell from the air. “You could have left out the exaggeration about fighting a god. It would have sounded better. But, if you vouch for them, I will tell the Lanista that they have come to be tested.” She turns to us. “Please go wait in the courtyard.”
We’re led through the building and through another door into a large courtyard. The area is massive, easily the size of two or three basketball courts. Everywhere I look, there are people fighting and practicing. Along the walls are training dummies where people practice their weapon techniques. In the middle of the courtyard is an open area where groups of two and three people spar with wooden weapons and padded armor. The attendant asks us to wait while she finds the Lanista, the trainer on duty. While she’s gone, I watch some of the groups.
In the middle of the courtyard, a single woman faces off against a heavily-armored man. She’s wearing a thick skirt, and a swath of cloth binds her breasts. The only real armor she has on is leather padding along her left arm and stiff leather armor on her left shoulder, and she is using a trident and net as her primary weapons, though I also see a small dagger tucked into the back of her skirt. Her opponent is much more heavily armored. Bare-chested, the man wears a loincloth around his waist that is held up by a wide leather belt. On his right arm, he wears a long sleeve made up of tiny metal scales tied on with leather thongs. His right leg is bare, but he wears a greave made of boiled leather on his left leg. He is carrying a curved rectangular shield to protect himself in his left hand, and in his right hand, he has a wooden short sword of some kind. The most distinctive part of the man’s armor is his helmet. It has a rounded top that completely covers his head and has only two small eye holes to see through. I can’t imagine that it’s easy to breathe with that helmet or heavy armor.
“The fish and the fisherman,” a voice says from behind me. I turn and see a middle-aged man with his hair just starting to go grey. He has a stony expression and is wearing a tunic similar to my own. His well-toned muscles reflect his martial prowess. He’s a bit taller than I am but has piercing blue eyes that seem to be watching everything and nothing simultaneously.
“The fish a
nd the fisherman?” asks Sonya.
The question pulls the man’s gaze from me, and his expression softens slightly answering Sonya. “Yes. This type of fight is based on the idealization of the battle between a fisherman and the fish.” He points to the heavily-armored man charging the woman with his shield in front of him. It looks like the armored behemoth is going to run right over her, but she lithely dodges to her right and is even quick enough to avoid the man’s follow-up stab with his sword. “That is the fish: big, powerful, and armored with protective scales. When he faces off against the fisherman, he must win quickly, or he will tire and be killed.” He then points to the woman, who is probing the man’s defenses with her spear. “The fisherman must be quick, lucky, and able to tire out her opponent before she strikes.” The man charges her again and again, swinging his short sword in vicious chops and stabs. He stumbles, just for a second, but in that instant, she throws the net in her left hand. The man gets tangled up in the net, which I only now see has small weights attached to it, making it more difficult to pull off. The woman moves in and stabs the man in his unprotected sides and back with her wooden trident. The armored man calls out and raises his hands in defeat.