Zell and Agitha held a private funeral for Roshi by torchlight that night as he had no kin.
“Roshi bravely gave his life in the defense of children as a free man. I will tell his story to many and remember him always.” Zell said, standing next to the pyre under the now starry sky. A final solitary tear streaked his face which was once again splattered with mud and dirt. They left the pyre to burn, but Zell carried Roshi with him in his heart.
They were met at the city border by a group of ten armed men, not bounty hunters like the others but clearly knights of the peace. Their features were obscured by heavy plate armor and closed full helms.
“Your presence is requested at the palace of the trade prince.” Said one.
“If we refuse?” Agitha said, quickly losing her patience with the city in general.
“Then we we will allow you to go on your way.” The man replied. “We are all aware of your power lady Defaria. The trade prince merely wishes to extend an apology.”
“We will see him in the morning.” Agitha conceded. “Now, you’re standing between me and my ale. I suggest you move.” She added.
“Let’s go back to the party.” Zell’s unexpected interruption drew stares from everyone.
“If that’s what you really want then alright.” Agitha’s concern was clear on her face. What was Bait thinking? “You’re not planning anything crazy are you?” She asked him seriously.
“No. I simply wish to hear his apology.” Zell replied without emotion.
They returned to find most of the guests already gone. Only Alis, his steward Gilias, and a dozen or so drunken courtesans remained. Zell walked with calm, determined steps, trailing dark mud across the gaudy red rugs to stand before the wide eyed trade prince.
“No words.” Zell growled evenly, and Alis’ mouth abruptly closed even as it opened to deliver the phony political apology. “Your apology is to stay silent right now. I have the blood of an innocent boy on my clothes, and on my hands. I own his death, it is mine to bear. I cannot describe the weight of it, but it must be nothing next to what you surely carry. You here at the top of this pile of death and misery own every lash, every cruel word, every violation, and every murder that happens within these cold walls. You are a rotten emperor of trash wrapped in gaudy silken lies. I can't imagine a lower existence. I reject your praise, and your hospitality. My spider and I will spend the rest of this night in the swamp, for it is far more wholesome than your farce of a city.” Zell turned his back on the now quivering trade prince and his red faced steward.
“You insolent ape!” The steward exploded, ripping the gold embellished scimitar from his wide sash. The lizardman steward was a large one, with emerald green scales and black frills on his neck. His sharp white teeth were contrasted by his long red tongue as he hissed at Zell.
He began to charge at Zell’s exposed back with his sword high, but suddenly an elf woman was blocking his path. Her presence halted the enraged lizardman but he didn’t lower his weapon.
“His insults must be answered for!” The steward hissed.
“Of course.” Agitha said. “But he is officially my apprentice which makes him a dignitary of Vinia. Are you ready to start a war with my blade so close to the prince?” Her words were a naked reminder of who she was and what that meant.
“I challenge him then. It is my lawful right to do so.” The offended prince suddenly spoke up. “He may refuse but Vinia’s cowardice will surely reach Red Isle and beyond.” The threat was a weighty one, Alis’ pride had been deeply scarred and he was willing to risk his own reputation to restore it. “He may flee to the swamp like a coward or he may defend his slanderous words in the arena tomorrow as the sun peaks.”
Agitha didn’t answer. She followed Zell outside and didn’t say a word until they were nearly back to their inn.
Zell expected her to scold him, perhaps even give him a good thrashing over his selfish behavior. He braced himself for it as she grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face her. He was thoroughly surprised by the kiss she planted on his forehead as she crushed him in a bear hug.
“That was the best! ‘emperor of trash’!” Agitha’s shoulders shook with laughter as she quoted Zell. “There’s consequences now but wow, so worth it.”
“Can I beat the prince?” Zell asked her seriously.
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“Well yeah, he’s just a normal lizardman. You’d obliterate him without effort, but he’s not who you’ll be fighting. Alis has the right to choose any of his followers to represent him.” Agitha paused and touched her chin in thought. “More than likely his steward Gilias.” She concluded.
“The one that drew his sword earlier?” Zell asked. “He didn’t seem like much either.”
“They have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.” Agitha confirmed. “They just see a human kid.” Agitha’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I am gonna make so much gold and it’s all nice and legal!”
Agitha’s high spirits were not infectious, and Zell’s dark mood stayed with him long into the night. He kept his promise and camped with Goggles outside the city. Zell did not sleep, but spent the rest of the night in meditation. His anger did not abate, but transformed from a raging inferno to a cold bottomless well of purpose. Today he would show the slaves of Axis that the iron fist clutching them was cracked. As the sun climbed into the eastern sky, Zell returned to the city. The guards gave him strange looks as he passed. Word must have spread already.
He found Agitha, captain Fargis, and Merc eating breakfast on the patio of Agitha’s favorite place in town. There was an extra plate of food on the table, and Agitha pulled the empty chair next to her out for him. Zell sat, and eyed the steaming crocodile meat and potatoes. He wasn’t hungry. His belly was full of emotion. He knew he needed the food though, so he picked up the fork and ate with mechanical purpose.
After breakfast, they traveled to the southwestern area of the city where the colosseum dominated the landscape, and a large crowd was already gathered. They checked in, and were led to the underground network of chambers and staging areas below the arena. The air smelled permanently of iron, sweat, leather, and blood.
Once in their assigned preparation area, Zell looked around at the many other competitors. Many wore thick iron collars and were under the watchful eyes of their apparent owners. A few wore extravagant armor and carried fine weapons.
“Career gladiators.” Agitha explained when she noticed Zell studying the well equipped fighters.
Zell nodded, and unbuttoned his mud and blood covered new shirt. His exposed torso drew the attention of the many other fighters who were shocked by the powerful physique that had been hidden beneath the garment. Zell buckled his black demonbone pauldron over his bare shoulder and strapped his worn gladius to his hip. He then sat calmly awaiting the call to battle.
Distant roars from the crowd above signified the beginning and end of many matches, most were surprisingly brief.
“Balfonse!” Shouted a lizardman holding a long scroll.
“Avoid killing him if you can.” Agitha ordered him as she also departed to find a place to watch from.
Zell followed the lizardman up through the winding tunnel and the roar of the crowd rose in volume with each step. The amplified voice of the announcer could now also be made out clearly as the iron portcullis and sunlit sand beyond came into view.
“And now what you have all been waiting for. A fool that dared to insult your beloved prince will receive his just punishment. He has falsely claimed himself your hero by allegedly slaying a couple stinking trolls. Please show your great disdain for the outsider weakling Zell Balfonse!”
With that, the portcullis rose and Zell walked out into the sandy arena to a deafening chorus of boos and jeers. They quieted a moment later as the announcer again spoke.
“Now, the champion who will deliver the boy’s head to your prince. He is undefeated in this arena, and has vanquished a mighty swamp giant! He is the champion of the golden scimitar! Gilias Blackthroat!” The announcer shouted and the arena exploded in cheers and applause.
Rather than entering from the tunnel, Gilias leaped into the arena from his place at the trade prince’s side on the royal platform.
He was now armored in golden scalemail and carried a thick round shield in addition to his prized scimitar. He raised his long arms, and relished in the applause.
Zell watched the parading lizardman with cold eyes. He couldn’t hear the crowd. The only sound in his mind was Roshi’s last rattling breath.
Zell drew his sword and looked at the dull blade. Without a second thought, he tossed the weapon into the sand.
“Oh is the cowardly human surrendering already at the sight of our glorious champion!?” The announcer crowed.
Zell ignored him, and unbuckled his pauldron and buckler. He now stood naked to the waist. He then walked calmly toward the armed and armored Gilias with a blank stare. The crowd and announcer were both shocked into silence by the bizarre behavior.
Agitha watched from the crowd, she knew what no one else in the arena could. She felt pity for the cocky Gilias.
“Don’t think I’ll show you mercy just because you surrender!” Gilias snarled, charging the remaining distance and savagely swinging his scimitar.
Zell made no move to dodge. The fine edge hit him square in the chest but could barely penetrate the mana he channeled there. A tiny line of blood appeared but it was of no consequence. The lizardman’s eyes grew wide as the stinging vibrations traveled from his hand all the way to his shoulder.
Zell was surprised by the weak blow, it was scarcely a fraction of the weight of Agitha’s strikes. He aimed his countering punch directly at Gilias’ raised shield. The impact snapped the straps securing it to the lizardman’s forearm, and sent the bulky warrior flying back to land in an ungraceful roll.
He rose quickly but his left arm was now hanging limply, and clearly broken. The audience was hushed in shocked silence. The groaning Gilias, and Zell’s determined steps were all that could be heard.
As he stalked in, Zell pulled something from his boot. Agitha recognized it at once and sucked in her breath.
It was a crossbow bolt, still stained with Roshi’s blood.
Zell took another hit from the scimitar. He didn’t flinch, and didn’t acknowledge the new line of blood on his cheek. He caught Gilias’ wrist with his left hand as the lizardman tried to draw his arm back. Zell’s eyes only showed sadness as he tightened his grip, crushing the bronze gauntlet and the wrist inside of it. The scimitar fell to the sand with a muted thump, and Gilias’ agonized gasp echoed through the arena.
Zell’s next blow was a kick to the inside of the lizardman’s knee. The limb buckled and the lizardman dropped to his knees and would have dropped all the way to the ground if not for Zell holding him up by his shattered wrist.
With an underhanded grip, Zell slowly drove the bloody crossbow bolt into the exposed armpit of Gilias’ raised arm. Zell ignored the agonized shriek and finally released him. The lizardman swayed on his knees, and Zell delivered the punch that mirrored the one Roshi had suffered. Sharp broken teeth, blood, and saliva flew and Gilias was knocked mercifully unconscious.
With no celebration, and no emotion Zell turned his back on the collapsed lizardman and collected his equipment before waiting patiently at the iron portcullis.
A word from the crowd broke the silence, Zell scanned for the source and found the two lizardmen from the troll battle Krisa and her mate Sava. They had their hands raised and were shouting one word over and over.
“Bait! Bait! Bait!” They chanted. Soon a few other voices joined, and it built until all but a very few sour faces were chanting his name.
Two robed lizardfolk healers scurried over to Gilias’ collapsed form and began to administer potions. The portcullis finally opened and Zell left his new fickle fans to their cheering.