The watching platforms in the training hall were old, stone and ugly. They were hard and practical, decorated with nothing more than cold utilitarian brutality in mind. They were easily some of the most uncomfortable places that Pip had ever seen, and there was one in each of the different training halls that she and Catherine had seen.
The view from the elevated viewing platform was good enough, fortunately. At the very least they could both make out the two chosen currently sparring in the middle square, which Pip hardly needed to look at to know was made of the same grey stone that she and the thirty or so others from the orphanage were currently standing on.
She recognised a few of the faces around her from her short time in the first hall of the orphanage, and she thought she may have recognised one of them for being in her class. As a whole they were an unmemorable lot, and she didn't see any of them as being a threat beyond what their ranks might signify, which was mainly bone anyway, putting them squarely in her domain to deal with.
“Who do you think has it?” Catherine asked Pip as she looked around at their surroundings.
“The skinny one, for sure,” Pip replied absently as she was currently paying mind to the small bird that had somehow flown into the training hall and taken a perch on one of the chosen's shoulders. He was noteworthy for being the one of the three chosen not dressed in the rags of the orphanage. Though his clothes wouldn't be considered excellent they would have been the subject of pure envy for anyone having to endure the listless grey that was the orphanage's outfitted colour.
“What makes you say that,” Catherine asked.
“He's got the look to him. He knows what he's doing, and the other guy doesn't know his teeth from his asshole,” she answered, still not deigning to actually look at the two fighters as the match began a countdown. Indeed, the skinny one was the only one of the two that didn't look like a nervous wreck standing in the arena. All of the others Pip had seen had done well in hiding it, but they were nervous about being beaten.
Being beaten might not be something to be ashamed of in the light sparring between sect mates, but among the pride filled shit stain that was the lower ranks, every small loss mattered. Being slower or weaker than any one of the same rank was a weakness that anyone would look down on mercilessly, and it was the same in Dasgad as it was everywhere. While the humans around her might not know it, the ranks of the lesser Gods were no different. They competed fiercely for disciples and chosen alike, and would often fight fierce (if non-deadly) battles to settle what disagreements there were.
The skinnier of the two boys in the square however, looked mostly calm, which meant he either had enough experience to trounce the boy if he so desired, or the power to beat the other kid into a pulp. The other boy (who Pip internally named bobble-head thanks to his huge head's constant swaying) moved and shifted nervously in the arena.
Catherine looked from Pip to the arena, trying to figure out if what Pip said held any merit, no doubt. Pip was confident enough in her assessment that, as the bell finally announced the beginning of the match, she sent a smug look at Catherine. It was satisfying to be right, even if it was a mostly meaningless thing.
Immediately down in the arena, the skinny boy conjured his apostle with a flourish. A small abrasion opened on his arm before growing slowly and steadily into a small cut. From the cut, the skinny boy started drawing a small amount of blood into a needle sharp weapon which he flung at the other boy. The bobble-head, for his part hadn't been slacking, and had charged the boy right at the offset of the match.
It looked like the larger boy's apostle had something to do with smoke, as he sent a billow of dark black clouds the skinny boy's way. Pip knew both of their Gods would be lesser Gods, given how utterly weak both of the attacks seemed, and she knew the first boy's would be a God of blood or death. Given the colour of blood still being red and not black, she knew it was probably blood.
The bigger boy's patron God was a little trickier, and could have been a number of Gods, but she thought it might be a God of clouds or wind. Regardless, the boy showed some small amount of promise after using his apostle to cloud the skinny Boy's view of the arena, while he could still see and even approach the skinny boy in silence.
The skinny boy's cut continued to grow as the bobble-head moved slowly around him, looking to strike, and Pip understood how the fight would go. The skinny boy drew more blood from his cut and sent out a barrage of needles in his surroundings, and the larger boy quickly threw himself to the floor to avoid them.
One of the many needles still nicked the boy, but it didn't look like the skinny boy realised it. Small droplets of blood fell from the thin cut under the boy's eye, and since the skinny boy couldn't control it Pip assumed he could only control his own blood. Even without sight Pip still gave the advantage to the skinny boy, as he had kept his calm admirably even in the face of the unknown and unseeable smoke screen in front of him. The bigger boy was floundering already from being hit, and though he tried to avoid being seen, was shaking so thoroughly that Pip guessed it was easy for anyone to see his silhouette in the smoke.
Pip looked over to see Catherine straining her eyes to see into the smoke, and eventually saw them lock on to the bobble-head boy's location. Pip was able to see thanks to being a God of shadow, which while a lesser denomination among the Gods, still granted her the ability to see through almost anything that wasn't solid. After all, being able to conform shadows to one's will was all well and good, but would be pretty useless if you couldn't actually see anything with it.
Seeing the skinny boy straighten up his posture told her that Catherine wasn't the only one to spot the bobble-head's shape within the the smoke, and the skinny boy quickly capitalised. Another stream of blood, much longer than the last two, emerged from the ever-growing cut on his arm and formed into a spear-like pole.
He threw the thing like a javelin and it pierced straight through the stomach of the boy still crawling through the smoke, causing him to collapse into a heap as his intestines found their way onto the floor in front of. An agonised wheeze left the boy as he looked down in horror at his own guts, unable to do anything to stop them from leaking out with his life.
The skinny boy, finally seeing the boy clearly as the smoke dissipated, smiled wide at the sight of the dying boy in front of him.
”Woohoo!” He shouted as he pumped his fist into the air, seemingly oblivious to the agony before him.
Catherine looked away as her face went a shade of green Pip had never thought a human face could turn outside of the bodily changes of an apostle. Even Pip was a little disturbed at the sight as the boy desperately tried to shovel his steaming intestines back into the gaping hole that was his stomach and failing desperately. Getting organs back in was a futile effort, as they were continually pushed back out only to be pushed back in again by the slowly dying boy.
Gradually as the cheering shouts of the winner winded down, and the crowds adoration of the fight weigned, the movements of the dying bobble-head slowed as he gave way to death. Two cleaners arrived in short order to remove the now-corpse from the arena, and before even a minute had passed two more orphans were on the stage, as if the death hadn't even happened.
“Why fight to the death?” Catherine asked.
Pip turned to answer, but paused at the horrified look on the girl's face. Catherine had gone from a shade of green to plain mortified in the time Pip had spent looking at the brief cleanup and studying the next contenders. Honestly, the death hadn't bothered Pip overly much. Death was common among humans, and overall this death was more fair than most. At least both of them had entered into the arena knowing that death was a possibility. Most aren't so fortunate so as to know they might die before hand.
“Sometimes things just work out that way, I guess,” A sad voice, one not from either Pip or Catherine spoke sadly. Quickly, both girls turned to the source of the noise in behind; one of the three non-orphans that had been on their viewing platform.
She wore an apron over a pair of overalls, which might initially have given her the look of a common smith, but underneath was the pristin white of her blouse. It was so clean that no decent labourer would be caught dead in such a thing, because it meant only that its owner had never seen a day of hard work while wearing it. That meant that not only was the girl in front of them not an orphan from the same orphanage as the two of them, but she was a noble as well.
“How do you figure?” Pip asked. She caught Catherine shooting her a dangerous look at the nonchalance of the action, but paid it little mind. Pip had no idea how to interact with nobility. In fact, she had been entirely unaware that any nobility even existed in Dasgad until she had arrived to begin gathering information. It had been the street urchins that had warned her of the depravity of some of the families in the area, and Pip had swiftly and quietly decided to give them as few reasons as possible to leave her alone.
The girl gawked at the lack of reverence, which caused Pip to wince internally before continuing. “Well, it's preparation for the tournament, isn't it? Things are taken seriously around this time. Even the other nobles and I are visiting the dockside tournaments to see how the competition looks,” she said deliberately, as if she had to physically prevent herself from referring to the obvious indignity of such a thing.
“it's no wonder things like that happen when that's the case,” she said sadly. “Still, something like that shouldn't happen too often. They have people that watch out for deadly moves like that and stop them. Strong people. So it should be pretty safe for most of you guys. The boy down there probably happened to get hit in between a guard change,” she said, slowly growing less concerned through her speaking.
Pip wanted to say something else to continue the conversation, after all, being friends with a noble couldn't be a bad thing; connections were important, but Catherine slowly and carefully shook her head at Pip. Pip decided to trust the gesture, despite only having known the girl for a relatively short period of time. It was a God's duty to do well by their chosen, and while Catherine wasn't her chosen per se, Pip still wanted to think she could trust her.
“Agreed,” Pip replied. “I wasn't aware the conversation to compete in the hedgeside tournament was this fierce, but it's not surprising. Some of the kids that fight in the first hall are even more cruel than the priests,” she said with confidence. She had heard one of the lost at the orphanage say just that, so it must have been something of a common sentiment among the lower halls, at least to the first and lower hall. “And it's relieving to know that deadly matches should be fairly uncommon. It gives me more piece of mind knowing that I won't be fighting to the death,” Pip said, finding the sentiment surprisingly truthful.
Pip didn't really have a problems with humans dying. She had never had any strong attachments among humanity and humans were always forced to kill one another in battle for the entertainment of the Gods. There had been a few humans she had liked to watch from time to time, but most of them had died or become too cruel for her tastes. There was only a single human that she had ever truly watched enough to grow attached to, and she had no notion as to whether or not he would live or die any time soon.
Even still, she felt relieved at the prospect of not having to kill one. Strange.
“ehh? so it seems you have plans to fight?” the noble asked, suddenly seeming incredibly excited at their conversation. To the side of her, Pip saw Catherine vigorously shaking her head, telling her to refuse the statement, but Pip saw no way to do so without building suspicion, she she hesitantly agreed. “We are intending to do some sparring. We wanted to check out the competition within our orphanage, at least.
“Would you mind me watching?” The girl asked, her unhidden enthusiasm replaced with an impressive level of embarrassment for such a simple question. Pip, even seeing Catherine's vehemence increase, didn't see the harm in allowing her so, especially in a non-deadly battle. The worst that could happen was that they would put on a bad showing in front of the noble, and they would simply have to live with that. Besides, it may be for Catherine's benefit. If Pip were to build this connection for her. If Catherine did become a noble, it would be good if she already knew one so that they might do... whatever it was that nobles did.
“Excellent!” The girl shouted, drawing the attention of everyone on their viewing platform. “If that's the case, would it also be alright if I were to find a partner for you miss...”
“Pip, and this is my tournament partner Catherine, and it would be fine if you were to find us a partner, so long as they aren't too powerful. We're only bone rank” She supplied.
“Great, and I'm Ferros Smith, I'll go and look for someone suitable, especially for you, Pip. I've been curious about who you're sworn to ever since I saw your skin, and your horn has me dying to know who exactly it is that has their eyes on you,” she said, openly admiring the horn growing out of Pip's skull on the right side of her forehead. It grew straight out of the bone, and it was uncomfortable, but it was not for that reason that Pip hated it.
“Well, we'll see you soon then, Catherine and I will be up here watching the sparring matches in the meantime,” Pip said to her, growing excited at the prospect of her first sparring match. Pip had been too weak to spar in the land of the Gods and had been afraid she might be 'accidently' killed by an opponent who thought a bindingless God would not be missed. She had since fought a few chosen, and even a few monsters like the goblin with a shelpiece, but she had yet to truly spar, and she was incredibly excited for it.
“See you soon,” Ferros half-waved before sprinting away to look for a partner for the two of them.
“Pip,” a steely voice came from the side. Pip turned to see Catherine, staring nearly red-eyed in anger at Pip, as if trying to burrow a hole through her skull with nothing but her glare.
“What did you just do?” She asked with mock calm.
“I found us some training partners. We can train with each other afterward, but it will be better if we each see what the other is capable of first hand before we spar against each other,” Pip said, happy that her reasoning seemed sound enough despite her genuine worry that she and Catherine would be put against people that could kill them even with overlookers.
“Pip,” Catherine looked Pip in the eye, trying to summon anger by the looks of things, before she failed and deflated. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?” Catherine asked sadly.
“No?” Pip answered quizzically. She figure she had simply found them some training partners so that they could see their partners abilities.
“You just agreed to let her find someone that we can fight to the death with, you moron,” she said. “You really aren't from Dasgad, are you? or even Saxlaw. We don't have referees like they do in Rhezket or the Lost Continent. We do our sparring matches to the death unless we decide otherwise,” she tiredly lectured, causing Pip's lavender skin and horn to turn a shade of deeper purple as she blushed and grew disappointed in herself.
“But what about that Ferros? She said there were people that would make sure we wouldn't get killed! There was no way she was just lying about that!” Pip responded, nearly shouting in her urge to be right about her decision. Catherine briefly rose to her own anger, but sighed and continued to look dejected instead.
“That may be the case for the 'precious scions' of house Smith, but for us orphans? who cares what happens to us? The Smiths wouldn't even bat an eye if we were killed out on the street let alone a tournament. We're nothing more than bodies for their wars and work for their factories,” Catherine spat. It seemed she wasn't as keen for becoming a noble as Pip had assumed. Watching humans from above had told her little of nobles. All Pip knew was that they had more than commoners and peasants, and even soldiers from what she could gather. Why would Catherine detest them so?
“What does that mean? we're going to just fight our opponent to the death?” Pip asked desperately.
“Yes. more accurately, we'll be beaten to death with everyone watching. There's no way that noble brat knows how strong someone around our level is. She hasn't even seen us fight, and she probably only sees stone or earth rankers fight anyway. We're already dead,” Catherine moaned in frustration before falling back into melancholy, with Pip joining shortly thereafter. Not only had Pip gotten into this situation, she had involved Catherine as well. This was exactly the last thing she had wanted to do.
“Can we back out?” Pip tried.
“Not if we want to keep our skin after the fact. A duel in Dasgad is serious business, and we formally agreed to a noble. It doesn't get more serious than that. If we back out, they will literally flay us alive as punishment. All we can do is watch the others and hope we get to see our opponents fight,” She finished, fading into a morose silence.
Pip, feeling like a fool, joined in.