Micheal was familiar with the fighting underground of Dasgad. He hadn't been to this particular pit but they were all more or less the same. That was what disturbed him so vividly. They were not quiet affairs by any means. In fact, they were always noisy.

The sounds of carnal hatred, betting, or even the screaming of the somewhat mad were the music of the underground fighting scene. So walking out into a quiet crowd toward Samantha was an experience best described as unnerving.

Looking at the looks Samantha was throwing her surroundings, she wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. The noble boy was a little too inexperienced to have noticed the strangeness of the whole thing, and seemed to be playing at normalcy. Micheal guessed that inwardly there would be some confusion, but he would outwardly conceal it. He was savvy. Micheal liked that about him. If they were going to work together he was glad his partner was at least competent. Of course, he was also curious exactly what Samantha was going to negotiate for their help. If there was anyone ballsy enough to argue for payment from a noble, it would be her.

As Micheal approached their position at the bar the talking began to resume. It was slow at first, but once a few voices creeped into the quiet it was like the opening of a dam.

“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” the noble said at Micheal's approach. He could only agree at that. His opponent had been at the upper end of bone in terms of pure strength, but his technique was sorely lacking. He had obviously been trapped at the very first of the great dividers, and it was no wonder why. He had lacked any sort of insight into his apostle other than the absolute minimum for its use. Frankly, it was a little sad. To be trapped at the very first of the great dividers was something that happened to many, but Micheal had never encountered a case as vivid as this.

The other thing was his new-found application for his own apostle. The crystal dust had been an idea that he had worked on for a while, but the reforming of the crystal into something else was something he had come up with only in the arena.

It followed the same idea as his spiked apostle, where his blood became a conduit for his control, allowing him to alter the shape of his apostle despite being technically outside of his bloodstream. Using it to tear apart a man's organs was certainly something he hadn't anticipated doing with that ability - at least not internally - but he was happy with it nonetheless.

“Which part was that?” Samantha asked. “The part where he beat a peak bone rank, or the part where the other guy spewed up green goop and gave up?” She asked sarcastically.

“Either, I would say,” the noble replied genuinely. While he wasn't naïve, his people skills were a little lacking. Though, Micheal supposed his own weren't much better. He had just ruptured a man's internal organs. He'd also killed a man when he was younger. Not to mention his reputation among the lost at home. Honestly, he considered himself socially inept to a high degree. He could relate to the kid.

“Well we can get to that a little later, I'd say. I think I'd like to hear about why in all the Gods name's we decided to help you,” he said harshly, causing Samantha and the noble to flinch at his words. It would seem he killed the mood a little bit. As expected.

The noble got up to speak, but Samantha motioned him to sit down before beginning herself. “Maybe I just wanted to help the kid out,” She said, gesturing to the kid she was so charitably aiding. Micheal, in turn, frowned at both of them.

“OK OK, while I do want to help him there's a few other reasons,” she sighed, defeated.

“And those are?” He asked. He figured they had ironed out the agreement while he fought against the acid man in the ring. It would be good to hear the specifics before working with the noble. While he might have liked him well enough, Micheal was far too pragmatic to enter into the affairs of a noble just because he thought he was a pretty cool guy. He would have killed the briny bastard just to get Sam chosen, so he wasn't exactly attached, though he preferred to be on good terms. The kid was clever, and Micheal liked that about people.

Samantha shifted nervously, which Micheal figured was genuine and not a signal like they would sometimes use. That was a little worrying.

“The first is that he gets to watch both of us fight some chosen once every week,” She said quickly, getting the bad part out of the way, he assumed.

“And that's why we're helping him?” he asked sarcastically, causing Samantha to frown at him.

“I did say that was the first thing, you briny idiot. The second is that, in exchange, we get to use the private sparring ground of his estate to do it from here on out,” she said, smiling the wry smile she typically saved for when they had pilfered some sweets or cakes from a Hedgeside bakery. It was his favorite kind of smile.

“I knew you'd like that one, Mike,” she said, offering him up another smile. She must have noticed his own grin. This one of hers was more in line with her 'aren't I the greatest' smile, but he figured he'd let her have this one. She was damn right that he liked that one. Being able to spar in an actual sparring ground against actually skilled opponents was a boon the likes of which he couldn't even imagine. Lost didn't get to spar in those kinds of places. Not even chosen from dockside could hope to get in until they reached at least stone, or served some time in the army, but he wasn't about to go and do that. He heard what it was like for runners, and he knew he wouldn't be getting any other job with an apostle like his.

That was such amazing news that Micheal almost forgot to question his good luck for a moment; a habit he did not want to fall into. Good things didn't happen to lost or found, and he finally noticed the small awkward smile on the boy's face.

“Hey Sam,” Micheal said with feigned innocence. “You didn't happen to ask how exactly a noble scion, even the current heir, was able to get us into a Hedgeside training ground, did you? Much less a private training ground,” he asked with some disappointment sneaking in. It wasn't aimed at Sam, but himself for believing things were going to be easy for a change.

Samantha lost her prideful smile before coming to the same realisation as him before groaning into her hands. He couldn't blame her even one bit. He would have done the exact same thing if he had gotten them involved with one of the three families.

“uhhh, what's going on,” The noble asked nervously. He was likely afraid they had backed out of the deal, but in truth, Micheal was definitely the more terrified one. With an identity like this, not only could he have both of them killed and their parts spread 'round the city, he could probably do it himself while everyone clapped. It wasn't even a matter of lost or not. It was just the kind of power he held over them.

“Do you mind if I ask your name?” Micheal asked with some resignation in his voice. It may very well be the last chance he would get to ask a question,

“Ohhh,” The noble said. “it was that,'

“That indeed,” Micheal replied. “Which one was it?” He asked painfully.

The noble winced, realising Micheal had gone as far as to figure out he was apart of one of the 'big three' families. “Anise,” the boy replied, causing Micheal's face to become duly acquainted with his hand. He contemplated sighing, but it somehow felt lacking for the situation.

He didn't even bother to run, either. There would be no point. The Anise had enough spies to take out a small nation from the inside, and there was some speculation that exactly that had happened numerous times since their inception into the nobility a few hundred years ago. They were not the kind of nobles you could run away from.

Micheal was beginning to start begging to be killed in Samantha's stead, hoping that only one of them would be enough. They were already screwed, so it was better if only one of them had to die over it. Figuring out this secret had likely doomed the pair of them. His luck sure was something.

__________________________________________

Char Anise, or as his birth name stated, Charlie Anise, looked on with equal parts confusion and awe. Micheal The Nameless, as he had introduced himself, had knelt on the floor and was currently begging not for his life, but his companions. Never before had Char seen someone beg for someone else's life when they thought he was going to kill them. In all fairness, it was rare that someone believed he would kill them. He wasn't really that kind of guy.

“Uhhhh,” he mumbled. Mrs. Douter would have been proud that he was keeping to her teachings in the manner of nobles, he figured. Truly, he was exemplary in his speech. A noble among nobles. A man among men. An idiot among idiots.

“Please don't beg me to kill you, Micheal,” he said in the way of an apology. He really wasn't very good at this. It may have been true that his interaction with commoners was limited, but Char never thought he was this bad at speaking with regular people. To his surprise, he was worse than he could ever have possibly imagined.

Micheal looked up fiercely at that. His eyes were a shade of black that Char had never seen before, even among the lost at his families estates. They were considered “Pure” lost, those that had never been found even in the centuries since their ancestors first became lost. Yet, Micheal, an orphan from the slums of Dockside, managed a black more complete than any he had ever seen or heard of. The white line down the center, looking almost like a pupil, was something equally as interesting. Char thought it may have been the mark of a fair God, but they hadn't been seen in centuries.

In those fierce eyes, Char saw a determination that would be the match of any archpriest, and internally he thanked his ancestors for the opportunity this had presented. He had only wanted someone to spar against some chosen so that he might learn what real combat looked like, instead of watching the curated battles that were his families training method, and instead he had found Micheal and Samantha. They were perfect beyond his wildest dreams.

“If you're going to kill me either way, then I want you to at least spare Sam. No one is going to believe a single lost girl about the scion of House Anise being in a fighting pit anyhow. I understand that its a risk, but I'm begging you. Let Sam live,” Micheal said.

Not once, not even for a moment, had Micheal taken his eyes off Char since he had figured out his origins. He had stared him in the eyes to the end. Char sincerely believed that even if he were to kill Micheal at that very moment, those eyes would never leave him. Even begging on his knees, Micheal had a gaze that was the match of any other hundred men. No one would sway him, and he would not fail. He was perfect.

“Micheal, I'm not killing anyone, I swear,” he said, sounding as awkward and nervous as he felt. That stare had a certain intensity to it that had made him a little more nervous than he was already. In fairness, he had been found out not once, but twice in one day by the very same people. He had thought his disguise was decent enough, but even his lineage had been discovered. Char was not very good at the whole 'subterfuge' thing.

“I'm not a fool, young master. Two lost finding out the scion of the Anise family is in an illegal fighting pit isn't the sort of news a noble can let out. So kill me, just leave Samantha. There's no need for both of us to die. She'll take the secret to the grave, I promise you,” he begged. While his words were pitiful, his bearing remained that of a king. No matter what he said or how he said it, Char could not imagine Micheal looking anything less than a king among men. It was slightly unnerving to see in a found orphan.

“He's not lying, Mike,” Samantha said from his rear. She had been quiet all the while. Watching. listening. She was honestly a little terrifying. It seemed to him like Micheal was the political one - the one that could read people like a book - but it was Samantha that had continued to guess his true intentions. It was slightly unnerving. She was too damned clever. Char thought he might be developing a small crush on the girl.

Micheal turned to regard his friend, and then Char himself, who offered his best approximation of a disarming smile. Honestly, he had never had the occasion to appear non-threatening. He was considered the softest among the nobility of Dasgad. He had no reason to show that he was being friendly. “Well if you're not going to kill us, then where in all the Gods name's are we going from here,”

And just like that Micheal was convinced. In only a word from Samantha he had believed everything Char had said. He was beginning to fear the girl a little, and from the looks of the smile that she flashed him, she knew it.

______________________________________

After almost three hours of talking in the fighting pit, some understanding was established between them and Char, as Micheal learned his name was. He really was being genuine about his offer, and had only hidden his name so as not to scare off anyone he could get to fight with.

That meant that neither he nor Samantha were going to die, which was honestly pretty relieving for him. He had gotten the jump on Sam by offering his life first, and she knew better than to offer hers as well. She would have probably tried to break him out if he was trapped in prison, but he would have already told his captors to prevent her from doing it. There was no way he'd let her save him.

Thankfully, they had run across the softest noble of the lot. Char was practically a cinnamon roll of a man, and Micheal was grateful. He had really liked Char, so it would have been a shame if he found out his entire personality was a fake, which he still kept open as a possibility regardless. The kid was shrewd, and only a little naive. All in all, he was exactly the kind of person Micheal liked. Clever and kind were things that he always looked for in people, but had only ever found in one other. Samantha.

Micheal still had no illusions as to whether he and Char would become friends, of course. He was no fool. Nobles, especially nobles of Char's caliber, were not the kind of people that would or could befriend orphans from the wrong side of town.

Still, Micheal at least felt he could reasonably trust the deal that they had ironed out together.

Said deal had also changed a not insignificant amount. After they both learned of Char's identity it had become somewhat necessary to change things around a little for obvious reasons.

It meant that, instead of fighting as 'random guests' to his family's estate, they would be fighting as his personal friends. It also meant they would not be fighting random chosen picked by Char, but chosen picked specifically by his trainers. How Char was going to convince said trainers to do that was a question left only to him to figure out. Micheal figured it would work out well. He was already operating under the assumption that literally everything was going to go wrong anyway. He had begun planning methods of escape almost as soon as he had figured out the offer had been genuine.

He liked Char, more so than almost anyone he had ever met. Inexplicably so, in fact. That did NOT mean, he was going in unprepared.

On top of fighting opponents hand-picked by the instructors of the Anise family, they would also be required to fight in the Dockside tournament, which Char had been elated to find out was already the plan. how they had gone so far without bringing that up had remained a mystery to all of them.

There were a few other small agreements made, including the question of monetary payment, but that was the near totality of it. (They would not be getting paid. Apparently they were skirting the lines of propriety enough as is, and payment would be a step too far. Micheal was still poor, and very upset about it.).

Given the course of events, Char had agreed it would be best if they met somewhere less 'fighting pit-y' amd they had scheduled a meeting for three days time.

He and Samantha had spoken over the terms after the fact, and had both agreed they were reasonable enough. Frankly, after feeling like he was going to die twice in a single day, Micheal had been more than happy to lie in bed for the rest of the day. In fact, the prospect had been positively alluring to him.

Sadly, reality was rarely kind enough for that sort of thing, and he had ended up in the market square sparring center instead.

Standing across from him was the raven-haired form of Dawn. They had come to an agreement of training after class three days a week, but after setting the date to meet with Char their schedule had changed a small amount. Because of that Micheal had found her dorm and asked is she would be willing to train today, which she had wholeheartedly agreed to.

Looking at the devilish grin, nearly akin to a wyvern stalking its prey, Micheal sincerely regretted ever getting up after his skull had been caved in. The pain of death would have been better in every way that mattered.

“Are you ready, Micheal The Nameless?” Micheal winced before nodding his head and being charged by the girl.