The crowd went wild again in excitement, as the much-anticipated spectacle of blood drowned out any semblance of human reason or reserve. A portcullis was raised and a huge olive-green orc, clad in thick heavy hides, burst into the arena with a bestial roar that challenged the crowd. The orc had huge ivory tusks that jutted out from an extended underbite, his porcine eyes searching the crowd for any that would challenge his dominance, as he continued to beat his chest with one hand. His other hand held a massive fearsome war cleaver, almost a meter and a half in length from handle to tip, the edge of its dark iron blade pitted and worn from a hundred battles. I quickly made sure to cast Identify on the orc, eager to know his strength, and once again it took longer to complete the spell than usual.
Gnarlug Bonegrinder - Warrior (Orc lvl.14)
Health: 280/280
Stamina: 47/47
Mana: 4/4
Such was her control, the woman simply raised a single dainty hand, crusted with fine rings, to cast a silence over the crowd. Another portcullis was hoisted with a grinding of gears.
“I also give you Vidone Amantea of the island of Quas! A philosopher soldier of the great university! Today, will intellectual might best ferocious savagery? Will this down-on-his-luck student be able to pay the fees of that most hallowed of institutions?” she announced in a loud clear voice to the laughter of the boisterous crowd.
The woman was playing the crowd well, teasing out their steadily rising excitement like an experienced conductor. A willowy, young, brown-haired man near danced into the arena with a winning smile that dazzled, and bowed deeply at the hip to the astonished crowd. How could this thin wisp of a man ever hope to defeat the dreadful-looking orc? My question was soon answered. As he executed a flamboyant sword flourish to the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the spectators, I cast Identify on him.
Vidone Amantea - Duelist (Human lvl.22)
Health: 341/341
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Stamina: 47/47
Mana: 12/12
As I finished the spell, the wiry man looked worried for a moment, his smile faltering slightly as he searched the crowd for a hidden threat. Had he felt the touch of my magic? My brow furrowed. This was most disconcerting...
Vidone was elegantly clad in a finely cut blue cloth jacket and trousers, with brass buttons and high leather boots. His hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and white ruffles adorned his jacket and shirt at the neck and cuffs. Warm amber-brown eyes were set in a gaunt hawkish olive-brown face with a strong aquiline nose.
Adding to this, his jawline, ending in a sharp chin and predatory casual grace gave the overall impression of a bird of prey. In his left hand, he carried a long needle-like rapier with a basket hilt and a bejeweled ruby pommel, its flashing blade tracing a line of steel as he executed another sword form.
Vidone was a clear plant. The human’s physical attributes were clearly superior to the orc, despite appearances seeming otherwise. He was also eight levels higher, which clearly cemented his chances of winning. Thanks to my magic, this was clear to me; although apparently not to others in the crowd, who clamored to place their bets with a bookkeeper behind a long wooden counter.
At a wooden counter behind iron bars, money was quickly exchanged for stamped betting slips. A man was writing down names under the watchful eye of two burly guards, who loomed menacingly. On the other end, at a different station, a bored-looking man was shuffling papers and taking a few bets from the braver members of the crowd, who placed their fortunes on Vidone’s delicate blade. Kidu and I moved over, and the bored man behind the counter looked over at us before greeting us in a dull monotone voice bereft of the spark of interest.
“How much...and your name, please? Odds are twelve to one on the Quassian,” he said in utter disinterest, barely looking up to meet my eyes.
“Two silver, the name is...” I paused for a fraction, suddenly realizing that it wouldn’t be the best of ideas to give my real name. “Elwin Tucker,” I finished confidently, causing Kidu to tense up for a moment before relaxing again.
Placing the lion’s share of our remaining funds on the counter, I gave the bored man an assured smile. He quickly wrote the amount, alongside the false name I had given on a small piece of parchment before marking it with a stamp that glowed a dull blue as it made contact with the paper. This was the third magical artifact I had encountered since coming to this world, and for a few minutes, I gaped like a fish out of water.
The betting clerk, noticing my reaction, explained matter-of-factly, “A truth-seal, it guarantees that bets are honored at Ansarai’s Fighting Pit,” before passing the slip of paper to me and then turning to take the bet of another man.
I had to fight to suppress my excitement. I had never gambled before in the old world, preferring to always play things safely. For the first time in my life, I felt the seductive thrill of truly risking something, similar to how I had felt when I had been engaged in battle. It was even better, for I was almost one hundred percent certain that I would win, and at that moment, I understood why some fell on the addictive path of gambling.