Luna picked at her dinner as she wondered how to address the ogre in the room. She reluctantly tried to channel the indomitable energy of her grandmother.
“Are you really not going to forfeit tomorrow?”
Exill paused with a forkful of soursprout to his mouth. Lowering the utensil, he carefully looked up at her. She was frail and grumpy from lack of sleep; and sometimes at night, he would hear her bump against the wall when she woke from a nightmare. It didn’t take a genius to guess what her dreams were about.
“I know you don’t like Envy, but she saved my life. I will not give up on hers.”
Trying to remain calm, Luna pressed on, “Don’t say that as if she is going to die; she is going to live with one of the richest nobles of Ark as his mistress. I’m asking you to value your life. I did not spend a month sacrificing my vitality and turning down patients to see you throw it all away! Do you know how many people die in duels each year?”
“Four. Four out of several hundred combatants died last year. I asked around because I knew you would bring it up. He won’t kill me because he can't obtain Envy that way. At most I’ll be injured somewhat.”
“So if you get hurt, do you expect me to heal you up again as if nothing happened?” she asked spitefully, twisting her words painfully like a knife.
Exill looked down at his plate, unable to meet the Maiden’s glistening eyes that were on the verge of tears. Shaking his head in resignation he offered the truth:
“Forfeiting her to Eumol is just as good as asking her to die.”
“I can’t do this Exill. I can’t watch you get hurt tomorrow.”
“I understand, you can stay here. I should return within two hours and pick up the afternoon shift as if nothing happened.”
Luna scoffed. The fool didn’t realise it was the same line he had spouted the day he nearly died in the Labyrinth. The image of him lying dead, missing his legs had engrained itself in her mind. Her dreams were filled with nightmares where no matter how much she poured [Heal] into him – the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. She dumped her half-eaten plate in the kitchen sink and retired to her room.
Exill dejectedly finished his meal and did the washing up, climbing up to the attic to wait for Envy to finish her shift. She was tightlipped about her employer, but several clues indicated she was working in a tavern. For some twisted reason, poking the irritable murderer, turned waitress had the unintended effect of cheering him up.
Right on schedule, she arrived half an hour later, looking utterly spent and miserable. He immediately felt a bond of camaraderie with her jaded form. Dealing with people, and emotions was hard work.
The Vampire tiredly wiped herself down with a wet towel and crawled into bed, swiftly latching on to his arm to feed. He could smell smoke and the faint scent of her alcohol from her hair.
"How was work today?"
The murderess poked him warningly with an elbow to indicate she wasn't to be disturbed. Exill grinned, and idly summoned his card to check the attainment he had gained this morning.
[Monk] lvl 20 - NEW ACTIVE SKILL [Mana Channel - Physical]
Empower your body with mana, strengthening your strikes.
Forbidden from entering the Labyrinth, Envy and Exill had trained in unarmed combat every morning. He could now channel a small amount of mana to his arms or legs, sheathing them in an invisible force that amplified both offence and defence.
“Are you sure you don’t want to forfeit?” she finally asked, wiping her mouth.
“No, and you should bring all your Denars tomorrow and bet on me winning.”
“Tch… easy for you to say when it’s not your hard-earned cash.”
He responded with a smile while lowering his sleeve, then quietly climbed down the ladder. The living room was dim, lit by the still glowing embers of the hearth. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Luna’s door before entering.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
She sat on the edge of her bed in a nightshift, looking ethereal as moonlight flooded into the room. The maiden patted the spot next to her, indicating for him to sit.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I know why you have to go… lately, I feel I haven’t been myself.” Luna apologized, a sombre smile on her lips. She then continued, a slight flush creeping on her cheek, “Can I try that arm pillow thing? I haven’t slept well lately.”
‘She really has changed.’ He thought, leaning against the doorway. There was no way the healer could have asked for such a favour when they first met.
Exill paused. Considering all she had done for him, it was a minor request. He crossed the short distance between them and lay down, letting Luna snuggle in close. As she grew comfortable, her contented smile slowly relaxed, and eventually her lips parted as she fell into a deep sleep.
***
Exill and Envy arrived at the Arena half an hour early the next morning. They pushed through the usual throng of people to reach a red-faced Bookmaker who was shouting the odds for the duels that morning.
> “Place your bets at the House of Odds!
> Liroth the Blacksmith versus Meibur the Vendor – 5:4
> Sir Eumol the Knight versus Exill the Witchdoctor – 7:1
> …”
Exill flagged the Bookie down and pointed towards the slate display showing his name, sliding across all 500 Denars of his money.
“All in on the Witchdoctor winning” he grinned.
“May the Will smile in favour of his victory!” The portly Bookmaker cheered him on in genuine mirth. In his line of work, it was important to indulge the fantasies of clients no matter the odds. He did a double-take while recording the client’s name as shown on their Card, noticing they were betting on themselves. Then he slid a clay token towards Exill.
“Please return in the afternoon to collect your winnings sir, and may the Will smile in your favour in today’s match!”
[Ping!]
Exill thanked the Bookie and felt a deep resonance within him as his fingers touched the clay token. It appeared he had obtained a new job but didn’t want to be side tracked at this important juncture.
‘It’s probably something gambling related.’
He stood aside for a few awkward seconds while waiting for Envy to make her bet, “Go on, or were you planning to gift Sir Eumol that silver coin upon my defeat?”
She glared at him for his tasteless joke and stepped forward, “Same bet, a hundred Denars.” She slid one silver coin across. In some ways, it was the hardest earned coin she had ever spent, owing to the hellish difficulty of working at Sundry Inn that turned into a rowdy tavern in the evenings.
“Right you are madam, coming right up!”
Once Envy had received her token, they turned to walk away… but something made Exill pause. He approached the Bookmaker again, “Excuse me, how do you determine the odds for the fights?” he asked the energetic man who was preparing to shout again.
“Bit late now once you’ve made the bet!” he joked cheerfully but continued on, “You submitted a sample of your hair when you accepted the duel correct? Well, a panel of Diviners from our Guild examine it and publish the odds. It is up to us individual members to adjust it to our liking. It’s all licensed and above board you know!”
The jovial man failed to mention that it was a bad matchup in his professional opinion. A spearman against a shielded Knight would lose nine times out of ten. This was because the shield was a perfect counter to the spear, where an opportune block would open the attacker wide open to a riposte. In fact, he had been greatly surprised that the odds reported by the Guild had been so favourable to the Witchdoctor, and had tinkered with it slightly before posting it on the board.
Exill thanked the Bookmaker and walked away, impressed with the gambling system. It supported what he knew about Divining – that it dealt with probabilities, as opposed to certainties.
On top of this, there was an important lesson learned. Under no circumstances should he give out samples of his hair for strangers to practice divination on. Who knew what questions they would ask, and the implications of finding out he was forsaken by the world.
As the two climbed the stairs to the contestant chambers, Envy could be heard muttering, loud enough for Exill to hear. Her bet had constituted twelve days of working as a waitress and she wasn’t going to forgive him if he lost.
“I’ll skin you myself if you lose this match.” She muttered menacingly.
The two spent what felt like an eternity in their chambers; double, even triple checking the straps on Exill’s scrap leather armour.
The armour was in very poor condition. Only the leg plates and right forearm guard remained of the complete set, even then, the hide glue fixing the individual scrap plates were falling apart at the edges. Still, it was better than nothing.
Finally, they were startled by an attendant knocking at their door announcing the Witchdoctor was up next. Envy left him for the stands while he followed the guide down a steep stairwell. They eventually reached the double doors leading to the arena floor, morning sunlight seeping in through the cracks. The attendant turned to Exill, motioning him for a handshake. Cautiously, Exill grasped the man’s hand.
Would you like to form a party? [Yes] [No]
Exill accepted, to which the attendant nodded and immediately dismissed the cohort.
“Can I ask what that was about?”
“I’m sorry, all contestants are checked before combat to ensure they don’t benefit from racial bonuses imparted by party members. I just confirmed you were not in a party.”
Exill nodded. It seemed a sensible precaution.
Then, the arena doors finally groaned as they began to swing open.