Everything itches; from my ill-fitting boots, my canvas shirt, my prosthetic nose, and my psyche from performing too many works of fire. "Master I-" My question is interrupted by a painful strike. "Think boy! It's Naru until further notice!" While rubbing my side I rephrase my question, "Naru, tell me why am I, Edmund Primdale, a young baron, going to an illegal pit fighting ring." Hazlee looks at my cocky grin and doesn't seem amused. "If you must know, I thought that it was a shame that you missed out on some combat experience, and I had business there anyway. Now stop stalling and grab that greatsword." I grimace at the pockmarked clunky blade, "Maste- Naru, why can't I use a rapier, or any traditional swords for that matter." "The answer is simple: you fight like a nobleman. If we are going undercover your polished style is a dead give away. Besides, we are training your battle sense and magic usage. Now if you're out of excuses it is almost dusk we need to meet your partners for the arena."

We exit our subpar housing into the setting sun. I don't feel it too much when I am in the castle but something deep inside me resonates with me. The city is alive. I can feel it with every breath of steam pipes and the clank of clockwork gates and pumps. But it also feels sick, I see it in the people, their furtive glances showing weariness. I can also see the sickness in Hazlee. I can tell that his mind is constantly wandering, the bags under his eyes grow every day. I see his stress most when he overcorrects, when he tries to steer me away from my late fathers footsteps. I don't know who Hazlee really is but I know he isn't just a teacher and there is more to the pit fights than my training. We arrive at our meeting place and see two figures. The first figure ironically stands out the most due to her blending into the shadows, she is trained in stealth. And judging by her hewn hair she uses a short sword or a dagger user. Even while waiting she bounces from one leg to another. The other figure couldn't be more opposite. Instead of a petite woman who is constantly alert he is dopily zoning out. His grip on his weapon is shotty and unwieldy. He also appears to be injured as his left arm is in a sling. His face is familiar? I realize who he is just as my master spits out, "When I see that smug bastard I'll slaughter him!"

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What did I do to get here? I clumsily dive to the side as what I can best describe as "the name 'Rhinoceros beetle' taken literally", charges past me. The large dog-sized creature's horn bounces off of the wall and continues rushing me. This morning started like almost every day since my silken kidnapping by the spiders, that is to say with a nightmare. Unfortunately that's where the similarities end. I didn't take my new plant for a walk, see the bread lady. Nor did I go scare the wizard in the craftsman's district with my insistent gaze. The library was also spared from my attentions, as was the nameless mousy girl from my pronunciation questions. No, instead I get Sonja knocking on my door at an ungodly hour, and drug to some sort of armory. When we entered she made no attempt to communicate. She just scowled as usual and sat by the door.

Around me was a healthy mixture of simple weapons. My first instinct was to go for the sword. Don't judge me, I have been exposed to so many fantasy novels where a wandering teen with minimal training gets far with a sword even slaying trained militia men. Or I could use my weight to wield a massive club crushing any spider chitin that stands in front of me. But to my fantasies dismay I went with the smart option. Mankind's supposedly first weapon, and the one that is still used in a different form in modern armies. The weapon in question is of course the spear. I pulled one off the wall and headed to Sonja. She just greeted me with a raised eyebrow, look of concern, and a gesture to follow.

Again I somehow dodged another charge by the "Rhinoceros beetle", this time it's horn clipping my shirt and tearing it. I look to help to see Sonja holding her sling in irritation as the young man with a broadsword somehow gets in her way, while screaming indecipherable commands at me. I could try to kill this abomination but there is one problem with my weapon choice. You see spears are great, however using a spear with my left arm broken and multiple puncture wounds across my right arm; not so great.

Before I catch my bearings and dodge again I hear a collective groan from the crowd. I don't need language skills to know that someone got injured. My eye's snap to Sonja first and she is injury free and is staring at me, then I look at the man. Again he is clean, by process of elimination my eyes drift downwards.

Sprouting from my stomach is that disgusting beetle, it's smooth golden chitin reflecting my own face. I look distracted and detached.

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I don't have the fear or savage smile that I expected. With a lurch my body is raised as the beetle charges. Ignoring the tearing sensation from my stomach I strain to look behind me.

Rushing at me is the arena's wall. Time seems to slow as I contemplate possible escape, my brain quickly eliminates all but one route to survival.

I quickly pull my spear under my armpit lining the tip to the armored eye of the beetle with no time to spare. As my hand is violently jerked away by the spear bowing.

The wood groaning is so loud I can hear it over the cheating crowd.

It won't hold.

A sonic boom is accompanied by a rock as a spider web of cracks emerge from the beetle's head, slowing its charge. Following Sonja's attack the other young man then runs directly at me. Instead of using his massive sword to strike the beetle he rams his shoulder into the increasingly warped spear.

All of the pent up energy is released at once as the bending spear straightens into the beetle's head. This effect is magnified by the weakened exoskeleton, as the entire head falls apart as if it was pulped causing me to fall with the horn embedded in my stomach.

Though I know no one can understand I still say the words "God that hurts!"

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I close the door to the Priest of Lamzsi, I attempt to let my anger calm. It did not.

"What sort of sorry sod taught you how to fight! All you did was stand in my way! By Spithas' fires we could have gotten through without a scratch without you actively interfering!"

The man, Hans he called himself though I suspect it's an alias, scoffed in derision. "Me?! Oh no no no, how about you explain to me why you brought an injured man to a pit fight? Did someone bet on his death, because it certainly looks like someone notably you wanted to kill him! God's above he didn't even listen to my instructions. And it's not as if he could do anything except clumsily roll on the floor."

It was my turn to make a scoffing noise, " Oh Like your plan was so good 'Run at me I'll take it with my unwieldy giant sword.'" I spit in derision, "It's not like he can even understand what you say, you pompous sow's excrement."

Han's arms fly in the air in exasperation, "My point exactly! Not only is he injured he doesn't have his mental faculties! I don't know what sort of trash ma-... Naru dug up but I can't stand it! You're scum, and I'll see that everybody knows it!" Hans emphasizes his point by walking towards Asher's sitting form and speaks to him slowly and condescendingly. "You see this Asher, both you and that right bitch over there are useless. In Fact you're probably so useless your boss bet against you because you're more valuable dead."

I grin seeing the signs of a sucker punch, Asher's eye's don't betray much but his fist do. With a sharp crack Asher's fist connects with Hans' nose. Unfortunately Asher doesn't have the strength to break his nose, nor does Asher have the strength to remain upright in his chair.

Asher collapses at the feet of Hans, I silently unsheathe my dagger as I read Hans' body language. With a magically healed wound the body is too weak to fight off more injury one kick could cause Asher to bleed out. I can see fury running through Hans' eyes and I rush at his jugular.

"That's quite enough!" A voice echoes through the room. My dagger is stopped inches from Hans neck. Blood flows from my arms as if it's covered in thorns. Looking down I can see blood trailing from Han's leg. Walking from the corner is Naru, behaving as if he has been here the whole time.

"I don't know you but I understand your anger and Hans', but as allies this is unacceptable. The fight was all of your faults, except for Asher whose presence is a fault in itself. Sonja, your sling bullets are exceptional, but you were too concerned about Hans, or frantic about Asher to see a possible weakness. You assumed the entire body is as hard as its head and didn't even attempt to use your sword or daggers. If you would have observed its movements you would have seen slight pulsating under its Elytra." His eyes flick away to Hans, and I notice him twitch in an instinctual response, "Your positioning is an absolute travesty. All of your training has been on one on one fights, and so you do not know how to position yourself on the battlefield nor do you know how to pursue an enemy. Instead you just stood there lamely yelling at a person who obviously couldn't hear you. I can tell you that both of you could have easily taken this out individually, and yet the only person who did anything is a 'useless' person. It is distasteful." He let his magic go, allowing us to separate. "I have a vested interest in these fights so you will get your acts together, or I'll wish you did die in the ring." Naru starts to leave this private building, but before he fully closes the door he pauses, " I will say one thing, the teamwork for the final blow was flawless, every decision was perfect. Take that as you will."

The only sound that remained is the door latching shut. The respite poured water on my indignation. Hans and I say nothing as he marches out the door.

My thoughts that night were filled with the understanding that Hans was right, in fact I know that we were mad for the same reason. Asher doesn't belong here. He may be short tempered but he doesn't have "it". His hands and eyes are soft, he deserves to be employed as an acolyte where they know how to treat his disabilities, not working for Fleeces' gang. I should put my feelers out for just that. Maybe some old friends can take him in. But first he has to survive the fights. With my resolution hardened, I was able to embrace sleep.