Susi and Grobeche boarded their horses in the Narcuss stables.

There was more traffic than usual across the bridge over the sea leading to the island city, so it was already mid-morning beneath the overcast sky as they entered Narcuss. Both of them had been to Narcuss multiple times. It was almost impossible to conduct business of any kind, including religious exemption business, without visiting Narcuss to get it done.

Every single individual in the Parceta kingdom needed to be accounted for in the eyes of the Narcuss government.

Even though the Narcuss bloodline had been assassinated, the city’s name was to remain the same in memory of the deceased king. His three daughters were still alive, but they had been married off to wealthy dukes throughout Narcuss: their heritage upheld, but their family name lost to history.

From the wealthy to the tax-paying poor, each year every individual received a line of tattoo that connected in a perfect pattern on the underside of their wrist. Exceptions were made for the religious, who viewed their bodies as pure and could not receive a tattoo.

Susi and Grobeche were of the Talea order, so they didn’t have a tattoo, but they were to provide paperwork when they went out stating that they had a religious exemption from having to pay taxes. The only reason this worked for the Talea was because while they gave nothing to the state, they required nothing as well.

Most guards or officials gave the monks a hard time because it was a minor offense to have an outdated tattoo with a penalty fine, but a jailable offense to have no tattoo at all. Most people who went to jail didn’t come out.

Right on queue, Susi and Grobeche were questioned by a trio of guards who were checking everyone entering the vorago arena for the Tornetum.

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The guard in charge took Susi and Grobeche’s exemption paperwork, looked them over—and then the leader, with a stupid smile on his face waved at the two of them before looking over to the other guards who were now his chums.

“Couple of animal stuffers, these ones.” The man joked. “Do you guys secretly screw each other in the night, or do you only do that with the sheeps and goats?”

Grobeche grabbed his and Susi’s paperwork back from the guard as the three of them laughed and let them through. It happened every time they went through the city with no exception.

They weren’t to react. The guards knew it was part of their religion to remain as passive as humanly possible. They would never touch the Talea monks, but that didn’t stop the city guards from harassing them when they got the opportunity.

It wasn’t as big of a deal to Grobeche as it was for Susi. She had gotten in trouble on more than one occasion in her early teens for taking the bait.

There was a designated spot for each class’s representative in the vorago arena. One of the guards told them where to go for theirs, and it happened to be a small seat that was beneath an ornamental stone statue that the pigeons liked to frequent.

The stone two-seater chair for Grobeche and Susi was covered with crusty white and black bird shit as every other seat for each class’s representative was clean. The two stood at their seats instead of sitting down. They might be passive, but they still preferred to maintain their dignity.

Susi looked around at the crowd of the arena. She had watched the vorago before—with Rever actually. She had not liked it then, and she didn’t expect she would like it now.

The Talea monks were pacifists that believed all men and women should be entitled to a chance to redeem themselves, so watching a man be cut down for sport in front of a crowd of cheering spectators decimated the spirit. It was part of their religion to assist the broken and those in need when the time came to help, and yet all any Talea monk could do is watch.

No one rooted for the lost. No one wanted to grant a begging man a second opportunity at life.

They remained standing for the duration of the pre-ceremony dances.