“This will do.” Vallerian told the Fershya woman, still next to him. He slipped her a gold lyra. “For your troubles madame.” He watched as she lifted it to her mouth and bit the coin. She grinned at him, licking her lips.

“Come find me when you're done here.” She told him, sliding a hand over the front of his trousers. “I'll even let this cover the first bit.” she winked at him and slunk off back towards the lounge.

With her gone, Vallerian breathed for the first time down here. Now to find the boy, though Vallerian was beginning to question how good an idea this really was. Whoever this boy had been when Celeste had known him, Vallerian wondered what kind of monster could count himself among these people.

“Count Tarnarquill.” a nasally voice spoke. Beside Vallerian stood a Jöln man in a rich velvet doublet. It was tightly cropped with a high collar after the Fereni noble fashion. His medium long black hair was slicked back with grease, exposing a single cloudy dead eye. “I was not made aware of your patronage, my lord. My apologies for missing your entrance.” Vallerian eyed the man with a wary look.

“The Pitsmaster I presume?” Vallerian asked nervously. The man just chuckled at that.

“Oh no, no, no. Our master does not waste his time with the small pits of Southshore.” The Jöln grinned. “The name is Finnis Ter, I represent our host when he is otherwise occupied.” Finnis Ter proffered Vallerian a small pale hand which Vallerian reluctantly shook. He had spent more than enough time in this place already and was set on getting this business done and getting out. If this man helped with that, then Vallerian wasn’t going to argue.

“Well Master Ter, I'm looking for someone.”

“Most who come here are. Or something at least.” The Jöln's sunken eyes seemed to watch the pit intently. Vallerian tried his best to ignore the screams from the fight within. From the corner of his eye Vallerian saw a rough blow, dislodging the scrawny Fereni's jaw. “Who is it you're searching for? Perhaps I could arrange an introduction.” Finnis Ter pulled Vallerian's attention back.

“A boy, or maybe a man by now. A Fereni that grew up in the Red Curtains. Blonde, strong build, supposedly quite handsome.” Vallerian described the boy the best he could recall. The whores had given him mixed statements, but those features where consistent through them all. “Around sixteen or seventeen from what I heard.” Vallerian watched Finnis nod his head.

“Yes... perhaps I might know him.” The bastard began to grin. “Though you know nothing is free down here, My Lord.” Finnis kept watching the fight with hungry eyes. Vallerian grunted, then reached for his coin purse. “Oh, my dear count. Do you really think coin is of interest to me or my master?” The Jöln turned a raised eyebrow to him.

“What then?” Vallerian bit off the words. This can’t be good.

“Something far more valuable: Information.” The Jöln formed the words, and they rang in Vallerian's head. Vallerian sighed. He had dreaded it but expected as much. He cursed but figured he might be able to get out of this painlessly enough yet.

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“My father...” Vallerian began before being cut off.

“We know more than enough of the Viscount Fyri-Harrisdall. It is you that intrigues us.” Finnis Ter turned to him properly now. “There are rumours of a little… incident of your own making. Five years ago I believe? Tell me a story, won’t you?”

Vallerian's blood boiled. The insolence of this peasant. How had he even heard? Clenching his fist, Vallerian stepped towards the Jöln. “Ask that again and I'll...” Vallerian was stopped by the sound of unsheathing blades. With a quick glance Vallerian counted no fewer than a dozen large armed thugs emerging from shadowed corners. Their long swords glistening half-drawn at their hips. Their eyes all on him and Finnis.

“Now that would be unwise, my Lord.” Finnis Ter didn't even blink as he stared Vallerian down. Vallerian relented, loosening his fist. Finnis Ter was the steward of this shadowed land and Vallerian was at his mercy. “Now,” Finnis continued. “You were saying?”

As much as it hurt, Vallerian told his story. The mistake he had made five years ago. When Vallerian had finished, the Jöln seemed to moan with pleasure as he bit his lip with closed eyes.

“Delicious.” Finnis opened his eyes then continued. “This way.” The man motioned, and Vallerian followed him to another of the pits. He cursed under his breath. If he had just taken a look around, he wouldn't have had to say a word. The bastard knew it as well. Reaching the edge of the pit though, Vallerian finally found his quarry.

As the whores had said, the man had long knotted blond hair, and a build that looked more like a soldier in his prime than a starved street child. He stood bare-chested in the pit. The man's only covering were tattered trousers, roughly patched with even more tattered rags. The blond man stood in the pit opposite a large Korek with a jagged, metal tipped spear. Vallerian swallowed hard. Despite the man’s impressive build, the Korek was still at least a head taller than him. That, along side the weapon, left Vallerian feeling he was about to watch Celeste's old friend die.

Vallerian looked to Finnis. “I'll be particularly disappointed if the boy dies.” Vallerian tried to put some weight into it, but the Jöln waved him off.

“Just watch, dear count.” So Vallerian did, looking back into that awful blood-stained pit.

The man was surprisingly light on his feet, moving with quick, controlled motions around his arena. It was more than just the characteristically athletic Fereni gait. It was a strong sense of self that Vallerian knew only came with years of experience. The Korek roared as he charged at the man, his spear pointed right at the man’s chest.

The man grabbed the damned spear right at its head. With barely even an ounce of effort he pulled it, along with Korek, past him. The Korek, expecting to meet flesh, stumbled, careening into the wall with a thud so hard it shook the ground. The Korek leaned against the wall after that in a daze. The man acted immediately, leaping back onto the Korek and meeting the large man's head with his knee. The Korek's head snapped back, hitting the stone wall hard. The Korek collapsed into a heap on the ground. Vallerian watched, curious, this was where he would go in for the killing blow.

But then the man stopped, clearly before he had killed his assailant.

“I thought this was blood sport?” Vallerian asked.

“No, unfortunately.” Finnis remarked in an exasperated tone. “He takes half pay to not kill. An odd one, but despite the competition we put him against he always comes out on top.”

“Are his opponents so kind?”

“No.”

Vallerian shook his head. Impossible. They had been separated for more than a decade, and yet that girl’s touch still seemed to hold strong on this man. So strongly, that the man had lowered himself as far as one could go, and yet here he was, clean.

Vallerian watched as men once again entered the arena to pull the bloodied Korek out, and the young man followed behind him. He was sweaty and grimy but didn't seem injured in the least. He was impressive.

“I wish to meet him.” Vallerian demanded of the Jöln. Finnis Ter grinned.

“I thought as much. Follow me.”