A view from the top of a tower. The sun rising over the hills. David looked out from his window and resentment flowed into his fists.

The prince was imprisoned.

He should’ve been killed. The old tradition was that the sons of the old king would slit each others’ throats for the crown. That way there would be no fracturing whenever the nobles disagreed on which son should take over, no civil wars at the passing of generations.

The ascension of emperor Sal ben Selan had been different though. Old king Selan had been poisoned one night. Rumors said patricide, but those fearful who knew Sal’s true power hushed the lips of dissent.

That bastard takes my father and my freedom but leaves me with my life!

David paced away from the window in his bedroom. There was something appropriate about a tower imprisonment. Above the city but away from it. He knocked on his door. It opened and was replaced by a pair of soldiers shoulder to shoulder.

“Yes, my prince?”

“Is it possible that I could be transferred?”

They looked at each other, then back. “My lord, it is the emperor’s order that you be held here.”

“His order was that I be held, this tower was only a suggestion.”

“Yes, but-”

“Don’t worry, my thinking is benign. Transfer me to a proper prison, one for the criminals.”

Their faces said “why?” but their mouths would never question an order in that way. “Do you have a place in mind, sire?”

“The dungeon under the city. I’ll give you a false name to file me under.”

A moment of silence passed as the guards stared at him in nervous reluctance.

Coldly, David said “I am your prince and that is an order!”

“Yes my lord!” they said, scurrying away and nearly forgetting the door.

I’ll show my brother that old tradition, blood for blood!

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Sal was often the first one into the throne room. Naturally the nobles would arrive by the time decisions were made, but Sal appreciated a moment to reflect on things to come. The throne was cold under his arms, but he was numb to it as he contemplated.

In time, a parade of colored cloth spread into the hall. One cousin of a duke was new to the occasion.

“Does the emperor sleep?” she whispered.

“Hush,” came a chiding whisper. “Remember he knows your words.”

After the room was mostly full, Sal snapped to attention. He turned toward an old man, the royal treasurer. The old man’s face turned pale. A simple nod dismissed the treasurer in shame. Seeing what had happened, silence descended into the throne room.

Then the proceedings began. Gabriel, the head of the guard, stepped forward. His voice was confident, likely the only one not apprehensive after the treasurer.

“The morning report, sire?”

“A few matters first. I would like this past year’s taxes to be reexamined.”

More than one noble looked around the room in panic. How can he know? We were so careful, we barely know what we’ve done! There was a thud as one woman fainted.

Sal turned his head toward her. “Is she alright?”

The crowd stood back from the woman and one petrified man.

“My wife has fainted, my king.”

“So it is. Tell her she doesn’t need to attend until the child arrives.”

“But sir, we are without children.”

“Ask a physician. Gabriel, have a guard transport her to a nearby bed.”

The head guard nodded. He motioned to guards around the room who had heard the instruction. One came forward with a stretcher floating in front of him. The woman’s husband stood back as the stretcher centered itself above her. Then the two of them rotated in the air until she was above it. Gravity returned to her, and she was carried away peacefully.

“Now, Gabriel, I believe you have a schedule change?”

“Yes, sire. Recall the artist Lang who was, some months ago, imprisoned for sedition.”

“I do. Her work was as beautiful as it was dangerous.”

“In the meantime, she has been facing the challenge of the dungeon, the Golden Circle. While imprisoned, she has now won her fourth match. Naturally you must attend her fifth match in the event that she wins her freedom. This will necessitate a schedule change.”

“Yes. I believe we have an opening next week should a fitting opponent be found.”

Gabriel smiled knowingly. “I will look into it,” he said and the rest proceeded as usual.

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A prince in deceptive rags was guided into a cell.

“Here’s your new home,” said the ignorant guard. “Dinner’s in an hour so don’t eat your cellmate.”

David sat up and looked around. The floor sunk down in one corner where a puddle had formed. Two flies buzzed around it, glowing in the light from one lone window. A box sat right below the window, a feeble thing to give a glimpse through the bars. The other cells didn’t all seem to have windows. Was some special treatment contrived even here?

A stirring in the shadows of the other corner took shape. “You new here?” it asked. It was an older man, gangly and with a short unkempt beard.

“Just arrived,” David said, gesturing to the locked cell door. “The name’s Joe,” he lied.

Gesturing to himself, “John.” The old man looked him over. “What’re you in for?”

“Stole a loaf of bread. Yourself?”

“I was a chef. Made a soup that wasn’t good enough some years ago.”

“Pardon? Like it was poisoned?”

“No, just the wrong soup for the wrong person. No wonder you’re in for stealing, you don’t know who to steal from.”

David/Joe chuckled. A cheer wafted in from outside. “What’s going on out there?”

“Ah, you really don’t know shit,” said old man John. “Come, stand here and look out. We’ve got front row seats to the Golden Circle.”

The window turned out to be just barely above the ground. The blinding sun gave way to a view of two combatants encircled by a glowing ring.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The old man jostled onto the box. “Let me see who we’ve got today. Ah, on the right that’s Slint ‘The Spider’ and it looks like he’s up against ‘Blast Doors’ Barthol.”

Slint was a tall, wiry man with a sword that Barthol was doing everything he could to avoid. David was struck by the asymmetry on display: only one of them had a weapon. Jab after jab forced Barthol to one side of the circle and he looked like a goner for sure. Then, as the decisive slash came down, he rolled out of the way and the spot he left erupted into flames. Slint was thrown back, but he wasn’t down long.

“What is this?” David asked.

Old man John looked disgusted, “How do you not know, Joe? Why, it’s only the one ticket us jailbirds have to freedom. Five matches in the Golden Circle, each one to the death. If you win them all you’re granted your freedom. Big if, though, when the combatants’ abilities go beyond the natural and the guards match the challengers.”

Slint went in for another attack. Same strategy as before, Barthol started back on the defensive. But before he was cornered, he lunged down toward Slint and then rolled away. An explosion came again, but this time it was much smaller. When the flames cleared, Slint stood unfazed with an outstretched arm.

“Well I’ll be damned! That spider guy did something similar his last match. It’s like he can nullify people’s abilities.”

The same drama played out. Barthol got just close enough to Slint to place an explosion underneath him and then dodged out of the way before it activated. Only, that time it didn’t activate. Slint barreled forward unfazed. Barthol’s panic was clear even from the cell window as he scrambled away.

Inevitably Slint caught up with him. David was struck that he could move so quickly carrying that sword. Barthol attempted one last blast in vain. Slint didn’t even try to dodge, and in the end didn’t need to as only a puff of smoke emerged. A scream loosed from Barthol's lips but didn't reach the cell.

Just outside the view from the cell, the crowd erupted again. The circle dimmed with Barthol’s life and the cheers rose as the victor was announced.

Old man John stepped down from the box. “That’s a second life that spider has on his hands. I called the circle our one ticket to freedom earlier. Well, I reckon five human lives is one hell of a price to pay.”

David applied to challenge the circle that night.

----------------------------------------

One of David’s previous guards met the other in a hallway.

“Did you hear? It looks like there’s an inmate named Joe who’s challenging the Golden Circle almost immediately after joining.”

“Oh god, you don’t think-”

“It has to be him.”

“We have to stop him, right?”

“I don’t think we can. To stop him now would be to disobey the orders of a prince.”

“But we can’t just let him get killed, right?”

“Look, the way I see it, we were just ordered to keep him held. No one says he has to stay alive as long as he’s still held.”

----------------------------------------

David gripped the Soldier’s Hilt in his hand. It wasn’t attached to a sword or anything, only a hilt with a button on the back. They’d asked if he wanted a conduit for the fight and he’d suggested the hilt. He knew that others would be stronger, but he’d only trained with the one.

He was standing in the dark. Before they’d left he asked the guard who he’d be up against. The answer was “Lion’s Skull” Roben, but that didn’t mean that much to him. Now he was just waiting and it didn’t seem he’d get any warning before the fight began.

He pressed the button on the back of the conduit. The dark made it impossible to see anything and the weight didn’t change, but he could feel the increased resistance as he swung the hilt around. Kneeling down, he hit the ground to be sure.

On an instinct, he felt like something was about to happen. David turned off the conduit and took a ready stance.

He guessed right.

The sun was blinding in its suddenness. As his eyes adjusted the Golden Circle came into view around him. It glowed a faint yellow, and beyond it was the stadium crowd. A booming voice echoed over their cheering.

“...newcomer to the ring, a mysterious man who jumped to fight the very day he arrived, the mad ‘Stiletto’ Joe!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. David wasn’t sure whether to hold his stance or wave.

“And on this side, back for blood a fourth time, we have ‘Lion’s Skull’ Roben!”

A large man appeared at the other side of the ring. Suddenly the title made sense: a helmet conduit covered the majority of his face. Pair that with the heavy longsword in his hands and the comparison to a lion became more apt.

“These two bloodthirsty madmen enter the ring! Who will escape? Nobody leaves until a heart stops… or two! Everybody, it’s time… TO FIGHT!”

For a moment, the noise was deafening. Then the circle’s glow became brighter and the sound from outside took on a muted quality.

The man across the circle put his arm up, seeming to say something, but David wasn’t listening. He pressed the Soldier’s Hilt to the ground and pressed the button. Lifting, he felt a greater weight than he had in the dark waiting area. A field had emerged from the hilt and frozen the stone floor into a blade. He held his heavy weapon and charged toward his opponent.

“Hold on, I think we should discuss this first,” said Roben.

David raised his sword for a chop from above. As a feint, he pressed the button on the back of his hilt to drop the stone blade. With the hilt now lighter, he brought it to the side and pressed again to freeze a blade of air. Stone blade still falling, he angled for a sideways slash.

Both made contact at once. The falling stone seemed to suddenly veer off to one side. His sideways blow was similarly deflected. There was an invisible shield! David dodged back to avoid his own stone guillotine.

“I told you I think we should talk!”

David took a ready stance. “We fight to the death, no? Nothing to talk about.”

“Perhaps we will, but for now we talk. My Soldier’s Helm is the same as your hilt: it freezes matter in position. You can’t break through my shield any more than I could break through your sword.”

“Wasting time, then? You arrive on the field of battle intending a starving match?”

“If it comes to that,” Roben said. “Ideally we’d come to an understanding. What ambition brings you to break through this dungeon’s barrier of men?”

What’s with this guy? “None of your business.”

David pulled another blade from the ground and tossed it. The stone knife broke against the frozen air, but this was expected. David knew how the Soldier’s Helm worked: the barrier it projected was flat with a single hole for its user to strike through. He circled around Roben tossing stones, searching for this gap in the shield. Seeing the way they were deflected, it became clear that Roben was moving the barrier. After a full circle, he stopped his search.

I can’t let this guy tire me out if it’s really about attrition.

“Like I said, none of your rocks will break through. Returning to my question, one of us lives and one of us may leave. My life may not be the most important, so talk!”

That one stumped David. “What do you mean?”

“I suggest we come to an agreement on which one of us should live. That’s why I asked your intentions upon being freed.”

Did this seriously work on three other guys? “I seek revenge on the emperor.”

Roben smiled. “Finally we battle with words and not swords. Revenge for what?”

“He killed my father, so I will kill him.”

“Mmm. You were clearly once a soldier, given your aptitude with the hilt. I too bear a grudge against his highness. Let me go and I will kill him in your stead.”

“Why would I let you go?”

“This is my fourth match and your first. I have only one more opponent after you, and you have four. Clearly the numbers favor my survival. If I’m more likely to make it out, then I will be more likely to even have a chance at defeating the emperor.”

David lowered himself again like a cat ready to pounce. “You’re wrong.”

Roben braced himself in kind. “How so?”

“The emperor has many secrets. I won’t trust my vengeance to an ignorant reject soldier like you.” David charged forward with a blade of air.

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Roben lifted his longsword.

That gap must be around here somewhere. That barrier stops him too.

David dragged his invisible blade across the invisible wall. Heavily, Roben lifted his longsword and pulled it back. David dodged moments before the longsword struck through the invisible shield's gap.

Running to the side, David struck a wall. He looked where he collided and saw nothing. It was a barrier! Looking to the other side, he found he was near the edge of the ring.

No! The Soldier’s Helm is most effective in narrow quarters!

He tried to escape to one side, but found that the barrier had moved. Another route, and that too was suddenly blocked. David was pinned in and Roben was slowly approaching.

Stopping his struggling, David tried to lift his air sword but the blade struck the wall.

Inevitably, Roben reached David.

“You’re right to think I was a soldier. I ran the battlefield with the best of them, and I’d like to say I saved a few lives with my shield.”

Roben raised his longsword. David made a sudden move to force him to move the barrier, and in turn the gap through which his blow would come. It was only a moment’s delay.

“The emperor treated us like pawns in a chess game. He sicced us on people whose only crime was living on land he wanted. It was rebellion and treason that put me here. Know that in death your dream will be fulfilled.”

Three things then happened at once. One: Roben stabbed down with his longsword. Two: David dodged while the sword was in the barrier’s gap. Three: David released his air blade, flicked his wrist, and reactivated with the hilt pointed squarely at Roben’s chest.

While a blade formed by the Soldier’s Hilt cannot pierce the barrier formed by the Soldier’s Helm, there’s nothing to stop the hilt from forming a blade through the barrier. Thus, the two intersected. David had to let go of the hilt because it was stuck in the air by the barrier. The blade reached into Roben’s body claiming his blood for the tip. Roben’s momentum carried him down onto the blade, which carved him up the middle with his own flesh.

After a moment, the hilt fell to the ground. David’s opponent followed it shortly. David walked into the forming puddle of blood to retrieve the hilt. He freed the matter of the blade and closed Roben’s lifeless eyes.

“Know that in death your grudge will bear fruit.”