033 - HEARTS AND MINDS
The door to the fighting pit of the arena stood directly in front of Conrad. Behind him, Mitch and a couple of others stood, weapons drawn and ready should he require any additional incentive to actually take the final few steps into the Arena.
Barrett had wasted no time. After final remarks to the crowd he had scheduled the fight for only half an hour later and those townspeople who were interested in seeing Conrad die now knew when they could slake their revenge.
Now, down in the preparation area, unarmored and only minimally armed, Conrad prepared to enter. A specialist of some kind had used a skill to examine Conrad’s inventory and, finding nothing that was on his list of prohibited items, cleared Conrad for entry. Conrad suspected the list was mostly combat oriented gear - Barrett didn’t want to muddy the rewards with weapons when what he needed was growth, material, and boons for non-combat workers.
As he stepped up, he was met with a prompt.
Great Pines Arena
Select your challenge type:
- -Conquest- -
- -Exhibition- -
The Exhibition format wasn’t available to Conrad, Barrett clearly had a strong relationship with the Arena or the Announcer or whatever was in charge here, but that wasn’t new information. Barrett was behind everything in Great Pines, the fact that he could influence the dungeon to not even permit Conrad the option to engage in Exhibition fights had never been in question.
He selected Conquest, and with a blaring of trumpets and crashing of percussion, his choice was echoed to the Arena spectators and the door began to ponderously ratchet open.
Sunlight spilled in and Conrad shielded his eyes briefly at the sudden brightness before, with a deep breath, he jogged forward, Mara’s knife manifesting into his hand and at the ready.
As he stepped out onto the sands of the fighting pit his first thought shocked even him. He had expected to feel a sense of vertigo, of awe at cheering crowds, of trepidation at the sight of dried blood or tactfully left behind remains of the dead. But when he looked up at the ‘crowd’ he felt nothing but disappointment.
“Is this it?” he said out loud.
The crowd was small, dispersed, and the whole sense of the scene was one of only the dregs of Great Pines citizens having gathered to watch an execution. The real crowd, the folks who made up the bulk of the citizenry here were out doing real work. This was the degenerates, the sadists, the men and women, sloppily dressed and mannered, that made up the underclass of even so small a settlement.
“I got all worked up for this?” Conrad shouted at the Arena, and was met by an answering chorus of drums as the Announcer started in, voice coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, human avatar nowhere in evidence.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO OUR LATEST ITERATION OF THE CONNNNNNQUEEEEEEEEEST! STANDING BEFORE YOU IS A MAN WHOSE BODY COUNT MAKES BECOMING A GLADIATOR SEEM LIKE THE SAFE OPTION, A MURDERER WITH AN UNPRECEDENTED DEBT TO PAY-”
“It was self defense!” Conrad shouted back.
“HE’S ARMED FOR BATTLE AND NURSING A SERIOUS CHIP ON HIS SHOULDER. THIS WHEELER AND DEALER HAS ONLY ONE THING LEFT TO OFFER TO THE WORLD - AN ALL OUT SPRINT TO THE FINAL TIEEEEEERRRRR!”
The paltry crowd cheered and clapped their approval.
“PLEASE WELCOME TO HIS DEBUT IN THE GREAT PINES ARENA, THE MERCHANT OF DEATH, CONRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD DREEEEEENNNNNNN!!!”
Boos and hisses met his introduction but Conrad had to hand it to the Announcer - he liked the sound of that nickname. Evidently he had taken Conrad’s effort to broker a deal to ‘heart’. And Conrad had an idea of just how he would thank him.
“FACING SUCH A FEARSOME COMPETITOR, WE COULD NOT IN GOOD CONSCIENCE SEND A NORMAL, TIER ONE COMPETITOR, NO! IN A SPIRIT OF SOLIDARITY WITH THE PEOPLE OF GREAT PINES, THIS ARENA WILL BE SENDING IN A WARRIOR YOU HAVE ONLY JUST BEGUN TO GET TO KNOW AND LOVE! A FIGHTER WHOSE FIRE FOR JUSTICE MAY JUST BE WHAT’S NEEDED TO BURN THE MERCHANT OF DEATH TO ASH.”
This was it. Conrad had been right. The gates opposite Conrad ratcheted open, and out walked -
“CATAPHRAAAAAAAAAAACT! THE DEMON PRIIIIIIIIIINCE!”
The creature was lithe, skin black with red patterns like embers on charred wood. It was taller than Conrad, but it walked on two legs and had a build similar to that of a human with knees bent reverse like an animal. Its face though was a maw of sharp teeth with eyes glowing like dim fires, and on its head was a set of small, curved horns. In one clawed hand it carried a long spear of some kind of black wood with a gleaming obsidian tip.
This crowd, such as it was, shouted its approval. The Arena was hoping to knock him out quickly and take the guild pin away from him, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Conrad removed the pin from his inventory and made a show of examining it before pinning it to his fraying shirt. Immediately the +3 increase to his stats eased his burden slightly. It would be painful giving this up, but when he eventually had to he knew he could always get another one.
But the Arena didn’t. Just the thought of taking this priceless and rare artifact from him had driven it into a frenzy.
The Arena had already displayed an impressive capacity for greed by falling into this trap so easily, and it had revealed a weakness that Conrad would exploit as deep as was humanly possible. And the first place to begin was the crowd.
These people had gathered to watch an execution - but they were only one demographic. The day before, Conrad had felt what was needed in this Arena, he had heard the crowd’s cheers for a man they wanted to see win.
An execution was one form of entertainment that only appealed to a few. But hope? The rise of an underdog? The fight of Order against Chaos on a grand stage, with the chance to actually watch Chaos lose? That was what would bring the rest. And if Conrad could bring the crowds, the crowds would bring offerings.
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And was there a point at which killing Conrad for a trinket was better than hundreds of others bringing in new offerings each time they came to see him fight?
They would see.
“FIGHT!”
Cataphract leapt forward, animal legs propelling it faster than most men. But Conrad was not most men, not where Great Pines and the Arena were concerned. To them, he would embody every letter of The Merchant of Death.
But he had to be cautious. Dungeons learned. If he showed it too much then so much more would be thrown at him as he advanced in tiers. He had to win, but this time at least, he had to do it before the thing knew what was happening.
He took off, sprinting straight at Cataphract, the two on a collision course.
“THE MERCHANT MUST BE OUT OF WARES TO BE SO BOLD! CATAPHRACT HAS HIS SPEAR UP, HE’S READY, HE’S — WHAT!”
As the Announcer shouted, Conrad invoked his favorite skill, Adrenaline Rush. His speed massively increased and as Cataphract thrust his spear forward it was childsplay to knock it aside and continue forward. He cut hard at the fingers gripping the spear closest to him and Cataphract screamed as several of them fell to the ground.
The demon reeled backward, opening itself up to attack.
“CATAPHRACT ON THE RETREAT, BUT HE’S NOT OUT! CONRAD CLOSING WITH THAT KNIFE, BUT STEEL CAN’T QUENCH FIRE!”
In the fight against Tanner the Hammer, when he had gotten close and started busting up Cataphracts ribs, the demon had used some kind of flame attack - Fire Breath, the Announcer had said - and so Conrad watched in the slowed time of Adrenaline Rush as the energy began to build first in its chest, then in its throat…
“THAT POWER! CONRAD’S SPEED IS UNREAL AND CATAPHRACT LOOKS TO BE STRUGGLING TO BREATHE! THAT PUNCH TOOK HIM RIGHT IN THE THROAT!”
The demon’s windpipe collapsed with a haptic crunch against Conrad’s fist and, as he had hoped, the fire of the spell seemed to get caught, swirling and growing inside the thing’s chest with nowhere to exit. And like Buck had in what felt like so long ago, Cataphract was about to learn the biggest downside to fire magic.
Conrad turned with the followthrough momentum of his punch, spinning and unleashing a reversed elbow strike into the thing’s diaphragm. It staggered back. Conrad took a chance then - winning quickly would create talk, but winning with style would fuel buzz that would end all productive work in favor of watching him compete against the Arena.
He turned, held out his knife so the crowd could see it vanish into his inventory, and walked away from the staggered Cataphract.
“WHAT A SHOW OF DISRESPECT! CONRAD WALKING AWAY AND - NO!”
A wet explosion sounded behind Conrad, the heat of it warming his back as small bits of what remained of Caraphract landed all around him.
“CATAPHRACT’S FIRE BREATH HAS BACKFIRED, SPELLING THE END OF HIS BRIEF REIGN AS PRINCE OF DEMONS. THE MERCHANT OF DEATH CAME TO TOWN, AND AS YOU’VE SEEN HERE FOLKS, CATAPHRACT WAS BUYING.”
Smirking, Conrad continued his walk back to the door he had entered. The Announcer had flair, and with Conrad’s help, he could make it big. He just needed to be shown the truth of that.
“CONRAD WILL RETURN TO FIGHT EACH DAY HEREAFTER UNTIL HE COMPLETES THE FINAL, TWELFTH TIER OF THE CONQUEST, OR JOINS THE WALL OF WOULD-BE HEROES WHO HAVE DIED TRYING!”
The exit began to slowly ratchet open as the Announcer continued, “HIS PRIZE, A FABULOUS SET OF CARPENTRY TOOLS, WILL BE ADDED TO THE ITEM SET THAT WOULD BE AVAILBLE TO HIM FOLLOWING A WALKAWAY AFTER VICTORY AT THE FOURTH TIER! BUT THIS MAN WON’T BE BOWING OUT EARLY - IT’S TOTAL VICTORY OR NOTHING FOR THE NEWLY MINTED MERCHANT OF DEATH!”
Shaking his head, Conrad left the Arena, feeling confident that there was time.
As he entered the ready area, he was surprised to see Mitch, not with weapon drawn and prepared to place Conrad back in the cage, but head shaking in disbelief. His companions were similarly impressed and made no attempt to hide it.
“That was… incredible,” Mitch said, “How did you do it? It was a skill, yeah? Was it Speed Up?”
Conrad pointed around at the walls of the Arena, signaling who he was referring to as he said, “I’ve got to keep my cards close to my chest. Others are listening.”
Mitch grinned and wagged a finger at him, “Cataphract took out The Hammer, and Tanner was a good man, a good fighter too. He’s not supposed to be out this early - Arena’s got it in for you, but, if you can make it into the second stage you’ll have made a fan of me.”
“How would it work for me, anyway, if I wasn’t a victim of the legal system?” Conrad asked.
“Conquest let’s men try to climb the tiers, then presents them with the chance to walk away with all their winnings after a tier four victory. If they stay, they have to fight all the way past tier eight before they get a chance again to walk,” Mitch said, shrugging, “And so far everyone who has tried hasn’t made it that far. People learned pretty quick to stick to the Exhibitions.”
Mitch gestured this time, not moving to grab Conrad or force him in any way back into his cell. It was unnecessary and, after that victory, Conrad figured Mitch might even feel disrespectful shoving him around. The Arena wasn’t about to let him just walk out. So Conrad went willingly into his cell, where he found a small cot had been pushed in from the outside.
He looked around in wonder at who would have put it there and saw one of the other gladiators, Jace if he remembered the man’s name correctly, raised a fist in salute.
“Good bit of revenge you got for Tanner,” he said.
Conrad nodded in respect and took a seat while Mitch closed and locked the cell behind him.
“Hey, Mitch,” he said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“What happened with that money Tanner gave you for the bet?”
Mitch gave a sad smile, “Lost it. Placed the bet on Tanner. He was a good fighter,” he paused a moment then shrugged, “Liked seeing him win.”
The man’s sincerity surprised Conrad. He had begun to feel as though these gladiators were cogs in a mill set up by Barrett, and that Mitch was just an agent of it, down here giving out compliments to help keep them throwing themselves into the grind.
But he meant it. He could have taken the money and walked, could have bet against the man fighting Chaos, but he just did what he was asked to do.
A favor for a friend.
Conrad manifested five gold pieces from his inventory and palmed it. He gestured for Mitch to step closer and held them through the bars, whispering, “Place it for me.”
Mitch stood a moment thinking it over, “Lotta people want you to lose. Betting against that won’t make me any friends.”
“You wanna make friends or money?” Conrad replied dryly, “I’m going to win it all.”
Mitch hesitated a moment then reached out and took the money, “Barrett always says gold never betrayed anyone.”
“On that, at least, we can agree,” Conrad said.
Mitch gestured a goodbye and left with the rest of the guards.
Conrad watched him go. A small piece of him hated to use a man like that with such a good heart. But his Merchant’s instincts knew the truth. Tie a man’s finances up in anything and he would work to keep it going.
And if there was one thing Conrad was learning more and more as time went on, it was that he needed good people in his corner.
He just hoped it wasn’t too late for the lesson to bear fruit.