"Saxon! Saxon! Saxon! Saxon!" The crowd chanted. The young man, armed with his sword and buckler, checked the straps of his old and tattered armor and belt. 'Why am I still doing this? I shouldn't be here!' The youth thought to himself. "Are you ready, Saxon?" the jailor asked. "This time, it'll be tough. Even for you. Want me to tell you what the Queen's got in store for ya this time?" The jailor kindly offered. "No thanks. I imagine I'll ind out soon enough." The youth wouldn't fall or the jailors trick again. Trust the word of a pirate? Stop kidding yourself. The man had probably been put up to this to try and break his focus. After all, the odds were 3:1 in the youths favor, which made the youths death quite profitable for those who bet against him.
The youth finished checking the straps and continued to check the knife in his boot. Yup, it wouldn't jump out with rough movements, but could still be drawn easily, should he need it. The knife was one the only items which had been returend to him. The material wasn't worth much and it's design as simple. A wooden handle with a cylindrical groove around, inlaid with a leather cord to provide better grip. It had once been inlaid with a copper wire, but some pirate must have stripped it to sell. The blade was made of Damast steel, but without the acid treatment it looked just like regular steel. Twenty odd centimeters of single edged steel, with a false edge on the last five to provide better penetrating power. It somewhat resembled a modern day combat knife, albeit made with different materials.
Done checking his equipment, the youth rolled his shoulders to ready hmself before the gate to the arena opened. The arena hushed as the Pirate Queen made her appearance and the commentator began the opening speech. He spoke some drivel about this fight being dedicated to some deity or other and that the ancestors would bear witness to the blood shed on this day. "And now, for the first fight of the day. We bring you the big man from the West. The barbarous Varangian captured from the Byzantine Royal Barge. The one who slew over a dozen of our brethren before we chained him and his paymaster. The man who entered and left the arena in one piece for over a dozen times, THE SAXON!" As the comentators shout ended, the pirates and townspeople in the stands continued chanting. "Saxon, Saxon, Saxon!"
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"And for his opponent, we picked something special today. The bets you made may make you cry today, hahaa! The Saxon's opponent today, was captured from the West inner seas eastern coast, near the Swordsmith city of Damast. A Great Desert Lioness!" After this anouncement, the crowd hissed and those who bet one the Saxon's victory cursed their luck.
"Well, seems like I have some kind of grudge with large felines." The youth muttered. Looking around the hospital room his other self was currently in, both of him had a wry smile on their lips. "How did it come to this again? How did I end up here, in two worlds at once?" One lying in a French hospital after diving into the lion enclosure of a zoo to save a kid and the other about to face the prehistorical version of the same stupid cat.
"Well, nice knowing you kid, but I bet my money on the lioness. At least make it entertaining for the rest of us kay?" the jailor spoke his words of "encouragement". "Hey, maybe, if the gods favor you, you may even win! When that happens, you'll be sure to rake in some benefits! Think of those pretty girls just waiting for a great hero and who knows, a miracle may actually happen hahaha!"
As the young man in the hospital bed let out a sigh, the other him tightly gripped his sword and buckler, walking into the arena. "Fuck, seriously. How DID I end up here?" After he lout these thoughts, the youth jogged to the middle of the arena, waiting for his opponent and preparing to fight for his life once again.