One man's fist slammed hard into another's stomach, and the crowd winced and exclaimed a collective, "Ooh!"
Danarius chuckled to himself as if they were seated at the coliseum watching a comedy performance and not the ruthless bloodsport they were in fact witnessing.
Fenris, his little wolf, sat next to him in expressionless silence. The elf seemed untouched by the brutality and gore. He had not been shocked by the violent beheading of one man by another with a massive scythe in the first match of the day, and he was no more impressed now as two naked warriors tried to beat each other to death with their bare hands. One might think to see him that he didn't react because he didn't care; in actuality, he didn't flinch because he'd seen and experienced worse.
The mage turned to his pet elf and watched him watching the combatants. They were all slaves, like Fenris. He didn't know if the elf was aware of it, but he would know soon.
The audience suddenly leapt to its feet and everyone began cheering and whistling as the round came to a bloody close. Danarius glanced back at the center ring, where one man's body lay twisted impossibly, entirely purple with bruises, and watched as the other man only managed to stagger a few steps before collapsing, as dead as the first. The spectators went wild. It wasn't uncommon for even the champion of the day to die of his wounds mere hours after a victory, but for both competitors to be killed almost simultaneously was a rare treat. It didn't matter that the vanquisher hadn't lived long enough to savor his conquest; to the slave's master went the spoils.
Danarius had made a hearty bet on the contender that had lasted the longest, and he rose from his seat as soon as the match had ended, eager to collect his winnings. Fenris stood and followed him without having to be told.
The mage waited patiently in line at the payout counter, smiling with contentment and agreeing with the other gamblers when they remarked on what an exciting tournament this had turned out to be. When it was his turn to collect his winnings, Danarius drew a ticket from his pocket and slid it across the counter to exchange for a heavy purse of gold coins.
Danarius tucked the pouch into the folds of his robes and sauntered towards the door. "Do you know why I brought you here?" he asked of the elf as he led him to the carriage waiting outside.
"To learn additional combat skills by watching others fight?" Fenris guessed.
"Pah!" Danarius scoffed. "You could have taken on any man in that dome today and walked away without a scratch. Lot of amateurs."
The magister's driver caught sight of his master and drew the cart up to the curb. Danarius opened the door and climbed inside and Fenris followed, closing the door behind them. The driver cracked his whip and the carriage began to move, headed for home.
Danarius continued their conversation. "No, Fenris. The reason I brought you here was so you could get a glimpse of your future."
"You…wish me to compete?" the elf realized.
The mage smiled wickedly. "That's right. You're going to make a name for yourself, and plenty of gold for me." He turned his attention to the window, watching the street pass by with a self-satisfied smirk on his cruel lips as he considered how this scheme could help his reputation, and thereby his power, grow.
Fenris was a little surprised Danarius would risk it after all the trouble he'd gone through to make the elf into what he was today. But, then, the mage was right; Fenris felt confident he could have battled any man in the arena and won each match with little difficulty.
"If that is your wish, Master," the elf said with a determined nod, "your will be done."