I awoke to chaos raging in the streets. Apparently, news about the Emperor's assassination had gotten out. I just hoped I wasn't in that news.
I sleepily grabbed my bag and started down the stairs. Luther Broad was at the bottom, a serious look on his face.
"The Emperor was assassinated yesterday," he informed me solemnly as I took a seat at the bar.
Of course, I already knew this. I put on my best shocked face. "What? No!" I exclaimed.
"I'm afraid so," he said, returning to his normal post behind the bar. Thankfully, our conversation was cut short by another patron who entered and began conversing with Luther. I ordered another meal (no wine this time) and ate quickly, slipping out before anyone else entered.
The streets were bursting with people, all trying to figure out what had happened to their beloved Emperor. I saw one of the men who distributed the Black Horse Courier getting mobbed by civilians. Judging by the sheer amount of people who were here, I imagined the whole city was a madhouse right now. I didn't even want to try the Market District right now.
Instead, I headed down Green Emperor Way to the Arena District. This area was significantly less packed with people, probably because they were more interested in the assassination than Arena matches.
I passed by the bookie, who was currently taking bets for the next match. The doors leading up to the stands were not locked, and no one objected to me opening them, so I assumed I was allowed to go up there.
Matches were... bloody, to say the least. But oddly enough, they looked like fun. If you weren't the one that lost, that was.
After the match, I went down to the bookie, who was still standing in the same spot as before. "Excuse me, but how does someone join the Arena?"
The bookie pointed to the door on the other side. "You go down to the Bloodworks and talk to the Blademaster, Owyn. It's not a decision to take lightly, though. To lose is to die," he replied.
"Right... thanks," I said. I took a deep breath, composed myself, and opened the door to the Bloodworks. Why the hell not? I knew it was a stupid thing to do so soon after getting such an important task, but I needed the money for equipment somehow.
I knew I could easily die. But it would certainly be a hell of a lot better of a death than dying to bandits because I was unprepared.
I noticed that the Bloodworks was a lot less crowded with people than I thought it was going to be. There was a Dunmer practicing archery near the entrance, a strange-looking Orc who was absorbed in his sword training, an unfriendly-looking woman standing in front of a punching bag, and two people on either side of her who looked like they were the ones in charge here.
I went to the Redguard man on the woman's right first. "Er, excuse me?"
The man raised an eyebrow quizzically. "I don't know who you are, friend, but you've got about ten seconds to tell me what you're doing in my Bloodworks before I lop your arms off," he threatened calmly. Well, that hadn't been the greeting I had been expecting.
I raised my arms up in a defensive gesture. "I don't mean you any disrespect, sir! I was just looking for the Blademaster," I said, really hoping he wouldn't kill me.
The man's expression softened, but only a bit. "You're looking at him. Name's Owyn. What do you want?"
Wow, rude. "I was wondering if you were taking any new fighters," I asked.
Owyn nodded. "We're always looking for fresh blood. But you, kid? I'm not sure you've got what it takes."
That was a little less surprising to hear. I still wanted to join though. "I-I can fight!" I exclaimed.
"Never said you couldn't, though now I am. You got a name, kid?" Owyn retorted.
"Laniwen, sir," I answered.
Owyn shook his head. "That's great, but your name is now Pit Dog, Pit Dog," he said without any trace of a smile. "Welcome to the Blue Team. Would you like to fight using a Light Raiment or a Heavy Raiment?"
"Light, please," I said without thinking.
"Figures," the Blademaster commented as he reached inside a cabinet, pulled out a set of armor, and tossed it at me. I caught it rather ungracefully. "Put that on and go train. I want to see you in a match today, Pit Dog."
I nodded, fully aware that I was way in over my head and that today could very well have been the last day of my life. After retreating into a corner of the Bloodworks where no one could see me, I changed into my light raiment and surveyed the room. There were a few weapons laying around, but none of them looked any better than the steel shortsword I carried.
"Welcome to the Arena, Pit Dog!" a voice came from behind me. I jumped and whirled around to face the Dunmer I had seen earlier.
"O-oh, hi there," I replied.
The Dunmer grinned. "Nice to make your acquaintance. I'm... well, my name's not important, really. I'm another combatant in the Arena. Gladiator rank." Well, he was certainly friendlier than the last Dunmer I had run into.
"Oh, so there are ranks," I said intelligently. Way to go, genius.
The Dunmer chuckled. "You have much to learn, my friend. I overheard Owyn saying he wants you to fight today. He usually doesn't send in fresh blood that fast, but he hasn't been in a very good mood lately," he remarked.
"Nice to know I'm the person he's taking his anger out on. It's not like this threatens my life in anyway," I replied sarcastically.
"I like the way you think, Pit Dog. How would you like to spar with me before your first match? We can't have our newest member going in there without warming up, now can we?" he asked.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you being so nice?" I asked in return.
The Gladiator shrugged. "Teammate camaraderie, I'm a nice guy, the Blue Team hasn't had a decent victory in months, some combination of the three. Mostly the last one, though," the Gladiator answered with a sly grin.
I could definitely find myself getting along with this guy. No, not like that! In a drinking buddy sort of way. I drew my steel shortsword. "All right then, let's get to work," I said.
I don't know how long we sparred, but it certainly helped. The Blue Team Gladiator gave me a lot of pointers about how Arena fights worked, and I felt like I had certainly gotten better at sword fighting.
"Hey, Pit Dog!" Owyn barked. I knew he meant me.
I walked over to where he was. "Yes, sir?"
"It's time for your first match. You're going up against a Bosmer from the Yellow Team. Fights with a sword. Pretty straightforward. Don't die. I'm opening the gates to the Red Room. I assume your Gladiator friend over there explained the rules to you?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir," I answered.
"Alright, now go out there and beat the Yellow Team!" Owyn exclaimed.
I rushed over to the Red Room... and stopped short. Okay, I could see why they called it the Red Room. There was blood everywhere. On the floor, smeared onto the walls, and – was that blood on the ceiling? I felt a little sick to my stomach.
"Grisly sight, isn't it?" the Gladiator from earlier had materialized next to me somehow. "I remember my first match. I was scared to death. But I still won, and here I am today. You'll do just fine."
"I certainly hope so," I said, smiling weakly although I felt like I was about to be sick. I began the slow walk up the Red Room ramp to the Arena battlefield. The bloody handprints on the door certainly didn't do anything to help my morale.
"Good luck, my friend. May your blade always strike true! And first," my Dunmer friend called after me with a chuckle. I reached the door, straightened my helmet, took another deep breath, and pushed it open.
My ears were greeted by the deafening sound of cheering. It was hard to believe that only a few short hours ago, I was up in those stands contributing to that cheering. Now I was here, and I was going to die. This had been a terrible idea. I should have just gone adventuring instead.
There was no turning back now, however. I shakily approached the gate, staring out at the Arena battlefield. I drew my sword, and waited as the announcer did his speech. Looking over at the other side of the Arena, I could see that my opponent, a young Bosmer girl very much like myself, looked just as scared as I felt.
And then the gates lowered. Any trace of fear on the other Bosmer's face turned to determination, and she rushed forward, sword in hand. I did the same, my heart pounding in fear the entire time. We met in the middle, swords clashing. I wasn't going to go down so easily.
I leaped back and shot a fireball at her, which caught her on her arm. This caused her to falter a little, but mostly only succeeded in pissing her off. Note to self: join the Cyrodiil Mages Guild and learn better Destruction spells. She took a swing at me, which I only barely managed to block with my shield. It left a dent in my shield that I knew I would need to fix later, if I managed to live through this fight.
Whoever this girl was, she was certainly tough. She didn't look like she was going to slow down anytime soon, and she had already put me on the defensive. I decided that trying to tire her out was the best solution. I dodged and weaved, managing to avoid most of her attacks. And then she caught me on the leg, sword slicing through my skin like a knife through butter.
Agony jolted through my entire body, but still, I fought on. I hit her with another fireball and took advantage of her recoil time to cast a minor healing spell on myself. I was no healer, far from it, but I did know how to take the edge off a wound, if only for a little while.
My injured leg posed a few problems, however. This left me unable to continue my original strategy of dodging her every move, and I was sure that was exactly why she had attacked me there. She recovered from my fireball and rushed forward again, swinging her sword wildly. Now she was really mad. Somehow, I managed to meet most of her hits with either my shield or my own sword.
I thrusted forward with my shield and managed to make her drop her sword. Finally, I had the upper hand. Since Arena rules stated that could could not pick up any weapon that was dropped, even your own, she was now entirely reliant on her fists and magic to win the fight. She shot a frost spell at me, which I managed to dodge even with my injured leg.
Without her sword, she was at my mercy. A hit here, a slash there, lather, rinse, repeat, and she was down. I had won my first match.
The announcer proclaimed the Blue Team victorious, and then instructed me to leave the Arena for a well-earned rest. I happily obliged, taking one last glance at my fallen opponent. Truth be told, I felt bad, but she volunteered to do this. It wasn't like anyone forced her to fight in the Arena.
I pulled open the door to the Blue Team's Bloodworks and limped down the ramp. I healed my injuries in the Basin of Renewal, grateful to no longer have to limp.
Owyn was happily surprised to see me. "By the Nine Divines, you did it! You actually won! You ain't so bad after all, Pit Dog. You may even survive enough matches to advance in rank," he said, grinning. He handed me fifty gold. I frowned at the small sum in my hands before pocketing it. Well, better than nothing.
"When's my next match?" I asked.
Owyn shrugged. "Whenever you feel ready. Now that I know you're not going to die right off the bat, I'd like you to take some time between matches and brush up on your skills. You can fight, alright, but a lot of your victory today in that Arena depended on dumb luck. If you hadn't disarmed your opponent, I imagine you would have had a much harder time."
"Right... well, thank you, I think," I said, walking back into the training room.
My Gladiator friend was nowhere to be found, so I decided to watch the strange Orc practice for a bit. There was something off about him, but I couldn't quite place what it was. He was rather pale for an Orc, though. Maybe he had mixed blood?
The Orc noticed me watching him and put down his sword. He turned to me with a smile.
"Ah, you must be our Arena's newest Pit Dog. I'm Agronak gro-Malog. The Grand Champion. Most people call me the Gray Prince," he said.
"The Gray Prince?" I asked.
Rather than being annoyed at my confusion, Agronak looked more than happy to explain his title. "You see, I'm only half-Orc." Okay, so my earlier suspicions were correct. "My mother was an Orc, but my father is a lord. I'm technically nobility, but no one seems to want to recognize that. So I call myself the Gray Prince."
"I see," I said. It was actually rather interesting, learning people's stories.
I was about to ask further when the door the the Bloodworks opened. It was my Gladiator friend. He had apparently been watching me fight.
He walked up to me and shook my hand. "You did it, my friend! I knew you could," he said happily. Agronak nodded a friendly greeting at the Gladiator.
"I'll tell you more about it later," Agronak said, and returned to his training.
"That was a very impressive battle," the Gladiator said, grinning. "For a second there, I was worried she had you beaten. But I knew you'd come back in the end, and you did. And here you are. How do you feel, Pit Dog?"
"Like a bunch of Daedra hit me full force in the stomach," I admitted honestly. I had just been through one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and managed to come out of it with only a few injuries to show. "I think I need a strong drink to get over what I just had to go through."
The Gladiator chuckled. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get one! My treat, considering you just won me a fair bit of gold."
So he had bet on my match and won. Maybe that was why he was so happy to see me alive at the end of it.
The Gladiator and I made our way to the Elven Gardens District at my request. I decided we were going to get our drinks at Luther Broad's Boarding House, which was where I was going to stay the night again.
"Hey there, Luther," I said as I entered.
"Oh, hello. Laniwen, right? I assume you want another room for the night?" he asked.
I nodded, handing him ten gold. "But first, I'm here to celebrate!" I exclaimed, grinning. "I took your advice and entered in the Arena. I won my first match!"
Luther smiled. "Congratulations. And I see you made a friend, too," he said, glancing over at the Gladiator.
"Yeah, he fights in the Arena too. We're both here to celebrate," I said and the Gladiator and I took our seats at the bar.
"A round of your finest, if you will," my Dunmer friend requested. Luther nodded and disappeared into the back, coming back a few seconds later with a bottle. He poured the both of us a drink and set the bottle on the table.
My Gladiator friend and I did a little toast and we took big gulps of our drinks. The alcohol burned going down, but it certainly made me feel better.
"So," my drinking partner began. "What brought you to the Arena in the first place?"
I took another sip of my drink and set the glass down on the table. "I want to be an adventurer, but I need the money for equipment," I answered. It was technically the truth. Going to Weynon Priory was certainly going to be an adventure. I had to be careful what what I revealed to people.
"A noble reason. And good on you for earning the money honestly," the Gladiator said, downing the last of his own drink.
"You have no idea," I said, swallowing the last of the alcohol in my glass. The Gladiator called for another round and the evening dissolved into stories and laughter.
"You know," I said somewhere between the third and fourth drink. "You still haven't told me your name, Gladiator."
"Is that so? I already told you, it's not important," he retorted, grinning. At this point, we were both slightly drunk.
I looked at him with mock-seriousness. "You've forced me to take matters into my own hands. I'm gonna give you a nickname. I'm gonna call you... Blue."
Wow, how original. But it was the best my slightly inebriated mind could come up with.
'Blue' chuckled. "If you wish," he said, polishing off his next drink and launching into yet another tale of his adventures before joining the Arena.
Eventually, Luther closed up shop, and I bid Blue goodbye. I stumbled up the stairs and managed to fall into an easier sleep this time.
The fact that I was (maybe a little more than) slightly drunk probably helped.
The Blue Team Gladiator is one of my favorite minor NPCs. Expect him to pop up from time to time.
