Chapter 4: Punching Bag
"Keep at it! Don't stop punching! One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…"
Ysabel was badgering Urzul repeatedly this entire day, supposedly trying to "motivate" her when in all honest Urzul wished she could just shut up. Urzul had yet to feel worked up. She had been punching this bag for 15 minutes, and before that, Ysabel was making her carrying large bags of sand on her back and run around the bloodworks.
Urzul's knuckles were starting to get sore from rapidly socking this hanging bag of sand. She was eager for it to be over, not because it was difficult, but because she was getting very bored and she didn't' want to break the only weapon she could use.
"What's the matter, getting tired?" Ysabel taunted while sitting comfortable on her small wooden stool.
"No, I'm bored." Urzul grunted.
"Bored?! You keep up that cocky attitude and I'll throw you into the pit with Agronak."
Urzul didn't mean to be rude (even though she knew she could knock the Grey Prince's teeth out), "I just don't want ruin my knuckles before my first fight."
Ysabel slapped her knee with burping a laugh, "Your first fight? Listen Sunshine, you're not stepping one foot into that arena until Agronak comes back from his trip around Cyrodiil. You know how long that'll take? Two months at least. Now since you're bored with this, we'll move onto jumping jacks. You can't stop your movement—not for a second."
Urzul went along with the demand and performed a regiment scheduled series of jumping jacks. Urzul wasn't very mobile, so this was the first exercise that had actually motivated her movement. Ysabel ordered her to do a total of 50 before immediately moving onto something else.
Ysabel's training was like the hustle and bustle of the Imperial City. It was fast, it was rapid, and there was no time for rest. She did everything from pushups, pull-ups, jogging in place, to jogging three laps around the perimeter of the Arena dome. They worked outside, inside, and Urzul was only allowed drinks of water between every successful exercise.
Ysabel worked Urzul hard, but she still had yet to feel a good complete workout. Urzul was tough—everything she did, while occasionally broke a sweat, never broke her limits. Years of manual labor on and off a busy river made Urzul hard as nails. The only thing she remotely struggled with was fast motion, but she knew when she actually got down to fighting she'd be a fierce sentinel. No sword would be able to knock her down.
After a round of jumping jacks outside in the boiling sun, Ysabel finally called for a break and the two of them headed inside. They settled in their space by the punching bags and Ysabel made Urzul get a few free hits in on the dummy in-between every sip of water.
It had been a considerable amount of time since Urzul questioned anything, so she decided to bring up her main concern once again. "Can I ask a question?"
Ysabel scoffed as usual, "You can ask but it doesn't mean I have an answer."
Urzul stopped punching, "Why do you need to wait for the Grey Prince to be here, anyway? Does he even fight?"
"I have him do a few rounds with the Minotaurs on his good days. It brings in money. He complains he doesn't get to fight like he used to, but he knows as well as I do that we're running short these days thanks to last season. Plus, nobody has made their way up to a high enough rank to Challenge him since he was first crowned."
"How can the Arena run short?" Urzul grunted, "The first day I came here I saw a registration line stretching all the way through the gardens."
Ysabel let out a hardy laugh, "Ah-Hahaha! That lot. They come around every season they all come around to sign up for a chance to meet Agronak, but the second I hand them a Raiment they run home to their mommies. So now we just give them all a free ticket to one of Agronak's monster clashes and they go on their way."
"So nobody else wants to join?" Urzul said, "This is the Arena."
"Look around, see anybody else in here?" Urzul took a look around the bug infested bloodworks—there was nobody else in sight. Urzul hadn't really noticed it before, given how early she'd gotten up, but it was close to noon and the place will still abandoned. "That, big fists, is why we need Agronak—"
"—big fists?"
"—don't interrupt! –That is why we need Agronak to go around to all the fighter's guilds and see who wants to sign up here. He pep talks them, petitions the old 'money and glory' speech and hopefully we get a few lucky pit dogs who want a better paying job. If we don't, we got no damn team."
Urzul sat down on the nearest stood nonchalantly, "And why's that?"
Ysabel scoffed a laugh, "You can punch but apparently you can't listen. Last season, the blue team got their ass' beat. Now mind you, I'm the battle matron, and I couldn't give a mudcrab's tit which team wins, but you're my pit dog now and you're fighting on the Blue Team because we don't' have enough room on yellow."
Urzul shook her head side to side in disbelief, "You can't seriously be telling me that I'm going to be fighting for another two months. And you really think I need to be trained during that time? Can't you tell by now that I don't need it?"
Ysabel looked Urzul straight in the eye with a glare that could freeze an atronach. Urzul gulped. "You wanna guess what the first weakness of an arena combatant is?"
"I don't know."
"No, I want you to guess."
Urzul was starting to get annoyed, but she went along with it anyway. "I don't know…uh…is it—"
"—COCKINESS." Ysabel barked. "The second you're ONE HUNDRED PERCENT sure you're walking out of that arena alive is the moment your corpse gets hauled off to Orsinium in a body bag. Is that what you want?"
Urzul knew arguing with Ysabel wasn't going to anywhere, but at this point she was just sick off all the excuses. "I know you don't believe me, but I can win. I will win. There no other option for me."
Ysabel stood up angrily. There were a few seconds of pause where Urzul thought Ysabel would sock her in the jaw. "Alright big fists, you think you can win? You don't want my training? Then let's get you in a fight."
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me. On your feet!" Ysabel demanded, before walking out of the bloodworks.
Urzul thought she was kidding at first, but the further she walked away the more Urzul's stomach began to fall. "Where are you going?" she exclaimed.
Ysabel didn't turn her head and kept walking, "Head up the ramp and out the door. I'll have you an opponent in 10 minutes. We'll see just how ready you actually are."
This all had to be some kind of joke. She was ready, but she wasn't this ready. But Ysabel wasn't turning around.
"OWYN!" Ysabel shouted as she exited the door, "GIVE HER THE RUN DOWN!"
There was a considerable wait before Owyn came crawling out of behind the corner scratching his head and shaking his head. He was now dressed in his standard suit of armor, which Urzul didn't like one bit. This was real.
Owyn came closer to Urzul, but he wasn't angry like he usually was. He was calm. "Boy, I don't know what you did, kid, but you start praying your last prayers."
This couldn't be happening, what the hell was going on? Ysabel was going to have her killed? By who?
"I haven't seen her that adamant in a long time." Owyn sighed, scratching his nose. "Well, as the Blademaster, it's my job to tell you the rules of the arena before your first fight, so listen up—"
"—First fight? So she wasn't kidding?" Urzul asked.
Owyn began to laugh out loud. "Oh-hohoho, kid, you really don't know who you're dealing with, do you? Ysabel isn't someone to fool around with. You cross her, and she'll get your ass killed."
Apparently this was the real deal. Who was Urzul going to have to fight?
Owyn carried on, "Anyway, the rules are simple. You have your raiment on, and that's all you can wear besides headgear of your choice. Second rule, no looting your opponent's corpse after killing them. It's disrespectful."
That idea made Urzul want to barf. Who would want to take things off of a dead body after killing them?
"Third and final rule," Owyn continued, "If you survive, do yourself a favor and never get on Ysabel's bad side ever again."
The most concerning part of all of this was that Owyn wasn't angry or raving about her or Ysabel at all. He was calm, like he was talking to a person about to walk into their own death. This wasn't good. Owyn directed Urzul to the ramp that Ysabel mentioned and then left her there, telling her to walk out the door when she was prepared.
A load of thoughts were rushing through Urzul's head. Was Ysabel joking? Was this going to be some sort of warning? This all felt too real. Urzul didn't think being an arena combatant would come with this much pressure. Up until this point, the kill or be killed mentality didn't faze her at all—but now it all hitting her at once. She could die.
Urzul gulped and walked through the bloodied wooden door. There were handprints all over it, like somebody had struggled to get through it during their last moments alive. Beyond the door was another ominous ramp, but then…Urzul saw it.
The Arena—it was like a fish bowl with seats. While the fighting space itself was small, lines and lines of empty seats circled the stadium. Urzul imagined the place infested with spectators waiting for blood to be sprayed on the dirt. It was disgusting, but this is what Urzul decided. There was definitely no going back. However, at least nobody was there to watch today.
Urzul walked into the empty arena and heard a voice cry out from up above, behind her. She turned around and looked up to see Ysabel leaned over the balcony, her head shaking. "Hello, Urzul."
Urzul took this as a last chance to reason with her, "Look, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, all I wanted was to—"
"You want a fight." Ysabel interjected. "You want a fight—and you're going to get one. Right now."
"Who?"
"Turn around."
Urzul twisted her neck and saw a very cocky brown skinned Wood Elf in a plate of bronze and yellow armor holding a long sword and shield. A yellow Dwarven smithed helmet covered his hair and cheeks. Is this who Urzul was going to fight?
The Bosmer nodded his head, "Hello, Orc."
Urzul turned back around to Ysabel. "You want me to fight him?"
"This is one of the Yellow Team's Gladiators. Very high ranked. But, you're so sure you can take anybody down, so you I'm going to let you prove it to me."
Urzul staggered her words, "But—"
"ALRIGHT!" Ysabel bellowed from the balcony without effort, "THIS IS A PRACTICE FIGHT—TO THE DEATH. The winner advances in rank!"
Urzul turned to face the Bosmer again. He was readying for battle. "I get to become a Hero after this, and then I'll be just a few short kills away from becoming the Grand Champion. Good luck taking me out, Pit Dog."
Urzul tried to keep her cool and reluctantly raised her fists. This was it. She had no idea how she would take this guy with his giant sword—but she was going to try.
Ysabel shouted—"FIIIGGHT!"
The bosmer wasted no time, and raced towards Urzul in a fit of rage. Urzul was quick to dodge, ducking down to await his sword's incoming swing. The first stages of the fight were Urzul trying her hardest to maneuver around the Gladiator's attacks. It was working, but there was no strategy.
"Die, you filthy Orc!"
Great, he was another racist. That was always nice to hear. Urzul realized quickly that she needed to change her strategy—if this was what Arena combat was like, she couldn't dodge. Her only hope was so get in a hit.
After ducking a hit, Urzul thrusted at the Bosmer's knees with a strong kick that made him lose his balance. She followed it by moving in to punch him in the jaw, but she forgot about his shield, and her fists were met with a metal clang with stung slightly upon contact.
"You can't be serious!" The Gladiator taunted, "What business does a hand-to-hand Orc have in the arena? You're an insult to tradition!"
Urzul tried having at this Gladiator one more time, punching at him franticly hoping to get a hit in and get him struggling again, but she couldn't touch him. With every movement he was either blocking or motioning for another swing that Urzul had to dodge. What was she thinking? Fists couldn't do anything in the arena. She was helpless.
Urzul had flashbacks of her dream—it was the same. She couldn't lay a hand on the Gladiator, it was the end of the line. She was going to die in this arena, her father would mourn for her death, lose his house, and that would be it. What was she thinking?
Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the Bosmer bashed in Urzul's stomach with his iron shield and sent Urzul flying so far she plummeted against the Arena walls, trapped into a corner. This was it.
Urzul could see Ysabel from the opposite balcony watching the match closely. All those exception she made for her—they were going to be wasted. Urzul was a naive fool thinking she could make it in this arena. Ysabel would never take another trainee again.
Her opponent hunched over her like a Hawke waiting for its prey. Urzul could barely see—but she could clearly make out his taunting words. "I've been waiting for a chance like this for a long time. It's time to avenge my brother's death, you filthy barbarian."
Urzul struggled to move, her speech was quieted, "—What?"
"6 years ago my brother was killed by Orc woman—just—like—you."
No…it couldn't be. This gladiator couldn't possibly be referring to…
"It's almost uncanny." The Bosmer said. "Her wanted poster still haunts my brain to his day. She looks a lot like you. You're going to die as feeble and unarmed as he was! This is for him!"
"NO!"
The Bosmer swung his sword upwards, but Urzul lunged forward at the last moment and forced all of the energy she had into a powerful punch directly at the Gladiator's shield and he fell backwards into the Arena sand. His weapons threw out of his hand and Urzul heard a hard crack when his body smashed onto the ground. Urzul sprang from an adrenaline rush and reached his iron long sword, throwing it halfway across the stadium. His shield, at the other side of the arena, had a large imprinted dent right in the center. Urzul stood up on both her feet—now he was the helpless one.
Urzul ran up to her opponent, a fit of rage boiling in her bloodstream. She saw the look of fear in his eyes—he was struggling to move from the momentum of the push. Urzul now had the upper hand.
The feeble gladiator was now panicking, "Y-You! The posters…but…she said she was caught—"
"SHE WAS!"
"Then you're her—"
Urzul didn't want to hear any more. Urzul could no longer think clearly, the rage consumed her and Urzul ran headfirst into an aggressive, murderous rage. She picked up the Gladiator off the ground and became to smash his head in, clenching her fists so tight that every punch felt like she was hitting water.
Eventually, Ysabel made the call. "URZUL IS THE WINNER."
Urzul released the Bosmer from her grip. Her knuckles were covered in blood—and he was dead.
Urzul couldn't think, she couldn't piece together what just happened. All she could do was clench her hands together and let out a blood curdling scream to vent all the rage burning inside her. Why was she so angry? She couldn't remember why she was even there.
That Bosmer—Urzul began to remember what he said to her. He knew about her. She was going to take revenge because of something she did…
Owyn, Ysabel, and two other people wearing yellow team raiments came running out into the Arena. Ysabel was the only one to approach Urzul, the rest just came to remove the Bosmer's body. Urzul still couldn't think straight.
Ysabel came to Urzul and put her hand on Urzul's back, "What the bloody hell was that?! You screamed so loud it sounded like he'd stabbed you in the loins!"
Urzul paced around the stadium, heading off to the door of the bloodworks. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what was going on. She just killed somebody—but it didn't feel like it should. She felt something else, something aggressive, something angry.
"Hey, Hey, Hey!" Ysabel cried out, following Urzul on her spontaneous flee from the stadium. "What's the matter with you?! Speak, for God's sake!"
Urzul came inside the bloodworks were nobody else was. She slammed her fist hard against the wall and panted heavily, trying to get over this overwhelming feeling of rage. Urzul wasn't an angry person. This wasn't like her.
Ysabel came around to Urzul's side, "You never struck me as the kind of person who'd be upset over killing somebody. You know what you signed up for."
Urzul shook her head franticly, "It isn't that."
"Look if this is about the surprise fight—I knew you were going to win, I wouldn't have sent you in there if I didn't think—"
"That isn't it! It isn't about any of it!"
"Well then what in Oblivion is the matter with you?!"
Inescapable tears of fury poured out of Urzul's eyes. She was trying her hardest to fight them off but she couldn't do anything. "He knew her. She killed his brother."
"Knew who?!" Ysabel said with a strong tone of frustration.
"My mother!"
Ysabel still hadn't cached on. "What do you mean your mother? Your mother killed hi—"
Ysabel went silent. Urzul had quickly stopped herself from crying and was now shaking from shock and fear. The way Ysabel had paused—she knew. She had to know.
"That explains it." Ysabel said quietly. "Your last name… gra-Bogrum… it's your father's name, isn't it? Your mother—your mother's name…"
Urzul looked dead ahead and muttered her words with a chilling fear. "Gashnakh gra-Orbul— Cyrodiil's most infamous serial killer. She was my mother."
