Yesterday's snow had been unable to stick to the still warm ground and the weather was slightly nicer for a change. A sweet wind was blowing up from the south, carrying teasing notes of flowers, sun, and greenery. Standing in front of the Arena Lilia knew that people were staring at her but she didn't care. She was too busy keeping her feet on the ground.
"No way. No way!" She was muttering under her breath darkly. A couple of Arena hopefuls, busy sparring in unarmed combat, took a break from their practice and were watching her. "You can't make me and I won't do it." She shot a dark look up at the clear blue sky.
Yesterday had been a fruitful day. She'd spent the remainder of the evening being shown around the guild by a somewhat less hostile Raminus Polus and after he'd retired to bed she'd spent the night wandering through the grounds. She'd fed the night before that, after the drinks in the Merchant's Inn, and had slept on the bedroll of her hovel. Waking up she had wandered over to the Market district and had purchased several new furnishings for her home, including a bed and some sturdy chairs. She'd also purchased an assortment of cheap rings in various sizes as well as every soul gem she could get her hands on before she'd made her way to the University. Money didn't concern her too much. Back when she'd left the sanctuary for the last time, all those weeks ago, she'd opened her bag to discover herself relatively comfortable. She'd earned herself quite a bit of gold as an assassin, but she strongly suspected that Vicente had thrown in all his savings as well. The money was the only thing she'd removed from her black pack when she'd finished using it.
For most of last night she'd spent her time in the Chironasium enchanting a handful of rings and her armour. She'd been forewarned by mage gossip in other provinces that the Imperial University's altars of enchanting were somewhat lacking and she'd found their words true. Other altars would allow an enchanter to put a stronger enchantment on a higher quality item, or allow them to combine several advantages and disadvantages, or to let them combine very similar effects. The altars at the University would let her do none of those things. The first thing she had attempted was a ring that would constantly cast her aura shifting spell. She maintained it at all times, as she'd done with the spell to hide the mark on her hand, but the constant magicka expenditure was a problem. Lilia had destroyed six rings before she finally got the hang of the system. The little copper band was nestled firmly against her pinky finger on her right hand and it comforted her greatly to have.
After that she'd put fire resistance onto every single piece of her armour. It might have been a bit excessive but she was still frightened by how easily she burnt. The remainder of the rings and lesser quality soul gems she'd used to create luck enchantments. It was the only thing she could think of that she could certainly use more of. The University charged for the privilege of using their altars and she'd spent several thousand septims by the time she was done. She'd paid Martina Floria, the enchantment recharger of the Chironasium, before leaving. To waste the rest of the night away she'd wandered through the renowned library and had browsed a few interesting titles. Lilia found that she was comfortable feeding and sleeping every two days. She didn't dare try to sleep every night without feeding, she remembered all too well what happened when she turned. And she didn't want to feed nightly. Not only was it risky but it tasted terrible.
So as she stood immobile in the centre of the sidewalk she rued that her fingers, now all sporting an enchanted ring of some kind, didn't seem to be helping her luck at all. She was literally being pushed by the Gods in the direction of the Arena, and she couldn't for the life of her think of what possible purpose she could serve there. She regretted bitterly that she hadn't bothered setting her magical mark in her house yet. Tentatively lifting her right foot she found it stepping forward.
"Fine. But I'm not happy about this." With that she stalked forward to the main gate under her own power, leaving the curious stares behind. A Bosmer with very vibrant blond hair introduced himself as Hundolin. He was the one who oversaw the betting system. When he asked her which team she wanted to bet on she told him she wanted to join instead. Lilia did the talking. She knew that not even the Nine in their unfathomable ways would send her to gamble in their name. Hundolin gave her a quizzical look as he eyed her. Dressed in a simple grey robe and brown cloak she knew she didn't look very tough at all. The mer had pointed her to a large door that was at the base of a flight of stone stairs.
Opening the door and pushing her way in she was overwhelmed by the scent of old blood. The serpent in her mind was rustling around in response. Choosing to breathe through her mouth for a change she surveyed the scene around her. She was in a large, and poorly lit, training room. The walls were curved to match the contours of the arena above. A Dark Elf was practicing on a straw target with a bow and arrow, and an unusual coloured Orc was making some very impressive moves against a wooden dummy with his sword. The Dunmer noticed her and walked over.
"Hey there. Are you looking to join?" As he spoke Lilia noticed he had several scars on his face and his nose was rather flat, most likely broken several times. But he had a very friendly manner about him.
"Actually, I am. I'm Lilia. It's nice to meet you…"
"My name is, well, my name isn't important. I'm the blue team Gladiator." Lilia didn't bother to hide the amusement on her face.
"Why doesn't your name matter?" She inquired.
"Well, you don't get a name until you become Grand Champion. An arena name, of course. See, that's the Grey Prince practicing over there. He's been Grand Champion for over ten years now."
"You have to have a name. What will I call you if you don't have one? I'll have to make one up, and I'm terrible at making up names." She was teasing him lightly and he smiled in response.
"It's Synderius. But I'm going to use Dark Avenger once I'm Grand Champion. Have you picked out an arena name yet?"
"I didn't know I needed one. I don't suppose you have any suggestions for me?" She gave him a hopeful look. The Gladiator laughed.
"I don't know if I'll be able to help you much there. It took me two years to decide on Dark Avenger, and I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it. You said your name was Lilia? Where does that come from? Is it Imperial?"
It was Lilia's turn to laugh. "No, actually. It was all my father's fault." Synderius raised his eyebrows in curiosity so she continued.
"When my mother was pregnant with me he made sure that she always had a bouquet of her favourite flowers wherever they traveled. He was very sweet to her." She smiled at the thought of her parents. They had been so in love with each other, despite their differences. "Her favourite flowers were tiger lilies. When I was born my hair was more orange than red and my father took one look at me and proclaimed that I was to be named Tiger Lily, since I matched the bouquet beside the bed. Fortunately for me my mother absolutely refused. My father could be very stubborn and he wouldn't consider any other names. It was the midwife who started suggesting variations. Unfortunately they weren't very good. I'm lucky that both of my parents rejected Tigerita, Liletta, and Tigily. My mother finally suggested Lilia and the name stuck. At least it sounds almost normal."
"Tiger Lily." Synderius spoke the words distinctly, leaving a pause between them. "How about that as an arena name?"
Lilia considered it. Tiger. Lily. It wasn't bad at all, and she didn't have any better ideas. "Synderius, I think you're far better at this than you give yourself credit for. So now that I have a name, what do I do next?"
"You'll want to talk to Owyn." The Dunmer pointed to an arched opening that led to another room. "He's in there. But watch out - he's not a patient man."
"Thanks. Wish me luck." She made her way past him and through the arched doorway. An elderly Imperial woman was sitting on a stool in the far corner scowling at a shield as she polished it. A tall Nord with strawberry blonde hair and an intense frown was busy beating the stuffing out of a punching bag. Watching her for a moment Lilia admired her skill. Looking to the other side of the room she saw a Redguard, his black hair streaked with grey, watching her with a grumpy expression on his face. It had to be Owyn. She walked over to him.
"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." By the way he said it he sounded like he wanted to do some arm lopping.
" I want to sign up." She didn't really, but she figured she'd placate the Gods and then never come back here again. They certainly didn't seem to be interfering with her other guild activities.
Owyn let out a burst of laughter at her words. Finished, he looked at her with scorn. "You? My grandmother is tougher than you."
Lilia suspected he might be right. The women of Hammerfell were some of the fiercest warriors to walk the face of Tamriel. Their deeds were just as celebrated as their men folk's, perhaps even more so. She just gave him a withering look in response.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Seeing that she wasn't going anywhere Owyn gave her an appraising stare. He didn't seem impressed by what he saw. "It's your funeral. You want a heavy raiment or a light raiment?"
As Owyn explained the rules and got Lilia a light raiment that would fit her she tried hard not to frown. She really didn't want to fight in the arena. Of all the dreams she'd had as a young girl killing for glory had never been one of them, and fame was something she'd never sought. If anything she'd dreamt of a completely normal, boring life. Lilia thanked the Divines sarcastically in her head for their blessings.
"Once you're ready put on your raiment and come see me to schedule a match." Owyn paused and looked at her again. "You're sure you know what you're doing?"
"Yes." She said through clenched teeth as she turned her eyes up to the ceiling. "But I'm not killing anyone."
She gasped at the same time Owyn did. Lilia hadn't expected to be able to say that out loud. Had she misread the intentions of the Gods? Was she supposed to gamble in the name of the Nine instead? She looked at Owyn, who was giving her the strangest look of astonishment. Did they have rules against crazy people fighting in the arena? She was fairly sure they didn't. You had to be crazy to sign up in the first place.
"Not killing anyone? I don't think you quite understand the concept. Perhaps I'd better take that raiment back." She hugged the armour closer to her chest, away from his reach. Her mind raced. There was no mistaking the pushing sensation she'd felt outside. She was sure that she was supposed to sign up, to fight for the amusement of the masses. But she'd been able to say that she didn't plan on killing anyone. Perhaps she could work with that.
"No, I understand fine. But what's the difference if they're knocked out or if they're killed? Half the citizens don't even realize that the combatants are dying for their entertainment." What she said was true. Listening to the chatter of the people on the streets she realized that most of them thought nobody ever died in the arena.
"Haven't you ever heard of Gaiden Shinji? 'The best techniques are passed on by the survivors'?" Owyn quoted the wisdom of the famed Blademaster.
"'Because those who have survived defeat know better how to attain victory.' Yes, I'm familiar with Blademaster Shinji's teachings." It annoyed Lilia to no end when people failed to finish the famous phrase.
Owyn snorted at her and frowned. She decided to appeal to the Redguard's practical side.
"Why not give me a try? I'll be a novelty." She suggested quickly. The spectators were always looking for something new. Owyn weighed her words.
"I'll tell you what. You come back tomorrow, ready to fight, at 9 a.m. You'll fight every Middas morning for the next three weeks. If you can manage to increase the attendance, and the profits, then I might let you keep fighting. That is, if you're still alive to do so." He didn't seem to expect her to survive.
"It's a deal." As Lilia shook the very strong hand of Owyn she wondered just what she had gotten herself into.
Exiting the arena, after having said goodbye to Synderius, Lilia headed to the Market district. Somehow she was going to have to entertain the crowd tomorrow and she had no idea what to do. Moving along the streets she planned out the rest of her day. It was still early. She probably had time to make a quick trip down to Bravil. She wanted to continue her lessons with Fathis Aren. After that she'd teleport back to the waterfront, snack on Puny Ancus, and try to sleep. Tomorrow morning seemed far too soon for her comfort.
Owyn looked at the daft woman before him. She was wearing her blue team light raiment, at least she'd managed to do something right. A pointed mithril helmet covered her hair. But it was her choice of weapon that confirmed his suspicions that she was none too bright.
"A stick? You're going to go into the arena armed with a stick?" He didn't bother hiding the scorn in his voice.
"It's a staff." Lilia held the long wooden pole beside her. It was about two inches in diameter and a foot taller than she was. It didn't even have metal ends.
"What does it cast?" While the combatants were all required to wear the same armour they were allowed to use whatever weapon they preferred, including enchanted ones. Maybe her stick did something impressive.
She pointed it at Porkchop, the boar mascot of the arena, who was busy snuffling around in the corner of the room. A soft green ball of magicka flew out from the stick and the boar began glowing. Pleased with his newfound illumination Porkchop moved forward to explore under the table.
"You're going to use a stick of light."
"A staff. Of light, yes. But I'm going to use it as a weapon." She stood defiantly in front of him. He took another look at her. Perhaps she wasn't daft. Maybe she was just mad.
"At least take that flower off." She'd woven a tiger lily bloom into the ring that held her shoulder straps to her cuirass. He'd heard her tell Hundolin that if anyone asked about her to tell them that she was Tiger Lily. He'd had to suppress a laugh at that. Pit dogs were so amusing with their delusions of grandeur.
"No. So are you going to let me fight or not? This armour chafes." He didn't bother to suppress his laughter this time. She was determined to get herself killed. Oh well, at least he'd tried his best.
"Fine. You're fighting another new pit dog. She's a Wood Elf in light raiment armed with an elven longsword. Just go up through those red doors and wait for the gates to lower. After that you're on your own." With a nod Lilia left the room and headed towards the ramp up to the arena.
Not wanting to miss this Owyn headed up to the lower gallery. He placed a small bet on the yellow team and found a spot in the sun. Looking around he waited for the announcer to finish talking. There were a handful of people in the stands. Middas morning matches were the least attended of the whole week. Pit dog fights were always scheduled for that time slot and the spectators rarely bothered attending them. Usually it was only the hardcore gamblers who showed up.
With a clatter of metal the gates that held the two combatants back fell into the ground. He watched the new fighters circle each other warily before the Bosmer slashed out with her sword. Lilia dodged out of the way and began twirling her staff around in circles, alternating hands and whirling it above her head. The sparse crowd roared. Owyn just shook his head.
While the crowd may think her moves were special, he knew better. She was wasting too much energy on fancy tricks. He'd once faced a skilled opponent armed with a heavy ebony staff. The man had barely moved it, but when he'd struck the force behind his blows was staggering. Because of him Owyn's knee still hurt when it rained.
Watching as Lilia dodged the blade of the Wood Elf he frowned a little. She did move fast. Every now and again she used her staff to help her jump around the frustrated pit dog. While it was an entertaining display she didn't seem to be doing any damage to the Bosmer.
After a few minutes of this the Wood Elf lunged forward suddenly, stabbing her sword towards Lilia's stomach. Spinning out of the way Lilia brought her staff around and sent a powerful blow to the back of the pit dog's helmeted head. The staff broke in half with the force, and the mer fell to the ground. Holding the splintered end of her staff, which was now showering green sparks onto the sandy floor of the arena, Lilia bowed to the crowd. Plucking the still pristine flower from her cuirass she lay it gently on the unconscious warrior's back. Lilia made her way out of the arena waving the whole time.
As Owyn made his way to the stairs back down to the Bloodworks he heard the crowd talking about what they'd seen. He had to admit it, she certainly had made an impression on them. But would it be enough to bring them back and attract new gamblers? He shrugged his shoulders. Either way, it probably wouldn't matter. With brains like that she'd most likely never live to see Brawler.