Shyvana had been wandering the city for the better part of two days, spending the nights in one of the city's many run down convents. She hadn't slept easily though, small noises in the night woke her at all hours, never allowing her to truly lay her head down to rest. The only comfort she had found was in Jarvan's lance; the massive weapon more than enough to ward off any prying eyes or curious watchers who may have taken an interest in the red hair that poked out from under the hood she had taken to wearing. Shyvana had risen early each morning and offered the nun a few copper pieces as thanks, as she had seen the other vagrants who had chosen to occupy the building over the night. Shyvana hadn't stuck around though, the nuns eyed her weapon with anger and resentment, but from what little the dragoness had seen, the nuns regarded everything within the city with that same attitude. While safe, her father had warned her of the many religious sects of Valoran and how they had led to many wars of their own long before the Rune Wars of old.
Shyvana frowned as she stepped through one of the massive archways that supported the grandstands of The Pit. Shyvana had been able to lose herself within the city many times, and each time she had found her way back to the grandstands of the massive arena simply because it was the second tallest structure within the city. It stood opposite the massive mountain and castle that comprised Darkbourne keep, the palace and headquarters to the entire Noxian military, and while the neighborhood got progressively nicer the closer you came to the ominous keep, the military presence also increased. Shyvana had decided it best to avoid the eye of the military, and she had quickly learned that the seedy underbelly of the mighty arena was by far the best place to do so. The people here had no interest in her so long as she didn't threaten the other denizens or their wares, and it wasn't all the uncommon to see warriors passing through with weapons similar to hers.
Shyvana waded deeper through the foul looking and smelling occupants of the arena district, keeping to herself but making sure she kept one eye open for either of the two responsible for the fall of her prince. It was harsh and unfriendly, but Shyvana had set her mind and her goals and she wouldn't be swayed from him. Shyvana walked among the peddlers and their small stands of wares, merchants hawking everything from jewelry and trinkets to arms and armor. Shyvana was immersed in the shear abundance of people and sights and smells, her stomach rumbling as the smell of roasting meat filled her nostrils. Shyvana continued to eye the many vendors, their stalls some piled with vegetables and sweet smelling fruits, while others were piled high with meat and fish roasting over open flames. The sights and smells were overwhelming, like nothing Shyvana could have ever imagined. Her mouth watered as she looked at the many succulent dishes, the vendors peddling their wares to the spectators and competitors that roamed the area, waiting for the next fight to begin.
Shyvana followed her nose forwards, the smell of roasting meat heavy in the air, her stomach growling. She set the butt of the lance down on the ground, holding onto it, pulling the small pouch from her waist. She untied it and examined the contents, a few coins jingling inside when she opened it. She stepped towards the stall, pulling down her scarf and nodding to the man who stood behind the grill, turning the meat on the spit.
"How much?" Shyvana asked, nodding at the roasting meat.
"Two coppers." The man said, eying her. She pulled out a silver piece, rooting around deeper in the bag looking for coppers, but when she found none, she shrugged and handed the silver piece to him. She must have given them all to the nuns before.
"Will that be enough for two?" She asked. The man examined the silver piece briefly then nodded, rooting around in his own pouch, pulling out a small pile of dirty brown copper pieces and handing six of them back to her.
"Here ya go." The man said, pulling two large pieces of meat from tray that sat on the side of the grill, wrapping them together in some heavy paper and handing them to Shyvana. She nodded her thanks, and holding the lance close to her, she made her way free of the throng of people towards a fountain at the center of the busy marketplace. Shyvana sat the lance down against the edge of the fountain, hopping up onto the ledge, laying the food out next to her on the stone. She unwrapped the meat, licking her lips as she did. The spicy aroma filled her nose as she bit in, the meat moist and tender. She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor.
It wasn't long before Shyvana had finished off both pieces of meat, licking her fingertips free of juice and grease as she did. She wiped her hands clean on the hem of the cloak and paused, looking around the market that was spread out before her. Everywhere people bartered and traded, some begging, some shouting as they did, the entire area alive with action and people. Merchants and shoppers alike burbled up from various paths into the deeper reaches of the city, just as many disspearing into the depths of the cities underground caverns. While she had only briefly journeyed into the depths of the cities hidden underbelly, the dragoness had quickly decided that having the sky overhead was far more valuable than trapping herself underground. Shyvana smiled to herself, immersed in just watching the people come and go, her eyes wide with excitement. A breath caught in her throat though, a flash of bright red hair standing out in the dull colored crowds. Shyvana blinked several times as if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but realized that she was watching the same red hair as before move through the crowd, without a doubt. She looked carefully, and saw the same dark hood and cloak of the red haired woman's ward, Talon. Shyvana's heart raced, pounding in her ears.
"It's them..." She growled under her breath, stealing her nerves.
Shyvana slid off the ledge, the paper and bones falling to the cobbles as she grabbed the lance, shoving her way through the crowd towards where the red hair swirled just out of her reach. Shyvana was stuck as a cart came racing before her, blocking her view. Shyvana snarled as the driver shouted at her, raising a fist with one finger raised in an archaic gesture. She pushed through the crowd as the cart passed, the red hair disappearing through an archway and around a corner under the edge of the arena's supports. Shyvana sprinted after the phantom, dodging around people, sending them sprawling, the heavy lance bouncing on her shoulder.
Shyvana vaulted down the staircase, landing heavily, looking around as men and women took a step back, eying the wild-eyed girl with trepidation. Brown cloaks and the silver flash of armor obscured her view as Shyvana growled, peering through the crowds, goosebumps covering her arms. She blinked, her anger rising as she berated herself for getting so close and then losing her mark.
So close... Shyvana thought, letting her fist bounce off her thigh plate. I was so close...
"Move!" A man shouted, shoving Shyvana aside, nearly knocking her from her feet, the young dragoness flailing her free arm to keep her balance. She growled over her shoulder, but only the writhing mass of people could be seen, men and women moving about their business, completely unaware to the woes and anger of the young dragoness amid them. Shyvana was shoved along further down the hall, now caught in a flux of bodies moving down the long hallway. It wasn't long before Shyvana found herself being deposited in a room full of burly men, many sharpening swords and polishing their armor. Some men wore little armor at all, other wore heavy helmets and carried shields upon their arms. Shyvana blinked nervously, suddenly finding all eyes on her. She froze, sucking in a single breath and holding it as men slowly got to their feet and looked on with interest as the throng slowly moved her closer to a table on the far side of the room. She frowned, realizing she was one of only a few women in the room, the others looking on at her with envy and malice in their expressions. Words were whispered around her, the general din rising as she finally approached the table, the man in front of her moving aside. Shyvana was bumped forward, snarling over her shoulder, coming face to face with a man who a large mustache hiding his mouth and bags under his eyes as he hunched over the small table. He had a quill in one hand, which he dipped in a bottle of ink and poised his hand over a list of names on parchment.
"Name?" He prompted, his mustache twitching like a small animal beneath his bulbous red nose. Shyvana blinked, still overwhelmed by her surroundings. "Name?" He repeated louder, the mustache growing more agitated.
"Shyvana." The dragoness said, choking as she spoke. The man paused, looking up at her. He raised a bushy eyebrow, a dark eye spitting her with a stare that sent ice coursing through her veins. He shook his head and wrote the name on the parchment.
"You have your own arms and armor?" He said, glancing up at her and nodding.
"Yes." Shyvana said quietly.
"And your entry fee?" He asked, holding out his hand. Shyvana paused, blinking. After the man looked at her with a frown, she blinked lamely and reached down to the small coin purse on her belt.
"How much?" Shyvana asked, untying the small pouch from her belt again.
"Two Gold pieces." The man said, rolling his eyes and sighing. Shyvana poked around in the small pouch, having to dig down under the silver and copper pieces to where she found a single gold piece. She handed him the gold piece and frowned.
"I only have one." She said sadly. The man sighed.
"Let me see your coin purse, girly." Shyvana paused and handed him the coin purse. He emptied it out on the table and counted out 10 silver pieces, sliding the rest off of the edge of the table, dumping it into the coin purse and tossing it back to Shyvana. She caught it against her chest, and looked inside. There wasn't much left.
"You're a part of group November." The man said, gesturing to the far wall. "Next!"
Shyvana was shoved aside by the man behind her, and she found herself getting pushed towards the far side of the room, her legs carrying her towards the corner where the man had pointed. She frowned, still not sure why exactly she had paid two full gold pieces to wait in this room. Shyvana paused as she approached a group of three men and a woman, their grizzled and scarred faces showing resentment as Shyvana approached.
"Group... November?" Shyvana said, tying the coin purse back to her belt. The woman paused sharpening her spear with a whet stone for only a moment, looking up at Shyvana, snorting and then nodding.
"You found us, little one." She said, her voice deep. One of the men sat apart from the other three humans, his helm pulled down over his face, his chest rising and falling, snores coming from under the hood he wore over his armor. He carried a polearm tucked under one arm, the other crossed over his chest as he snored.
"What is this place...?" Shyvana asked, spinning in place, looking around as she did.
"Wait... you mean to tell me you don't know?" The woman said incredulously, her jaw falling open. Shyvana shook her head, setting the lance down in front of her, leaning on it, holding it up as she did. "Oh lord."
"So we got ourselves a deadweight, so what?" One of the men scoffed, snorting. "Maybe the enemy will be too damn busy looking at her legs to bother fighting!" The other man who was sitting with him laughed heartily, Shyvana scowling at their comments.
"This, little one," The woman said, exasperated, "Is The Pit. We're about to fight for-..."
"Registration is closed!" The man behind the table shouted, interrupting the woman as she began to explain. "November and Blade groups, head to the designated start positions!" The man shouted, turning and leaving the room down a dark hallway that Shyvana hadn't noticed before.
"Blade?" One of the men barked, grumbling. "Bah, screw that. I want my bloody money back."
"Bite your tongue, the pay out more than makes it worth it if we win." His friend said, striking his shoulder plate with a knuckle.
"That's only if you survive to collect you fool." The man grumbled, but pulled a shield onto his arm, drawing his sword from his side. He checked the blade befor sliding it back home in its sheath.
The two men rose up, the woman shaking her head as she did as well, carrying her spear over her shoulder. The third man had risen to his feet, rubbing his head, a heavy metal faceplate covering his face underneath his hood as he pulled himself to his feet with his polearm. He stretched, raising his hands to the air, three fingered gloves flexing as he did. He cracked his neck, the sound of armor sliding against armor being heard from beneath the dark cloak he wore, and stepped off unceremoniously, ignoring Shyvana as he did. She fell into line behind the three as they set off down the hallway the man had disappeared down. They walked through the darkness for a few minutes, going deeper, Shyvana realizing the path was curving ever so slightly as they walked, torches at regular intervals only serving as the bare minimum to keep them from getting lost. Shyvana heard the roar of a crowd begin to echo around the tunnel as they walked deeper.
The tunnel curved sharply and then straightened and leveled out for a short distance before the man leading the group came to a halt. He slapped a hidden panel on the wall, causing a gate to slide down in front and behind the group. Shyvana stopped in line, still unsure about what was going on.
"Alright, listen up." The man in the front said as he stopped at the gate, gesturing over his shoulder and upwards, towards a large open space above them. "This is a standard team death match. We have some dead weight on our hands, but that just means we have someone to cover our asses if shit hits the fan. She's also good bait." He snorted, wearing a vicious grin, spitting at the base of the wall as gears ground somewhere behind the rock, the ceiling above them parting and drawing apart to the sides. Dust drifted down to meet them, the ground shaking beneath Shyvana's feet and soon she realized she was rising up. The man nodded at the three others and gave Shyvana a condescending glance as he turned towards the inside of the arena, raising his hands above his head. Bright sunlight blinded Shyvana, the roar of a crowd thundering around her as the rising panel they stood on crashed into place, the passengers lurching as it came to a halt.
"Stick with me, kid." The hooded man with the armored faceplate said quietly. "They might not be able to see strength like I do, but just wait for the humans to tire themselves out. Then it's on." Shyvana eyed the man. He hadn't moved a muscle, still standing rock steady, his poleaxe held in two hands at a loose ready stance towards to ground. He gave away nothing, his armor, face and even his body language masked, but somehow, Shyvana could feel an aura of confidence seeping off him.
Shyvana didn't say anything, her face white, realizing just where she was as she stepped out into the open coliseum. Grandstands rose up in every direction, cheers and jeers from blood thirsty denizens causing the ground to rumble around them, their pounding feet and screams enough to rival the thunder of the gods. Shyvana wanted to cower back and hide from the monsters that seemed to sit among the stands, screaming and cheering as if they had no sense at all. The teams approached a box, one in one hemisphere of the circular arena, the other on the opposite side. At the half way point along the grandstands, there was a massive spectator's box where men and women in expensive clothing relaxed, gorging themselves on fine wine and expensive food. Shyvana scanned the box briefly, looking for her mark, but shook her head, unable to find even a trace of the crimson red hair.
A man dressed in a suit cut to vague military lines stood up from his seat and approached a tube that descended into the floor. He cleared his throat and then spoke into the tube, his voice amplified by some magic, projected about the arena.
"Welcome to the Pit!" The man announced, his voice echoing about the cavernous arena. Men and women screamed, the din rising to an almost intolerable level, the cheers thunderous. "The battle will begin in thirty seconds! On the blue side, we have November!" He paused as the crowd jeered, boos interjected between the insults and food getting tossed into the arena. The man waited a few moments for the jeering to pass. "And on the red side, we have the undefeated Team Blade!" The coliseum exploded, the roar enough to cause Shyvana to cringe. "Let the battle begin!" He shouted, a smug grin on his face as he returned to his seat.
"Charge!" The man who seemed to be leading team November shouted, charging towards the other team. He raised his two blades above his head, sprinting as fast as he could, his two compatriots right along with him, running straight for the enemy team.
"This is madness..." Shyvana said, following the mysterious armored fighter. "They'll be slaughtered... we can't let that happen." She protested, but the man simply held out his pole-axe, keeping Shyvana in pace with his jog.
"Just watch and wait, kid..." He said, chuckling. "I'm hoping for a real challenge." Shyvana frowned, but didn't protest, simply pulling the scarf from around her face free, wrapping it around the hand that clutched Jarvan's lance. She didn't know how to make it explode or accelerate like Jarvan did, but she expected that it would work just as well as a cudgel in a fight.
Their teammates charged forwards, weapons drawn, screaming their maddened battle cries, hurdling themselves upon the enemy's weapons. They lasted only a matter of seconds.
The leader took a spear to the gut at twenty paces out, dropping to his knees, his head lopped off by the enemy's wedge formation as they exploded outwards, coming to meet November's now halfhearted charge. Their dull gray armor was now a shining crimson, carotid blood splattering wide as the headless corpse fell to the ground. The second man in November had slowed as the enemy formation met him, one of the enemies raising his shield and driving the spike it carried directly into his throat, immediately crushing his windpipe. He flailed for a few seconds as one of the enemies peeled off, raising a war hammer above his head and bringing it down, smashing his head like a pumpkin. The woman was the last to go, her legs getting swept out from under her by a halberd, the deep strike maiming some of the muscle in her leg, the limb falling from under her, useless.
Shyvana shuddered as she screamed, one of the enemies driving a blade straight down through her open mouth, the scream now a pained gurgle as she died quickly. The blade was ripped out of her cheek, her head lolling to the side, blood pooling around the back of her head.
"That was barbaric..." Shyvana said, slowing to a stop.
"That's life here, kiddo." The man said. Shyvana could hear the smile in his voice though. "You take the two on the left, I have the right three!" He shouted, running off towards the right side of the arena. Shyvana frowned as only two enemies broke off, skirting around the man with halberds, holding him at bay.
Three enemies sprinted at Shyvana, forcing her off to the side, away from the mysterious warrior, his polearm spinning, raised above his head like a tribal dance. Shyvana had to dive to the side as a spear landed just short of her feet. She rolled over her shoulder, sliding into a defensive stance, ripping the wrappings off of Jarvan's lance. She wheeled the weapon around her neck, using her own body as a fulcrum, the grip rolling as she did, raising the tip up and out. An enemy was diving towards her, his shield raised for a knockout blow, when Shyvana caught him in the side with the lance. She heaved, sliding her foot out, levering the man directly into the ground with a resounding CRACK! Shyvana spun low, ducking under an enemy blade, the second and third enemies charging her. One closed in for a sword strike but Shyvana juked left, the blade sliding off the lance, held between her and the enemy as she spun, driving a fist up under his chin, right into his throat. The strike lofted him a few inches and Shyvana immediately slid backward, planting a high kick into his gut, tossing him backwards. Shyvana pulled back, holding the lance between her and her other two opponents as the one she had struck ripped his helmet off as vomit gushed from under the armored visor.
"Bastard!" One of the enemies shouted, the voice metallic, ringing from under his helm. Shyvana grinned, baring her long fangs, sweeping her cloak back, ducking low, and taking off at a sprint. The man barely had time to react as flames sheathed her legs, carrying her forward. She cocked her free hand back and struck out and down, striking his helm, the protective garment sporting a fresh dent and ringing like a struck bell. The man struggled and pulled it off as Shyvana hissed, nursing her hand as she did. She heard the whistle of a blade slicing through the air as she dodged, a heavy blade cutting right through the air where she had been standing. An enemy stood near, his feet spread as he came forth, ready to face her down. Shyvana simply smiled. Holding the lance, she puffed her chest out, rearing her arms back, and tossed her head back. She felt the transformation happening, her head twisting about as the horns emerged, the scaly blue skin covering parts of her face, her nose elongating and her throat thickening. She snapped her head forward, billowing a cloud of flames towards the man, his armor turning red hot, the flames burning through his skin. Sheyvana chuckled as she took another deep breath, belching another great cloud of flames upon him as he struggled, his own armor cooking him alive.
"Pitiful..." Shyvana said, smiling cruelly, her draconian instincts overwhelming her. She lashed out, striking the man's red hot breast plate with a blue fist, the armor plated scales of her draconian side caving the man's weakened metal armor and driving straight into his chest. Shyvana heard the wet Crunch of ribs, her hand stained with blood. She drew back, knocking him aside with a boot to his helm, smashing his face in. She shook the blood from her hand as the other two who had attacked her took nervous steps back, unsure how to handle the half-dragon's rage.
"Monster..." One of them breathed, still stepping nervously away.
"You are nothing before me." Shyvana purred as she stepped over the body of her enemy. She cringed as the dragon's features withdrew back into her skull, her pained smile more than enough to start her foes quaking in their boots. She sprinted forward, planting Jarvan's lance in the ground as she launched herself straight towards one of the men who still stood frozen with fear. She had both hands raised above her head in fists as she flew towards him, her massive speed and powerful legs propelling her through the air as if she could fly. She struck down with both fists directly on top of his helm, crushing it down like foil. She grabbed his chin as she flew over his shoulder, snapping his neck about instantly, killing him as she did, and dragging him backwards with her. They were both horizontal as Shyvana raised her fist up as they hit the dirt, driving it straight through his crushed faceplate, smashing his face in with another sickeningly wet Crunch. She jumped off him, back towards the lance, her hand dripping with more blood and grey matter. She swung around the lance, ripping it from the ground as she did, raising the lance up above her head and striking down, driving the lance down through the last opponent's collar bone. She hit the narrow gap between his gorget and the collar of his helmet, the lance driving deep before it stuck in the armor.
He screamed in terror as the blade sunk deeper, Shyvana planting a foot on his chest as she ripped the blade free. She raised it above her head, spinning it, the man already mortally wounded. She spun downwards, using the sharpened edge of the lance to cleave his head from his shoulders, the armored helmet rolling away from his body, blood spraying and pooling as it did. Shyvana grinned, wiping blood off her face as the other warrior approached, his poleaxe tossed over his shoulder, nodding approvingly.
"You did well, young one." He said, raising his poleaxe over his head.
"They were nothing before me..." Shyvana said, smiling. She quivered with excitement, the act of cutting down her foes only serving to excite her.
"Who's next!?" He roared, pumping his poleaxe above his head. Shyvana raised Jarvan's lance above her head as the crowds exploded. The roar was thunderous, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Shyvana reveled in the roar, the pleasure of basking in the awe and fear that the crowd exuded was intoxicating.
She shivered, the smile on her face growing wider.
High above the crowds in the sky box, the rich and powerful sat there and smirked, nodding approvingly at the bloodbath that had unfolded below. Some held small binoculars, pleased looks on their faces at the spectacle, a murmur of clapping echoing just above the conversations that were being held. Wagers were being traded, many unhappy faces and tight fists releasing wads of gold and bags of jingling coin.
At the center of it all, one man sat, tapping the top of his cane quietly against the arm of his chair. He watched silently as men and women whipped themselves into a frenzy, their crazed cries building, causing the platform underneath their feet to rumble, the glassware upon their tables clinking, the wine and expensive liquors rippling in their crystal glasses. He stroked his raven, the six eyed bird fidgeting slowly in the enclosed space.
"Who is that girl?" One of the faceless voices asked from somewhere to his side.
"I don't know, I've never seen her before." Another faceless voice said.
"Perhaps a newcomer?" A third proposed.
"Well obviously." One of the voices said, snarkily.
"Her use of flame magic was... different but effective." A voice said, a mixture of approval and smugness swirling in the tone.
"I'm still curious about her use of that lance... It was... crude but brutal." A voice said.
The man at the center of it all basked in the conversation around him, letting the voices diverge and mix with the ambient noise, his mind picking out tidbits here and there that seemed relevant. He tried to classify them all, sorting away what he thought useful for later, all of it potential ammunition for a later battle. He opened his eyes as he shut out the clamor, watching the male and female warriors get escorted from the arena by guards. They would be taken to where they would receive their rewards and then released into the city, but not before being warned to stay close so they could be recalled for more fights. He had expected much from the male warrior, he was merely carrying out his orders, but the female...
"Shyvana..." The man breathed, remembering the name of the girl he had met. When he had first met the young woman, he had dismissed her as a mere peasant who carried a dead man's spear. Now though, she was becoming a potential threat. Strength like that seldom came along without ulterior motives, and unfortunately, there was always more room for trouble. She was still shrouded in mystery, but he was sure that this girl would be a powerful ally, were she to be swayed to his side. He wondered what exactly he could offer her that would entice her to his camp. "What is it you seek, young one..." He mused, emptying his glass of wine and pulling himself to his feet.
"Done already, Swain?" One of the other military officers asked, raising a glass of wine in mock salute.
"These spectacles do not please as they once did, Keiran." Swain growled, adjusting his cloak under his breast plate. The heavy armor was uncomfortable in the heat, but Swain saw the pomp and circumstance as a necessary political move. His grab for power would come soon enough, his plans already progressing into the early stages. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that his plans were going to be delayed, but he would be certain to not let them fail. He also had a sinking suspicion about the lance she carried. It was a weapon he recognized, but not one he had seen for many years. "My time spent upon the battlefield has left me with an ill flavor for... staged combat." His gaze drifted back to the arena, letting images play over in his mind.
It had given him pause the first time he had seen the large bundle, and while he was curious, he had read reports of the upstart Demacian Prince going missing two years ago. He recognized the lance from an encounter long past. A Demacian lance. He kept quiet about it though, wondering how he would deal with that issue when it came. There had been many accusations tossed about before reports had shown the prince was merely roving about the Freljord, killing beast and bandit alike, before he had disappeared below Mogron pass. Swain's scouts had lost track of him for almost a year, the time he spent in Mogron pass and below a mystery, even to Swain. He stretched his good leg, the weak limb giving him trouble as he grew older. Swain scowled, still regretting his impudence when he had refused better medical treatment early in his career.
"That is understandable." Keiran Darkwill said smugly, shrugging as he stood, uneasy on his feet.
"My apologies for not staying any longer after only just returning, I have a... prisoner to attend to now." Swain said, bowing his head to the younger officer. "Give your father my regards."
"If you like, we can set one of our new champions here up against that prisoner that gave your lieutenant such a hard time." Keiran said with a drunken chuckle. "Surely, if he bested your strongest officer, he might prove quite the challenge to these new gladiators."
"Now that is a thought." Swain said, stopping, musing over the thought of putting the Demacian prince and the woman who wielded his lance in the arena together. If she had taken from him once, and he had bested both his captains, it would serve to be a good fight. "I'll see to it that she receives a bag of gold to do with what she sees fit. Set her up in an Inn and she can fight tomorrow."
"We'll make a spectacle of it indeed." Keiran said, raising his glass, his dueling saber clinking on his belt.
"Indeed." Swain said, moving off down the steps, the hulking Noxian General falling into step with the crippled officer. Darius growled, frowning as he walked with his fellow General.
"I hate that bastard." Darius growled, still nursing his bruised face.
"It is all a necessary charade." Swain mused, shaking his head. "He may be a bloody fool, but he's also a bloody fool with power. It is a calculated risk. See to it the prisoner is taken care of."
"I still wish you would let me dispatch that one, he made a fool of me and my men..." Darius growled as they descended through the hallowed walls of the coliseum.
"He is both a political prisoner, and a prisoner of war." Swain said with a grunt as he stopped at the bottom of the steps. "See that he is fed and given medical treatment, I want him in full fighting strength for the battle tomorrow."
"As you wish, general." Darius said, saluting. "Any further orders?"
"Make sure the tail on the girl keeps his distance. I want her accounted for at all times, but I don't want her spooked. Keep forces on standby if we need to force her to fight tomorrow." He spoke quietly as they approached the landing.
"Aye, sir." Darius said, wincing as he dropped his salute. Swain watched the broad shouldered Noxian captain go. If the Demacican prince done that much damage in such a short time, it would be a good fight tomorrow. He was satisfied that the prince would fight hard to reclaim his lance from the half-beast girl who had taken it from him.
"And tell your brother that he is to behave himself." Swain called after the general. Darius grunted, unsure about how to actually get his roguish brother to do so. Swain grinned as Darius disappeared around the corner. "Hopefully these worms will dispatch themselves, eh, Beatrice?" He mused, his raven shaking her head and ruffling her feathers.