Over the next few days, Sat practiced her weaponry. She was one of the best fighters in the house.

Sat was trained at first at the sword, just a plain wooden one. And then shields and plate armor were added. Sat had always hated armor. She hated practice too, but one had to do whatever she could to survive. She didn't want her blood spilled in the arena.

Over the years, Sat trained herself in all sorts of weapons. She wanted the advantage and the ability to protect herself.

So she was skilled in throwing daggers, swordwork, spearwork, archery, quarterstaff, axes, scythes, and sickles. Sat would observe unfamiliar weapons and try to learn them.

Then it was Sat's turn again in the amphitheater. She hated it, hated the crowds, the blood, the killing. But sometimes, when she knew that she'd win, she'd get a sort of battle rage, a love of killing. It was hard to control.

Madame Roiseour announced that she had to fight Scarlet.

Scarlet was the number three champion in all the houses in the Upper House. Scarlet was bloodthirsty, and strong. She fought for one of the more prosperous houses, and had the finest plate steel armor and weapons. Her heavy broadsword could cleave a hole straight through Sat's light shield.

The day of the fight dawned. The sun shined brilliantly, announcing that there would be uncomfortable heat later on. And the amphitheater was packed.

Sat was nervous. She had never lost a fight, never. And she didn't want today to be her first. She paced in the armoring room. Then Madame Roiseour called her name. Sat got her sandals on quickly, and with some hesitation, slipped a dagger between the straps. It would lessen some flexibility, but might be useful if she got disarmed.

Madame Roiseour pushed her through the gates, onto the sand. She was the last to fight; the sand was stained, but had been recovered with fresh unsuccessfully.

The assistants stood at the side, their hooks ready to pull in a body.

Scarlet was already on the sand, her bronze helmet gleaming in the sun, her horsehair plume shifting in the slight wind.

Sat ran forwards, her borrowed sword at the ready. Scarlet moved forward, too. She was not as quick as Sat, burdened with her heavy oxhide shield and armor.

Scarlet made the first move, her sword whistling through the air. Sat ducked.

She saw the man again, the fancy clothed Denizen. He was arguing with a platinum blonde lady with yellow wings…

Those wings, certainly expensive, and beautiful, too. But strength could be added…

Scarlet's bronze blade caught the light.

Sat parried, then thrusted with her short sword. She was angry at herself for forgetting to tune out everything except the fight.

Clang! Scarlet's sword crashed into Sat's, knocking it right out of her hands.

Sat was weaponless, and Scarlet was advancing menacingly.

Sat was surprised, and Scarlet took advantage of that. She swung at Sat's thigh. Scarlet wanted to cripple her, and finish her off, to the delight of the crowd.

Pain, pain that made her forget everything, make her give up….

Blood poured down Sat's leg, blue blood that trickled and stained the sand, coloring her sandals with it…

The sandals!

Quickly, Sat pulled her dagger out. Hiding it behind her, she feigned weakness.

Scarlet was strong, but wasn't very smart, and Sat was definitely going to take advantage of that.

Scarlet moved forwards, knowing that she was going to have an easy win.

Sat gritted her teeth against the pain of her wound and threw her dagger.

Her dagger was made in her forges, strengthened steel and magic, thin as a leaf and as light.

It flew straight, hitting Scarlet in the chink between the helmet and breastplate. Scarlet wavered, and her sword dropped to the ground. Then she crumpled.

The crowd roared….

Sat wasn't so sure of anything; her head hurt so terribly.

And she remembered lying on the ground, staring at the sun.

The pain of her thigh wound faded out….