Chapter 2: Adoring Fans

There was an unruly commotion outside going on that woke Urzul up the next morning, something that didn't happen in Weye. The only reason to peek your head out the window was if somebody was wondering around drunk spouting nonsense about the nine divines beating them at chess—that happened often. But this wasn't one person, it was several. And they were very loud.

Urzul got up from her uncomfortable mattress and looked outside. There was an Orc man in full silver and shimmering armor walking out of the Imperial City, being trailed by a large horde of people holding paper and quill. Some of them were calm, but most looked like they wanted to unleash a roaring cry of excitement. Urzul opened her window.

"—Sir! Agronak! We're your biggest fans!"

"—Can we have your autograph, pleeeaassee?!"

This man they were trailing behind wasn't turning around for them, but Urzul could make out a very satisfactory smile across his face. He was a very pale skinned Orc in an obnoxious suit of armor. He had a large sword and shield attacked to his waist, and he was even holding a flashy iron helmet that had a huge red feather coming off the top.

"—AGRONAK! PLEEEASSE!"

Fans resorted to screaming and whining. Why wasn't this guy acknowledging him? Was he deaf? Was he just rude?

He finally turned around and put both of his hands in the air, "Now, now, everybody. The Grey Prince has to leave the city for a little while, but I'll be back as soon!"

The Grey Prince? That was the stupidest most over the top name Urzul had ever heard. What's wrong with Agronak?

"Can we have your autograph before you go? Where are you going? Take me with you!" were incoherent screams coming from the crowd. Urzul was surprised they weren't all swarming him like a mad posse. Maybe it was because of the sword. Urzul just continued watched from her 2nd story bedroom.

Agronak clapped his hands together three times and the entire crowd went silent. It was quite odd, and a bit creepy. "Alright, everybody, I have an announcement. The Blue Team is now recruiting at the Imperial City's Arena! True, we suffered a hard blow this season, but that's why I, the Grey Prince, am venturing all across Cyrodiil to speak with the Fighters Guild, street-side bandits, anybody willing to fight to the death for glory and honor! If any of you are interested, speak with Owyn in the Arena bloodworks, and who knows, you might even get to fight me, the Grey Prince!"

The crowd let out a mighty roar of applause and cheers. Urzul was a tad lost—the Imperial City had an arena? What was the point? Did the people really fight to the death like he just said?

The Grey Prince let the applause sink in for a few seconds before finally turning around and leaving. The crowd didn't follow him. Urzul didn't really like the way he carried himself, but she was interested in what he said, surprisingly. Could you really win honor and glory just by fighting in some stupid arena? People honored you for that? What if you died?

To be honest, though, the thought of dying at this time in her life didn't really bother Urzul at all. The base of a fear of death was that people wanted to be remembered for something—but Urzul already knew she didn't have anything to live for. Her father could suffer in silence without her around, and she'd already given up hope of ever seeing her mother again. So why not?

Urzul didn't want to be honored, but she did want something to do. And she knew she could win in the arena—she could become the new champion. The way the Grey Prince carried himself, and the carelessness he ushered into every step he took, Urzul knew that type- that was the type of person who Urzul knew from the playground. Urzul could take him out in seconds. And if he made his way all the way to the top, then everybody below him would be like stepping on an ant.

Urzul weighed out the pros and cons. On one hand, she could become the champion of the arena and actually do something with her life. But with all that attention comes the threat of…her history. She knew what would happen if word got out. Would it? Most likely. But if it did, it wouldn't be a better or worse situation than she was in right now. So she kept thinking.

Would she have to use a weapon? Urzul hated using anything other than her bare hands to get the job done. She tried going with that 'use the sword as an extension of you' philosophy, but was never a fan of letting anyone or anything into her own zone. Were their brawlers in the arena? That would be a deal breaker, but there was no way of knowing without going to see for herself.

Urzul kept debating with herself while gazing out the window. The crowd was gone, it was early in the morning, and it was her day off—so why not? Odd were she wouldn't even get picked anyway, but it was worth a shot. Plus, as much as she loved the Imperial City, she didn't like going inside without having a reason to. This was a good reason.

Urzul shut the bedroom window and went down the creaky staircase of her home. As expected, the first thing she saw while coming down stairs was her hung-over father sitting face down on the table surrounded by 7 pints of ale. It was disgusting, but Urzul had seen it more times than she liked to remember. He wasn't snoring, but his drunken crusty face was oozing droll and snot on the table which was even more disgusting.

"I'm heading out." Urzul said, slipping her shoes on in a hurry.

"Huh—wha—?"

Urzul rolled her eyes and continued getting ready.

"U-Urz… Urzul? Urzul. Wherearyogun—"

"What?"

Urzul's father couldn't keep a sentence together. Urzul thought it was sad and pathetic. "W-Whereare… Where…"

"I'm going to the arena. I'm signing up."

Bogrum scratched his head and rubbed his dry green eyes, "Thearen…rena? Why?"

"I just told you, I'm signing up. Heard they want people."

"Ow, my head…" Bogrum said after stumbling out of his chair and onto his feet. He was still wearing the same thing he had on last night, but somehow Urzul noticed he was missing a sock. He was looking around the empty cottage, probably just figuring out where he was. "D-Did I win?"

"Doubt it." Urzul said plainly. She had just finished getting her shoes on and splashed a bit of water from the well bucket on her face to freshen up. She didn't say goodbye to her father as she headed towards the door.

"Wait—" Bogrum said as quickly as his hung-over lips could muster.

Urzul turned around regrettably. "…What?"

"Your name is gra-Bogrum. Don't forget."

"I know." Urzul snapped before shutting the cottage door.

Urzul didn't want to think about her last name. Would they even ask? Why did it matter? Her name would become irrelevant anyway, if she became a champion they'd give her some stupid title like 'Underbiting Empress', or 'Green-skinned Grace'. But this wasn't what she wanting to be thinking about on her way into the Imperial City.

The last time she had a reason to into town, Urzul had to use what little money she had to buy new clothes because the ones she had were getting too many tears. She just bought the same thing, so she didn't get to see anything new. But this time, she was taking the scenic route.

Every step Urzul took sounded important; from the bridge to the city gate it was all finished with white marble. Or, maybe it was brick, but Urzul didn't care. It was better than dirt and mud. Urzul even checked behind her to make sure her work shoes weren't making a messy trail behind her.

Once she was past the gate, she was welcomed by the comforting sound of the Talos Plaza. People were bartering, chatting, joking, laughing, and even yelling. The cloud of conversation blended together like alchemic potion for city life. The entrance had people of all races, social classes, and ages. Children were playing in the gardens, private school students were walking in pairs of four, and an elderly woman as taking a walk around the parameter of the walls. She knew she was out of place, she was still comforted by the city's glow, and that was all that mattered.

Urzul had to ask directions from a city watchman, something she had never done before, and she was surprisingly friendly. Urzul remembered the cranky guards in Bravil that didn't want to engage in any conversation whatsoever, but the Imperial City folk lit up with a smile as soon as Urzul tapped her on the shoulder.

"Good morning, citizen. How can I help?" the guard in her brown and hefty suit of armor smiled through the space in her metal helmet.

Urzul stuttered, "I, um…I'm looking for the arena district?"

"Ah, of course, come to the city to sign up I assume?" she replied politely and pointed ahead, "Follow this road through the Temple District and into the arboretum—the gate to the Arena District is straight through the garden near the statue of Stendarr."

Urzul nodded and thanked the guard awkwardly, then headed in the direction she pointed. Urzul didn't pick up most of it since she wasn't very good at conversation, but she got the general idea.

At this point, Urzul was thinking she would have some last minute thoughts, get cold feet and turn back, but she didn't. She had no interest in what was behind her—this was going to be her future. It wasn't her first choice in profession, but she was eager to take whatever came her way. And if this didn't work out, which it possibly couldn't, Urzul started thinking about moving another city and getting a job blacksmithing. All she knew for sure was she was tired of fishing.

Could she die? Yes. Would she? Urzul didn't think so, but the thought of fighting somebody with a steel claymore or a skull crushing hammer didn't sound very easy. But Urzul assumed the system worked in tiers, so hopefully she'd be able have enough practice fighting amateurs before having to take out a professional.

Urzul also worried about actually having to kill someone. It hadn't dawned on her before, but obviously the Arena was kill-or-be-killed territory. In order to succeed in this profession, she had to win every time. She had to kill people. The thought was haunting, but Urzul hardly a social butterfly so she'd probably never even know their names.

She daydreamed about the future while walking through the imperial paradise. Eventually she came to the arena district, the destination she'd on just heard about this morning. Urzul wasn't very impressed, it was a large circular building but it hardly warranted a giant fuss. The walls seemed as old as Tamriel itself, and besides the guard on patrol, the only thing surrounding it were plants and statues. The statues were nice, but Urzul had seen enough of them in this walk to last her entire life.

Off to the side of the entrance was a small roofed enclosure where a few people in stripped clothes seemed to be brawling hand to hand. One was an Argonian, the other a Reguard. Urzul felt relieved she wasn't the only one brawling their way to the top, but the other side of her was nervous they'd gotten rejected. Either way, she didn't really want to know, so she kept walking.

Urzul walked around the circle trying to find the entrance to the building. She could hear a lot of meaningless chatter, figuring it was just echo from the other districts…but that wasn't the case. After circling the parameter some more, Urzul came face to face with an enormous line of people right where she assumed the entrance was.

Urzul recognized a few faces from outside of her home in Weye—these weren't combatants in the arena, these were the fans of the Grey Prince. Were they really going to sign up? None of them looked prepared for combat. Granted Urzul wasn't either, but at least she wasn't wearing an expensive looking purple dress. The fans were still holding their quills and papers for Agronak to sign, it was almost sad.

Urzul was a little angry that all these people were lining up like this. They couldn't be serious about this, and Urzul couldn't come back to register until her next day off, which was in two days. Who knows if they would even still be hiring then. Though she was shy by nature, Urzul decided to ask somebody about it.

There were several guards surrounding the extensive line stretching all around the arena garden, so Urzul went up to one of them and asked them if the line was really for registering with the arena.

"Registering too, are you?" The guard responded, "Yes, this is the line. All these fans just want to be able to have one-on-one time with the Grey Prince when he returns. It's sad really. But, I'm afraid you're going to have to go the back of the line."

Urzul nodded and walked away. This was ridiculous. She didn't walk all the way to the Imperial City to be met with a line of fanatics asking to be killed by their idol. What was this, some sick cult? Urzul wasn't going to stand in queue until all hours of the night only to be met with rejection. She wanted to register, and she wanted to register now.

Urzul was able to blend in with the crowd and sneak up the line. The guards may have noticed her, but with the worn out clothes Urzul was wearing, she figured she'd appear to be some sort of gladiator's assistant. Whatever they thought she was, she was going the front of the line. And if anybody of the die-hard fans questioned her, she'd knock their teeth out.

There was a sign passed the door on the left that looked like the arena's promotional poster. There were four combatants—an axe, a mage, a soldier, and a rogue with a bow and arrow with text that simply read: "THE ARENA". It was impressive, but Urzul wasn't going to get excited yet.

Urzul followed the line to a man who was standing around a large quantity of boxes that seemed to be full of armor and weapons. He was a Reguard with short grey hair and a face darkened with sweat and heat. He was talking with the person in front of the line.

"Listen to me, you come here every season and sign up—and you are NOT. GETTING IN. Now take your stupid yellow hair and go chase butterflies off a cliff."

"B-B-B-B-But, Owyn don't you think my dedication to the Grey Prince ALONE makes me worth of acceptance? I know all of his moves! I can mimic him!"

The man was not pleased by this small bosmer fan. "If I ever see your stupid face in these bloodworks again, I'll make sure you get to meet your adored Grey Prince—"

"REALLY?!" The fan said with glee.

"—In a body bag. Now GET OUT. NEXT!"

The yellowed hair nuisance shook his head and away muttering some incoherent mumble. The line began to move, but Urzul was quick to put her hand out to Owyn would notice her.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" Urzul tried to say politely, "I want to sign up."

Owyn turned to Urzul with a very unimpressed look of distain, "Oh yeah? Then why aren't you in line?"

Urzul came close to try and talk softly, "Look, I…I don't even like the Grey Prince. I just want to register."

"Oh, you're not a fan of Mr. Wonderful, are you? Well neither am I." Owyn said rudely, "He dragged all of these losers here and now I have to turn them away—one by one. And I'm not allowed to make them all leave, because I have orders from the emperor himself to make sure I don't accidently turn away 'prized jewels'". So no, I'm not the biggest fan of Agronak gro-whatshisface, and I don't have time for you unless you get your ass to the BACK OF THE LINE."

Urzul didn't like being talked to like a swine, but she was immune to it. "If you'll just give me a chance and let me—"

"BACK. OF. THE LINE, MAGGOT. Now I'll say it again: NEXT."

Urzul turned around and walked away. Owyn was probably the 5th worst person she'd ever met. What right did he have to talk to her like that? Urzul began to regret even coming over here. This entire institution was worthless, and she didn't want anything to do with it.

Urzul was full of rage and anger. She wished she could grip that smug Owyn's neck and throw him up against a wall. For an Orc, Urzul was relatively good at controlling her anger, but she couldn't contain herself from kicking a bucket of water sitting by a vacant wall with all of her lower body strength and splattering the water everywhere.

With one swift thrust, Urzul smashed the wood entirely and all the water splashed onto her working pants. It felt good afterwards, and part of her was hoping somebody noticed.

"HEY!" roared an unhappy croak. Urzul looked around, and right next to the wall was an enclosure of training equipment and battle dummies. Sitting in the corner, on a lonely stood, was a woman who looked older than Akatosh. She made eye contact with Urzul and bellowed, "What in Oblivion was that? Are you mad?"

Urzul's face was swelled up with anger and she couldn't even speak. She was calming down slowly, but the words were not coming to her.

The old woman continued, "What's wrong with you? Didn't get picked for the arena? Well you can't go around kicking buckets just because you didn't get your way!"

Urzul was clenching her fists, still raging internally with anger and fury. "No, that man wouldn't even see me. I have to go to the back of the line because of these STUPID—"

Urzul lunged forward to one of the training dummies hanging from a chain and punched it so hard it swung all the back and slammed on the brick wall, leaving a dent that crumbled cement on the floor. "—FANS!"

The old woman looked stunned. Nobody else could see them, but Urzul was furious. She didn't care if this hauled her off to jail, she didn't have anything else to live for anyway.

"My, My…" the old lady uttered, surprisingly. "That's a lot of brute strength you have in those fists, girl. What's your name?"

Urzul shook her hands around to make the pain from her initial adrenaline rush leave her knuckles. "I'm Urzul."

"Last name?"

"…gra-Bogrum."

"Bogrum? Huh… your mother must have been twice the brute as you."

As much as Urzul was enjoying the small talk, every bone in her body was sick and tired being down in the suffocating hell of bloodworks. "I'll be leaving now."

"Not so fast," The woman interjected quickly before Urzul even took a step, "You're not going anywhere until you clean up this mess you've made."

Urzul rolled her eyes and clenched her fist. "It's just water."

"Don't be a brat. I'll help you." After standing up slowly from her chair, the wrinkly woman went behind her stood and grabbed a handful of old beaten rags. Urzul thought the two worked well together. "I'm Ysabel Andronicus, Battle Matron, and personal trainer of the Grand Champion."

"Agronak?" Urzul asked, grabbing a rag.

Ysabel got down on her hands and knees to start drying up the mess Urzul made, while also rolling her eyes. "No, Gaiden Shinji. Who do you think I'm talking about?"

She didn't need to be rude, it was only a question. Urzul started cleaning up the water sliding off the walls while Ysabel handled the floor. "So what do you do while he's gone?"

"Whatever I damn well please." She grunted in-between the large arm strokes she used to wipe up all the water. She was very forceful—if you put a mask over her wrinkly face she could pass as a 30 year old body builder. "And what do you do?"

"Do?"

"Your job. If you have one."

"I fish. I live in Weye." Urzul said bluntly. "If you've ever eaten Slaughterfish in the city, I caught it."

"I hate Slaughterfish." Ysabel responded, "Too flimsy and weak. If you want protein, go for a heavy bite of steak. Mammoth is the strongest, works your teeth and strengthens your bones."

Urzul was surprised to meet an Imperial who didn't sit in a castle and do gardening. "I don't eat it either. But that's my job."

"You alone?"

"No, I have a father. Barely."

"I see." Ysabel said. Urzul had already finished, but Ysabel had a dedicated expression on her face that wasn't going to rest until every last drop had been swiped from the blood stained floor. "So humor me—you're a fisher, you don't live in the Imperial City, and here you are signing up for the Arena. Why?"

"Because I can win"

Ysabel paused her movements and looked up at Urzul. A look of joy and laughter was on her face. Urzul was used to that face, it was the face of disbelief. "Really, you think you can win the arena? The single most deadly profession in all of Tamriel—in all of Nirn—and you think you can win? You're a fisher."

"It matters?" Urzul replied bitterly. "I'm strong. I saw Agronak leaving the city. The way he moved, his mannerism—he's weak. His ego and overconfidence will best him in battle."

Ysabel was, surprisingly, smiling. She got up from off the floor and stretched her back with a very disbelieving look smeared across her freckled face. "What do you fight with, then?"

"Fists."

"Ha! You can't be serious, kid."

Urzul marched straight over to the next available dummy; she was not going to take this. Just as she did before, but this time with a calmer mind, Urzul put all of her energy into a single punch that made a popping sound and send the dummy crashing into the cement, making an even larger dent than the one before. She turned to Ysabel and said, "Yes. I'm serious."

"What the hell is going on over there?!" Yelled Owyn from across the room. Urzul almost forgot he was still catering to all the obsessed fans. Owyn came marching over in a force of rage and stood right between both of them, "Ysabel?"

Ysabel crossed her arms and looked Urzul up and down. She ignored Owyn. "Fine. You're hired."

"WHAT?!" Owyn bellowed out. Urzul was stunned.

"You're a combatant. Welcome to the Arena, Pit Dog."

Owyn shook his head back and forth and stood in front of Ysabel to derive her attention. "So this brute looking Orc comes marching down the bloodworks, without waiting line, breaks concrete off of our walls and nearly floods the place, and now you want to hire her?"

"Shut up, Owyn." Ysabel hissed. "You're not in charge here."

"If you think for a second I'm gonna book matches for this freak—"

"—You're not. I am."

Urzul and Owyn both went wide eyed and said in unison, "What?!"

Ysabel walked around Owyn pressing into her face to continue her conversation with Urzul. "I'm handling you personally. Report here tomorrow at 6 a.m. and we're starting training."

Owyn beat up face was swelling with rage, "Training? Personally? Have you lost your god damn mind? Are we forgetting about your precious little prince?"

"Agronak won't be back for another month." Ysabel snapped back, "And even then, his solo matches don't start up until mid-season. That's more than enough time to see if this girl is worth my time. If she isn't, she'll be dead. If she is, then you'll be wishing you hadn't sent her to the back of the line."

Urzul tried getting a word in, "Look, I—"

"—You're psycho!" Owyn interrupted, he hadn't even looked Urzul in the eyes. "I'm not having anything to do with this."

"Then don't." Ysabel retorted, "This isn't any of your concern. Now go make that queue go away or I'll have Agronak come back early and make all these zombies start a riot."

Owyn walked away in a fit of frustration. Urzul still wasn't understand exactly was happening—the trainer of the Grey Prince wanted to make Urzul her private pupil. Why? What the hell was going on?

"Right then, you heard me." Ysabel said. "Tomorrow at 6 a.m. Be here. I'll give you your armor and sign your contracts then, if you're still serious."

"I have work tomorrow." Urzul said neutrally. She didn't want to be rude, but it was the truth.

"My training regiments last 6 hours. No more, no less. You'll be home by noon and you can do your fishing then."

As much as Urzul dreaded the thought of getting up early, the tone of Ysabel's voice didn't indicate she had an option. But Urzul was still going to ask, "…Why me?"

Ysabel let out a small chuckling scoff, "I'm bored. And you owe me for breaking those walls. Now go home and rest while you still can, because it'll be the last of it you see in a long time."