The Pink Haired Pirate: An Old Norse Saying

Rated: M for language, future mature themes, violence

Warnings: Spoiler alert for Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

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Sakura couldn't possibly believe just how... amazing would the whole damn place be. The Arena district was nothing short of the Shinobi district of her own home; if you counted out the typical Nedic and elven architecture that dominated Cyrodiil overall. There were at least two blacksmiths that had their own armory and weaponry shops open, there was one guy that enchanted equipment for a fee... kids were playing with wooden swords in the street...

The whole place was void of residential buildings too, if you counted out the small apartments on top of the stores. But you could also find a bustling tavern, considered to be one of the mercenary and hired blades hot spot of the city. Obviously, right at the entrance, was a wooden board with bounties that could be picked by any adventurer that wanted to get some coin, if they had the time and the blade for it. Bandit leaders, giants, necromancers in dungeons... anything really.

She has passed through the Arena district of the city before, but she hasn't given much thought to admire every single element that built together a place of testing your brand and fire in battle. But this time, she was walking through the streets as Karasu of Skyrim, and a few people did recognize her. Those that have watched the matches before. She couldn't hear their whispers, but they did keep a certain distance from her nonetheless. Beside her were Marcurio, and Alessio, though his hood was pulled up, as if not to give away his whole identity.

It was evening, and the skies were painted with oranges and purples, gleaming above the open stadium of the following massacre. They have taken the alternative entrance; used by the gladiators, as couples, citizens of all ages and even families, were going for the main gate, to watch the show. Sakura almost snorted under her mask. Watching people tearing each other apart; fun for the whole family.

The Thalmor were not missing the event, either. A few Justiciars, accompanied by golden-armored agents, were made space to comfortably walk through the crowd, and take the seats in the balconies - some of the best seats in the whole coliseum.

They descended the stairways, and in the distance, Sakura recognized the slave driver, waiting for the gladiators to show up. And right next to him, was the Gray Fox.

"Good, you're finally here." The Fox nodded his head. Normally, Shisui would give gis sister one last good luck hug before heading towards the tribunes, but he knew he couldn't show favoritism towards any gladiator in front of the Slave Driver. "Good luck," then, he turned towards Alessio, who was clad in Thieves Guild garb, and Marcurio, with Tora curled up against his neck. "They're with me."

It was addressed to the Slave Driver, who was more than happy to have something to say against Karasu bringing guests.

He has heard from a gladiator that Karasu was the Fox's little sister, as Shisui has been open about it in the floating tavern, but as long as they kept to their professionalisms, he would give no shit about their family ties.

"Very well." The slave driver grunted.

"Good luck, Karasu." Alessio grinned beneath his cowl. "We'll wait for you in the tribunes."

"Thank you." But they have already turned their backs to her, to head through the damp tunnel that led to their seats. That area itself was far more protected and covered, giving The Gray Fox the necessary incognito status, shielding him and his fellow thieves from the prying eyes of the spectators and the authorities.

"Karasu." The man nudged her to the lobby. "Try not to die."

In a strange way, that malicious guy... rooted for her. She guessed. She has shown everyone what she could do... and she had a few aces up her sleeves as well, despite losing many more because of Solas. Popping a red pill under her mask, Sakura headed inside the lobby.

The room was nicely furnished, even if it almost resembled a dungeon, interior-wise. The floors were covered with a few carelessly-thrown carpets, on top of which sat a long, low, pine table. Two long couches and two opposite-facing arm chairs were gathered around it, occupied by five gladiators that Sakura has briefly recognized from the past rounds. Bottles of wine and glasses were spread around, you could count a few stains here and there, and in the back were far more types of alcoholic drinks that she could remember knowing. Matze, sujamma, brandy, some sort of strong-smelling liquor that made your hair stand up... and of course, mead.

Sakura had the habit of leaving the arena once her fight was done, so sadly, she was not familiar with everyone's combat styles. But while she was waiting for her turn, she did witness a few outstanding matches that made her smile in anticipation. They were not weak. They were not like bandits, that picked up arms for the gold and to satisfy their bloodlust. That grabbed their pa's woodchopping axe and wanted to use it as a lethal weapon, but failing miserably when they faced a real opponent.

They were real fighters, with unique fighting styles, with specialized training in their field of expertise. They seemed to be interesting people, judging by the air they carried themselves with, and if Sakura had to be honest, it was a shame that only one of them would walk away from the arena alive that evening.

She seemed to be the only one missing from the gladiators that were qualified for the final rank.

There hasn't been a champion in decades. The arena fights were interrupted by the war, then they often tore each other to pieces... many able-bodied men and women joined the Imperial ranks because there was a terrible shortage of manpower and soldiers...

But the time has changed within the last two years, when more competent fighters signed up for the coin, prestige, and the privilege to ask a favor from the Emperor himself. And they were all there. Sakura recognized a Breton woman clad in golden armor, as Tara the Strong. Her gigantic battle axe was lazily leaned against the sofa, as its owner was sipping from a mug of mead.

There weren't more than six people in total however. The best of the best Cyrodiil had to offer, that joined the bloody ranks of the Arena and never signed up for war. They wanted gold and glory, not honor and glory.

"Karasu, right?" Tara was the first to acknowledge her presence. She considered the nod of the shorter woman's masked head as enough of an answer. "Good. It means that everyone's here. You know, you don't have to be so uptight," she noticed her shoulders tensing up. "Taril has just finished his story about how he and his crew came across the continent of Pyandonea, and has made out with a sea elf." A snort of disbelief followed immediately after.

Sakura in the meanwhile, has heard a single word that she has never heard from anyone Tamriel so far. "Pyandonea? Sea elves?"

"That's right, lass. Blue-skinned elves... me and my crew got lost on the sea once. Our navigator was drunk as hell. We went south too much, and have crossed paths with a Maormer pirate ship."

Her question was answered by a Dunmer pirate sitting across her. He seemed lanky and rather too relaxed for a gladiator, knowing that he would live or die within the next few hours. And judging by his attire, and the cutlass held by his deep indigo sash, on top of the overall mannerism and tales of sea adventures, he seemed to be a pirate as well. And that has made her oddly nostalgic; just like when she has first stepped foot in the Waterfront District.

Alright, he could also be a sailor, but what sailor would abandon duty and join a life-or-death tournament?

Let's just call that intuition.

"I have never heard of Maormer before. Where's Pyandonea? How is that place?" Her eyes widened with curiosity. Tara, being the closest person sitting next to Karasu, could see her eyes sparkle through the eye holes of the mask, but that might have been just a trick of the light.

"He doesn't know more than any history book can tell you, Karasu. The slave driver has almost caught him hitting a bottle of skooma just two days ago, you can't possibly believe him." Tara rolled her eyes.

Taril slammed his bottle down. "Listen here you 24 karat bitch..."

"How did you call me?" Tara grabbed the hilt of her axe.

Sakura blinked softly and scooted away from the wrath of the woman and the pirate. Alright then...

But still, it was not like Tara denied the existence of these so-called sea elves. She has only denied the authenticity of Taril's story, that Sakura herself has missed. She has added 'Pyandonea' to the ever-growing list of Tamrielic terms she had to look up when she had the time. Mentally only, this time. She has not opened her journal in forever... not since Mercer's betrayal.

The Slave Driver stopped the ever-growing bickering of two of her fellow mates, and Sakura was surprised to hear that all of them were called out at the same time. Still, she has adjusted the mask on her face, as Tara effortlessly lifted her axe from the ground, and the rest of the gladiators were led out of their hiding hole, and right in the open.

The official arena was much larger than the makeshift underground fighting rink she has been thrown into since the beginning of her Cyrodiil 'vacation'. The seats, railing, stairs and balconies were all made out of fine marble, the whole place was lit with arcane orbs as curtesy of the Arcane University students, and the Emperor's box was draped with fine, deep red curtains hanging on the walls. The rhombus-shaped dragon of the Cyrodiilic Empire was pitch black, and sewn on the whole surface of the tapestry.

And speaking of the Emperor, he was present. Being so deep in thoughts, Sakura was the first to follow the example of her fellow gladiators, who have bent their knees in front of Titus Mede II.

Oops.

The crowd cheered. Each of their champions was aligned and the bets have been placed. From that moment, they all knew that only one of them would get out alive.

Sakura couldn't spot Shisui at first. But she was lucky enough to find Marcurio sitting in the shadows, with the rest of the thieves, easily recognizable with that obnoxious red rose staff strapped across his back. Inhaling deeply, she has awaited the carnage.

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A/N: Yeah, I skipped a week of nonsense. I didn't want to drag out the fights for too long.

I have also cut it out because I have something else planned for the fight. I also need three more gladiator ideas that I have to think of.

In the meanwhile, I have exam in a few hours and I'm a little bit nervous. But hey, we are getting closer and closer to the prologue. Maybe I will do some final stats at the final, so you'll know how rich Sakura will go back to Skyrim. Perhaps.

I have counted over 10k coins, which can get her a decent and fully upgraded house. I have more plans for her than being thane tho. Being a thane means being a member of the court. And it's not like you can be present at all meeting and shit all the time. It's impossible.

You'll see, I thought of this while showering. I think it's more valuable, symbolically speaking, than being a thane. But it's also more realistic.

Well, see you! I'm getting started on the next chapter as soon as I can. I'll have two free weeks too so yeh.