Chapter 43
The Grand Melee
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Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.
As she stepped out onto the sands, Leita took in the many other fighters taking their places around the edge of the arena floor. All bore wicked-looking weapons of every possible sort. Some carried two weapons, others hefted ones that were bigger than her whole body. All of them, herself and Kalder included, wore custom House-owned armor that bore some kind of insignia upon it. Those whose armor didn't have their House's symbology engraved or sculpted into it bore some other method of identifying who they fought for, such as tabards or arm sashes.
She herself carried a simple, but sturdy, broadsword and steel shield, as well as a dagger tucked beneath her left vambrace. It felt like a sort of 'good luck' item to her now. Even if she rarely ever made use of it, she always brought a dagger with her onto the sands. Kalder carried his usual warpick, the back of which was fashioned into a hammer. He was strong enough to swing it one-handed, but it was large and heavy enough that when he used both hands, he could drive the spike of it clean through a person.
As she took in the other combatants, she began taking note of the particular fighters that seemed the most threatening. Most appeared to be humanfolk, but several other races, such as orlings and hobkin, were scattered among the circle of gladiators. She even spotted at least two full-blooded oruhks taking their places. Neither had the same sheer size or obvious power that Hulvoc had displayed, both likely born on slave farms that specialized in breeding 'domesticated' oruhks. While they were usually bred to be smaller and more docile, they would likely still be stronger, tougher, and more fierce than most of the rest of the fighters around them.
The same judgement went for the orlings and other beast-like races she spotted, powerful blood running in their veins that made them definite threats based solely on their biology. Among the hobkin competitors, the one from their wagon trip in caught her eye. He wore the insignia of House Killingmoon, one of the more mid-range Houses, if she remembered correctly. Another hobkin stood with him, she remembered him from the wagon as well, though he'd not spoken. Both watched her with murderous looks as she was herded to her own spot along the wall.
While hobkin were distinctly in appearance from humanfolk, they were no more or less physically gifted. However, their culture was centered around combat prowess and a sense of racial superiority. Hobkin males were trained from childhood how to fight, expected to serve as a soldier for a portion of their life to gain any rights as a citizen in their society. Though they had no recognized country of their own, they were unified and civilized enough as a race to be considered to have the right to liberty and their stratocracy had regular commerce with the humanfolk kingdoms.
Though part of the treaties and accords forged between their people and the established nations forbade hobkin from being bred on slave farms, those who dishonored or disgraced themselves within their society were enslaved by their own government leaders and sold to the humanfolk slave markets. Given their general prejudice of humanfolk, this was the equivalent to rubbing salt into a wound, a sort of final insult to the enslaved.
Most hobkin slaves were considered only fit for use as gladiators, impressed infantry, or similar roles where their ingrained skills for violence made them an asset. Being effectively criminals of their own culture, they tended to be generally immoral, usually exhibiting not just the usual racial bigotry their culture had, but a particular bitterness towards those prejudiced races who now held them in bondage. While they might be no more powerful or talented than any other gladiator around her, they would take more delight in being told to kill a humanfolk woman they already considered to be unworthy of living.
She also made sure to note the pair of fighters wearing the colors of House Victorious. Based on the description of him she'd been given, she identified Casartes among the pair, but she knew that his partner, Semadar, would be just as fully bent towards her death. They were considered to be among the best the arena had within its walls. Facing them fresh and untouched would be a hard battle all on its own. Doing so after having to cut through almost three dozen other fighters seemed almost maddeningly impossible. They would most likely not engage immediately, but wait to let the many others, seeking the 'special prize' their owner had offered up, to wear her and Kalder down until they had little fight left in them.
She next spotted the mismatched pair of Heimsenal and Trippart, mentally checking them off as a threat that would not be immediate, but one for when she would be at her most fatigued. Next to them were House Whitebanner's pair, but she considered them as part of the very short list of 'safe competitors'. Lord Crahka was not the sort of man who would value money over his morals, especially not if it was coming from Lord Venge's pockets.
She had to assume all others would likely be making her death their first priority and would seek her out immediately upon the beginning of the event. At best, a few Houses might have instructed their fighters to use the chaos of House Victorious' bounty on her to their wider benefit, picking off gladiators from the back ranks of the crowd swarming her and Kalder. Like Victorious' people, they would wait for Leita and Kalder to be weakened and worn out by defending against the others.
As they were directed to their place along the wall by the attendants, she flexed her arms and shoulders, trying to get used to the weight of the suit of armor she was wearing. She'd been glad to find that Sabrina had outfitted them in full suits of chainmail with strategically placed light steel plates for the event. However, it was weighing her down more than she liked. Her agility and speed were what she'd always relied on for her defense and she expected that she would need as much flexibility and quickness as she could summon to handle the mob of fighters coming for her.
Still, she reasoned it would be suicide not to accept the extra protection. While it may slow her down a little, she was likely to take hits from the many attackers regardless of how freely she could move. The metal covering could well make a difference between whether those hits were minor flesh wounds or debilitating. She could handle some cuts and bruises, but an injury that sent her staggering or left her stunned could be the death of her.
Looking to her left and right, she took note of which Houses' fighters were to either side of them. She'd managed to learn most of the heraldry of the different Houses, though a couple she still wasn't certain about. House Forrester and House Maelstrom were their immediate neighbors to the left and right respectively. House Gravemaker's gladiators, a hobkin and a female oruhk, stood on the other side of House Forrester's pair, but she wasn't sure what House was on the other side of Maelstrom's fighters. Whatever House they fought for, both men were leering pointedly in her direction, smiles broadly visible beneath their helmets.
"This is bad." She heard Kalder say beside her. She looked over to see him staring at the pair of men himself.
"What is? Who are they?" She asked, looking back at the pair. "I don't remember the heraldry they are wearing from the ones I've seen before."
"They have to be the fighters from the House that opened two days ago." Kalder grimaced. "However, they were previously two of Venge's gladiators. He must of either loaned them out or sold them to this new owner. Either way, I'd wager my head they are dancing to the same orders as Venge's own fighters. The bastard managed to get four of his people into the Melee."
Leita grimaced at the two warriors, now better understanding the furtive nature of their malicious grins. "Just two more bodies for the pile." She breathed out, though she didn't feel the bravado she was displaying. She tried to put herself into the mindset of being 'Crusher'. Wild and unstoppable. To him, she wagered this would be a welcome challenge.
A shrill whistle from high up brought all attentions to the box in which the presiding member of the Prime Council sat. The official was standing, the dark blue robes of his station flowing about him and a white mask covering his face, arms outstretched. An attendant slipped up and held up a stiff conical object in front of his face, meant to magnify the sound of his voice.
"Welcome to the Annual Grand Melee of Solace!" He announced to a sudden roar from the crowds. The cheers carried on for several moments, the Councilman waiting patiently a few moments for the clamor to subside before continuing. "We have a record number of participating Houses this year: Nineteen!" Again, there was a few moments of cacophony, but the crowds quickly quieted again.
"The Annual Grand Melee is more than just an event of the Grand Arena." The official swept his arms about magnificently, as if presenting the tableau of waiting gladiators below. "It is a tribute to the divine patron of the Arena: Caruenos. It is a kind of recreation of a holy rite the older versions of the faith observed, when we were all still but tribal peoples before the coming of the Azartans. In those days, at the end of the year's harvest, the best warriors of the many tribes would battle one another in his name to establish whose tribe would be considered the strongest, granting them the right of leadership over the others until the next harvest."
He brought his hands together and raised them above his head. "The combat itself honored the Bringer of Battle and served as a prayer for him to be sated by it and allow the tribes to coexist peacefully under the new lead tribe's rule. In the modern day, it now serves as a tribute to him to bless this city and this coliseum of blood with prosperity and strength. In place of the old tribes, the gladiatorial houses now vie for the distinction of being the 'First House' of the Grand Arena. Defending that title today is House Warforger, who has held it for the last three years."
