Ch 30. Arena
John walked through Avalon in the direction of the Arena. There was a press of people against him, but luckily they were all heading in the same direction so he was able to ride the wave where he needed to go. He saw a kobold standing on a poorly balanced stack of crates and yelling.
“Tarps! Tarps! You don’t want any blood on your nice clothes, you better buy one!”
John shook his head. The arena wasn’t really his scene, but when Hargreeve had given him two tickets for a fight after their first appointment he felt obligated to take him up on it. He’d wound up inviting Eric. The man had frequently complained about missing sports like football and ultimate fighting back on Earth, so John was hoping he could help him find something new to like on Avalon that would make adjusting easier. Eric had already started hanging out with his dwarven friend every once in a while, which John was very proud of, but he needed more than one friend.
Andressa had given him a cold shoulder all day after he’d told her that he was going to invite Eric. He could guess why, and frankly she deserved the reward of coming with him for dealing with Hargreeve’s flirtations more than once, but Eric needed it more than she did. Besides, John wasn’t sure how strong his stomach would be and he did not want Andressa to see him in that state.
John looked up at the walls of the coliseum as he approached. It was a massive circular building, much like the one in Rome back on earth, but it rose much higher and the ring was much wider. Over the top of it was a massive dome to provide shade and also make sure that no particularly damaging spells or weapons could make their way into the city and cause havoc.
John rode the tide all the way to the entrance where a number of intimidating men and women that could easily have been off duty gladiators were taking people’s tickets and directing them down different paths. When he reached the nearest of them he handed her his ticket and she looked at it for a moment.
“Oh, you need to come with me,” she said looking at the nearest other ticket taker and closing off her section. “Got a VIP, need to take him to the front.”
The other ticket counter nodded at her and she gestured for John to follow her. He did his best not to stare at her too much as she escorted him down a small flight of stairs and up another. Before he realized it, he was in a small cube under the frontmost section of the arena, nearly standing on the sand of it himself. There were a number of others there, all of them dressed to the nines. He recognized one client of his, a rich merchant, who made a point not to acknowledge him as he entered.
Next to all of these finely dressed people was Eric who was leaned back in his chair with a giant bag of peanuts and a beer stein the size of an orc’s boot next to him. He was wearing his trademark jumpsuit. John made his way over and sat next to him.
“Guess you beat me here.”
Eric nodded simply. “Had to warm up the seat. Peanut?” he asked, holding the open bag toward him. John shrugged and took a handful, popping one into his mouth as he settled into his seat and looked out at the ring in front of him. The sand was a dark orange with occasional flecks of white that he realized were bones and teeth. He paled a bit at that realization, but had another few peanuts anyway.
After about ten minutes of waiting, a loud voice began to boom across the arena.
“WEEEEEELLLLCOOOMMEEEE! To the Avalon Arena! I know that you’re already impatient, so how about I skip all the nonsense and we get right to the bloodshed!?”
The crowd roared their approval for the announcer’s words and even Eric surprised him with a whoop.
“Today will be a series of bouts between the Greens and the Golds! And after that an exhibition match between reigning champion Hargreeve and former champ Danuvaris!”
Another cheer from the crowd at the names of the champions to the point that John couldn’t even hear the start of the next announcement.
“-corner is the beautiful Madame Guillotine!”
John looked up to see that he had a very good view of a muscular human woman wearing an incredibly tight black jumpsuit and holding a massive chunk of metal that looked more like an oversized cleaver than a sword. She had a long braid nearing her ankles of blood-red hair and when she smiled and waved at the crowd her eyes were black and her teeth fangs. John wondered idly if he’d be able to buy a poster of her to put on his wall. Andressa had commented on the lack of things on his wall, it would be funny to see her reaction at the very least.
“And in the other corner we have the indomitable Rocky Stonemaaaaan!”
John could see across from Madame Guillotine was a dwarf wearing very heavy armor holding a tower shield and a massive warhammer. He smashed his hammer against his shield with a loud clang and John could swear he could feel a slight impact from the force of the blow hitting the shield.
“FIGHT!” yelled the announcer.
The two combatants didn’t need to be told twice. Madame Guillotine launched herself full force with reckless abandon toward the dwarf. She smashed her cleaver into his shield and the force of impact made John jump. What followed was a series of rapidfire blows as she mercilessly rained cleaver-strikes down on Rocky. Rocky endured the blows stoically, shifting himself as little as possible while still managing to block her blows on his shield or the thickest parts of his armor.
Eventually, realizing her strategy wasn’t working, Madame Guillotine attempted to leap backwards to regroup.
Rocky took that chance to swing his warhammer, managing to hit the woman’s arm with a sickening crunch that made John’s entire body clench up. Next to him the others all cheered and Eric lost some peanuts as he pumped his fists.
Madame Guillotine didn’t give up, just adjusted her stance as her right arm hung limp and ruined. Rocky took advantage of her injury and started approaching her. Just as he was about to make it to her, she turned around and ran away.
The crowd booed, but stopped when she leapt toward the wall, landed against it, then launched herself off of it. Her body flew like a missile to the other side of the arena where she repeated the movement. She did that again, and again, and again until John could no longer keep track of her.
Rocky just went still, raising his shield in front of himself and taking a low stance to increase his defensive ability as much as possible. He stayed still and watched carefully.
Suddenly Madame Guillotine launched herself with all of the momentum she had gained toward the dwarf, her sword braced against her shoulder with the blade facing toward him.
He raised his shield to meet the blow, and for a moment, John was certain of his defense, he seemed like an impenetrable wall, nothing could get past him. Then, in an instant, he was in two separate pieces in the middle of the arena.
John grimaced as he looked at the grisly scene in front of him, but he seemed to be the only one feeling discomfort at the sight. Eric had actually started clapping, and the nobles that had been so dignified when he’d first arrived were now practically frothing at the mouth as they roared in approval of what they’d seen.
Madame Guillotine held up her sword high above her head, her sharp toothed smile oddly infectious.
“The winner is Madame Guillotine! Give it up for our lady of murder!” cried the announcer.
The cheering swelled for a few moments before dying down a bit.
A woman in a white robe walked out into the center of the arena, and held up a hand that glowed gold for a moment. Threads of golden light worked their way around Madame Guillotine’s arm causing it to reform and reshape and then those same threads moved over to Rocky to put him back together as well. After a few moments, Rocky was back up and he held out a hand which Madame Guillotine gave a firm shake in the name of sportsmanship. After that the field cleared as there was a short break between matches.
“Having fun so far?” John asked Eric after he took a few deep breaths to calm his stomach.
“Hell yeah,” said Eric in a rare show of enthusiasm. “The only thing that would make this better is if they had Miller Light.”
John nodded, in no way able to empathize with a desire for light beer, but choosing to be nice about it anyway. He noticed that Eric was sharing his nuts with a number of the nobles next to him, who were much more amenable now that there was some blood on the field. Maybe Eric wasn’t the easiest person to get along with in the normal day to day, but he seemed much friendlier when a sporting event was involved.
There were a few more matches, all of them violent, bloody, and theatrical. John didn’t much care for them, but he could see the appeal. While there may be actual deaths in arena fights, at least they weren’t permanent, nor were any of the injuries. In a lot of ways that made it more ethical than professional sports back on Earth. He probably could have sat through the entire thing with that thought in mind, but when a handful of teeth had landed in front of him, he chose to make an excuse to leave for a moment. Eric didn’t mind, he was practically glued in place at this point as he watched the violence in front of him.
John leaned against a wall and took a few calming deep breaths when a goblin approached him.
“Can I help you?”
“You John?”
“That’s me.”
“The champ wants to see you.”
“Is he alright?”
“I don’t get paid to know that. Follow me.”
John shrugged and followed behind the goblin, through a small downward stairway, a number of tunnels, past a half dozen gladiators that looked at him with raised eyebrows, and finally into a room marked with a star.
“Go on in.”
John nodded, and pushed his way inside. Hargreeve was leaned heavily against the table in front of him with a deep frown, but pushed himself up and forced a smile as the door opened.
“Hey man, glad you made it! Enjoying the fights so far?”
John carefully closed the door behind himself.
“I am, thank you very much for the invite.”
“Did you bring the horny little thing from your office?”
John didn’t much care for that play on words, but shook his head deciding to stay neutral. In their last several appointments it had become clear to John that the champion put up a mask to protect himself, and his mild sexism was just another facet of that. That didn’t fully excuse it, but John found that working on one issue at a time was the best way to do things.
“Her name is Andressa,” shoot, guess he couldn’t help himself. “And no, I decided to take a different friend.”
“Ah, well as long as you’re having a good time. I wish I could’ve invited you last week. We did an interdimensional bout between this living suit of armor and some kind of zombie-like guy that was wearing a giant hat and shot some crazy guns. They had to freeze the arena in a time bubble to repair it in time for this week.”
“That sounds wild,” replied John, finding a spot to sit. “Is everything alright with you?”
The Champ’s smile dipped a bit.
“Remember, anything that passes between us is confidential. I’m guessing you didn’t just want to see how I was enjoying the show.”
Hargreeve sighed and sat. “I just… I’m having trouble with the breathing exercises you gave me. I can’t seem to get them right, and the visualizations just… I just can’t seem to make it work.” He shook his head. “I got through them fine in the last fight. I felt good, won the bout.”
John nodded. “The exercises help, but they’re not always going to work exactly the way that you need them to. Sometimes we get in our own heads, or the anxiety we feel is just too much. Progress isn’t linear.”
“That’s bullshit. I need to get better.”
John paused for a moment. “Do you?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“What would happen if you never fought again?” he asked.
Hargreeve blinked, surprised by the question. “I-I’d be a loser.”
“Would you lose your mansion?”
“Well, no, I’ve got plenty of money.”
“So you’d have food on the table and a roof over your head.”
“But the fans… they wouldn’t look at me the same.”
“Would your family? The mother you bought a house for? Your cousin whose mage academy education you paid for? What about all your friends who only got jobs at the arena because of you?”
“No… I suppose things with them wouldn’t change.”
“But you want to keep fighting?”
“... I do.”
“Good. And what happens if you lose this fight?”
“I’ll probably die pretty painfully. And I’ll lose more fans.”
“What if you lose spectacularly?”
“Huh?”
“Today was my first day watching Arena fights, and no matter who won or lost, what got the most cheers was the performance. If you go out there and fight your hardest and give them a show, I don’t think you’d lose fans even if you lost.”
“So… you’re saying I shouldn’t worry about if I win or lose? That I should just focus on giving them the best show I can?”
John nodded. “I can’t be the first person to tell you this.”
He sighed. “My coach said it…more than once… but I went so long without losing that I guess I kind of forgot about it.”
John nodded. “It’s understandable. Everyone loses sight of things sometimes.”
Hargreeve nodded.
“Now, how about we do a few of the exercises together before you go out there?”
“Let’s do it.”