"I know nothing of patrons and I only know what I was told by Marrick of the arena" He took a sip of the juice, it was sweet, tangy and refreshing "But I doubt most would go to such lengths to make their fighters feel comfortable."
Kedrin scoffed at that. "I doubt most ever even meet their gladiators. Well allow me to explain." Kedrin poured himself a new drink and shifted his weight in his chair making himself more comfortable. "A patron is like a sponsor for a gladiator. As of yesterday I own half of your contract. It is now my duty to supply you with equipment, supplies, whatever you require for when you set foot into the arena. I also pay your living expenses for our dear friend Varlen Marrick as well as anything else you may require. So tell me Lahar, what do you need?" Kedrin shot him his warmest smile.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Antonius grabbed the mans helmet and put it on, and he grabbed the sword in his right hand. He looked up at the game master. "Was that all you got?"
"That's it!" Screamed the games master. "Ozrick!"
Somewhere from within the crowd people began to stamp the the dry hard ground like it was a drum. From their midst came a lithe, broad shouldered man. His eyes were a piercing amber, his head clean shaven. The crowd began to chant. "Oz-rick! Oz-rick! Oz-rick!" The warrior's arms and legs were armoured. His left gauntlet was adorned with a dagger blade, in his right hand he carried a short serrated sword. Ozrick raised his arms and bathed in the adoration of the crowd. One of his fans passed him a bright steel helmet, decorated with images of beasts on the temple. Ozrick put it on and lowered the visor, his face was completely covered. He clanged the flat of the sword blade against the bulky armour on his left shoulder before pointing it at Antonius. "Come On!" He bellowed over the din of the cauldron.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Rowan got to his feet and walked over to the executor, this time much more confidently and much less polite.
"Otherwise, let me have my axes, and leave the sticks to Belkin."
The executor growled under his breath. A reflex more than anything. "Durro," He said in a low tone, the kind a wolf might use. "sword and axe." The boy scurried off into the manor. The executor's eyes never left Rowan's all the time Durro was gone. Slowly and deliberately he removed his leather jerkin, leaving his torso exposed. The man's body was covered in a forest of scars but through it all, his brands stood out like stars in the night. A sword had been burned over his heart, the others ran down in a straight line from it like a set of hieroglyphs. Sword, Spear, bow, axe, every weapon that could be carved or forged had found a home on the executor's skin. Accompanying them were letters. E, H and S but all of them had been crossed over by a straight brand. The only one that remained untouched was an "M" that stood proud and bold in the centre of his chest. Finally Durro returned with the requested weapons but these were not wooden practice weapons, they were made of cold steel. Durro handed Rowan the axe and the executor the sword.
"You think you're too good to be taught? You better prove yourself right lad, or I'll kill you where you here and now." The tone in his voice let everyone who heard him that he was not bluffing. Yet instead of attacking Rowan he turned his back on him and spread his arms wide as he walked away into the centre of the yard. "Class is in session!"
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________"You know this place well." Jamukha turned his head to Kranst and kept his voice friendly. "Show me how well you ride."
Kranst gave a short sharp laugh and sped after Jamukha until their horses were running side by side. "You've got good form but you'll need more than that if you're to beat the champion!" He and Shade rounded the corner, cutting into the inside of Jamukha and Clay and inching out to just in front of them.
