"Forgive me, I don't believe we've met before," Adrion said in confusion, assessing her from top to bottom. "You're a long way from your home, aren't you?" He spoke with a curious smile, waiting for a reaction to answer his question.
Something shone brighter in Fala's silver eyes. "This is my home," she said.
The curtains to the entrance behind him opened, and three great gladiator looking men appeared. The men bowed before the prince in unison. "During the last acts in the arena, the contestants will each display their worth and strength. As confirmed in the letters I received from the king, you will choose who is better suited to be your guardian," Dritan briefly explained.
Adrion's anger flared. "I am not looking for a guardian," he snapped.
As if realising he lost his composure and the widened eyes that stared at him, including the smirk from Fala. He then said, "The man I choose would be part of my expedition across Terran, a warrior at most. The quirks of his ability are an added benefit."
"As you say, Your Highness, I assure you that whomever you choose would be of great service." Dritan forced a smile.
"Enlighten me," the prince simply said with a wave of his hand.
"The men you see here, will be fighting against the dark creatures that Miss Fala keeps for her arena matches," the lord explained.
The prince regarded their scent. "Brothers?"
The three warriors that kneeled for the prince muttered a simple 'Yes' in unison.
"And goddess blessed," Dritan added.
Adrion scowled and chose not to voice his hatred for beings who were goddess blessed. Both him and his father had one thing in common. And it was their distaste of the goddess blessed. They were mutants. Freaks of nature. Only the fae were rightfully chosen by the gods to inherit powers.
"They have a strength that simply isn't found in normal folk," Dritan said while the prince analysed the men.
"Anyone can be strong with the right amount of practice and dedication." Adrion rolled his crimson eyes, not entirely believing their ability.
"You'd see the truth if we were battling the cliftolights instead of that lousy little girl," the brother in the middle muttered. His dark hair hiding his face. Fala's head snapped to the man who spoke, eyes burning in fury. Dritan's face became hard, resisting the urge to lash the man.
"Klarc, mind yourself," the brother on his right whispered harshly to him, in an attempt to reprimand his disrespect. This simple interaction was all it took for Adrion to notice the look of emotion that came from Fala. Everyone had fallen silent. Waiting anxiously for the prince to speak.
"Cliftolights are deadly creatures, impossible to kill. Even my sister, as skilled as she is, has not been able to capture one in the Kingdom of Darkness... And here I am. In this goddess damned arena. Getting news of cliftolights being held for a show. These fools got lucky."
Adrion's thoughts ran wild in his mind. And unexpectedly gave a devious grin. He glanced at Fala. Then looked to the warrior brothers.
"Names?"
The one in the middle spoke first.
“Brave and arrogant.”The prince thought.
"Klarc Adonis."
The one to his right, the eldest, rose up and spoke his name.
"Braze Adonis. Eldest son of the late first commander in Merlanis."
The quiet one, the youngest, muttered his name last.
"Valin Adonis."
The prince had an idea forming in his mind. "How many cliftolights are there?" The prince gracefully propped a fist on his chin to rest his defined jaw.
"There are three. Three which belong to my arena warrior," Fala was the one who answered in stern finality.
Klarc snorted, a sign that he mocked her words. "With respect, arena master, there is no need to be greedy. It's hard enough to catch them—"
"Indeed itishard," Fala spoke coldly, voice slightly raised at Klarc.
