Sigvid stomps toward Face. “Come here,” he gestures to himself, “I just want to talk.” He grabs his arm and squeezes his broken hand again.
Face yowls as Sigvid cracks the remaining bones. He pulls him close and splits his cheek open, sputtering blood.
“Whoa, whoa, Beast.” Champion steps forward, pleading. “Let’s have a civil conversation about whatever this is.”
There’s a brief second where Champion’s words permeate through Sigvid’s fury. He flinches and begins to reconsider whether a discussion with Face is a noble idea. Champion’s words whisper again in his ear, and he sways in a fog, almost willing to follow the man’s instructions. Then, the power of the berserker overrides his sense, and he shakes off the notion.
“No, we cannot.” Sigvid growls. He pulls Face back and headbutts him, breaking his nose. “Come on, big bad royalguard, fight back.” Sigvid punches him in the gut, causing him to fall winded to the ground. He towers over Face, waiting for him to retaliate.
Face takes a moment to roll back over onto his back. “You psychotic piece of shit!” His nasally exclaim is comical, “What did I ever do to you?”
Sigvid kneels next to him. His right hand curls around his throat, squeezing tighter until Face gasps for air. “You touchedher.”
Face’s eyes widen. “The Queen? But you were at war, you-”
Sigvid tightens his grip and leans down so his lips nearly brush his ear.
“Avina ismine.” The growled emphasis on the last word is so low he is not positive Face hears him. “Her life and her body aremine. I will take the greatest pleasure in reminding you as I tear you limb from limb in the ring.”
Genuine fear flickers through Face’s expression. Sigvid releases his throat, tilting his head to the side, deciding how best to end his life until resigning to kick his chest, breaking ribs.
“Enough.” A whip cracks and the spectators drop to the ground.
It takes three guards to restrain Sigvid and allow Face to withdraw to the Healers.
8
SIGVID
September 19th,Year 100, 9th Era
Treland Arena
As soon as the guards have hands on him, he is shackled and hauled away. Chains are attached to his cuffs, giving him slack throughout half of his small chamber.
Worth it.
“Can you reach your meal tray?” Champ’s voice asks from his neighboring cell.
Sigvid sits on the bed in his cell, huffing as his eyes fall to the steaming plate of sausages, sliced garlic potatoes, fresh bread, and an apple dumpling—his favorite meal. He made several attempts to reach his supper, only to feel the chains tug him back.
“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry, Beast. The apple dumpling is better cooked this time. I can’t believe the other combatants eat gruel.”
“This fun bit of torture is the Battlemaster’s doing. He has had it out for me since she sold me to him.”
“The Battlemaster hates everyone.” There’s a pause, and then Champ continues. “You know that didn’t happen, right? With Queen Avina.” Champ’s mouth is full of delicious apple delight, igniting envyin the Salt Prince. “She outsmarted you and, yes, had you tortured, but selling you to the Arena seems a bit of a stretch for someone who can tap into the coffers of the Ridge and Timber Provinces.”
Sigvid pulls on his chains again, trying to reach his meal. “Fucking ass.” He mutters, sitting back on his bed and staring at the tray. “You are right. She has the gemstone mine gold of the Ridge. Why sell me? Oh, right, because she is a bitch.”
He walks to the end of his chains and lies on the floor on his back. He stretches his legs out and can grab the corner of the platter with his toes. He slides the wooden tray toward him and digs in. “You are right. The apple dumpling is cooked better.”
Who else would have cared to condemn me? She wanted my end to be a tortuous prospect.
“Just so I am clear, you beat the shit out of Face earlier because of the Queen?”
“To be fair, anyone who meets that man would beat the shit out of him.” He roughly stabs a sausage with his fork.And, yes. I would do it again.
“I get it. After those monsters pushed my wife to the edge, I did unspeakable things.”
