Sigvid opens the flaps of the box and stares dumbfounded at the contents. Nestled on blue satin pillows are two gorgeous hand axes. He runs his fingertips over the smooth handles crafted of the unique Salt Blackwood trees found only in his home. Black leather wraps around the shafts for grip. He flicks his thumb against one of the ebony blades and draws blood. He smiles at the gift, wondering ever more about the identity of his mystery sponsor.
“Axes for a Beast.” He calls over to Champ.
“Damn. Your sponsor must swim in gold.”
Sigvid stands and spins them in his hands, enjoying the perfect weight and balance in his grip.
Giggles jolt his attention like a frigid bath. He huffs at the interference out in the corridor.
“Hello there, Champ.” A seductive woman’s voice addresses his neighbor. Sigvid can hear Champ’s lock turn and the sound of his visitor entering.
It must be the weekly night of the harlots.
Arena sponsors can gift their combatants a special visit once a week. Sigvid had not received this specific type of comfort, not that he sought it anyway.
There is one woman who matters to Sigvid. When he breaks out, he will find her and drag her to his home. She will spend the rest of her captive life on her knees, pleasing him.
August 19th, Year 100, 9th Era
Treland Arena
Ifinally get to kill that fucking Face.
While Sigvid practices with his new axes in his cell, he hears footsteps further down the corridor. “Come on, let me out. I am ready to fight.”
“Weapons down, Beast.”
He slides his axes to the door. The guard’s hands reach inside and withdraw his weapons before three men rush in to attach chains to his wrists.
As they head toward the nearest combatant gate, Sigvid tows the two guards with grips on his shoulders. He is amazed they can reach him, considering he towers over them. Knowing the third asshole has any amount of skin touching his new axes has him seeing crimson.
One of the guards trips and falls, struggling to keep pace. Before he can stand, Sigvid continues striding to the gate, towing him behind.
“Open this gate, you worthless shits.” Sigvid outstretches his shackled wrists. “I have an issue to deal with.”
The guard who tripped lies on the ground, swearing.
“Hold on there, Beast.” Godwyn, Sigvid’s biggest fan and one of theLead Guards, shoves past the man on the ground to reach Sigvid. His head stops short at Sigvid’s chest as he removes the chains and returns his new axes.
Sigvid spins the weapon in his right hand. “Get out of my way.”
Godwyn hastily leaps back as the metal gate crashes between him and Sigvid. “My bets on you. Make me rich, Beast.”
Sigvid smirks, keeping his back to them as he trudges up the bloodied ramp until he stands behind the portcullis leading into the stadium. He is eager to start smashing Face’s fucking limbs.
Across from his entrance is another lowered metal grate with a figure pacing on the other side.
There is that motherfucker.
He faintly hears the cheery voice of the announcer proclaiming the fight statistics between him and his opponent. As the crowd applauds, the combatant gates sluggishly rise, raining sand.
Sigvid charges out while Face saunters across the dirt with a bored expression. He still wears a wrap around the hand Sigvid broke a few evenings earlier. The hand hangs worthless at his side.
Sigvid raises an axe clutched in his grip, positioning it as he reaches Face. With a resounding clang, his edge connects with Face’s sword.
“Allow me to pretty up that face.” Sigvid presses his left blade along Face’s cheek. He thrusts Face away and uses the butt of his axe to smash his broken hand again.
Face’s sword clatters in the sand at their feet. “Are you doing this all for the Queen? What is she to you?” He screams.
