SIGVID
October 29th, Year 100, 9th Era
Treland Arena
“Follow me, Kar. We need to retrieve a body.”
Kar scratches his head but follows his Commander without question. They run through the twisting corridors of the Arena until they reach the Assessment Room.
Sigvid glances around at the bodies from today’s matches lying in the hallway against the wall, draped in black sheets prepared for disposal.
Under the second sheet, he finds Grim's dark skin. His laugh lines are visible as if he has just shared one of his quips.
“Here, Kar, help me.”
They carefully unwrap his body, still saddled in his light combatant armor. Sigvid withdraws a tiny vial from his pocket and pours the contents into Grim’s mouth. He counts to fifteen and then watches his lips twitch.
“We need to give him a few moments to wake.”
“Hello there, Beast.” The Battlemaster strides out of the AssessmentRoom. His crossed arms barely fit over his barrel chest. “I had a hunch I’d see you after your friends decimated half my guards this morning.”
“I could not leave without saying goodbye to you, sunshine.” Sigvid mocks.
“In all of my winters, none of the combatants I processed have padded my pockets more than you. Would you believe me if I said that pretty Queen of yours wasn’t even the one to sell you to me?”
Sigvid bristles at his reference to the Timber Queen. Grim suggested that she wouldn’t have sold him. If this is true, and she did not condemn him, then who had?
“Spit it out. Who the fuck sold me here?”
“You will never guess which depository we sent the gold.” He smirks.
Sigvid is burning to know the truth, but now is not the time. “I do not suppose you will share?”
“Afraid not, Beast. Client confidentiality is important to the Treland Arena.”
“I see you still have your arm in a sling. How do you expect to fight me?”
“You think I became Battlemaster with my good looks?” He unsheathes a massive greatsword.
Sigvid acquiesces, pulling out his blackwood axes. “As you wish.”
“Kar, I have this one. But do me a favor, light the fire in that giant cauldron.”
His Drengr flips uncertainly between the human-sized black cauldron in the Assessment Room and Sigvid a few times before committing to his objective. As Sigvid squares off with the Battlemaster, he hears the sound of flint.
Sigvid yawns obnoxiously, awaiting the Battlemaster to make the first swing with his heavy-ass sword. The Salt Prince blocks easily when he finally lifts the blade and swings sluggishly through the air. As the sword arcs to the ground and the Battlemaster struggles to raise it again, Sigvid’s fist connects with his face, breaking his nose.
He takes advantage of the distraction and slices the enemy’s leg. “Are we taking a break already? I am not finished.”He growls.
The Battlemaster glowers at him and repeats the same swing as before.
“Really?” Sigvid blocks him. “Youare the Battlemaster of the Treland Arena. This fight should be my hardest match yet.”
“Fuck you!” He shrugs his shoulders before blocking Sigvid’s strike.
Swiftly, Sigvid swings his other axe, embedding it in the man’s stomach with a sickening squelch, sending the Battlemaster to his knees.
His foe grins. “The Ridge.”
