The street they walked was profoundly silent and desolate. This emptiness had begun to unsettle Elia; she scanned her surroundings with growing unease. Beside them, she spotted a Halfling sitting at the entrance of a shop, carving a piece of wood with a dagger. The wood was beginning to take the shape of a bear.
The old man walked over to him. "That wood carving... it's a bear," he said. "Are you a Northerner? The bear is the crest of House Nouria. Are you from Pineford?"
The Halfling gave a faint, ironic smile. "Look at me, stranger. Do I look like a Northerner to you? While there's a festival going on, I'm sitting here because I'm penniless. The moment I can't make the shop's rent, they'll throw me into Aril. I carved this out of pure boredom; I didn't even know it was a house crest."
The old man let out a hearty laugh and sat down beside the Halfling on the dusty step. "Do you at least have some wine?" he asked. Smirking slightly, the Halfling pulled a bottle from the shadows of the shop. "And what are you drinking for, old man?" he asked.
The old man seemed to brighten as he drank the wine provided by the Halfling. "Why shouldn't I? This dark world... it can be cruel sometimes," he said with a sigh. The Halfling smirked; "Look at you, reached this age and you're drinking because the world is cruel. You're in a pathetic state."
The old man smirked faintly, looking at the wine in his hand, and whispered, "Yes... perhaps I truly am pathetic." At that moment, a look of realization crossed his face; at least, that was what Elia saw.
"What is this 'Festival' you mentioned?" he asked.
"Chant Raba is taking place at the Crimson Coliseum," the Halfling replied.
"Chant Raba?" Elia asked, intrigued.
"Yes, Chant Raba," the Halfling explained. "In Uamish, it can be translated as the 'Slave War.' It's Meredian's traditional coliseum battle, held every year. Masters make their slaves fight to earn money, and the nobles take entrance fees from people like us. Every year, the entire coliseum is packed to the rafters."
The old man frowned. "But Aril and Ink-Bay were crowded. None of the people seemed to have gone."
"Do you think they'd let a few thugs and slaves who can't fight anywhere near the Coliseum that attracts tourists?" the Halfling said bitterly. "Those in Aril know this, so they don't even bother to go. The situation is different for the merchants; some came just to sell goods, while others came to make money at the Coliseum. Of course, most of them return empty-handed. Usually, the champion of House River wins; after a point, there's no joy in watching when you already know who's going to win."
The old man asked his next question as if he hadn't listened to most of it. "And what do we need to pay to fight?"
Elia and the Halfling stared at the man. "Are you sure, old man?" the Halfling said sharply. "At your age, forget the champion, you'd barely defeat any slave. You'll throw your life away." Every note in his voice emphasized that this would be a mistake.
"Is anything required for entry?" he asked anyway, ignoring the warning.
"Yes... one gold," the Halfling said. It was an extremely expensive entry fee, clearly something slaves could not pay. Usually, masters would make their slaves fight in hopes of earning more money, then withdraw them before they died to multiply their coins. It was a simple, bloody gamble.
Elia was relieved; since the old man didn't even have money for wine, it would be difficult for him to pull a gold coin from his pocket. But then he asked, "Can you lend it to me?"
"Are you insane?" the Halfling shouted. "That's my last money for the month! If I spend that too, I can't keep the shop. If that happens, I'll be sent to Aril!"
"I will pay you back more than enough," the old man said, his voice as solid as iron.
"Are you crazy? Even if you defeat a few slaves, how will you defeat the Champion?"
"I'll worry about that when I face the champion," the man said, extending his hand toward the Halfling.
The Halfling didn't want to give that gold coin at all, but there was an iron will and an extreme seriousness in the old man's eyes. He was certain he would win. While Elia remained silent during the exchange, she didn't want her savior's life to go to waste. "What if you don't succeed..." she started, but the man cut her off.
"Ah-ah-ah... wait right there. It's not 'if I don't win.' It's 'I will win!'" he said with absolute confidence.
The Halfling let out a deep sigh and tossed a gold coin into the man's hand. "I hope I've played my gamble well," he said anxiously. The man caught the gold in the air and set off toward the coliseum. He turned left from the street they were walking on and headed toward the entrance of the Coliseum. Elia was right there with him, caught between hope and fear.
As they approached the Coliseum, the crowd increased like a rising tide. People swarmed not only inside but all around the massive stone walls. On their way, they were met by a wide bridge with a river flowing beneath it. The bridge was packed to the brim with people pushing and shoving to get past one another. The true scene revealed itself when they reached the foot of the bridge: the towering stone walls of the Crimson Coliseum were now clearly visible. The height of the stone walls and the number of knights patrolling the area were immediately striking.
As Elia felt she might lose the old man in the crowd, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and hoisted her onto his back. As Elia clung to his broad shoulders, the old man's voice rose above the din:
"You know you don't have to follow me, right?" he asked. "You can live the life you want once we get out of Meredian."
Elia, looking at the weathered skin on the back of his neck, replied: "I'd die without you."
"I'm not so sure about that," the man said, stepping into the crowd with confidence. "You're a brave girl. You've just forgotten how to be brave again."
The endless anxiety within Elia surfaced once more: "What if you die?"
The man smirked faintly. "I have no intention of fighting the Champion. I'm just going to earn a little money and quit... I have no money left because I bought you."
Elia felt a bit relieved, but she knew that if this man died, escaping Meredian would become impossible. She still needed him. She had seen what he did at Kama's place, but those were just a few thugs; they weren't real warriors or knights. How many actual knights were here was another question entirely.
"I won't die, don't worry," the man added.
Elia responded honestly: "I'm not worried about you. I'm thinking about what will happen to me if you die."
The old man chuckled. "Look at this one! Just a moment ago, words wouldn't even come out of your mouth, and now you've started acting cocky. How do you know I won't just sell you again?"
"You paid thirty silver for me," Elia replied firmly. "No one pays that much for a slave like me."
The man drew a deep breath, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and they continued through the crowd toward the Coliseum. After a while, the old man spoke to Elia again:
"By the way, I never asked your name."
"My name is... Elia. Just Elia," the small girl replied.
"Elia, then. Mine is Thomas. Just Thomas." He reached back slightly toward Elia on his shoulders, making it clear he was glad to meet her.
Elia asked curiously: "Why did you save me, Sir Thomas?"
"No need for 'Sir.' I told you before, I'm someone who abandoned his oath," Thomas said, as if dodging the real question.
"Did you save me because you swore in your oath to help those in need?" Elia pressed.
Thomas paused for a moment. "Maybe... maybe not. I'm not sure why I saved you. I had a daughter once. Maybe that's why."
That answer was enough for Elia. She found peace within herself. This man made her feel safe; even though he looked like a monster hunter, he had saved her.
They finally approached the Coliseum wall, and the entrance became visible. Although the line was incredibly long, they did not give up. Hours passed, and the sun reached its zenith; it was noon. Finally, it was their turn.
The official was a weary man with dark circles under his eyes, clearly having gone without sleep for a long time. "Who's fighting?" he asked.
"Thomas," the old man replied.
"One gold, please," said the official. Thomas pulled the single gold coin from his pouch and handed it over. The official took the gold, stamped several papers with ink, recorded Thomas's name, and handed him the document. Pointing to the right, he said: "Follow that path. You'll enter the area where the warriors prepare. You're in Group J. Your first match will be toward evening."
Elia was still on Thomas's back. When the path began to clear, Thomas lowered her to the ground. When they entered the area where the warriors gathered, Thomas directed Elia toward the spectator section. Since she was a companion of a warrior, she could watch for free. After ensuring she was seated, he returned to the warrior's cabin.
The place was filled with warriors wanting to prove themselves, massive slaves, and fighters. Moreover, this was only Group J; apparently, there were many more groups. Before their own battle began, the fights of the others would take place. Thus, Thomas began his wait.