The Arena, and the wrinkle

You've never been a very heavy sleeper under the best of circumstances. A wire-thin sense of danger and a lifetime of fighting will do that. It doesn't help that there's a twig-like ice cube curled up against you. The same second that light begins to filter through the disheveled half-open door, you climb out of bed. The movement sends Ren toppling to the floor, but he starts apologizing to you before he's even stood back up. You brush him off and ask him what he has to eat. If he has anything, of course.

"Right, about that..."

You groan but he shakes his head frantically.

"No no! I have money for food, but we're going to have to grab it on the way to the arena."

You tell him that it's best you get moving then. You want to eat and crack a skull, it doesn't have to be in that order.

"Right, about that..."

You squint.

"At least, for now, I can't be spending a single velor that I don't need to. We're going to have to walk there."

You start trudging off with him in the lead, but your massive strides quickly dwarf his and you're in no mood to walk slowly. You end up hoisting him onto your shoulders like a parent carrying their child and letting him point you along. His weight is absolutely inconsequential, but his hands occasionally at your newly shaved head for purchase is irritating enough to earn him the occasional shake. The sight of it attracts a lot of on-lookers as well, to which Ren beams down at them like the proud champion of some tamed beast. You tolerate it, not much else you can do. They're a lot less bold than yesterday as well, so you make it without so much as being touched.

It's hard to miss the arena, it's the largest building you've ever seen and probably one of the largest in the city. From best you can tell it's a sort of rounded octagon the stretches up for multiple stories. Just at a glance, you wouldn't be surprised if it had more than enough seating for the entire city. You let Ren down while you marvel at it. He seems unimpressed, more concerned with a windowed booth at the bottom.

"Good morning Rocce!" He declares to the woman in the booth. He pronounces it in a way that your tusks would make impossible.

The woman inside is almost frighteningly long and narrow. Even slouched bored in her seat her arms are almost individually as long as Ren's body. When she turns and looks down on him, she takes on a wide, almost creepy smile.

"Coooooooooren" She purrs with a long soft coo. "Always so lovely to see you. Have you come to wager?"

Her voice is simultaneously obnoxiously slow, yet textured and musical enough to be almost intoxicating. It reminds you of listening to dryads sing in the groves when trying to lure prey. You're not too thrilled to picture how a dryad half-breed would be made. She extends a long arm down to him and he kisses the back of a hand that could easily cover his face.

"Yes, but today I also have a warrior with me."

Rocce turns her head with lethargic slowness to look at you. You offer a slight wave before the long arm pokes its way out of the booth to you and you shake its hand. Her arm is long and slender enough to reach you without her so much as leaning forward, but your hand is bigger. She seems like she would be easy to snap, but the syrup of her voice makes it hard to think about doing so for long. Definitely dryad magic, countless orcs had gone after them with ill intent only to come back with dumb smiles and a coating of sap.

"Whyyyyyyyyy hello." She seems to almost hum it without opening her mouth. "You wish to fight?"

You nod.

"Welllllllll, we have two open fights. Our opener and our closer. You could do both if you don't mind."

"Both." You grunt.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaand what weapon will you wield?"

You loo at Ren expectantly and he blinks a few times in confusion. He realizes why you're staring and puts his face in his hands. A muffled "Fuck" comes from them.

"None." You grunt exasperatedly.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the crowd-pleaser. With a body like yours, I'm sure you'll have no issue. Male or female?"

You're not sure how to answer, Ren clearly isn't either.

"Right, about that... Both?"

Rocce doesn't seem to react, but she slowly steers her arm over to Ren and brushes her forearm-length fingers across his cheek.

"Cooooooooren dear, I'm afraid that isn't an answer."

Ren nods to you. You sigh and lift your makeshift skirt again. It'd be nice to not have to do this constantly, though it might also be nice to be able to cover both it and your breasts at some point instead of one or the other. You would have thought a fantastical world like this would be a little less... binary?

"Innnnnnnnnnnnteresting. The protocol would say male, though they would have a significant size advantage. Do I favor fairness or proceed with protocol?"

"Whichever." You grunt and set your skirt back in place.

"Fffffffffor now, I will go male. I will forward this to my higher-ups."

Her long arm folds back into the booth for a moment before extending a single glowing finger.

"Woooooooooooould you mind terribly giving me your back?"

Your first instinct is to resist. The last time you let somebody touch your back, you walked away with a brand mark to show for it. However, Rocce's eyes completely melt your resistance and you do as you're told. You feel a cool presence trace along your back, leaving a slightly sticky feeling behind.

"Iiiiiiiiiiiii'm afraid the crowd needs a number to identify you by. Come see me to get it removed if you live that long."

You have trouble reading the number she's drawn on you by feeling alone. When she's done, you ask her what number you got.

"Zeeeeeeeero zero two. The higher the number, the better the fighter. Never higher than a thousand."

Well, you aren't last.

She wishes you luck as she lets you inside. Since you're due to be part of the first fight, you're escorted to the fighter's room while Ren wanders off to the betting offices. You're allowed to spend a few minutes sputtering about before you have to go. It's empty, not shocking considering you were the first people through the gate. There's a long table that you expect is meant to be set up with food, but for now, it's barren. In spite of the raw strength of your new body, you feel a sudden rush of panic as the ceremonies start to sound off outside. You aren't prepared for a fight to the ****. Regardless, you wind up shuffled out onto the field when the time comes.

The field is a simple octagon, covered in grass and dotted with stones to use as cover... or a weapon. The stands are still mostly empty, not surprising considering this seems to be a battle of the two lowest-rated fighters. You hear a rustling among the rocks near you, your opponent seems to be hiding.

The second you're told that you can go, you vault the rocks toward the sound. You catch the Kobold hiding there by surprise. It looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes. It brandishes a pathetic little knife.

"Green-Green?" It shrieks in recognition.

You grab the Kobold's head with your massive hands and slam it against the rock. It crumples instantly and drops the knife, but you keep mashing away. It's some mixture of anger and pitying mercy that makes you keep smashing until it smears the rock behind it and even the **** spasms cease. When you let go, there's no longer a recognizable skull attached to the neck, more a wet smear. You hear a handful of people in the crowd cheer. You pocket the wimpy knife before you leave, it's better than nothing.

By the time you arrive back at the fighter's room, there's food on the table and a few people milling about. You wash the viscera from your hands before grabbing a couple of greedy handfuls of jerky.

"Orc." A quiet voice speaks behind you.

You turn with a mouthful of egregiously salty meat gagging you. A half-elf is there, looking up at you. He doesn't have to look up as far as most, but you still stand a few feet over him. His skin is dark as a starless sky and his pupil-less eyes make you uneasy.

"Was that your first fight in the arena?"

You nod.

He smiles "An ugly win is better than a graceful loss, just do not expect every opponent to quiver in fear."

He offers his hand. You swallow the meat in your mouth painfully and free up a hand by refilling it. You shake his hand. When he pulls it back, he reaches into his robes and draws out a long thin cloth.

"A gift. A curse is an embarrassing thing to bear sometimes." He says with a motion toward his chest.

You take it and wrap it around your chest. It's still not ideal, but at least you're not as exposed now. As you do, a guard comes and tugs on his sleeve. He nods and slides out of his robe. You thank him as he bids farewell, you watch him disappear down the tunnel.

250

Nobody else in the room climbs higher than double digits. You're not sure why somebody with a build like a stiff breeze could kill him is that high, but you're not dumb enough to try him and find out. Instead, you leave and find Ren waiting outside. He offers you something... bready and you pile it alongside the handfuls of meat.

"Excellent work! Between the victory fee and the bet I made back the entry fee for both fights and then some!" He chatters excitedly.

He leads you to some seats while you take a cautious bite of the bread... thing. It's extremely sweet, almost candy-like. You gulp it down.

"You like that? It cost me the "then some". It's supposed to restore your energy."

You go back to slowly chewing the multiple pounds of meat you brought along. There had been other things at the table, but the meat was the only thing your body seemed hungry for. You're not sure what orc diets are, but right now you want to take a bite out of a wild animal.

By the time you arrive at your seat, 250's fight is already over. You catch a moment of him walking back into the tunnel and his opponent being hosed off of the rocks. The stadium around the field is mostly tiered rows of seating, with a couple of luxury boxes on each level. One luxury box stands out from the rest. It seems hewn out of gold and ivory instead of stone. You can make out the outlines of well-dressed figures, but you're too far away to see anything specific.

"What's that box?" You ask Ren.

He squints at the box before turning around in shock "That box is reserved for the domina herself! She's here? Now?"

"Looks like it." You say through a sloppy mouthful of jerky.

He turns to you, seemingly genuinely upset. "You don't understand! The domina saw you fight!"

"So?"

"So if the domina's here, every noblewoman in the city is likely here too!"

"And?"

"You don't get it, the real money isn't in fighting."

"It isn't?"

"Of course not darling, it's in the noblewomen's purses." A sultry voice says from behind you.

You swallow a mouthful and turn, you recognize the long jet-black hair of the rich woman from yesterday. You realize you've forgotten her name. She's exchanged the form-snug red dress she wore to the **** markets for sleek gold bangles and rings stretching thin blue cloth across her torso and crotch, leaving her sides exposed. Somehow, she's found something even more revealing and raunchy than a red dress snug enough for you to make out every nook and cranny of her curves. You eyefuck her shamelessly without standing while Ren rises from his seat.

"Lady Moira, what are you doing here?" He gulps.

She saunters closer and brushes her hand through his hair. "I figured I would get myself more familiar with your interests my darling." She purrs smugly. "It would be oh so improper of me to not get to know my next husband before he becomes mine."

"Whatever you're planning, leave me out of it." He stammers.

"Planning, darling? You wound me. Can't a matriarch enjoy in a bit of her betrothed's barbaric interests?"

"I am not your betrothed."

"Of course not! You're as single as all of those noblewomen watching the games. They're not in it for the passion of watching a lower being's head crushed against a wall, they're here to see which gladiator they want to pay for the services of."

"Services?" You blurt out, spitting meat viscera everywhere.

Moira looks at you with bemused disgust. "Of course. There are few things in this world quite so pleasing to my sisters as a lumbering brute, fresh from the kill. The sights and the smells of a conquering hero drive some of them absolutely mad. You make exponentially more by renting out your sweating, panting conqueror than you do from the fights. Perhaps, if she likes you enough, she'll take you as her Erotara. That's the dream of all gladiators."

"Not all, domina."

250 steps out from behind her. He smiles at you kindly.

"Of course, dear. Some of you are in it for the glory." She says dotingly.

"Since when do you own fighters?" Ren asks, suddenly very jumpy.

"I've been making some purchases darling." Moira says with a flourish. "As of right now, I own more than one hundred and fifty fighters. By the end of the day, I should own twice that."

"H-how did you get permission from the guild offices to do that? That breaks every anti-corruption law they have."

"Oh, didn't you hear darling? The guild appointed me sole ownership after I purchased the stadium this morning."

Ren collapses back into his seat. "You... you what?"

"Don't you see my dear? I did it all just for you. Now, once we're married, you can do all of the things you enjoy without ever having to leave my sight."

Ren looks like he's about to cry.

"Wouldn't the domina have a problem with all of this?" You ask.

Lady Moira turns to you and looks down her nose up at you "Oh, my pet, you must not understand. I discussed it with her yesterday when the domina and I had lunch. So long as the arena's flow of velors into her pocket doesn't stop, I could kill you both where you sit and the guards would thank me for it."

While Moira looks on sneeringly, you can tell that 250 is unhappy about all of this. He doesn't say anything, he knows better. So do you at this point.

When all of the response to her speech is broken silence, she turns away. "Do enjoy the next few matches dears, your **** needs some rest before their next fight. I've told Raven to make it quick."

Ren freezes but doesn't say anything. He waits until Moira is out of earshot. When she is, he grabs your arm.

"We need to leave, now." He begs in a panicked whisper.

"Why?"

"She's put you up against Raven." He continues, pulling your arm.

"How bad is it?"

"Raven is the champion."

Bad.

You hurry out of your seats, tossing Ren back on your shoulders. The whole way out of the building it suddenly feels like every wayward glance bears ill intent. The guards either look on at the pair of you with pity or boredom. You somehow manage to make it back to Rocce's booth.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey guys. Good fight I hear?"

"Rocce, I need a big favor." Ren squeaks from your shoulders.

"Whaaaaaaaaaat is it, honey?"

"I need to draw out of the second fight."

"Soooooooooooory Ren, Lady Moira beat you here. Said that the new cost of pulling out is going to be 318 velors."

Ren cursed under his breath but pulled out his coin purse. "Fine, we'll pay."

Rocce counts out the coins with nerve-wracking slowness. When she finally waves her hand and the marks on your back start dripping off onto the ground, she hands Ren back his coin purse... with a single coin left in it.

"Three hundred and eighteen exactly. She knew exactly how much I would have."

"Atttttttttttttttt least it's not nothing." Rocce drones sympathetically.

"She wouldn't leave me with nothing, it's no fun for her." Ren hangs his head. "Not enough to enter another fight and there's no way I gamble it back honestly."

Rocce looks both ways slowly. "Sheeeeeeeeeeeeee'd kill me if she knew I told you this, but there's another arena she doesn't own. Entry is free."

Ren looks up "What league is that?"

Rocce takes a full minute to look both ways again before slowly handing Ren a slip of paper. "Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu didn't hear it from me."

The mood returning to Ren's "ludus" is dour, he doesn't say a word the entire way. The whole time he simply studies the paper back and front. When you do make it back, you flop back down on your undersized bed. Ren slides down against the wall near you, muttering to himself.