Half-Orc Paladin (Half-Elven Thief Book 3) by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Azure Flame Media
Published: 2024-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

10

THE CREW

The rest of the day was busy.

Rivah escorted Hector to the Ring of Fighters, the massive arena for gladiatorial games in the northeastern part of the city. It was a huge ring of stone, capable of seating nearly fifty thousand spectators to watch the gladiatorial games. Statues stood in niches alongside the outer circumference of the arena, showing heroes and gladiators of old. The nobles and the rich merchants had boxes close to the floor of the arena where they could watch the spectacles, but the Master of Games held a regular lottery to give free tickets and prizes to any citizen of Tar-Carmatheion.

Rivah had never liked the games and attended only rarely. Tobell and Killian enjoyed them, and even Miranda had, but something about the bloodlust involved unsettled Rivah. She knew that gladiators rarely fought to the death (training them was expensive) and that free men could and did frequently enter the games in hopes of gold and glory, but she disliked the thought of men fighting to the death for the entertainment of a howling mob.

“Why are you going to stay at the Ring of Fighters?” said Rivah.

“Tyrillian is a friend of mine from the old days,” said Hector.

“So are Malophon and Valerian,” said Rivah. “You could stay at the Temple. Or even in the Governor’s palace.”

“I intend to fight in the games,” said Hector.

The response was so unexpected that it took Rivah off-guard.

“Why?” she said at last.

“I have my reasons,” said Hector. “If I need to speak to you, where can I find you?”

It took Rivah a moment to get her thoughts back in order. Hector Shieldbreaker, paladin of the Temple, friend of the emperor, slayer of the Great Orcish Khan, wanted to fight in the games like a common gladiator? She couldn’t imagine why he would expose himself to deadly risk for no gain. Surely he didn’t need the money. Or perhaps the glamor of the gladiatorial matches, a glamor that had never appealed to Rivah, had infected even his mind.

“Tobell’s Tavern, at the end of the Street of Smiths in the western city,” said Rivah.

“I will send a message for you soon,” said Hector. “I have preparations to make, and so do you.” He inclined his head to her. “Thank you for your aid, Rivah Half-Elven.”

“You are welcome,” said Rivah, and she bade him farewell and set off for her locksmith shop.

The fact that Hector wanted to fight in the games baffled her. Why take the chance of injury or death? Rivah conceded she had taken some immense risks in her life, but it had always been either for the hope of gain or because she had been compelled to do it. She didn’t understand it at all, and her mind chewed over the question as she walked to her shop.

Thankfully, her shop was undamaged by the recent tumult. Some of the apprentices had heard rumors of trouble in the western city but knew none of the details. Borzak himself, so consumed by his work, was utterly unaware that anything had happened at all.

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