Interesting.
She freed him, gave him a chance to come at her, and instead he simple stood there, stretching his wrists. He made no move to come at her. In fact, he started to laugh. It was entirely mirthless, and possibly one of the most ill boding sounds she’d ever heard. Which was impressive, to say the least. Mercury realized that she had successfully made him angrier than even she was expecting to do.
That’s probably not good for me, she thought to herself in morbid humor. He was definitely going to try and kill her after this, and Mercury knew there was no possible way to get out of that confrontation. Not that she’d even try, really. However he was starting to catch on to her games really quickly, and it was both impressive and super inconvenient. As he probably surmised, there was a reason she was trying to goad him into a fight right now…
...but that reason, whether he saw it that way or not, was actually for his benefit. Her plan had been to rough him up a bit, particularly his face. She’d done some research on the Ring of Blood, digging way deep into the darkest pits of the lacriweb to unearth information about it that wasn’t available to the general public. The people that owned the arena were high ranking diplomats of Fiore that, it seemed, were secretly abusings their statuses and actively working against their own country.
That, of course, was of little concern to her. However, this also meant that Vandrad could easily be recognized by them, and despite what he was probably thinking right now, that was not what Mercury wanted. She had no intentions of using his status as a prince against him. In fact, she’d have been doing this even if she hadn’t known who he was. Mercury could have beaten his face in while he was unconscious, of course. That certainly would have been easier. But truthfully, she respected and liked him more than that.
Not that he would understand that, of course. Even Mercury didn’t actively realize how much she respected Vandrad already, so it was probably impossible for him to figure it out. And by the time he did, she’d probably be dead already. But the fact remained that she was trying to give him an opportunity to protect himself in a way that she viewed as being honorable toward his sense of pride by bruising his face in an honest brawl rather than when he couldn’t punch back.
She eyed him with a contemplative gaze as he spat at her, not having calculated for this outcome. There was no fear in her eyes, nor any annoyance or anger or even, for once, amusement. She was simply studying him, her thoughts unreadable. Finally, she shrugged. “As you wish,” Mercury told him easily, not too perturbed by his defiance. It wasn’t what she had planned for, but it didn’t bother her one way or another.
Moving back over to the camel, she took the reigns and started walking once more, assured by his irrefutable animosity for her that he would at least see this job through to the end before making an attempt at her life. Vandrad even remained unchained at the moment, though the shackles remained, ready to be bound up once more once the time was right. There was also a canteen of water hanging from the camel that she wouldn’t stop him from trying to drink from if he went for it. Despite how long she said she’d been traveling through the desert in immense heat, the canteen itself was full to the brim as though she hadn’t drank from it. In fact, they traveled for another two hours without her even reaching for it, or any other source of moisture, for relief.
At last, the arena could be seen out in the horizon. Mercury zoomed her gaze in to make sure it was the correct place. “Alright, champ,” she said, turning toward him. “Show time.” With a light smirk, the chain was bound back in place, once more securing his wrists tightly together. What’s more, a metal band materialized out of this air around his face to cover his mouth like a muzzle, made out of the same black material as the shackles, as did a set of heavier chains around his ankles. Swinging herself back into the saddle and brushing some grim off her pants and boots with a grimace, they continued the rest of the way to their destination.
The building was impressively sized, and there was an intense magical aura around it that probably belonged to the defensive mechanisms in place that let the whole thing teleport away at the first sign of exterior trouble. There were guards at the main entrance dutifully checking for tickets from a line of patrons that were all dressed like snobby nobles. Many of them had slaves in tow that were presented for hopeful admittance to the games. Most of them resulted in successful sales, but not all of them did. The ones that were not sold and proved to be of no interest to the arena or use to their slavers were instantly cut down, their bodies tossed into a forgotten heap.
Soon, it was their turn to approach. While Mercury presented her ticket to one of the guards, another eyed Vandrad with a stern, measuring gaze. The slave merchant making the purchases, however, took a greedy and appraising walk around the prince as Mercury hopped off the camel and turned it over to a valet, whom she tipped with an absurd amount of jewel that only an obnoxiously rich person wouldn’t blink at. “Quite the specimen, isn’t he?” she asked the merchant.
“He certainly is,” the man replied, stopping in front of Vandrad. “I assume he is for sale?”
“As much as I would enjoy keeping a piece of eye candy like him around me at all times, yes, I did bring him to submit for the arena. So long as he fetches a fair price, of course.”
As merchants often did, the man turned a slight shade of crimson at the suggestion that he might try to cheap change her. But, like most merchants, it was definitely the well practiced offense of a man who absolutely sought to cheap change clients at every possible turn. “I assure you, miss, my prices are fair. What’s his name?”
Her smirk deepened just a hair, enough that Vandrad would notice it even if the other man didn’t. “My dear sir, I present to you…” Pause for effect, as she gestured to her captive. “Ashur!”
The merchant didn’t look impressed by her dramatic flair. “Charming. And what are his skills?”
Feigning offense, Mercury scoffed at the man. “What are his skills?” she asked the man incredulously. “Look at him!” Wandering over, she didn’t hesitate to start running her hands along the muscles of his arms and chest like a breeder trying to showcase her stock. “He’s a brawler, of course. One of the finest you’ll ever see. I should know. It took an entire squad of local guards to keep him placated when he tried to rob my store. The only reason they managed to subdue him at all is because of these shackles that damper his magic.”
That caught the man’s interest. “He’s a mage, is he?”
“Yes. I’m not entirely sure what his magic is, but it allows him to boost his strength and stamina to exceptional levels. And since he saw it fit to destroy my shop in an attempt to make a few bucks for himself, I thought it was only fair that he repay me by fetching a decent price here.”
The merchant thought it over, dirty fingers scratching at his thin chin. “I can do one hundred and fifty,” he finally told her innocently.
The haggling had begun. “One hundred and fifty thousand?” Mercury asked, her voice raising in shock and disgust. “How dare you. He’s worth at least double that!”
“He would have been, but I don’t pay top dollar for a common thief.”
“Two hundred,” Mercury insisted stubbornly, the very picture of an elitist snob that refused to be cheated out of what she was due. “That’s a steal, and you know it.”
Not to be out played, the merchant made another counter offer. “One hundred and seventy five, and not a jewel more.”
The lavender haired woman scoffed, turning up her nose but giving it some thought. “Fine. But I won’t forget this, and neither will my associates.”
The merchant rolled his eyes when he thought Mercury wasn’t looking and waved for an assistant to bring her the money. “Take him to the back,” he told one of the guards.
“I’ll do it,” Mercury told them.
The guards and the merchant eyed her. “Guests are not allowed in the--”
She stepped up to loom over him with a fierce expression. “Did you not hear me before? This man fought off an entire squad of twelve seasoned soldiers and hardly batted an eye. The only reason he is under any sense of control at all is because of those chains, which are currently linked to my own magic. If you want him to actually make it into the arena without breaking free and killing everyone here, be my guest. But if you had any semblance of intelligence to you whatsoever, you would allow me to keep your pathetic, cheap skating ass safe and let me escort him to his hold.”
There was a long stand off as the two of them looked at one another, the guards tense as they waited to see what would happen. Finally, the merchant gave, waving them off and rubbing his head as though he was already done dealing with stupid rich people for the day. “Fine. Escort her to the cells.”
“Thank you,” Mercury replied in her most condescendingly smug tone. Yanking roughly on the chain, she mercilessly pulled Vandrad after her as one of the guards led the way inside. As they passed into the interior of the building, to the underside of the arena where the slaves were kept before their fights, she could feel them having moved into the safety of the magical net that was the only thing standing between them and the ability to complete the job. With a quick glance at Vandrad, she shot him a small wink.
Everything was going according to plan. | |