Kings Game

Chapter 3 - Calm before the storm (5)

"You cold or something?"

Roran looked up, startled. Standing over him was Sephyr, another childhood friend of his. Unlike Toth, Sephyr didn't have any parents to scold him for talking to the pariah. He was an orphan like Roran.

"No," said Roran.

"You look cold, you have goosebumps and you're grimacing."

Roran shrugged. "Won't you get in trouble for talking to me?"

"Celine and Dorval might lecture me later, but it's not like they'll do anything. Do you want some food?" Sephyr held out a lump of moldy bread.

"No, I'm good. Besides, Murrin would be really mad if you gave me food."

"I saw him yelling at you last night. He called you a thief."

Roran nodded. "Yeah, he accused me of stealing because I didn't give him a worthless coin."

"If it was worthless why didn't you give it to him?" asked Sephyr.

"Because one of the wardens gave it to me as a good luck charm. It doesn't matter, it was just a coin." Roran glanced over at Murrin who was giving him the side eye. Dorval, the one legged veteran that was Sephyr's guardian, was also scowling at them. "Why are you talking to me?" asked Roran.

"I was thinking about fighting in the arena."

"You too huh?"

"Yeah, is that what Toth was asking you about last night?"

Roran nodded. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"You're right, Toth is an idiot, he'll get himself killed."

"You could die too," said Roran.

Sephyr shrugged. "So, I don't have anyone waiting for me to come back, not really. Dorval and Celine are fine but we're not family."

"Do you want to sit?" asked Roran, gesturing to the space next to him.

"Not really."

Roran frowned. People were always standing over him, leaning over, talking over him. Even his old friends refused to sit on his level. He sighed and settled back down, not wanting to pick another fight.

"It's nice up there," said Roran. "There's sunlight and fresh air. If you leave the arena there are people and food too. There's a whole world up there."

"Are you going to leave us?" asked Sephyr.

"No, I'll probably die first. Luck will only take me so far, but I want to die up there, in the fresh air and sunlight."

Sephyr nodded. "That sounds nice. I think I'll join you two when you go up next."

Roran didn't protest. Sephyr was much more likely to survive in the arena than Toth. If nothing else, he was at least prepared to die.

"Dorval really doesn't like you," said Sephyr.

They both glanced over and Dorval was openly glaring at them now.

"Most of the people here don't like me," said Roran.

"Because of your mom?"

Roran nodded.

"I heard Dorval and Celine arguing once. It was after my dad died and they took me in. They liked to get drunk on wine and argue with each other. Celine had caught Dorval eyeing one of the bakery girls. She accused Dorval of sleeping around."

Roran shrugged. He tried to avoid town gossip. Most of it was about him and his mother.

"Dorval denied it," Sephyr went on, "but Celine insisted. She said she knew about Alira. She accused Dorval of being your father." Sephyr looked down at Roran. "Is Dorval your father?"

Roran shook his head. "No."

"Do you know who your father is?"

"Not really. But a father is someone that takes care of you and the only person that did that was my mother."

Sephyr nodded. "Your mom was nice. She made really good pies."

"Everything she cooked was amazing," said Roran, his mouth watering again. He wanted to go back to the Ox and Lamb for another meal. It wasn't as good as his mothers cooking but it was good enough after living down here for so long.

"When is the next fight?"

"In another week. It sounds like there is one Crucible fight every week."

"Crucible fight?"

"That's what they call this place," said Roran, "This arena is the Crucible, where they make people like us fight. There are other arenas for more popular gladiators."

"I guess I'll prepare myself," said Sephyr, and he left.

Sephyr had always been a little strange. Even before his parents died, he was a little distant from the world around him. He and Roran got along well enough but Roran had trouble thinking of him as a close friend. Sephyr had never been close to anyone.

Before the war, he would occasionally come to visit Roran. He liked the privacy of Roran's little home when it was just the two of them. Sephyr often hunted to pass the time and to provide a little extra food for himself and his foster family, but would usually take the kills to Roran's home first. Together, Roran would help him skin and dress the animals, accepting a little bit of meat as payment.

Even then they hadn't really bonded. The visits always felt transnational. Roran provided Sephyr with a place to process his kills in peace and accepted some meat in return. Usually, Roran would make them dinner and they would have tea by the crackling fire afterwards, making small talk. Sephyr was bad at small talk, and he never talked about his family.

When Sephyr returned to his huddle of people, Dorval began whispering at him furiously, his beady little eyes darting over to Roran every couple of words. Sephyr just shrugged and ignored him. Most people ignored Dorval these days. He'd lost his leg before the war and had ended up becoming a refugee with the rest of Millgrove when the dust settled.

Roran hadn't had much interaction with him, aside from seeing him on the occasions that he visited Alira. Back then, he'd been just another lonely soul seeking out the warmth and comfort Roran's mother provided to those around her.

Closing his eyes, Roran tried to recall the last time he and his mother had sat together. He tried to recall the times before she was on her deathbed with a slow fever roasting her from the inside out. Dorval hadn't been there in the end. Neither had Murrin or any of Alira's other patrons. Just Roran, sitting and holding her hand with Yora waiting in another room.

"I'll see you soon mom," Roran muttered to himself.