Kings Game

Chapter 8 - Going alone (6)

Confetti rained down from the sky, slowly covering the blood and the bodies. Roran kept his head down, both to keep the confetti off his face and to avoid looking at the people above that threw it. Roran had killed two men today, but those monsters above were the ones responsible. They paid to see blood, they paid to see helpless refugees kill each other for food and medicine.

For the first time, Roran wondered who the audience was. Before they had just been blank faces, a backdrop to the carnage and mayhem, but now he wondered who they were. Where did they come from? Were they the citizens of King's City, coming for mere entertainment? Were they lords and ladies from far off lands, spending their wealth to watch lesser people die? Roran decided he would have to ask Nul or Kell.

The gravel beneath his feet turned to stone as he descended the stairs to the hallways below. Roran raised his head to find Chase waving him down.

"Hey kid, not bad out there."

Chase gave Roran one of his infectious grins and clapped him on the shoulder. Roran smiled despite himself. Being around Chase always made him smile.

"I couldn't bring down Duran," said Roran.

"Yeah, neither can anyone else. That man has become a staple in the Crucible, murdering anyone that lets him get too close. You did well against him, especially after your sword broke! For a moment I thought you were a goner."

"Me too."

They both laughed and Chase slung his arm around Roran's shoulder. "Come on kid, what do you say we have lunch with the dogs."

Chase guided Roran down a handful of hallways until the air became hot and humid. The scent of cooked meats and freshly baked breads wafted through the corridors.

"Where are we?" asked Roran.

"The kitchen, obviously. This one is just for the wardens though, so they don't serve anything fancy."

They passed through a doorway and into a large dining hall. Long tables filled the hall, sparsely populated by a handful of wardens stuffing food into their faces. It surprised Roran to see them eating. He knew the wardens were human but it was strange seeing them do human things like eat. Sometimes he forgot that Chase was a warden, if only because he still acted like a human.

Chase guided Roran towards the kitchen at the end of the hallway. A smattering of chefs and servants were busy throwing together food and serving it up to wardens as they came through.

"Hey Beefy!" Chase called out.

A meaty chef lifted his head and nodded at Chase. "Three buckets, off to the side."

"Thanks mate. Any chance I can get some lunch for me and my friend?"

Beefy gestured to a servant who began gathering up some food.

"We'll be taking it to go, going to dine with the dogs."

Beefy rolled his eyes but said nothing. The servant nodded and began stuffing two loaves of bread with chunks of meat. Chase gestured for Roran to walk around to the side of the kitchen. There they found three buckets full of bones and meat scraps.

"You grab a bucket and our lunch and I'll get the other two," said Chase.

Roran did as he was told, hefting a bucket of meat and accepting a couple trenchers from the servant.

"Alright, let's go." Ever cheerful, Chase led the way out of the dining hall and down the hallway. A few minutes later they were once more inside the beast room, surrounded by cages and kennels. At the end of the room, Chase's hounds started barking and yipping, eager for their meal.

"Just set the bucket down there," said Chase. He dropped one bucket and used both hands to empty the other one into the kennel. The dogs attacked their meal with a ferocity Roran hadn't seen before. They ripped into the flesh with ease, their sharp teeth tearing it apart. One grabbed a bone, cracking it open in seconds.

"A little scary huh?" said Chase. "It's easy to forget that these are war hounds. Bred specifically for fighting and killing."

Reaching in between the bars, Chase ruffled the ears of a smaller hound. It stopped eating long enough to lick Chase's hand before going back to it's meal.

"You really love your hounds, don't you?" said Roran.

Chase nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "I really do. They're so much better than people. Kinder, simpler, less likely to stab you in the back." Chase's smile slipped for a moment, then he caught Roran's eye and was grinning again. "Hand me the second bucket."

Roran passed Chase another bucket and watched as he emptied it into the kennel. A particularly meaty bone dropped and rolled across the kennel floor. Several of the hounds jumped after it, snapping and biting at each other. They fought over the bone for a few moments before a low growl silenced them.

From the corner of the kennel, Herda's bulky mass shifted and stalked over to the younger hounds. She eyed them each in turn and they all shrank away, showing deference and submission. Calmly, Herda picked up the meaty bone and retreated back to her corner to snack on it in peace.

"She's as ornery as ever," said Chase, "I do worry about her though, she's getting old. She doesn't run like she used to and bullies the other hounds to get her way. Hell of a bite though, she could crush that bone in a second if she wanted to."

Roran hunkered down next to the kennel to get a better look at the old Kings Hound. Catching sight of him, Herda looked up and grinned. She panted and wagged her tail.

"I think she likes you," said Chase.

"I can appreciate wanting to avoid your pack mates," said Roran. "I do the same with my people."

"Are they not nice to you?" asked Chase.

"If they were, do you think I would be out here alone?"

"Fair enough, what about your sponsor? Aren't they looking after you?"

"Yeah, but my people take everything she gives me. They don't like me and think I owe them something."

"Do you?" asked Chase.

"No, they just don't want me around."

"Why's that?"

"My mom was a whore and they're all afraid I'm their son."

"Oh, damn. Well, if you need to get away, you're welcome to come hang out with the dogs. If Herda likes you, then the rest will fall in line."

"Thanks Chase, I may take you up on that."

"Glad to hear it. Hey, let's eat before the food gets cold. Hand me one of the trenchers." Roran handed over one of the loaves. "Beefy isn't the best cook in the world but he makes a decent meal," said Chase, biting into his lunch.

Roran followed suit, tearing into the loaf. The meat had saturated the bread with its juices, making the whole meal moist and tender. The meat was tough but full of flavor. Compared to the rations he normally choked down, it was a damn good meal.

"Hey Chase?"

"Yeah kid?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."