Pharod's right eye began to twitch as he responded. "Neve, you would be right were it not for the training I have provided for young Asher here. In six months, he has trained with 180 of the best weapons masters in the land. Surely even you must agree that that training should bear a great expense."
Neve smiled deviously as she spoke. "You use the term training rather loosely. Doesn't one have to learn something to consider it training? Asher shouldn't incur any expense as not even one of your trainers were able to best him, or for that matter teach him. Nadra's training was simply to far beyond the means of any weapons master you could provide. But all is not lost, Asher is becoming as great a teacher as she was. Soon I will also be besting your trainers."
Pharod's jaw dropped as the implications of that name hit him. Suddenly Asher's skill made sense, as did the armor Neve bore. That would mean that Neve now wore armor gifted from Nadra. Nadra, the founder of the Silent Legion. If that set of armor had once belonged to Nadra, it would be considered a priceless artifact, and it bore stronger enchantments than anything most kings would ever lay eyes upon. Its defensive ability was far beyond anything within Pharod's armory.
Pharod found himself in disbelief that it now resided on the body of a slave he had written off. He considered his next words far more carefully and applied them with a bit of reverence. "I suppose your correct Neve. Asher will be granted the items from the pots he wins. I will take fifty percent of the wealth for myself as his manager, and the remainder will go toward his tab until it is paid off."
Asher beamed a great smile as he spoke, "That sounds mighty fine Pharod. Neve will wear her robe over the armor when we go to the tournament. Of course, if you fear the insignia might be recognized, I could have it obliterated and replaced with my own. What do you think Neve? Would you like to own that armor and those weapons permanently? You are going to be my permanent companion after all aren't you?"
Now it was Neve's turn for her jaw to drop to the floor. Obliterating the insignia without the permission of the Silent Legion would be courting death. Even on the armor of Nadra that would be unforgiveable.
Asher began to guffaw loudly as he responded, "I'm joking about obliterating the insignia. But it is your as long as you stand by my side." Asher then removed the White Walkers dagger and handed it to Neve. "I also want you to carry this. If the Silent Legion ever come after us, you will need it for our defense."
Seeing the white walker dagger Pharod fainted. Had he known that Asher possessed that dagger he would have never brought him into the camp as with the enchantment of a White Walker dagger even a scratch would become lethal. With Asher's obvious battle prowess and the White Walker dagger within his hands, he could slay most of the camp without breaking a sweat. For the first time in his life, Pharod learned the true meaning of the word fear.
Neve gladly accepted the dagger, ensuring that it would be reachable as she planned to add the sheathe with the dagger into a hidden pocket within her right robe sleeve. Never again would she be taken captive. Never again would she be stripped down and tied to a bed. She felt great pride in saying that she would never be that weak again. She truly owed Asher her life.
Asher beamed with joy as he gently smacked Pharod awake.
Pharod began to treat Neve with the curtesy and respect he would typically reserve for a Dowager or a king. He began to wonder if he had imagined what the dagger had been as he backed through the open door and began preparing for their departure.
The next morning, all of Neve's belongings were brought to Asher's room.
Neve casually equipped her robe over the Silent Legion armor, placed the dagger within her sleeve pocket and began to pet the wood of her staff as the power of its enchantments began to strengthen her body. The joy beamed from her eyes as she began to put on her rings and necklace. Their enchantments accented those of the armor she already wore, increasing her magical prowess and replenishing her energy stores.
Neve casually grabbed Asher's hands and began to shout and dance around the room in joy. She simply could not contain her excitement. Before Asher had arrived in her life, she had given up hope. In seeing him arrive within her room she simply knew he would be the one to bring about her demise, yet he had instead freed her and helped her to obtain a new strength beyond her simple imagination.
Neve smiled as she considered her new position. Most Dowagers would not dare to anger Pharod, and she had challenged him and won.
Pharod the money lender, the most prominent scrooge of the drew had given in and agreed to provide Asher with 50% of the profits from the tournament.
As Neve continued to celebrate a rapping began on the door.
Asher casually opened it to see that Pharod had come to collect them.
Pharod escorted the duo to the stables, where he allowed them the use of a bright pink salamander mount. He casually informed Asher that it would be added to his tab as Asher and Neve climbed aboard. Neve beamed with joy at this royal treatment.
The trip to Drowmere was extremely peaceful within the drew procession. Asher and Neve bantered back and forth jovially, and Asher continued to train Neve as they stopped each night.
On the seventh night they finally arrived outside the city walls of Drowmere.
Pharod entered with his drew guards and established the location for their camp.
Asher entered the arena the following morning.
As he entered, the powerful scent of stale dried blood astounded Asher's senses. With each inhale of air, he could taste the metallic taste from the blood, and the saltiness of the sweat that had been shed in the grand arena.
As he entered Asher admired the craftsmanship of the arena itself. It had a faint purple glow that lit the entirety of the columns and pillars in a pleasant faint light. The arena had been carefully chiseled from the stone of the cavern that housed it. Benches had been carved by skilled craftsmen at varying levels, giving the appearance of a staircase all around a large, bloodstained circle inside.
One could easily overlook the arena from the lowermost bench as even it lies a mere 244 cm (6 ft) from the arena itself.
It was within one of these circles that Asher now found himself.
As Asher examined the arena, a voice echoed over the crowd, instantly causing them to become silent.
"Ladies and Goblins, let the bloodletting begin. Both fighters are new to the arena and have not yet earned an introduction. Contestants paint those floooooooors red."
Asher continued to examine the arena as his opponent charged at him wielding a large trident.
Asher casually stepped backward and punched the human in the side of the head as he passed by, stabbing his trident where Asher had been merely a moment before. Asher's fist annihilated his opponent's skull, ending his life and spraying the floor with blood, fragments of skull and brain splattering across the stone.
Asher didn't bother glancing at the corpse as he made his way around the arena, still admiring the craftsmanship of the stonework.
Blood flowed from the corpse of Asher's opponent.
Asher continued to admire the arena as much as he desired. Once done, he casually retrieved the trident, placing it within his bag and strolled toward the arena exit.
The arena had remained utterly silent to this point. Seeing Asher casually stroll out, they burst into cheers. Never had they seen such a quick match. Asher had not even bothered to lift his weapon.
The gates lifted and Asher stepped outside.
He quickly returned to Neve. The duo carefully observed the remaining combatants as the day wore on.
Asher's next 3 combatants forfeited. Their owners had no desire to lose a slave so senselessly.
Asher's fifth match he faced an earthy brown troll. The scent of moss wafted off him and began to permeate the arena. Trolls are extremely large ugly creatures that came in a wide variety of earthy colors. They were massive in size, this troll was somewhat small for his species, yet even he stood a whopping 500 cm (16.4 feet) tall.
"Ladies and goblins, I bring you now a battle of titans worthy of a formal introduction. In the red corner, you have the first midnight beast to grace any arena in all the lightless realms. The contender that few dare to face, Asher!!!! In the blue corner, you have the largest creature to grace this arena, the mighty troll of earth Birtle Tipon. Birtle's owner has proposed that this becomes a full challenge match with some limitations. Specifically, Birtle's owner has proposed a weapons free fist up throw down. If Asher's master accepts and wins then he will receive a custom set of chainmail from famed armor smith Flint Stormshield. Do you dare to accept the challenge?"
As Asher's master, Pharod found himself put on the spot to decide. He laughed maniacally as he agreed to the challenge fully realizing the risks of fist fighting with a troll.
"Then a challenge match it will be. Throw your weapons to the side and let the bloodletting begin."
Asher showed no emotion at all as he removed his axes from his back and tossed them behind him. He then proceeded to remove his hide chest piece and his bag, carefully placing them on top of his axes.
The audience went wild as they admired Asher's Herculean body.
Birtle removed his armor and weapons and began to joyously trot toward Asher.
Once in striking distance, Birtle quickly struck straight down toward Asher's head with his long talons.
Asher carefully dodged to the right and the talons struck the stone of the floor, carving slight indentations as they passed.
The crowd gasped in shock, fully realizing the disadvantage Asher now faced.
Asher moved swiftly around the arena, carefully dodging each strike as Birtle continuously assaulted him with his mighty talons.
Round and round the combatants went. Birtle striking and Asher narrowly dodging each of his mighty attacks.
The audience stood on edge as Birtles strikes moved closer and closer to Asher.
Birtle continued his assault on Asher striking swiftly with his left arm, his claw aimed directly for Asher's head.
Asher nimbly dodged to the left, his foot sliding in the sweat that had begun to coat the floor of the arena.
Birtles talon cleanly missed Asher's head as it began to pierce the flesh of his right shoulder.
Asher, fully realizing the dire situation he now found himself in, quickly grabbed Birtles arm with his left hand, carefully pulling the talon out of his now unusable right shoulder.
As the talon came free of Asher's shoulder, he grasped it as tight as he could as he jumped in the air, leading with his left foot as he flipped up and over the arm, rotating it 360 degrees.
The crowd could hear a loud pop as Birtles arm began to tear from his shoulder.
The arena began to fill with a piquant aroma as Birtles blood began to flow from his wound.
Birtle began to wail in agony as his blood began to flow upon the arena.
As Birtle's blood began to splash upon Asher's sweaty body, his body began to blister and burn.
Asher quickly turned Birtles arm around, and swung the talons directly toward Birtles neck, rending his head from his body.
Asher next stabbed the talon directly through Birtles heart, as Birtle and Asher both collapsed to the ground.