The sun was beginning to set by the time they stepped out onto the street. Lanterns were being lit to illuminate the walkways and shop windows. Every few buildings, a glowing rock dangled from a chain, brightly lighting up the storefront and drawing in passerby's.
"What are those?" asked Roran.
"Fairy rocks," said Kell. "I'm surprised you've never seen them, they're a huge export around here. There's probably more fairy rock in the world outside than there is left here. It's a sign of wealth."
"Oh. Our town didn't have much money, just some farmlands in the nearby areas."
"It must have been good farmland if the Kings decided they wanted it."
"I wouldn't know," said Roran. "I wasn't a farmer."
"What did you do for money?"
"My mom was a prostitute. After she passed away, the town gave me some supplies every couple of weeks to survive and I did odd jobs for travelers to get a little money from time to time."
"You didn't work for people in the town?"
"No," said Roran, "The adults didn't like having me around. I guess they felt weird because of their relationship with my mom."
"Yeah, old people are funny that way," said Kell. "You ever been to a tavern?"
"A couple of times, like I said, they didn't like me hanging around."
"We'll go to one of my favorites, it's a little out of the way but-"
"But it isn't as crowded?" finished Roran. "You don't like crowds, do you?"
Kell shrugged. "I like my personal space. Do you want to go or not?"
"Lead the way."
After a short jaunt down the brightly lit thoroughfare, Kell took Roran through a couple of darker alleyways. Much like the tunnels under the Crucible, the streets were a labyrinth of confusing stone passageways. They were like the veins of a body, branching out and getting smaller and smaller as they led to little nooks and cul-de-sacs.
This capillary led them to an older building made of brick and stone. A weathered sign above the doorway read, 'The Ox and Lamb.' The door stuck when Kell tried to open it, she had to force it open with her shoulder.
Inside were a small spattering of people. They hunkered over their drinks and spoke in hushed tones, keeping to themselves. Upon entering, several pairs of eyes turned on Kell and Roran. After a beat, the patrons returned to their drinks and quiet conversation.
"See, nice and quiet," said Kell, "Perfect place for a private conversation."
Everyone pointedly ignored the two as they made their way to the bar. Kell rapped her knuckles on the polished wood to get the bartender's attention. An oily sack of a man rolled over to meet them. He regarded Kell with disinterest. Kell grinned up at him, baring her canines.
"Heya Jaff, two pints and two hot meals," she said and plinked a handful of coins on the counter. Roran had watched her spend a small fortune in this evening alone. Things were expensive in the King's City it seemed.
The bartender nodded and slid the coin off the counter and into his sweaty palms, taking a moment to count out each denomination.
"He'll be a minute, this way," said Kell, and she led Roran to a small table near the fireplace. Dry logs crackled and burned, giving off a pleasant warmth. Sitting down, Roran was reminded of home, of sitting next to his own fireplace and eating a home cooked meal. The moment was fleeting, and the screech of Kell pulling out her own chair brought him out of the reverie. She plunked down into her seat, her spear leaning against the table with her hand loosely wrapped around it.
"You don't like to put that down, do you?" asked Roran.
"Nope. It's a part of my body. I don't put it down unless I don't have a choice."
"Do you sleep with it?"
"What do you think?" she asked, grinning.
"Where do you sleep?" asked Roran.
"I have an apartment near the King's Arena. I live there with Nul."
"That must be expensive."
Kell shrugged. "It costs a small fortune in favors but I like the privacy and the comfort."
"You must have a lot of favors. The clerk said you were a titled gladiator."
Kell let out a groan. "Yeah. If you win enough matches you can qualify for special games where you win extra money and can receive a title. The judges come up with a bunch of names and the crowds vote on their favorite. It's stupid and puts a giant target on your back, I wouldn't recommend it."
Roran nodded, chewing on his lip. After a moment Jaff rolled over with a couple pints of ale. Kell immediately took a large swig of hers while Roran sniffed at his own. It was sour and milky. He took a sip and winced. It wasn't bad but it certainly wasn't good.
Choking down the ale, Roran asked, "Why do you want to kill the gods?"
"Haven't you heard? If you can beat one of the gods in a deathmatch, you can take their crown and ascend to the throne. You can become a god yourself."
"But you didn't say you wanted to become a god, you said you wanted to kill them. All three of them."
Kell grinned at him, her eyes dancing in the firelight. "I knew you were sharp. You're right, I don't want their crown or their throne. I want them dead at my feet."
"But why?"
"Because it's in my nature."
"I don't understand."
Kell took another swig of her ale before answering. "The one thing in life that I'm good at is fighting and killing. I figure, if I'm going to be good at it, I want to be the best, and there is no greater challenge in this world than killing those three gods."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't need to," said Kell, "you just need to decide whether or not you'll help me."
Jaff returned again with a couple of plates. They contained seared chunks of meat, a pile of veggies and tubers, and a warm loaf of bread. Kell dug into her plate with a fervor, going straight for the meat. Despite her enthusiasm, Roran noticed that she never spilled a drop of food or let herself become even remotely sullied.
Roran tucked into his own plate. It was the first hot meal he'd eaten in months. The food tasted amazing, whether that was because he was starved for cooked food or because it was actually good he couldn't tell, but he didn't care. He had actual, juicy meat on his plate for a change.
The first few bites were bliss as he savored the tender flesh and roasted vegetables. Then, as he was gulping down his fourth or fifth bite of food, less than halfway through the meal, his stomach turned. He coughed a couple times and sipped on his ale.
"Don't puke at the table," said Kell, covering her mouth as she spoke. "Sip your ale and breathe for a minute. You dungeon fodder always stuff yourselves and puke the first time I buy you real food."
Roran followed her advice, breathing through the nausea and drowning it with small sips of the tart ale.
"How many have there been before me?" he asked.
Kell sighed. "Too many. I was planning on giving up after today, then I bumped into you."
"Why me? Why any of us? If you want to kill a god shouldn't you get help from an actual gladiator, one that already knows how to fight?"
"I don't need someone who knows how to fight, I can do that plenty well on my own. I need someone who can think on their feet, someone who can work their way out of impossible situations." She grinned at him. "I need someone willing to run headfirst into a storm if it means they might live."
"You need someone desperate and stupid," said Roran.
"That too I guess. Listen, you're the first rookie who's ever stood up to me when I charged them head on. Most people cower or fold or run away. You figured out how to block my attack and fight back, with no fighting experience whatsoever. That's the kind of person I need."
"Why should I help you?"
"For the money and the freedom. Successful gladiators do pretty well for themselves. Besides, once I kill the gods you can have their crown. I don't want it."
"We'll probably fail, or I'll die," said Roran, "Just like the others."
Kell shrugged. "So, you're going to die anyway. You'll either die in the Crucible trying to earn favors, or you'll starve to death with the rest of your people in the dungeon. You're a dead man Roran. The only choice you have is whether you die in the dungeon, or die trying to become a god."
Kell finished her meal and began wiping her plate clean with the last bit of her bread. Roran, having recovered a little, nibbled on some more of his food. He still didn't have much of an appetite.
"Do I have to make my choice now?" Roran asked.
"You have already made your choice," said Kell, "You just have to accept it and move forward." Kell pointed her fork at Roran's plate. "Are you going to finish that?"
Roran shoved his plate over to her and sank back in his chair. "What have I decided then?"
"I dunno," said Kell, finishing up Roran's leftovers. "I'm not inside your head. But people usually make up their minds pretty quickly. The rest of the time is them trying to justify their choices. Honestly, I don't care. Your choice is your own, once you come to terms with it let me know."
"How will I do that, after tonight I'm going to be locked back up in the dungeon."
"Oh that's easy," said Kell, waving away his concern. "Simply participate in the next Crucible. If you choose to join me, just kill someone. I'll take that as your answer."