Sprinting the entire way to Kell's apartment, Roran burst through the door gasping for air. Both Kell and Nul stared at him.
"You okay?" asked Nul.
"Sorry I'm late, I slept through rations."
"It's fine," said Kell. "We're not training today anyways."
"We're not?"
"The event starts tomorrow. You need to rest and fill up on food."
"Oh."
Roran had lost track of the days. Calming down, he entered the apartment. Kell was lounging on the couch while Nul was at the table nursing a cup of tea. They got up and put the kettle on. Roran sat down at the table and finished catching his breath, feeling like an idiot the entire time.
Nul poured him a cup of tea and sat back down across from him.
"Feeling nervous?" they asked.
"A little. I'm just worried I'll let everyone down. Were you nervous before your first event?"
Nul nodded. "I was terrified. I was so scared I threw up before the match. It wasn't even a deathmatch. People could still die, but there wasn't any point in killing untitled gladiators so I was relatively safe."
"Do you still get nervous?"
"Sometimes," said Nul, "but only when we're doing something risky or stupid. As long as Kell is fighting with me I know I'll be okay."
Turning to Kell, Roran asked, "Were you nervous before your first event?"
"Nope, but I'd been fighting for my life years before I entered the Crucible. By the time I entered my first arena match I already had a couple kills under my belt. My first big event was more of a chore than anything else."
"How long ago did you enter the Crucible?"
Kell scrunched up her face, counting the years. "About ten years or so ago."
Roran did the math, frowning. "You entered it when you were still a child? Did the others actually try to fight you?"
"Yeah, nobody really cares about your age when you're stabbing them with a spear."
"I'm sorry," said Roran, trying to imagine Kell as a child and failing. He would forever think of her as the unstoppable storm.
"I'm not. Fighting is my life. Besides, it gave me an outlet for my emotions when I hit puberty. I was a real nightmare back then."
Horrified, Roran looked at Nul who only shook their head, gesturing for Roran to drop the topic. Apparently Kell's pubescent days in the arena were another topic best left untouched.
Opting to change the subject, Roran asked, "How long have you two been working together?"
"About five years now," said Nul. "We fought against each other in a group deathmatch, like the Crucible but bigger, and she wanted to team up afterwards."
"Nul had the best focus markings I'd ever seen," said Kell, a reminiscent smile on her face. "Mine were a patchwork mess at the time and I desperately wanted to know who Nul got to do theirs. I approached them after the fight and asked who their etcher was. Imagine my surprise when they said they did it themselves. I knew then and there that we would be good friends."
"Because they are good at etching?"
"No, because Nul is willing to risk their own life on their etching. When someone else etches you, if they screw up and you die, it's not really their problem. If Nul screws up, well they pay just as much as I do."
Nul shrugged. "I don't really see it that way, but I won't put subpar markings on someone."
"You two are really good at what you do," said Roran, feeling inadequate. "I'm a little jealous."
"Don't be," said Kell, "We'll be relying on you soon. Focus on being the best at what you do."
"And what's that?"
"Beating the odds, doing the impossible. You can prove it by winning this event."
"About that, any last minute advice?" Even with all of the training Kell had put him through, Roran still felt horribly unprepared.
"Don't die."
"Thanks," Roran said, deadpan.
Kell laughed and sat up. "Pick your opponents early. The first match will have a handful of champions fighting in it. None of them will have focus markings but they're still plenty dangerous. Duran is guaranteed to fight in the first round, but he usually drops out, not wanting to play the other games. Morena is a regular in these events, it's how he earned his title without focus markings. Jorgen occasionally scrubs his markings and plays in the Crucible but not very often. Decide who your biggest opponent will be and try to knock them out of the game before the final round. Ideally you want the final round to be just you and other dungeon fodder."
Roran nodded, trying to absorb all of the information.
"I don't know what the second game will be," Kell went on, "But that will be your best chance to knock out the champions. I don't recommend a head on death match with any of them. They earned their titles in blood, don't take them lightly."
"Okay, anything else?"
"Yeah, stop worrying and relax. There's nothing more you can do to prepare. Just hang out here, we'll feed you well, and do your best tomorrow. Worst case scenario, you die and then it's not your problem anymore."
Roran spent the day with Kell and Nul, trying not to worry about the event. To distract him, Kell lent him a couple of books. That evening, as promised, they took him out to a nearby tavern and bought more food than any of them could eat. Kell drank enough wine for the three of them and they filled up on heavy meats, rich pastas, and even a handful of desserts. It was the biggest meal Roran could remember eating.
Kell urged him to spend the night at her apartment, but Roran decided to go back to the dungeons. Part of him wished he had stayed with Kell and Nul but he didn't want to sleep in a strange place right before his fight.
By time he was back down in the dungeons it was late and most people were asleep. Among the few still awake was Kamil. She was waiting for him by the door.
"We need to talk," she said as soon as he was locked back inside with her.
Roran glanced around. Murrin and Dorval were asleep, as was Toth, the oversized boy snoring happily away.
"Okay."
"I don't like you, I never have. I've never made a secret of it. I'm sure you know the reason?"
"You didn't like my mom?"
"No, I hated your mother with a passion. She stole my Urick from me. She drove a wedge between us with her schemes and selfish desires. It wasn't so bad at first. She only stayed in town for a couple months at a time, then she was off to another city to work in a brothel or harem or whatever it was she did when she was gone."
Roran bit his lip. Before he was born, his mother would save up money to go on adventures, traveling the world and meeting people, not working in a brothel.
"The real problem," Kamil continued, "Was you. Your birth meant she was there to stay, pretending she actually belonged to the town and playing single mother, milking sympathy from the men that were all afraid you were their child. Only I knew better. When Urick told me that your mother was pregnant, I knew it was his child. After seeing you for the first time I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. You have my Urick's lips and cheekbones. You are his son."
Regretting his decision to return to the dungeons, Roran started drawing a pattern in the dirt with foot. He took deep, slow breaths like his mother had taught him to do to control his emotions.
"For the longest time, I wanted you gone. I hated your mother and I hated you, but now I need you. That fool Murrin plans on sacrificing Toth to the arena. Once you and Sephyr die out there, Murrin plans on sending Toth into that sacrificial pit. I need you to win and end this madness.
"I heard that you can request a boon from the King if you win?"
Roran nodded.
"Then request that we get the hell out of here. If I'm allowed to work I can make a living as an herbalist. Please, I hated your mother and, until recently, I hated you. But I see that I've been wrong, you aren't to blame for your mothers sins. So I'm begging you, win the arena and ask the Kings to let us go free. If not for me then for Toth, your half brother."
Roran didn't respond at first. He wasn't sure how to respond. He already planned to do what Kamil asked of him, rendering this entire conversation pointless. Eventually, he asked, "If you hated my mother so much then why did you sleep with her?"
"What? I never-"
"Chamomile and mint," Roran said calmly. "She would serve you chamomile and mint tea."
Kamil stared at him, her mouth open but no words coming out.
"I'll get us out of here," said Roran, "in return, please don't ever speak of my mother again."