The walk down the dungeon-like passageway remained silent. The many flaming torches hung on the wall lit up the long path, their dancing orange flames casting dark shadows on the already black walls of that old passageway.
The looming stone walls, the scent of burning lamp oil and smoke, the rise in temperature, the clacking sounds of their soles upon the stone ground. The annoying silence. Tristan experienced all these and hated them.
The town's lord had discovered those underground systems when he had only newly become the lord. About 33 years prior.
He knew not what it had been used to do, but he worked on it and made it to his use. Of course, he kept most of those ancient details in place, it was one of the many things he bragged about, at least when he was drunk.
Knowledge about those underground systems had been kept from the authorities of the kingdom, so if word got out, he'd have imperials flooding its insides and discovering the many things even his drunken state could not reveal. Nasty things.
The stairway and passageway were only available to certain individuals — Trusted individuals. The residents of the town who knew of the underground matches had a pathway dedicated to and for them.
Tristan had long since wondered how that place could feature hundreds of individuals and remain unknown to the rest of the town.
He believed the audience was sensible enough to understand that if those matches became public news they would not be able to enjoy any more bloody fights.
The duo silently traversed the passageway, encountering doors that lead to who knew where. Tristan nor Lord Ior ever cared about them.
Or rather, after a series of visits their curiosity had naturally dwindled dead.
Another passageway opened before them and they stopped walking on that straight path to take the turning to the left before another turning to the left appeared again and this time at its end was a set of metal bars.
Already, Tristan could sight the two men standing guard at the entrance of those dungeon bars.
"Lord Ior," one of the duo called out. His voice was a bit muffled, as both men had their faces covered from their noses down.
"It's been a while. John. I see you're doing well," Lord Ior replied, revealing a smile on his sharp features. He looked respectable, and it annoyed Tristan.
"I see he's just as scary as ever, aye," John replied with a slight chuckle while he and his colleague pushed open the giant metal bars that led to a small black door.
Lord Ior simply gave an ear-to-ear smile while stepping past the bars to approach the door within that small space.
Tristan silently followed, disgusted by the lighthearted mood of the guard. Did he not know that people died during those matches?!
Pulling on the door, allowed the first loud sounds to reach the ears of the duo as another corridor appeared in their sights. This one being of higher status.
The cheers coming from the arena ground traveled through the corridors of that intricate system of walls and rooms to reach them.
Both men knew their destination and a minute didn't have to pass before they knocked and opened a nice brown door leading to a well-lit room.
Several individuals turned to look at their entering figures and smiles boomed on the faces of certain men, the others simply focused on the events occurring below, through the wall of transparent glass.
Rows and rows of seats existed in that room. All existing on different elevations of their own. Similar to stairs.
"Ior, Tristan!" A boisterous voice boomed across the room, as the figure of a round man approached them, his arms open wide for a hug.
"Hiren," Lord Ior gave a soft smile allowing the short, round, and partially bald man to hold him In an embrace.
"I heard the news. Congratulations!" Towns Lord Hiren announced, addressing Lucia's marriage. Tristan simply found a seat to gaze at the arena below.
He tried to focus on the small fight happening but he couldn't. His ears perked up at the conversation between the two men.
He silently hoped to find clues about Lucia's location, the mere thought of it sparked a flame in his heart. But darkness overwhelmed it quickly.
Pessimism came like a rushing wind and he once again mocked himself. He mocked himself for hoping too much. Even Lucia had stated in her letter that they might never meet.
His dark eyes grew cold again and he felt irritation sprout in his heart. Not at the sloppy fighters barely catching the attention of the over 100 humans, not at the loud town lord of Livia, but at everything in general, plus himself.
Tristan watched the winning individual of the fight of two. He considered their swordplay subpar and even from his position could analyze and find openings in both their attacks. At least to a certain degree.
Considering their skill, he could literally kill them in minutes. Even Den seemed to have better skills than they did.
Tristan waited, oozing silent danger. His mere presence unsettled the sponsors of that event, they all knew who he was.
He was the spectacular fighter who would be on display that night. Almost all of them present had seen him fight and he was almost a sure bet.
Nevertheless, there had been plans to pit him against a certain individual.
The ongoing fight soon ended. The bigger man won. His strikes had been far heavier than his opponent's.
Disarming his opponent had been the mark of his victory.
It wasn't a death match, which was why they had not filled the stage with sand.
The layout of the underground arena remained simple.
It had been a 50sqm room disconnected from the network of passageways due to the crumbling of said walls.
The town's lord had people excavate tons of stones. Clearing the area. They had also demolished weaker passageways to ensure safety. The ones that were still durable remained standing till that day. Of course, they had also been reinforced.
A tall metal net had been placed on the edges of the space while rows upon rows of seats en-walled the squarish arena.
The project had taken years and lots of money to complete but the town's lord had long since made the money he poured into it and the time invested had been greatly worth it.
Lord Hiren and Lord Ior eventually sat to spectate the ongoing matches. Soon one of the match attendants, people dressed in entirely black outfits came and addressed Tristan.
He had been asked if he wished to participate and he obviously agreed.
Tristan was led into the changing room after which he went to a waiting room where he sat waiting for his turn.
Before he left the booth the sponsors reclined at, Ior had nodded but he had ignored it.
Now that he waited, he couldn't help but think of the man's earlier warning.
During his series of thoughts, the door into the cream-painted waiting room creaked open.
Tristan instantly knew it would be his opponent, still, nothing could prepare his mind when he saw a lady walk into the room filling it up with the aura she carried.
Domineering.