ROLANDIA
Bathed in the celestial radiance, all within the domain of Rolandia are acutely aware of the ethereal magic suffusing the land.
Beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, makeshift camps materialise across the landscape.
The Grand Sorcerer of Rolandia, flanked by a retinue of his esteemed colleagues, has established his temporary abode amidst this gathering.
Evacuation orders have displaced residents from their homes, forcing them to seek refuge near the border of High Town, south of Rolandia. Others converge in the bustling market of Rolandia.
The sorcerers have men start to build structures of length for an unknown agenda.
The duke and his team of guards observe from under a shade provided by the empire.
Malice, her pinkish skin gleaming under the sun, turns gaze to Clarion, "We have to make a move before they take it away" she says.
"We can't move now, everyone will see us. We shall wait for nightfall before we try to extract the second moon from the sky" he says over a glass of wine, sniffing it graciously.
"If that wizard does not retrieve it first", Malice gestures to the Grand Sorcerer who supervises the construction of the altar-like structures.
He stands tall with a white cloak over his body while his long straight hair falls behind him.
"Master Zarek couldn't take this moon while in Nimwei, considering his strength I am sure it will not be that easy even for the Grand sorcerer" Clarion says, confidence washing over his features.
"We need two people over there to feign interest in their little investigation" "I will send Pain and Celsius" she says, her fists clenched as she strides forward.
"Malice", the duke calls, his voice a low rumble, "Endeavor to maintain an air of composure. We will get the moon, patience is a virtue my friend", he punctuates his words with a leisurely sip from his goblet.
Low growls escape her lips, hidden behind her mask, she storms out of the shades' protection.
PYRRHUS
Braga looks down at the smaller man. Kane sits down as feet become weary.
Braga grunts, frame tiny compared to himself but in his eyes he sees an opportunity which he will not let escape his grasp.
Sweat, still fresh on his body from training, rolls down his body.
"You have magic" Braga speaks first, "Doesn't everybody?", Kane tries to be elusive.
"Not like you. During the volcans attack, I saw you disappear. Again, in the arena you did it. Everyone else was blinded by the excitement of the games but I knew it was your magic".
"If I had such power, why would I remain here?" "You tell me, Kane" Braga says with intensity in his eyes.
Stillness becomes them as they maintain eye contact, no words pass their lips until the cell becomes an awkward sanctuary.
"I know you do not trust me but I want the same thing you do" "I don't want anything champion" "You keep taking me for a fool", Braga clenches teeth.
"I saw Emmet make plot to stop Lord Dorian. Signs of a plan brewing, I want in or I will spill to the masters. Something that will favour neither of us", the giant of a man says.
Kane's head is filled with perplexed thoughts.
He thought Braga was like the rest of the gladiators who adored the honour gained in the arena but alas, as one who dwells in such realm and who has been bathed in the arena's glory.
Braga's vision extends beyond the reach of a slave.
He thirst for freedom, just like the rest of them, just like Kane.
Kane struggles but stands on his feet, hand stretched towards Braga, he holds his gaze; "I'm glad you accept, now what's the plan to leave this fucking place?".
MEANWHILE
Lord Dorian and his servant reach the popular tavern, Night Ale, where he has lodgings.
The tavern is one of renown in Pyrrhus as it welcomes men of note under its roof, this is mainly due to its close proximity to Grimstone.
Men, too drunk for day, lie at different corners of the tavern, some on table and most on floor. A woman goes around slapping them to consciousness.
Windows are opened so whatever form of air that blows may comfort the heat welcomed atmosphere of the tavern, a curse suffered by all of Pyrrhus.
Questionable companies fill the tables as the customers begin another day of what is normal to them.
Lord Dorian walks up the stairs with vigour as mind plagues him on the matters of present day's failure.
He climbs to the highest floor of the three storey building, a floor paid for only by the wealthy by Pyrrhus' standards.
He says a magic word and his door swings open, as he takes the first steps in he smashes a flower vase close by. Fists clenched that his knuckles turn white.
"What is wrong with that bastard? I offered him a 100 gold coins, who the hell turns that down?", he kicks a stool nearby.
Eyes filled with crazed want, he slams another stool as he grits his teeth.
"I must have them, the one touched by the gods must be mine. He and the dark elf" "Master" his servant calls but his mind is deeply buried in his days' loss.
"Master", she calls out again and receives a thunderous rebuttal, "What?!".
"I have some news that may sway the feelings of your heart", she says while bowing her head before him.
"Oh really? What could you possibly tell me that will change the way I fucking feel?", "There is a way to get both the elf and the gladiator from under their master's nose" she says and he suddenly stops his chaotic sway of legs.
His brows jump in surprise, "I am listening".
She takes a step forward, her slithering scales hidden underneath her cloak, "An elf, a gladiator. I know him as Emmet" "Emmet Halfborn, I have heard of him in gladiatorial circles" "He says you can get the boy and the girl but we have to reach out", she says.
"Can you sneak it at night?" He asks, "Yes lord", "Good".
GRIMSTONE
Braga walks out of the dormitories, an aura of confidence radiating from his broad shoulders and thrust-forward chest. His scar barely visible in the dim lights of day, a testament to past battles.
"Doctore!", he booms, his voice echoing across the training grounds.
"Who is the unfortunate bastard I am sparring today?", he snatches a waterski from a fellow gladiator and almost drains it in a single, gulp. Only the little droplets on his bald forehead.
He pours the remnants unto his body and roars like a beast. Amos in his towering height turns his gaze at another gladiator, "Maxi. He is here now. I hope you have warmed up well", Amos says with folded arms behind his back.
Maxi stands at 6feet, a feet away from the champion who moves towards a pile of wooden shields and sword. He picks up a big wooden sword and nothing more, "Whoo, it's one of those days huh", Amos notice.
Maxi's eyes dart over at the doctore as he picks up a sword and shield, before he can return focus to what is before him, the giant frame of the champion appears. With a roar and a shaking body, causing Maxi to move backward with haste.
Braga laughs wildly and steps backwards before they begin the sparring contest.
Amos sends a smug gesture toward Maxi, "He seems interested today" he says, "Begin".
Sword raised high, it comes down heavily upon the smaller gladiator's shield. Laughter behind Braga's swing, he slams his body into the shield, pushing Maxi towards the ground.
"Do you not wish to be champion in the arena? Give me everything", Braga shouts like a maddened warrior.
Maxi grunts and draws deep breaths, he puts some muscle into it.
Charging in and swinging his wooden blade at different angles, doing his best to catch Braga off-guard, a foolish attempt as the champion remains vigilante behind his blade.
Throwing heavy swings of blade, Braga disarms Maxi and delivers a heavy blow to the side of his face.
The champion walks around Maxi, stalking him like unsuspecting prey while he signals for the attending crowds praise.
A true showman.
The men shout and laugh, he turns the training grounds to his own little arena.
Maxi grunts and shakes his head in attempt to stay conscious.
Maxi throws his shield at Braga, striking him in the chest.
He charges with a roar in his voice, swinging to strike Braga. But the giant of the man catches his swing in a one hand and ends the sparring with a massive head-butt that silences Maxi for the rest of the morning routine.
*****
Nightfall comes, haunting as it should feel, it comes with a delight that even Kane cannot pinpoint. A wave of warmth washes over him as Saphina departs, her presence lingering even as she closes the cell door.
The fleeting loneliness that follows her exit is quickly dispelled by the arrival of a regular visitor, Emmet, the half-elf.
He comes with ale and two cups, as if to celebrate yet another day of breath.
He hands the cup to Kane and pours him a drink, "So, all we have to do is wait right now" he says, trying to break the lingering the silence between them.
"Yes. But we may need to look at another alternative, just in case", Kane sips from his cup.
"Will this alternative have anything to do with you disappearing? You know, your magic?", Emmet asks, eyes glued to the doors of the cell, "My magic?" "Yes. Braga told me", the elf says.
Kane shrugs his shoulders, "Maybe. I have the power to teleport", Kane says plainly before taking another sip.
"Then why the fuck are we still here?" "Because I can't control it, yet. I have to figure out how to do that before our plans are discovered", "You truly are touched by the gods", Emmet says.
"The hurt coursing through my body will not agree with you", the silver haired man says.
A knock at the entrance brings the men to attention as Celine makes her presence known, "Kane. Report to Master Barabas' chambers, you are being summoned", the Sith says. Eyes dark and yet not void of emotions like a particular someone he knows.
She leaves almost as soon as she passes her message, "It seems the master is not done with you my friend", Emmet sympathises with him, "It would appear so".