Paragon of Destruction

"Who are you to ask?" the woman replied.

"I’m a member of the Shadowflame So—" the novice began.

"You’re a novice," the woman interrupted her. "A novice who mistakenly believes he has enough status to impress others. "

The young novice looked at her angrily, but still, she held her tongue, wary of the woman’s identity and status.

"Well?" the woman said, with a cold look at the group of novices.

"Well what?" the novice said, some uncertainty in her voice.

"Why are your insipid little faces still staring at me?" The woman’s voice hardened as she spoke, and some anger could be heard in her voice. "Why haven’t you left yet?!"

"I... We..." The novice stumbled over her words, clearly unsure of how to respond to the woman who had so suddenly appeared. Finally, she said, "He crippled one of us!"

"One of you was an idiot who took on an opponent stronger than he could handle," the woman said. "The question now is whether the rest of you are idiots, too."

To this, the novice had no answer. Wordlessly, she stared at the middle-aged woman, her face showing a struggle between fear and anger. Fear seemed to win out, and she silently took a step backward.

"Leave. Now. Or that crippled fool will be the least of your worries." By now, the woman seemed to have lost her patience, and from her expression, it seemed that the Shadowblood novices were close to finding out who she was, in a most unpleasant way.

No longer hesitating, two of the novices helped up Arran’s defeated opponent, supporting him as he leaned on their shoulders, one of his legs hanging limply next to the other. Although his earlier screams had ceased, he was still groaning in pain, and there was a senseless look in his eyes, as if the pain left him unable to focus.

The others also finally took action, picking up the sword and seemingly getting ready to depart — clearly, they were unwilling to risk the woman’s ire, even if they didn’t know who she was.

"Wait!" Arran said loudly.

The novices stopped in their tracks, and the middle-aged woman gave Arran a puzzled look.

"What is it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"His sword," Arran said. "He said it was mine if I defeated him."

Immediately, anger flared on the novices’ faces. "You shameless bastard!" one of them said in a furious tone. "You crippled him, and now you demand a prize?!"

"We all heard your friend bet the sword," the gray-robed woman said. "And we all saw him get defeated. Are you saying he lacks even the dignity to honor his bets?"

The novices didn’t respond, and she added, "Besides, he doesn’t have much use for it, anyway. If he ever recovers, it will be years from now. Until then, I don’t imagine him being much good in a fight."

Some of the novices’ faces showed some defiance at this last humiliation, but the one who held the sword simply stepped toward Arran and handed it over. Leaning over, he spoke in a low voice only Arran could hear, "You won’t have it for long."

Arran did not respond, simply accepting the sword with a gracious nod. He gave it a few swings, and was pleased to find that it was both heavy and well-balanced — while it might not match up to the starmetal sword, he suspected it was a fair bit better than the sword he had used since arriving here.

When he looked up again, he saw the Shadowblood staring at him with murderous gazes. Had the gray-robed woman not been there, Arran was certain they would have attacked immediately.

Ignoring them, he faced the woman, giving her a respectful bow. "Thank you for the assistance," he said. "I’m in your debt."

In the corner of his eye, he saw that the group of novices was finally leaving, but he did his best to show any concern or worry. For now, he thought his best chance would be to avoid appearing vulnerable — the more dangerous the novices thought, the less likely they would be to attack right away. With a bit of luck, he might be out of the city before they took action.

The woman gave Arran a slight smile, then said, "There’s no debt. I’m just helping keep the peace in the city."

Arran gave her a nod, then turned to Darkfire. "Perhaps it’s time for us to leave?" Even if the situation had been resolved for the moment, Arran was anxious to be away from the arena.

"Not so fast," the woman said before Darkfire could respond. "First, I need the two of you to come with me."

Arran hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, even if he felt somewhat wary of the mysterious woman. She had just saved him from an extremely dangerous situation, and he would not repay kindness with rudeness.

"Of course," Darkfire said with a slight bow. "Lead the way."

With that, they left, following the gray-robed woman out of the arena. They walked in silence for several blocks, until suddenly, she stopped.

To Arran’s surprise, she let out a deep sigh, and her calm confidence seemed to disappear in an instant. "That was terrifying," she said, a slight tremble in her voice.

"Lady Ellara," Darkfire said, a huge grin on his face, "that truly was a performance worthy of applause."

"You owe me for this, Darkfire," she replied, giving him a dark look.

"I always honor my debts," Darkfire responded. "But for now, perhaps we should celebrate with some drinks?"

Lady Ellara shook her head. "We’ll need to see my brother," she said. "Immediately. What just happened here... he needs to know about it."

Turning to Arran, she added, "What you just did may well be one of the stupidest things anyone has ever done in the history of this city."