Everworld Knights

Chapter Four: The Pit

A week had passed since Roland Everworld was brought to the Northmen camp. A week that seemed to move by with great ease, and strenuous defiance all at once. He knew somewhere in himself that though this life seemed to be luxurious, with a constant comradery between those who lived in the cells beside him, was not one that could last. In his own, Roland made new allies. They were men, like himself, with elves, dwarves, urcine, porcine and more all across the board living with them in the slave camp. Each race seemed to stick to themselves, none showing hostility, but none showing much alliance either.

Roland knew that sticking with man would be his best option. They were his kin and many knew him as the Everworld Knight, a title that shone through the ranks of all five nations of man. They clung to him like a cancer, a protector in their fears. It was only a few, those who Roland learned had won many their own fights, who did not bother nearing him unless he approached first.

And why would he approach first? He was not here to make friends, allies or brother’s in arms, he was here to fight, survive and someday return home to his family. He was a strong warrior with great determination, who found nothing but joy and solace in the constant thought that any and all who get in his way, will be slaughtered.

It was here, during this week, that Roland learned about where he was. The Northmen village, which still he knew not the name of, was not a slaving camp. They made their wealth and grew in power by hosting gladiatorial competitions. They feared no race, nor being and allowed any and all other camps that held slavers to bring their mightiest warriors to face those chosen by the Northmen. Roland found that there were seldom fights in the dome, and more often than not warriors fought in the pit. An open hole in the earth where those chosen would demonstrate their power against one another. The winner gained in favour, the loser was always killed.

Though on the seldom occasion that they used the dome, it was for a fight that would often show a group against the white wizard – the king's personal pet – who would obliterate his opponents without a second thought. They were spectacular, he was informed, and they would often show the strong verse the stronger. Crowds from across Everworld, Tandor, The Solarian Empire and more all came to watch these spectacles. Roland found it peculiar that this slaver camp of Northmen seemed to be the only nation in all of the five realms that had peace. There was no fighting or battling, only on the parts of the employed warriors. They didn’t even treat their warriors with ill intention. From what Roland could tell, there was enough here in his camp to keep him alive and comfortable until his death.

He could train, fight and gain friends. There were often women that came to visit the camps for their nights of pleasure with the warriors. It was a comfortable life here, one that Roland, had he not made a vow to his king, his wife, and his child could have considered living in once before. In a different life, he thought.

It was late one evening, Roland had a book between his fingers, lying on the straw bed in his cave, a candlelit above him while he read. The library, another hollow cave with books aplenty to pass the time when there wasn’t training going on, was stocked with fables, literary readings and more. Roland was busy on a book he once read to his son, when he was but a baby, about a great warrior that fought the monsters of the deep back into their caves.

It was in these literary sessions that Roland and Ryland shared, that he knew his son would someday attain greatness. That the child Ryland Everworld, would be a warrior that fables and tales aplenty were shared and spread about. Ozymandias and the King of Thieves would have nothing on his boy. The monsters from beneath would not dare ride into the mortal plane with Ryland Everworld at the helm. It was a small gesture, nothing special and nothing that he could be sure of, but he wanted to know that there was something more to this world. That with the right preparation and given the right chance, Ryland would not have to fight and struggle as he did.

He thought of his boy, then, wondering what was going on through his mind. How he must have worried and how Alyssa too, couldn’t have contemplated what was going on with Roland. Where he lay comfortably on his straw bed, a book in hand and cup of mead beside, it felt wrong. A week had passed and all Roland did was grow comfortable and lazy in a routine that seemed all too natural. Each morning he would train with the others from the realm of men. Once training was complete he would feast, watch the women who came to visit and then return to his cave for a moment of silence. A prayer to the gods for freedom, a ritualistic meditation that he once did with Mason and then he would go about the rest of the day with whatever came next. It was just another day in paradise, one that seemed too good to be true.

And today, Roland would find that he had to earn his comforts here in the Northmen camp. His world would come asunder, with a short fat man that came in over a ledge that overlooked the camp. The short fat man was dressed in nothing but a cloth covering his genitals and a red hat. He looked tired, as though he’d only just woken up from a mead filled sleep that left his belly churning the next morning.

His eyes moved across the camp. The late evening sun shining in his eyes and even the dimmed brightness, too much for him to handle.

“I’m looking for Roland Everworld. Is Roland Everworld among you?” He pointed his finger, which resembled a sausage more than a hands appendage, at a group of men.

Roland heard his name. Knowing that he was still a slave above a man living in comfort, he put the book down, got out of his bed and walked towards the entrance to his cave cell.

“Yes,” He spoke softly. So soft that the man on his perch would not hear him. The distance was long between them, but placing his eyes on Roland, the fat man was able to continue.

“You’ve been summoned to fight, Roland Everworld. Tomorrow morning, you are the first fight in the pit. Call yourself lucky.” The fat man turned around and shuffled off the platform. Roland turned his head to the men, who all showed an excitement that the Everworld Knight would be fighting the next day. Roland was un-phased by the news. Once the dome came into his vision those days before, he knew that this was not going to be a life that involved menial labor. That was for the weak. The strong would fight and die.

Roland crossed his arms and rested against the entry to his cave cell. He huffed a sigh, pointing at one of the men he found most trustworthy among the crowd, gesturing with two fingers to come and stand with him.

“Who was that man?” Roland asked. He spoke to William. The first of the many to introduce himself since his arrival at the Northmen camp. William was a burly man, shorter than most around, but with a wide, strong frame and grizzled, angry demeanor.

“His name is Baldor. He’s the one who comes to tell us who’s going to fight. Don’t really know much else about him, but we assume that he’s the caretaker of this place. Wouldn’t make sense if it’s anyone else. He’s the only one who really ever interacts with us, apart from the occasional guard that comes around to bring the provisions.” William replied, running a hand through his hair.

“Then I should probably ask what that means for me? I know I’m fighting, but what and where am I fighting?” Roland asked, stepping into his cave for a moment, emerging with the cup of mead between his fingers.

“You’re going to be fighting in the pit. I don’t really know who since it’s an ever-changing game. Since we’ve not moved out already, it means that whoever you’re fighting was brought here. I’ve only ever moved out once, it’s not common that the Northmen leave here, it’s more often than not that warriors come to face the Northmen.” William replied, taking the cup of mead offered by Roland and swilling the liquid between his teeth.

“Tell me more about what I need to know. What happens in the pit and why is it such a hotspot for others? What do I need to be wary of and what do I need to have prepared?” Roland asked.

“Well, there’s really nothing you can prepare. You’re going into a fight with someone that you’ve got no way of knowing until the draw tomorrow morning. Depending on that you’ve got a few seconds to prepare while you’re getting your gear on. You’re not going to have any real understanding of the fight until you’re in it. The problem is, it’s not only Everworld that has a stake here. Slavers from Tandor, Solaria and more all come around to pit fighters against the best. We, the Northmen warriors, are seen as the best. The White Wizard has never been beaten in battle either, so he’s got a bit of rule over the roost. So much so that he’s even got a free pass around the camp. He’s the King’s pet. The Queen has her own and princess recently lost hers.” William trailed off a moment, “It’s a bit of sick game, you see. The King, Queen, and Princess all choose their preferred warriors and have them battle it out. They’re the best of the best or just the most preferred at the time, and they see who’s going to survive. The King chose the White Wizard after his first victory in the pit and it’s been over four years now and nothings been able to bring him down. The Queen’s had three in that time, all lost to the wizard and the princess chooses a new warrior every other month. There are rumors about that too. But I digress.”

Roland c****d a brow at the mention of rumors but left the sentence there, knowing that prying was pointless. If there was no fact, there was no reason to play with the notion.

“So what weaponry do I get? What’s the setting and scene?” Roland asked.

“That’s cool.” William nodded.

“What?”

“I’m privy to a conversation with an Everworld Knight. Is this how it is before battle?” William asked. Roland kept the thought to himself, but he believed William was not the smartest. Gathering information was important, it had nothing to do with him being a Knight. But maybe, it was not a skill taught in normal life.

“Yes. This is what it’s like. Now, please answer the question.” Roland said.

“Okay, well you get your armor and swords from before you were captured. Basically, as it was because no matter what you’ve got there, you’re not going to be able to escape the Northmen. If they caught you, it obviously means that you can either take a few with them and die or just go back to the camp and continue living. So you get everything you once had. All you’ve got to do is survive and kill your opponent and once that’s done, you come back here to celebrate. Maybe catch the eye of the princess and become her new pet. That kind of stuff.” William finished, polishing the cup of Roland’s mead.

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”