11th of Zi'da, Arc 684
The bag of gold was heavy in his hand. While other men would want to hear the sound of the coins in their hands, Ronan was too focused on the task at head. It had been several arcs since he’d come up with the plan. He absent mindedly rubbed his free hand over the slave mark on the left side of his torso. He still hadn’t gotten used to not covering it up. When he’d been younger, the mark had to be hidden at all times, no matter whether he was locked in his dark, cold cell or out in the sand, fighting some other kid who was trying not to get punished. It had been arcs since his master had bought him and he’d simply kept hiding it all that time. As he had just been washed and his wounds taken care off, the seasonal arena fight had been difficult, he hadn’t had the time to put on something to cover the slave mark just yet.
Excited wasn’t really the word he would choose to describe himself right now, motivated, driven or focused did come to mind. Quan would be free, safe from harm just like he had sworn on his oath and bond. The other fighter had with the master longer than Ronan but the two had managed to find a way to bond and had grown close over the arcs. They had celebrated victory, discussed loss and mourned the death of their third brother together. But he would be safe from all that once he bought Quan from the master.
Ronan stopped in front of the door leading into the master’s chambers, quickly checked himself that he wasn’t bleeding all over the master’s rugs and furniture. His wounds had been bound and taken care of by the very talented doctors the master employed. Once he was sure he wasn’t leaking red liquid all over, he knocked on the door. Even at the lowest point of his strength, the door still shook under the impact. Years of training to go all out and win made it difficult to hold back outside of the fights. There was a moment of silence before the door opened.
”Ronan? What are you doing here?” One of the master’s many guards looked out the door, slightly up to look him in the eye. ”I would like to speak with the master about something urgent.” A quick glance up and down and the guard nodded. ”Wait here for a moment, I’ll go see if he can see you now.” The door was left open slightly as the guard moved inside. Ronan could hear voices coming from inside but he couldn’t make anything out. Soon, Quan would be safe and Ronan could go about his life with one less worry.
The guard returned a few bits later and opened the door fully. ”I’m sorry, he’s busy talking with Quan about his next fight. You’ll have to come back later.” His eyebrows raised in surprise at the words. Quan’s next fight? He wasn’t due to fight for another dozen trials or so. ”That’s what I’m here to talk about. Let me in.” The guard shook his head and started to close the door. ”Just come back later, Ronan, he’ll be finished then.” The door was pushed further closed and almost fell into the lock. Hesitating for but a trill, Ronan suddenly burst forth, putting his mass and strength against the door.
The guard on the other side got bowled over as the door suddenly pushed back inward, against him. There was a yelp of surprise as Ronan stepped into the room. He could hear the voices up ahead stop as he strode right in. There were four more guards here as well as Quan and the master. The master was seated behind his desk, looking at Ronan who’d just come barging into his office. He’d never actually seen Ronan disobey an order and the look on his face would have been priceless had Ronan even bothered to register it.
”I want to buy Quan!” His words were straight to the point, no use for manners or beating around the bush. Quite similar to his fighting style, actually. There were surprised faces all around him. Ronan made a point of not looking at Quan, who would never agree to something like this. The master was the first to regain his posture and stood up from his chair, in an attempt to reach roughly to Ronan’s chin. ”Is that why you’ve been saving up all your money all this time? And here I thought you’d found yourself a girlfriend or something.” Ronan shook his head, quickly. ”I want to buy Quan.” He repeated his words, with less shouting this time.
”Ronan, you don’t understand. Quan’s got a big fight coming up, everything has been arranged already. I would lose a lot of money if he suddenly stopped fighting. I couldn’t se-…” The master almost jumped back as Ronan smacked the bag of gold on the desk. There was the distinct sound of cracking between all the ringing of gold on gold inside the bag. ”This should be enough for all the costs. I just need to protect him.” Ronan said as he pulled the bag open. Several gold coins rolled and as he pushed the bag to the side, a stream of gold clattered over the desk and onto the ground. The master, with his mind on the money, quickly guessed he had more than 2000 gold lying on his desk right now. He could buy two new fighters, younger and faster than Quan, and still save some of it but…
Ronan didn’t know enough about greed, money or what people were like in the outside world to recognize the face of a greedy man coming up with a plan to not only get the money but keep his goods as well. The master smiled as he nodded and started to put the money back into the bag. He was calm about, smiling, quietly gathering his money. He left a few coins lying on the ground, perhaps for later or perhaps because he was above bending over for money and slowly tied to bag shut. Where Ronan had carried the bag with one hand, the master had to use both to move the bag from the desk to his safe.
He put the bag away and closed the safe before turning back. ”Congratulations on buying Quan, Ronan. You can go now.” For the first time since entering, Ronan looked at his blood brother, relief obvious on his face. Quan was looking back at him both surprised and happy. They turned to leave and Ronan was about to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder when the master spoke again. ”Just you, Ronan.” Both men turned to look at the master. Whatever smiling he had been doing before was gone and he simply stared at the both of them. His guards were shuffling and Ronan picked up noise from the hallway as well. ”Quan and I have a fight to discuss.”
”What do you mean? Quan is mine now, he’s free. He doesn’t have to fight anyone.” The master shook his head, sighing lightly as if he had to explain something simple for the hundred time to a child. ”Well, Quan belongs to you now, that’s true. But you’re still my slave and everything you own belongs to me. Quan will fight and you will fight and the both of you will make me a lot of money or die in the sand.”
Ronan couldn’t believe what he heard. The master had always been a kind enough person, considering they were his property. Life had become much better when the master had come into his life and Ronan knew he owed a lot to him. He’d never seen the master do anything like this. Of course, the smiling. Fighters who smiled at you were ready to stab you in the back. How could he forget. The master wasn’t a fighter in the pit but when it came to money, he most definitely was. This was the smiling backstab.
The berserker within had only ever come out in the sand in the arena, fighting others who were there to live or die. It was the first time in his life he could feel the rage rise up in him outside of a fight. He took a step forward and two of the guards were between him and the master in a trill. ”Quan and I are walking out of here this very moment. If you feel the need to punish me, I’ll be back once Quan has left and you can go ahead and throw whatever you’ve got at me but Quan is free. Stop us if you can.” Ronan glared across the desk at the two guards and locked eyes with the other two in the room as well.
Across the table, behind his guards, Ronan could see the master’s anger rise on his face. He spluttered and flustered and finally managed to shout at him across the table. ”You dare threaten me! In my own home? After all I’ve done for you? Lock them up!” He shouted at the guards. They hesitated, they’d been around for long enough to know exactly what Ronan and Quan could do. Their survival wasn’t assured in this fight. Before they could react, Ronan had grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand and, with bulging muscles, shoved it aside, sliding it across the floor. Suddenly, what little defense had been between the master and him was gone, leaving only the two guards.
But before he could act on his intentions, Quan took the desk’s place. ”Stop it, Ronan. You’ll gain nothing from killing him. I know what you did for me and that is enough, let’s just go.” Ronan looked from the master at Quan and back. The smile on his face erased what little will Ronan had and replaced it with unbridled berserker rage. He took a large step forward and threw his punch, aiming it between the two guards straight for the master’s face. It didn’t quite reach as something blocked him. Someone had locked his arm with Ronan’s, keeping him from punching the master into the wall behind him.
He tried to shake them off but another was on his back in a moment. He reached back and grabbed them by the back of their armor, pulling him off and to the side. A shield connected with his face from one of the guards in front of him and he staggered back. There were black spots dancing across his vision as he focused on whoever had just attacked him. The other blocking his fist was still locking down one of his arms. He could hear people shouting around him and at him but he didn’t register any of it. When a sharp blade pierced his lower back and buried itself into even the voice disappeared into the swirling red.
He spun around, the one on his arm suddenly letting go. With the back of his fist, he smashed the attacker behind him into the wall. The man’s skull was wedged between Ronan’s fist and the edge of the door opening. An instant later, the edge of the door opening cracked his skull and sunk in deeper. With a sigh, the man went limp against the wall, slowly sliding down it, leaving a red, messy line down it. He pulled the weapon out of his back and tossed it aside. He had no need for silly things like that. His fists would take care of anything standing in his way. Ever.
Another shield came up to him but he stepped to the side of it and grabbed it. He pulled it quickly, the guard holding onto it was thrown off balance and he smashed it into the man’s face. A second grab had his head in a vice and he connected two punches with the man’s face before dropping him to the ground. The sickening crunch of his head underneath Ronan’s foot didn’t register with the berserker. If anything it would have only spurred him on more. Someone tried to stab him from his left and Ronan stepped back, dodging the blow. His hand, large as it was, suddenly snaked out and grabbed the man by the wrist. He pulled him forward and only got angrier as the man’s dagger cut him across the arm. He connected his knee with the man’s stomach and before he could finish him off another jumped him, once more trying to lock down his arms. Ronan reared back and smashed his forehead into the second one’s face. The grip on his arms loosened and he grabbed the man, kicking him on the side of his knee to unbalance him.
As the second one stumbled left, Ronan gripped him by the neck and pulled down while grabbing between his legs and pushing up and lifted him off the ground, using his legs to push the man up high. The one who’d cut him across the arm with the dagger tried to get up but before he could, Ronan towered over him, holding the second man up like the skull crushing boulder he was. The first one tried to stop his impending doom by holding his hands out and Ronan impaled the second one the man’s sword and dagger, crushing the one underneath under his weight. With only the master and two guards left, Ronan could finally focus on what he’d come here to do. He charged both the guards and planted his shoulder in one of them, pinning the master between him and the safe behind him. He pulled back his arm and landed his elbow in the second guard’s face. He sunk to the ground without a sound.
The sound of wood breaking accompanied the guard he’d charged as he spun around and threw him into the wooden desk. That one of the cracking noises was the man’s neck didn’t register with the berserker. Only the master remained and Ronan didn’t even need to try. The man was used to luxury and having guards and fighters do the heavy work. With one hand he gripped the man’s throat and lifted him off his feet, his back against the wall, his feet kicking against the steel of the safe. With rhythmical punches to the master’s face, Ronan continued to work the man’s skull over long after he’d died and gone limp in his hands.
When he finally dropped the dead body of his former master to the ground, Ronan turned to overlook the carnage. Dead bodies everywhere, he couldn’t see Quan anywhere. But there was another person in the room. Kneeling near the man he had impaled on the other’s weapons, someone else was in the room. Ronan rushed forward, deep in his berserker state. He had to save Quan from everyone here. He threw a low punch, trying to uppercut the man but his blow was stopped mid swing by the man. He could see his lips move but the words never registered through the red.
Ronan leaned back and threw a straight this time. For a man who had spent his entire life among equally tall, muscular men and who’d only ever had to look down on others outside of the arena, the fact that he had to aim upwards in order to hit the man’s chin should’ve told him something. It didn’t. The new opponent grabbed him by the wrist, turned and pulled Ronan off balance. Ronan want tumbling through the blood and piss of dead man before coming to a stop. He pushed himself up and jumped forward. He brought his fist back to crash into this new opponents face but the man simply stretched his arm out and caught him mid-air, gripping him by the throat.
At first he tried to swing at the man but his reach was longer than Ronan’s and the more he swung the less breath he had left for himself. The berserker red started to make way for the black of unconsciousness. Slowly, certain words started to make it through to gladiator, barely enough for him to make any sense of. Along with his words, the man’s curly blonde hair also managed to register itself to the slowly choking fighter. ”….Blessed Vaelus… brother…bond…Cursed.” A burning pain shot through the left side of his face, shoulder and arm before he was thrown right across the room into a solid wall. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Ronan could see a hazy glimmer of silvery water near the impaled corpse as the last opponent knelt back down next to him. His mind shifted to the silvery tattoo Quan had gotten at some point during their time here. Was Quan safe?
The feeling of dry hotness woke him up and Ronan stirred from the blood he’d fainted in. Flickering flames were consuming everything around him and the heat was pressing on his skin. The blood on him had hardened and cracked from the heat and he pushed himself off the ground. From outside he could hear shouting and he quickly looked around. There were dead bodies everywhere. That one looked like the master. He couldn’t tell by the face, which had been caved in to obscurity but the clothes were unmistaken. His eyes fell on the key ring on the belt and he quickly stumbled over, uneven on his feet. He had to get everyone out before the fire got to them. Where was Quan?
Ronan stumbled, keys in hand, out of the office and into the open training yard. The fire had spread far across the buildings and was consuming the roof and licking along the stone pillars of the walkway. Ronan hurried over as best he could, still uneven on his feet. Where he could, he used the walls to keep him upright until he got to where the fighters were kept. While he’d long ago proven he had no interest in running away anymore, others were not so trusted and were kept under lock and key at night. Trying to focus his vision on the keys on the ring, Ronan picked one at random and tried to open the gate, nothing. The next one was also wrong. From inside he could hear the other fighters shout for help, trying to break open their cells as the roof above them burned.
The final key did fit and Ronan threw open the door. He went from cell to cell opening doors with the keys he had, trying to keep track of which ones worked and which ones didn’t. Ronan pushed the last of the men outside as the back of the roof collapsed down and the heat washed over his back and shoulder. Coughing and stumbling, their legs locked together by chains, Ronan led the other fighters out of the training area and into the street. Another few bits of fitting keys to locks and everyone was free. They all looked towards the fire or at Ronan, wondering what to do next. ”Go! You’re free to go. Go!” He burst out as they didn’t move, waving wildly with his arms as if they were attached puppies reluctant to go back home. ”Go!” At first, only one of them actually moved but the rest quickly followed. The sound of the Rynmere watch running down the street quickly overcame the roaring of the fire as it burned the last of the wood in the house.
The bag of gold was heavy in his hand. While other men would want to hear the sound of the coins in their hands, Ronan was too focused on the task at head. It had been several arcs since he’d come up with the plan. He absent mindedly rubbed his free hand over the slave mark on the left side of his torso. He still hadn’t gotten used to not covering it up. When he’d been younger, the mark had to be hidden at all times, no matter whether he was locked in his dark, cold cell or out in the sand, fighting some other kid who was trying not to get punished. It had been arcs since his master had bought him and he’d simply kept hiding it all that time. As he had just been washed and his wounds taken care off, the seasonal arena fight had been difficult, he hadn’t had the time to put on something to cover the slave mark just yet.
Excited wasn’t really the word he would choose to describe himself right now, motivated, driven or focused did come to mind. Quan would be free, safe from harm just like he had sworn on his oath and bond. The other fighter had with the master longer than Ronan but the two had managed to find a way to bond and had grown close over the arcs. They had celebrated victory, discussed loss and mourned the death of their third brother together. But he would be safe from all that once he bought Quan from the master.
Ronan stopped in front of the door leading into the master’s chambers, quickly checked himself that he wasn’t bleeding all over the master’s rugs and furniture. His wounds had been bound and taken care of by the very talented doctors the master employed. Once he was sure he wasn’t leaking red liquid all over, he knocked on the door. Even at the lowest point of his strength, the door still shook under the impact. Years of training to go all out and win made it difficult to hold back outside of the fights. There was a moment of silence before the door opened.
”Ronan? What are you doing here?” One of the master’s many guards looked out the door, slightly up to look him in the eye. ”I would like to speak with the master about something urgent.” A quick glance up and down and the guard nodded. ”Wait here for a moment, I’ll go see if he can see you now.” The door was left open slightly as the guard moved inside. Ronan could hear voices coming from inside but he couldn’t make anything out. Soon, Quan would be safe and Ronan could go about his life with one less worry.
The guard returned a few bits later and opened the door fully. ”I’m sorry, he’s busy talking with Quan about his next fight. You’ll have to come back later.” His eyebrows raised in surprise at the words. Quan’s next fight? He wasn’t due to fight for another dozen trials or so. ”That’s what I’m here to talk about. Let me in.” The guard shook his head and started to close the door. ”Just come back later, Ronan, he’ll be finished then.” The door was pushed further closed and almost fell into the lock. Hesitating for but a trill, Ronan suddenly burst forth, putting his mass and strength against the door.
The guard on the other side got bowled over as the door suddenly pushed back inward, against him. There was a yelp of surprise as Ronan stepped into the room. He could hear the voices up ahead stop as he strode right in. There were four more guards here as well as Quan and the master. The master was seated behind his desk, looking at Ronan who’d just come barging into his office. He’d never actually seen Ronan disobey an order and the look on his face would have been priceless had Ronan even bothered to register it.
”I want to buy Quan!” His words were straight to the point, no use for manners or beating around the bush. Quite similar to his fighting style, actually. There were surprised faces all around him. Ronan made a point of not looking at Quan, who would never agree to something like this. The master was the first to regain his posture and stood up from his chair, in an attempt to reach roughly to Ronan’s chin. ”Is that why you’ve been saving up all your money all this time? And here I thought you’d found yourself a girlfriend or something.” Ronan shook his head, quickly. ”I want to buy Quan.” He repeated his words, with less shouting this time.
”Ronan, you don’t understand. Quan’s got a big fight coming up, everything has been arranged already. I would lose a lot of money if he suddenly stopped fighting. I couldn’t se-…” The master almost jumped back as Ronan smacked the bag of gold on the desk. There was the distinct sound of cracking between all the ringing of gold on gold inside the bag. ”This should be enough for all the costs. I just need to protect him.” Ronan said as he pulled the bag open. Several gold coins rolled and as he pushed the bag to the side, a stream of gold clattered over the desk and onto the ground. The master, with his mind on the money, quickly guessed he had more than 2000 gold lying on his desk right now. He could buy two new fighters, younger and faster than Quan, and still save some of it but…
Ronan didn’t know enough about greed, money or what people were like in the outside world to recognize the face of a greedy man coming up with a plan to not only get the money but keep his goods as well. The master smiled as he nodded and started to put the money back into the bag. He was calm about, smiling, quietly gathering his money. He left a few coins lying on the ground, perhaps for later or perhaps because he was above bending over for money and slowly tied to bag shut. Where Ronan had carried the bag with one hand, the master had to use both to move the bag from the desk to his safe.
He put the bag away and closed the safe before turning back. ”Congratulations on buying Quan, Ronan. You can go now.” For the first time since entering, Ronan looked at his blood brother, relief obvious on his face. Quan was looking back at him both surprised and happy. They turned to leave and Ronan was about to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder when the master spoke again. ”Just you, Ronan.” Both men turned to look at the master. Whatever smiling he had been doing before was gone and he simply stared at the both of them. His guards were shuffling and Ronan picked up noise from the hallway as well. ”Quan and I have a fight to discuss.”
”What do you mean? Quan is mine now, he’s free. He doesn’t have to fight anyone.” The master shook his head, sighing lightly as if he had to explain something simple for the hundred time to a child. ”Well, Quan belongs to you now, that’s true. But you’re still my slave and everything you own belongs to me. Quan will fight and you will fight and the both of you will make me a lot of money or die in the sand.”
Ronan couldn’t believe what he heard. The master had always been a kind enough person, considering they were his property. Life had become much better when the master had come into his life and Ronan knew he owed a lot to him. He’d never seen the master do anything like this. Of course, the smiling. Fighters who smiled at you were ready to stab you in the back. How could he forget. The master wasn’t a fighter in the pit but when it came to money, he most definitely was. This was the smiling backstab.
The berserker within had only ever come out in the sand in the arena, fighting others who were there to live or die. It was the first time in his life he could feel the rage rise up in him outside of a fight. He took a step forward and two of the guards were between him and the master in a trill. ”Quan and I are walking out of here this very moment. If you feel the need to punish me, I’ll be back once Quan has left and you can go ahead and throw whatever you’ve got at me but Quan is free. Stop us if you can.” Ronan glared across the desk at the two guards and locked eyes with the other two in the room as well.
Across the table, behind his guards, Ronan could see the master’s anger rise on his face. He spluttered and flustered and finally managed to shout at him across the table. ”You dare threaten me! In my own home? After all I’ve done for you? Lock them up!” He shouted at the guards. They hesitated, they’d been around for long enough to know exactly what Ronan and Quan could do. Their survival wasn’t assured in this fight. Before they could react, Ronan had grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand and, with bulging muscles, shoved it aside, sliding it across the floor. Suddenly, what little defense had been between the master and him was gone, leaving only the two guards.
But before he could act on his intentions, Quan took the desk’s place. ”Stop it, Ronan. You’ll gain nothing from killing him. I know what you did for me and that is enough, let’s just go.” Ronan looked from the master at Quan and back. The smile on his face erased what little will Ronan had and replaced it with unbridled berserker rage. He took a large step forward and threw his punch, aiming it between the two guards straight for the master’s face. It didn’t quite reach as something blocked him. Someone had locked his arm with Ronan’s, keeping him from punching the master into the wall behind him.
He tried to shake them off but another was on his back in a moment. He reached back and grabbed them by the back of their armor, pulling him off and to the side. A shield connected with his face from one of the guards in front of him and he staggered back. There were black spots dancing across his vision as he focused on whoever had just attacked him. The other blocking his fist was still locking down one of his arms. He could hear people shouting around him and at him but he didn’t register any of it. When a sharp blade pierced his lower back and buried itself into even the voice disappeared into the swirling red.
He spun around, the one on his arm suddenly letting go. With the back of his fist, he smashed the attacker behind him into the wall. The man’s skull was wedged between Ronan’s fist and the edge of the door opening. An instant later, the edge of the door opening cracked his skull and sunk in deeper. With a sigh, the man went limp against the wall, slowly sliding down it, leaving a red, messy line down it. He pulled the weapon out of his back and tossed it aside. He had no need for silly things like that. His fists would take care of anything standing in his way. Ever.
Another shield came up to him but he stepped to the side of it and grabbed it. He pulled it quickly, the guard holding onto it was thrown off balance and he smashed it into the man’s face. A second grab had his head in a vice and he connected two punches with the man’s face before dropping him to the ground. The sickening crunch of his head underneath Ronan’s foot didn’t register with the berserker. If anything it would have only spurred him on more. Someone tried to stab him from his left and Ronan stepped back, dodging the blow. His hand, large as it was, suddenly snaked out and grabbed the man by the wrist. He pulled him forward and only got angrier as the man’s dagger cut him across the arm. He connected his knee with the man’s stomach and before he could finish him off another jumped him, once more trying to lock down his arms. Ronan reared back and smashed his forehead into the second one’s face. The grip on his arms loosened and he grabbed the man, kicking him on the side of his knee to unbalance him.
As the second one stumbled left, Ronan gripped him by the neck and pulled down while grabbing between his legs and pushing up and lifted him off the ground, using his legs to push the man up high. The one who’d cut him across the arm with the dagger tried to get up but before he could, Ronan towered over him, holding the second man up like the skull crushing boulder he was. The first one tried to stop his impending doom by holding his hands out and Ronan impaled the second one the man’s sword and dagger, crushing the one underneath under his weight. With only the master and two guards left, Ronan could finally focus on what he’d come here to do. He charged both the guards and planted his shoulder in one of them, pinning the master between him and the safe behind him. He pulled back his arm and landed his elbow in the second guard’s face. He sunk to the ground without a sound.
The sound of wood breaking accompanied the guard he’d charged as he spun around and threw him into the wooden desk. That one of the cracking noises was the man’s neck didn’t register with the berserker. Only the master remained and Ronan didn’t even need to try. The man was used to luxury and having guards and fighters do the heavy work. With one hand he gripped the man’s throat and lifted him off his feet, his back against the wall, his feet kicking against the steel of the safe. With rhythmical punches to the master’s face, Ronan continued to work the man’s skull over long after he’d died and gone limp in his hands.
When he finally dropped the dead body of his former master to the ground, Ronan turned to overlook the carnage. Dead bodies everywhere, he couldn’t see Quan anywhere. But there was another person in the room. Kneeling near the man he had impaled on the other’s weapons, someone else was in the room. Ronan rushed forward, deep in his berserker state. He had to save Quan from everyone here. He threw a low punch, trying to uppercut the man but his blow was stopped mid swing by the man. He could see his lips move but the words never registered through the red.
Ronan leaned back and threw a straight this time. For a man who had spent his entire life among equally tall, muscular men and who’d only ever had to look down on others outside of the arena, the fact that he had to aim upwards in order to hit the man’s chin should’ve told him something. It didn’t. The new opponent grabbed him by the wrist, turned and pulled Ronan off balance. Ronan want tumbling through the blood and piss of dead man before coming to a stop. He pushed himself up and jumped forward. He brought his fist back to crash into this new opponents face but the man simply stretched his arm out and caught him mid-air, gripping him by the throat.
At first he tried to swing at the man but his reach was longer than Ronan’s and the more he swung the less breath he had left for himself. The berserker red started to make way for the black of unconsciousness. Slowly, certain words started to make it through to gladiator, barely enough for him to make any sense of. Along with his words, the man’s curly blonde hair also managed to register itself to the slowly choking fighter. ”….Blessed Vaelus… brother…bond…Cursed.” A burning pain shot through the left side of his face, shoulder and arm before he was thrown right across the room into a solid wall. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Ronan could see a hazy glimmer of silvery water near the impaled corpse as the last opponent knelt back down next to him. His mind shifted to the silvery tattoo Quan had gotten at some point during their time here. Was Quan safe?
The feeling of dry hotness woke him up and Ronan stirred from the blood he’d fainted in. Flickering flames were consuming everything around him and the heat was pressing on his skin. The blood on him had hardened and cracked from the heat and he pushed himself off the ground. From outside he could hear shouting and he quickly looked around. There were dead bodies everywhere. That one looked like the master. He couldn’t tell by the face, which had been caved in to obscurity but the clothes were unmistaken. His eyes fell on the key ring on the belt and he quickly stumbled over, uneven on his feet. He had to get everyone out before the fire got to them. Where was Quan?
Ronan stumbled, keys in hand, out of the office and into the open training yard. The fire had spread far across the buildings and was consuming the roof and licking along the stone pillars of the walkway. Ronan hurried over as best he could, still uneven on his feet. Where he could, he used the walls to keep him upright until he got to where the fighters were kept. While he’d long ago proven he had no interest in running away anymore, others were not so trusted and were kept under lock and key at night. Trying to focus his vision on the keys on the ring, Ronan picked one at random and tried to open the gate, nothing. The next one was also wrong. From inside he could hear the other fighters shout for help, trying to break open their cells as the roof above them burned.
The final key did fit and Ronan threw open the door. He went from cell to cell opening doors with the keys he had, trying to keep track of which ones worked and which ones didn’t. Ronan pushed the last of the men outside as the back of the roof collapsed down and the heat washed over his back and shoulder. Coughing and stumbling, their legs locked together by chains, Ronan led the other fighters out of the training area and into the street. Another few bits of fitting keys to locks and everyone was free. They all looked towards the fire or at Ronan, wondering what to do next. ”Go! You’re free to go. Go!” He burst out as they didn’t move, waving wildly with his arms as if they were attached puppies reluctant to go back home. ”Go!” At first, only one of them actually moved but the rest quickly followed. The sound of the Rynmere watch running down the street quickly overcame the roaring of the fire as it burned the last of the wood in the house.
