The smell of blood, piss, and rot wafted down from the arena above, the iron grates doing nothing to block the stench of the battlefield from permeating into the cellar-like armory. There were schools of gladiatorial combat here in Myrmien, but many of the fighters tended to adapt these as a base to their own individual fighting styles. It was reflected in the variety of weapons and armor hanging upon the many shelves present.

Wooden shelves were infected with rot, with many of the weapons and equipment showing signs of degradation in one form or another. Polishing and maintenance done by the child slaves could not replace a dedicated blacksmith, all of which was purposefully done, increasing the possibility of death for the fighters and excitement for the spectators. In the end a careful selection of weapons, not just in the types, but also in their quality and condition was vital, a reality that many of the experienced fighters were aware of. Whereas new arena slaves often found themselves in the arena with a shattered spear after one or two exchanges, they tended not to last long.

This would be the Champion’s last fight, the last part of the gauntlet. One fight each week for fifty weeks without rest, lately the pit master had started adding traps to the fight, anything to derail today’s event. Yet, against the odds, still he had made it through to the end, but in no way could this be expected to be a fair fight. The Champion would need to fight with the mentality to adapt to any situation, as much as was possible.

Polyxenius rushed forward, combing over the racks, piling up some weapons and pieces of armor while keeping others where they were. The child couldn’t lift many of the heavier pieces of equipment and relied entirely upon the older boy’s assistance. For his part, the Champion accepted Polyxenius’s deductions, as he had a good eye for equipment. Not once was he led astray, with some of the more polished pieces masking numerous faults. Ever since the boy had been purchased, his keen eye for goods and his assistance for fighters before combat had increased survival rates amongst their people, if only by a small margin.

“Polyxenius, I need a spear, dagger, and round wooden shield, preferably iron or bronze rimmed. As for armor, find me some leather wraps, some bronze greaves if possible, and a shoulder guard should help. If you think there is anything else I might need, then I leave it to you, but keep in mind I do not wish to overburden myself in this fight, I would like to maintain my agility.” Nodding his head in response, the young boy scoured over the equipment which remained on the racks, while ignoring the ones piled up on the floor.

After sifting and searching, the two finally decided on an acceptable loadout, one that would allow for maneuverability, while providing a decent amount of protection. First was the shoulder guard, a combination of boiled leather and bronze pieces which covered the right shoulder and upper portion of the chest. The left side would remain bare but would be under the protection of the iron rimmed round shield, its outer edges were slightly rusty and dented, however the wood was firm and showed no signs of rot.

Following the upper body were the arms and legs, Polyxenius helped place and secure the bronze greaves which covered the area below the knee to just above the ankle. For footwear he wore his usual sturdy open toe sandals, with leather and linen wraps to cover the wrists and forearms. The greaves had just enough room to hide the additional dagger, either for an unforeseen circumstance or as a throwing weapon, should it be necessary. A leather skirt tied up around the waist above the loincloth provided at least some slight protections for the genital area.

Last was his weapon, anyone would do as none wore heavy armor within the arena, allowing swords to be just as effective as an axe or spear. In this case a spear was chosen, at approximately six feet in length, the height of a large man, the weapon provided excellent reach for a melee weapon. The leaf shaped bronze tip allowed for greater penetration, while the bronze capped butt provided an alternative striking method. Perfect for quick penetrating thrusts and bone shattering strikes, a spear was a versatile, light, and flexible weapon which would conserve stamina and provide some adaptability depending on the situation.

“Champion, Champion! Wait, don’t forget this. It was made specifically for you.” Polyxenius came trundling over, dragging along a small wooden chest.

“Thanks.” Taking the chest from his hand, the Champion placed it on a nearby stool. A rusted iron keyhole acted as the only defense against intrusion, a keyhole which perfectly matched the iron key which hung from the fighter’s neck. A gift from the arena master, a way to mark his pet, and a symbol for the audience to rally for or against.

With a heavy click the lock was released and the sturdy dark wooden lid lifted, inside lay a helm, solid bronze without blemishes or dents, modeled in the Phrygian style. However, rather than the more common bearded face mask regularly seen on such helms, this was customized to feature the image of a roaring beast. The Demacian Leopard, a notorious feline hunter within the Demacian Peninsula, and a creature native to the homeland the Champion had never witnessed, of a lineage he had never experienced.

The helm was a perfect fit, now it was time for the battle to come, already if one focused, they would be able to hear the cheers of the crowd die down, a sign that the previous fight was rounding down. Turning back once, the Champion could see the young boy already hard at work, struggling to hold and polish the mountain of combat equipment. Each person had their parts to play, and it was now his time to play his, no matter which way the fight went it would be the last time he witnessed this place.

Beams of sunlight shone through the metal grate at the end of the stone ramp, the cheers and jeers of the crowd echoing above. Followed closely by the yells, shouts, and screams of the fighters within the ring, which did not last long. As the yells and screams died down, so too did the crowds.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, for our final match of the day we have an especially exciting event for your viewing pleasure. Today we have not one, not two, but THREE competitors, the best fighters throughout the region. All for a grand prize of TWO HUNDRED gold talens, a princely sum for the defeat of our champion. With an undefeated record of forty-nine straight victories, can this western barbarian defeat the best Lyria has to offer! I present to you Ladies and Gentlemen your Champion! THE BRONZE LEOPARD!”