Mistress Lyrei watches as Overseer Elicyne leads a group of merchandise and guards towards where they are sitting. She glances over at Sir Folliun who is drinking from an exquisite goblet and she notices the light filter through the blood-red wine. As she turns back towards the approaching Overseer she witnesses the guard spread in a semi-circle with the merchandise standing in front of them. It is then that she notices Alex standing next to a dwarf and their eyes lock.

Overseer Elicyne announces, “There will be some exhibition sparring for the entertainment of Sir Folliun and his guest Mistress Lyrei. The first fight is to be a barehanded contest.” and he calls for a human named David and then on a half-goblin named Eeld to fight.

The two announced step from the milling throng of merchandise and face each other across a twenty-meter gap. There is a loud cheer from both the guards and the merchandise when they emerge. It is apparent that David is a head taller and more muscular than Eeld, but Eeld is bouncing on his feet and smiling broadly.

Sir Folliun regards the two with a look of indifference, and then waves his hand towards Overseer Elicyne who raises his own hands and shouts, “This fight will be won by the one who remains conscious.” Then he steps back, “You may begin.”

David moves first and approaches cautiously, his chin on his chest and his hands held in front of him. Eeld stills then takes-off running flat out swinging a left punch and then a right, but David ducks under the blows, striking Eeld on the body. Eeld flinches and growls; he grabs an arm, pulling David round, trying to take him off his feet. But he is caught by a wild punch in the side of his head and they both fall to the ground entwined. The other merchandise cheer and howl with encouragement. The two wrestle until David manages to break the grapple and roll clear.

David stands quickly and sets his feet into a basic stance waiting. Eeld is cautiously circling when he launches himself forward with a flurry of wild blows; David backs away, dodging most of what is being thrown at him. He then twists and sends a tremendous right that catches Eeld as he is coming in, it hits him too high up to inflict any real damage, but it momentarily stuns him. David then dives at Eeld who tries to dodge and they clash heads with a resounding crack, but he is moving so rapidly that it didn't stop the impact. He continues barging into Eeld and knocking him to the ground, then stepping back kicks out hard. You could hear the solid impact and the breath whoosh out Eeld.

Eeld gasps and rapidly scrambles away as he is pursued, then suddenly he turns and screaming plunges back in swinging more wild punches and kicks from all angles. David dodges the dangerous ones, deflecting the wild blows, then spotting a gap he abruptly jabs Eeld in the face, bringing him up short. David launches a clumsy roundhouse kick, clipping Eeld in the side of the head. There is a deathly silence as Eeld flips through the air before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

The guards and merchandise thunder their approval of the match. Overseer Elicyne steps forward and again raises his hands, “Your winner is David.” He then turns to two of the other half-goblins ordering them over and they approach then pick-up Eeld.

Hordric leans over and whispers to Alex, “Many watch each other's progress with interest, eager to learn, to spot a weakness or strength. They never know when they will be matched against each other, which could be the fight that determines either being sold or sent to the front.”

Sir Folliun turns to look over at Mistress Lyrei. “While we enjoy the entertainment there are two pieces of advice I would offer, which of course you may ignore, but it’s honestly intended. The first is to be careful of Baroness Yegella, she is a false friend and you don’t understand her intent. – ”

Mistress Lyrei interjects, “You must permit me to treat with skepticism anything you have to say about her.”

Sir Folliun continues ignoring the interruption. “The second is that passing acquaintances can make even the poorest of situations mutually beneficial. This can then be the foundation for a long lasting and rewarding relationship.”

“And you believe that I could have such a relationship with someone whose reputation has been tarnished?”

“I acknowledge that I've spent my life surrounded by immoral people. I've allowed myself to be influenced by them and sometimes I have even taken pride in exceeding their deplorable behavior. Consequently, my enemies have spread malicious rumors and exaggerated my exploits to ensure that I will become a pariah. I'm afraid you may have an exaggerated impression both of my lack of morals and my unreliability. I like to consider that I can rise above such gossip and that I have also moved past such conduct. I am now preparing to take my rightful place in House Quinala and I would like you to benefit from my future rise in status.”

“You are certainly confident in your ability to make such a transition. I, in contrast, have my doubts.”

Sir Folliun looks over to Overseer Elicyne and inclines his head, who then calls Kracc forward and also the biggest human present called Jacob. The Overseer looks at each in turn, “This is a fight with practice swords and as a grudge match; you are to keep your distance from each other until given the signal to fight by Sir Folliun.”

They size each other up, Jacob feeling relaxed and smiles self-confidently; Kracc remains quiet but puffs up his chest in response. Sir Folliun gives the signal for them to advance to the front of the platform. Keeping a sideways eye on Jacob, Kracc walks with him, but three meters apart, to the position twenty meters in front of Sir Folliun.

Sir Folliun leans over and looks closely at the two men. His light blond hair crimped in the manner of the Elven duelists he admires. Running his eyes over the two combatants, he smiles delicately. “You, Goblin. You’re not going to disappoint me, are you? I’m looking forward to an eventful match with plenty of excitement. Is that understood?” Kracc nods and Sir Folliun then waves them away.

The other merchandise grows silent; they know they are about to see real fighting. Sir Folliun leans over to Mistress Lyrei. “I hope you will find this contest entertaining.” As his vacuous eyes lit with real interest for the first time. Two guards approach and call each of the contestants over and hand them a wooden sword. He then calls out “You may begin and may the best merchandise win.”

“Come here, lover of boys,” Kracc mocks. “Come on, it’s time for you to die.”

“I thought you’re the lover of boys. You seem so smitten with pretty boy.” Jacob retorts.

They square off and again continue to size each other up. Kracc locks eyes with Jacob and assumes the basic defensive posture rather than an attacking; letting his actions say that he is unsure and giving Jacob the impression he has the mental edge on him. They close and Jacob lunges, Kracc counters with a short thrust and lands a glancing blow on Jacob’s left shoulder, just enough to sting and anger him.

Jacob roars and falls on Kracc like a whirlwind, raining down one blow after another. The other merchandise and guards scream their approval. Kracc lets Jacob get close, and then, with one quick movement, he turns his body sideways and leans away. It looks as though he’s going to try and run. Jacob bellows with pleasure and goes at it even harder. He frantically beats at Kracc’s sword, trying to land a blow. Kracc blocks a blow and holds Jacob's sword still and leans back as Jacob pushes forward. He steps back; trailing his foot between the legs of Jacob, there’s one fast motion, as he jerks his foot up into the balls of Jacob.

The guards and other merchandise roar with laughter as Jacob looks startled and then pales in pain as he tries to throw up even as he falls. They all realize then that Kracc has been playing with his opponent. Jacob doubles up on the sand, groaning and holding his balls.

Kracc leans over, “You won’t be loving any more little boys you human scum.“ He then raises his blade and turns to look over to Sir Folliun who is laughing so hard at Kracc’s trick. Kracc smiles broadly and then there’s a whooshing sound then a thunk as the wooden sword hits Jacob’s throat, ripping through it. Brown arterial blood spurts on the ground as Kracc’s crew shout and cheer celebrating his victory as the other humans fall silent.

Sir Folliun raises himself from his seat and stands at the edge of the platform. He elevates his bejeweled hand, signaling for silence, and everyone obeys instantly, everyone present knows he is the person who holds all the power in this situation. Lowering his hand, he points his finger at Kracc who stands below him.

“You exceeded my expectations and have provided an excellent distraction on this tedious day. As a reward, you are to have your pick of the female merchandise for your entertainment tonight.” He then looks around at the other merchandise, “Who wants to entertain me next to gain my favor?” There is a resounding cheer at this announcement.

Sir Folliun returns to his seat and looks at Mistress Lyrei. “It's easy enough making them do what they want to do. It's getting them to do what you want them too willingly that takes real skill.”

“Or you can just bribe them.”

“You don’t approve?”

“You’ll always achieve a short-term result with bribes. If you want to build the best long-term results you have to be patient and positively reinforce what it is you want.”

“And that’s why I want you on my side. You can get the results I need, as I don’t have either the skills or patience to achieve. I can give you the opportunities to impress those who will appreciate your capabilities. All you need is for me to open those doors for you and you will be able to do the rest.”

“I have my doubts about how adept you are at opening the right doors. I’ve heard that you are only invited to gatherings for your evident charm and your ability, when you open your mouth, to always damage your family’s reputation whenever you open your mouth.”

“I do tend to disagree with my family in the way to achieve what I need to. In the end, I’ve distilled everything to one wonderfully simple principle, and that’s to do whatever’s required to win and destroy those that oppose me.”

“And you believe that will inspire me to work with you?”

“I think it could be most unhealthy, to reject my offer. There are too many others that want to stop you from succeeding regardless of the cost.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me? This confirms everything I've been told about you. I'm beginning to think you may have planned this whole state of affairs.”

“I think that an object lesson is required for you to comprehend your position in the order of things.”

Sir Folliun then turns to look at Overseer Elicyne and gives a slow deliberate nod.

“Drosz, time for some fun.” The Overseer calls out.

Mistress Lyrei glances away from Sir Folliun and looks nervously towards the giant goblin half breed that lumbers in front of the overseer. The man is a monster, a mutated freak spawned from new technology that has twisted his genes. Standing two and a half meters tall, his shoulders, arms, and legs bulging with knotted muscle. Matted hair falls to just above his deep-set eyes. Bare feet, callused and scarred, toe the ground. His hands clench as a voice rumbled from the depths of his chest.

"You want Drosz?"

"Yes, I want you to fight."

Drosz slowly smiles, "To kill?"

"Yes, to kill."

Overseer Elicyne then announces, “Pretty boy, it’s your lucky day. You get to entertain Sir Folliun.”

Hordric leans over, "Alex, I'm sorry, but you haven't got a chance. That freak can't be stopped. Sometimes he goes insane and then they have to shock him until he blacks out. When he does what they want they reward him by letting him slaughter any merchandise that is no longer useful. He thinks it's fun."

“Well then, I don’t have any choice but to win.”

"May whichever Divine you favor will it so." mutters Hordric.

Alex studies Drosz and checks the weak points against which he must aim his attacks: the groin, throat, eyes, and joints. The groin is too small to target and is protected by the swell of the thighs; the deep-set eyes are set with ridges of overhanging bone; the spade of the chin is lowered over the vulnerable throat. A successful attack on any of these areas would likely win the contest, but the chances are against it. As for the joints, the elbows are awkward to get at, only leaving the knees.

A guard comes forward and hands him a stave. It is a plain length of dark wood, two and a half meters long and six centimeters thick; both ends are bound with steel rings.

The guard steps back as Drosz moves to the center of the open space. "I smash, I kill," he bellows.

As the guard clears the area Drosz unexpectedly barrels forward, holding the staff in one great hand, wielding it like a boy would a stick, lashing with the full power of his arm and shoulder.

Alex ducks and feels the wind on his head and hears the whoosh of the staff's passing. He immediately springs to the side as Drosz, turning with amazing speed, again lashes out, swinging his staff like a club at the darting figure.

"Kill him, Drosz!" shouts Kracc.

Alex ignores the shout, but the encouragement emboldens Drosz who swings his staff vigorously causing Alex to warily dodge and dash from the attacks. He holds his own staff level before him, each hand a third of the way from either end, ready to parry or strike as needed. The weapon feels clumsy and awkward to handle due to its length, weight, and thickness; he begins moving the staff, getting a feel for it, needing to feel confident before he could adeptly use it. If Drosz had been skilled enough to use it properly, he knew that he would already be dead.

He crouches again, darting to the side, and then springing back as a vicious downswing barely misses him. It’s useless to attempt to tire Drosz, those great muscles would house inexhaustible energy, and they also protected the bone beneath.

Letting his trained reflexes govern his evading movements Alex considers his options. The only things really in his favor are the limited intelligence and lack of skill of the giant. Drosz had been given a staff and told to kill his opponent. He tries to do it with the staff alone instead of using the weapon to bolster his natural armory. He’s using it as a club and any man armed with a quarterstaff should be able to beat a man using a one-handed weapon. That is if he were confident in the use of the staff and the opponent had normal strength.

Again Drosz swings his staff through the air aiming for the head. Alex tries to dodge as he glimpses the length of wood sweeping in a slash towards him. Desperately he throws up his staff to block, meeting the other with a vicious crack, the force of the blocked blow knocking his own weapon hard against the side of his head. Dazed, Alex falls to the ground, rolling frantically as Drosz rushes forward staff whistling down at him, barely evading as the end gouges deep into the ground. He manages to spring to his feet.

"Kill!" rejoices Drosz. "I kill!"

Alex tenses as the giant rears back, the staff held high for another blow. His hands shift as he alters his grip on his own weapon. He wills as much strength into his arms and legs as he can muster. And he feels the prana in his core answer his summons, just as he hears the air shriek, as Drosz’s staff sweeps towards him.

Alex hunkers down as the staff passes, then straightens, and strikes at the side of Drosz's face, the end of his staff smashing against the prominent ridge of bone protecting the eye. Immediately Drosz turns, staff whistling in a backhand blow. Alex springs from it, throwing himself to the side and behind Drosz, gripping his staff in a sword grip a half meter from the end in both hands. As the giant, baffled, turns again to find his elusive opponent, Alex rushes forward. As he does, he forces even more prana into his arms, using the extra strength to control the cumbersome staff, and then he swings in a blur towards the exposed kneecap. There is a dull crack of yielding bone and Drosz staggers, his face distorting in pain.

"Hurt," Drosz screams staggering back. "Hurt!"

Alex strikes again, viciously, using the full strength of his back and shoulders. Again the staff cracks against the damaged kneecap. As Drosz stumbles he throws himself backwards, landing just beyond the reach of Alex's staff.

Drosz lunges after him and falls as his shattered knee refuses to carry his enormous weight. As he crashes to the ground Alex leaps forward, staff held high above his head, smashing it down at the base of the thick muscular neck. He quickly strikes a second time, and then a third blow impacts the neck, and the staff splinters in half. Chest heaving, with the broken staff, held sword-fashion with the jagged end pointing at Drosz, Alex rushes forward, intent on stabbing the splintered end into the corded throat. And then he crashes to the ground crying out as his collar glows bright red and agony blazes along his nerves, leaving him writhing on the floor.

A guard grabs Alex by the arm and pulls the splintered staff from his grip. "That's enough, Filth."

Alex draws air deep into his lungs as the red glow of his collar dims. The guard is joined by a second and they roughly drag him to his feet and begin pushing him towards the other merchandise. Alex looks over to Drosz and notices his head is tilted at a strange angle.

"Is he dead?"

"Stone cold. You snapped his neck."

Alex stumbles as he lifts a hand and touches wetness on his head; he looks at the blood on his hand. When Drosz's blow knocked his own staff into his head it must have torn his scalp. How close had death been then? He looks again at Drosz and quietly says, "I've just killed a man."

Mistress Lyrei watches as Alex is dragged away, then turns to Sir Folliun. “Even the best-laid plans can go awry.”