Boots shake the wooden stands as thousands of voices scream and boots stomp. The circular arena is indeed a pit dug into the earth, and the first hundred or so stands are red earth, just like the pit itself. But the arena grew and with it, so did the greed of the nobles and royals. A plan was established hundreds of years ago to expand the original pit and add more seats.

The next thousands of seats were built of stone at the base and wooden benches as seats. Close to fifty thousand can fit in this arena as large as a small mountain. I pay the fee for entrance, nodding with an enthusiastic smile to the change collector, who doesn't even glance at me, only jotting down a note and holding out a hand for the person behind me to pay their toll.

“Ho there! This sure is something,” I say in a drawl, catching the shoulder of a young noble from a minor house, if his neat, but affordable, black tunic and medium-sized top hat are anything to go by.

He grins at me, his round face creasing in mirth. “First time in the city?” he asks politely.

“Sure is! Say, how do bets work round this place?”

“Place them with the red caps… see, there goes one now! The blue caps aren’t near as fair, but they do show higher returns. Just watch your coin. They’ll flip you for a turnover in a heartbeat.” Judging by his slightly reddening cheeks and embarrassed smile, the blue took him for a turnover and flipped him on his head.

I chuckle lightly, discretely maneuvering my large girth to keep from running over a child. Would hate for the child to bounce off and wonder why my stomach is soft and plushy like dawn feathers. “Right on then, mate! I’ll take a gamble with the red, if it’s of no mind to you. Many thanks for the help.” I doff my cap at the younger man and make a show of chasing after the tall man with the pointy red hat.

“Wait!” he calls. I turn back around. “It’s said you shouldn’t place bets on the men this day. A war is coming.”

I widen my eyes and come closer to lower my voice. “Dear me. How do you know such a thing?”

He glances at the ground, cheeks reddening again, then looks up with a grin. “My father owns a few warriors.”

I whistle. “My oh my, thank you kindly! Oh yessir! I will do just as you said.” I bow, wave a farewell, then duck into the crowds.

When I know the young man is not looking, I turn into a darkened alcove leading to the privies. I take off the yellow cap on my head, turn my doublet inside out, and then duck back onto the flow.

He seats himself next to a woman dressed in finery. She holds a frilly fan, snapping it open and fluttering it when she sees another nobleman with dark hair and a warrior's build. She frowns at the young nobleman beside her, even as he smiles and offers her a yellow carnation. She takes it and spins back to watch the current fight with nought a word of thanks.

The man’s shoulders slump for a moment, before he picks himself back up and turns to the games with a grimace.

A few minutes later, I make my way between throngs of people, looking around and scratching my head. The young man visibly brightens when he sees me, and I grin and wave.

“Why, fancy seeing you here, young chap! Took me ages to track down that blasted red cap and then he had the audacity to say he was out of change.” I shake my head in mock consternation, then glance over to the lady. “And who might this lovely young lady be?”

The man smiles shyly, but introduces himself and the lady.

“Why, I’ve never met a prettier soul! What a painting you would make, my lady, if I do say so myself.”

Despite her haughty indignation, she gives me an appraising glance. “Do you paint then, sir?” she asks.

A hearty laugh Flash would bemoan as fake crosses my lips. “Oh, no, my lady. I just have a taste for the marvelous and famous works of Hubert Krishalm. Perhaps you’ve heard of the painter?” I ask politely. Indeed, I know for a fact this lady has twenty paintings of his around her home, and more so, that she has no idea the painter was actually a Shifter. The man was an enigma, but his keen Shifter eyesight he took to the next level, broadening his scope of paintings and making each individual color pop and collide in beautiful ways.

She turns to give me her full attention. No smile comes to her face, but interest makes her eyes appear brighter.

“Dear me, good sir! But of course I’ve heard of the illustrious Mr. Krishalm.”

“It seems you must sit with us, sir. We have much in common and already you are bringing joy with your words,” the young man says, relief in his words and slightly slumped posture.

“Why, I couldn’t impose! It would be most improper,” I protest.

“Sir, you must! Tell me, have you seen the Mount of Jupit through the eyes of Hubert?”

I sit on the proffered chair, for nobles have chairs with cushions while the commoners stand or have hard benches further up. “A greater glimpse of such a soulful place could not be found, my lady. How he captures the light is inexplicable. Even I, in all my years, have not seen a more stunning nor realistic rendition.” I humbly bow my head, watching both from the corner of my eye. I lean closer. “I hear Mistress Tanka from the far West has brought a piece to be sold at auction. An original, or so has been the rumor.”

The lady gasps, fanning herself faster. Down in the pits, I try to ignore a man screaming as a mangy lion rips into his stomach. The crowd surges around us, the calls beating painfully against my sensitive ears, and I feel for a slight instant my sight grow dark around the edges and I reach for a weapon.

Steady, Roland. It’s only the crowd. You’re scaring the targets, Cynic says, stalling me before I do something I'd regret.

I take a breath, grounding myself in the feel of the wood beneath me and the scents of perspiration, tangy meat and cheese, and sweet ale all around.

I look back at the two young people, and they watch me, wary. I hope I didn’t just blow this entire act out of the water.

“Forgive me.” I lean closer to the man to whisper, “I ate some disagreeable eggs and meat in the square. It has caused quite a stir in my stomach, if you get my meaning.”

The lady covers her lower face with her fan, even as her eyes crease with mirth.

The man coughs. “Yes, indeed, my good man. No need to apologize on our behalf. We have all been there at one point or another.”

“Thank you kindly. Now, I best leave you two before I outstay my welcome. My sincere gratitude for the welcome you two have shown.”

“Wait, my good sir. You must come to my father's estate this night. We are putting on a ball, and I must show you the originals I have in the dance hall.”

My eyes widen. “My dear, please don’t be coy with an old man. Tell me true. Do you honestly have originals?”

“Of course, I should not lie to you. I have ten originals, and ten replicas.”

I clutch my heart in shock. “If I should but see them once, I could die a happy man!”

“Then come! Tonight at six. Don’t be late.”

I bow to her, kissing her proffered hand. “Thank you kindly, my lady.”

I rise and doff my cap to them both. “So long and may the emperor bless you!”

I tread down the aisles with a bounce in my step.

I forgot how taxing that is, Cynic hisses, a bit of weariness in his voice.

What, pretend to be something we aren’t? Is that not what we do constantly, no matter who we're around?

The games, the veiled jabs hidden in niceties. I know you hate it, too, idiot. Besides, we’ve found those who accept us as we are. There’s no need to pretend around Heather nor Flash nor Barry, nor many others who’ve come to be our friends.

They are true friends, indeed, I reply, humbled by those who have become my pack mates before I even realized what true pack is.

With that, I step into the bustling exit. It’s not until I’m back at the inn I’ve chosen that I unwind. The bed is soft and cushy, so I choose the floor, leaning my head against the cold boards.

A few hours' rest, then the work begins.