“First rule of the arena: reveal as little about your Class and Talents as possible. Rule two: what little you do reveal, sell to the highest bidder. A lot of the basics will inevitably be sussed out by your rivals, so you may as well make money off it.”

Cienna the Axemaster, Nokian gladiator; excerpt from Battle As Sport: Tips & Tricks To Help You Survive The Colosseum

Bim’s team was composed of Zara (of course), Dannek, a 50-year-old Level 8 from the town who had some minor amount of experience with bandages and natural medicine, Forrana, a 30-something

-maker> who had worked under Amani the , and Coll, the one-eyed old prisoner full of tall tales, who also had a passing knowledge on about every subject. Bim still couldn’t get him to reveal what his Class was, to the boy’s frustration and the man’s amusement.

Bim had named the disease Hill Fever for simplicity’s sake, and was hard at work finding ways to treat it. Looking through the dead stock of elixirs and salves and such, her cures were either (a) a bunch of nonsense, like a kind of generic herb mixture of mint, thyme, oregano, etc., that did little except act as a Placebo, and (b) rare, genuine magical cures infused with some kind of naturalist arcanum which bamboozled him. He assigned Forrana to work on creating more of the actually functional kind of elixir, hoping to use general purpose concoctions to create a hybridized treatment for the Fever.

Later, in the evening, the team, the rest of the escaped prisoners, and the uninfected townsfolk all gathered in the central hall to eat supper together and discuss, in a somewhat subdued manner, progress towards a cure and the events of the day. That night, Bim talked with Zara about the events of the last week and a half.

“It’s mad to think that we met less than two weeks ago.” Zara was enjoying a large mug of ale, sitting by the hearth of the feast hall in a high-backed wooden chair by the fire, as townsfolk and escapees chattered quietly at the long table nearby. Bim sat on a stool across from her, rubbing his hands together and drinking in the soft warmth of the room and of amiable conversation.

“I just feel lucky having met so many good folks.” Bim looked meaningfully at Zara.

“Oh, c’mon, kid. If I’m a good person, then folk like that Jules bastard are too.” She laughed, a tad coldly.

Bim seemed intently thoughtful. “Your first instinct was to grab me and run, when the wolves attacked. You could have just gone on your own.”

“You had the key.” She responded dismissively. “Plus, a is useful. Don’t read too much into it.”

“I think you care.” Bim said, smiling cheekily. “I think you care a great deal more than you want to admit.”

“How’d you get to be a Desolate at your age?” Zara suddenly asked, shifting in her chair.

“I killed my teacher.” All humor was gone from his voice, and his eyes were dark again.

“Why?” The was transfixed by her curiosity.

“He became… paranoid. Unwell in the mind. He started seeing enemies everywhere. He was on some fool’s quest to extend his own life— he was very old before the end, closer to ninety than not. He was always muttering, and one night… One night he came at me with a scalpel. I fought back… I had to. I had to do it.” Tears were in his eyes, and his voice was breaking.

“I’m a and a… and a . A and too, now. I’ve only killed once, and it was… it was in self-defense. But I can’t get rid of the Class, and…”

He looked up at her, eyes full of grief, cheeks wet with tears. “I used to have five levels in the Class. I lost all of that on that night, when I broke the oath of ‘do no harm.’ I almost lost my Class, my very self, entirely. I’ve scrabbled back from that edge, but I… I don’t know who I am any more.”

Even in the middle of the blood-filled night, wolves all around and people dying left and right, Zara had never seen Bim show so much emotion. It was like a dam broke; tears and sobbing flowed out like a river.

The Mayors set up bedding next to the fire, and soon Bim, filled with a kind of exhausted sorrow, collapsed into unconsciousness by the fire.

🟌

The next morning’s dawn brought with it a rumbling thunderstorm on the horizon and strong winds buffeting those few out and about during the day. Bim walked into the residence hall that had been set aside for the cure project bleary-eyed and feeling empty two hours after sunrise.

He was greeted by the sight of Zara, Forrana, Coll working hard, combining various ingredients and elixirs, with Dannek off at another table trying to devise more efficient bandages.

Bim just stood there for a moment, gobsmacked, before Zara noticed him waved, causing the others to realize he was there and pause to say hi before returning to work uninterrupted. Zara strode over. “We need you to check up on the patients; we’re trying to do it in six-hour cycles, but there’s so many, and only you, Marvin, and Shannon have .”

Bim gave a small smile before turning to leave, but as he did so Zara grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned back around, curious.

“I don’t think you’re a , Bim, for what it’s worth. And damn the Archons for saying otherwise.” She spoke in a low voice so the others wouldn’t hear. She didn’t know if it was her Talent, his trust in her, or some combination of the two, but Bim’s turbulent emotions seemed to settle some.

Bim smiled, and a tear came to his eye. “Thank you, Zara. I… It helps. It helps more than you know.”

Zara got back to work, and Bim headed out into the sharp, windy day, hand above his eyes, and headed for the nearest house with a patient in it. Today was going to be a long, trying day, but at least he had his team.