Candle light began to fade as pen met paper, details and instructions inscribed at breakneck pace. Night had since fallen, the windows in the room providing no more light than the moonless sky above would allow. Pen dipped into ink one last time, stroking the page as signature was put to paper. Finished for the night, Nalmet put the pen back in its resting spot as he moved to his own, falling into a bed of rough cotton and feathers.

Only a moment seemed to pass between night and morning, the light barely noticeable as the sun began its daily rise. Nalmet sat up at once, aching and tired as if no time had passed at all, collecting his papers and books as he left his quarters. The corridor, as always, was empty, lifeless. An occurrence that was expected, what with the involvement of a High Artif and various nobles, but still. Being alone set Nalmet on edge. He was a man of life, and he needed to be around it, whether human or otherwise.

These days it seemed his only source of communication was with the Khor. Entering the colosseum he saw everything as he had expected. The galleries were empty, the field below situated with a single occupant and the pile of bony remains it had been building.

“Food!” the beast called out. It had grown more communicative over time, but was still no more sociable.

“Question first!” he called back. The beast did not respond, waiting for his question. “Can you use sword?” The language of the Khor was difficult to learn. It was not a language that could be easily written, being entirely spoken, and he had needed to rewrite the notes of his forebears.

The beast shook its head, an action it had begun to mimic from watching Nalmet and the other workers. It was smart, as he’d expected, likely as smart as any human. “I only use ax.” An ax, eh? A war ax, perhaps?

“You want ax?” he asked. The beast nodded, followed by a grunt of acceptance. “Then don’t kill!” The beast tilted its head, but otherwise did not respond as Nalmet undid the latch on the colosseum door, using a long wooden hook to slowly open the door.

He left the colosseum then, entering the first door he met on his way down the corridor. The door opened to a flight of stairs, descending into the room below. The room was long, circling around about a quarter of the colosseum, at the center of which was his goal.

When man or beast were to be fought in the colosseum, they were first transported to this room, and then lowered into the compartment before him, no more than a square shaped hole with an open door below. Fighters, much as he was doing now, would lower themselves into the square holding area, though unlike his current state they wielded any number of weapons or armor for defence. Of course, they did not receive a ladder to return from, as Nalmet had, unless they won their match. Nalmet, by comparison, only needed to outrun a monster.

Stepping out onto the field, he could not help but take in a sharp breath. He had only seen it from above, where it looked large indeed, more so than he had thought reasonable. Now, as he entered the arena, it felt so much larger. At the same time, so did the Khor.

The beast remained at the center of the arena, but even from a distance Nalmet was intimidated, a fearful sweat beginning to glaze his brow as he approached. It was foolish, perhaps, but there was a reason. A reason he had since forgotten in the face of imminent danger.

The Khor was gigantic, a wall of flesh that stood taller than any creature Nalmet had encountered. Nalmet was not a short man, and in fact in his adult life had never met man nor animal taller than himself. In the face of a true giant, Nalmet could not help but feel small, and smaller still as his body sucked itself in.

“Why come here?” the Khor said. Its voice was deep, deeper than any man's, a darkness unto itself that seemed to overlay the air. Its presence was suffocating, the smell of blood and pheromones filling each breath as Nalmet tried to gather his thoughts. This was not a beast, but a champion.

“I come talk,” Nalmet choked out, the words barely above a whisper. The Khor let out a rumble, the sound so deep and booming it barely registered in Nalmet’s mind. A chuckle.

“What want, human?” Not understanding the last word, Nalmet flipped page by page of his hand-written dictionary as he searched. Human. A good word to know.

“Want train you,” he said. The rumbling began again as the Khor chuckled.

“Want train me? How?” Nalmet had asked himself that same question.

“I give ax. You kill with ax,” he said. “Work with human.”

“Want strong iron cloth. Want man language.” Looking through his book, Nalmet realized it was a demand for… something. More importantly, it wanted to learn.

“Why?” he asked. His heart was beating harder in his chest with each moment. The Khor scared him, though now for reasons he hadn’t even contemplated.

“Want conquer.” Such simplicity, an answer that any man could have guessed. An childish answer in the hands of man, a daring proposition from the mouth of a king. And a terrifying possibility from this being.

Nalmet nodded. “Can teach man language. Strong iron cloth later.”

“Deal,” the Khor said, mimicking Nalmet as it nodded in turn. It mimicked humans, assimilated their mannerisms. It learned. It was not a beast, and as sweat continued to seep from his pours, Nalmet felt excitement. “Have name?”

Nalmet smiled at the question, another twinge of excitement passing through. “Nalmet,” he replied, and the Khor nodded.

“I am Galal.”