It was a good thing that they didn’t have to fight again that day because Len was feeling typically awful. The worst part of the gnawing pain was the knowledge that it wouldn’t be going away any time soon. The few times she’d bothered to shell out for any magical healing, it had done precisely jack all besides drain her limited funds and give her even more of a headache for the effort she’d put into it. Nope, time was the only thing that seemed to bring her any respite and she knew that it’d be at least two days before she was rid of the pain. Better yet, she knew she’d be needing to use it again soon which meant that at the very least it’d be lasting two days after whenever the last time she had to fight in the tournament was.

Even worse was the knowledge that they’d have to fight twice tomorrow. She’d never used the ability twice in the same day and had no idea what the consequences of doing so might be. There was the chance that it’d make things worse and she was terrified of it, but she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Right this moment it was the edge that was keeping her alive in the tournament. It was what was keeping her minions alive and without it they might as well surrender.

In point of fact, she’d considered the surrender option. Just calling it quits after a single good showing, then getting out of the way. It wasn’t the most heroic stance to be taking but did they really need to do more than score that one upset? The answer, sadly, was yes. She didn’t have a solid answer on what it would take to guarantee that the three would be able to avoid their death penalties, and she couldn’t risk their lives on that sort of gamble.

Since they’d gotten through their fight with minimal injuries, they had forgone the customary trip to post-battle triage and made their way back to the stands. The crowd seated near them had a newfound respect and a camaraderie that, frankly, Len could’ve done without. Still, she recognized the value in at least pretending to enjoy their company. This was a display of martial prowess, sure, but it was more than that. This was a demonstration of the leadership qualities one had on offer, how they could best serve the Demon Lord with their skills and cunning. It was all about rank and every part of it was a test, even the parts no one thought mattered.

Of course, all that insight was somewhat less important when she considered the fact that she’d personally pissed off that very same Demon Lord. She knew very little about Astrid Von Teloth VII (she’d finally broken down and asked someone who’d looked at her like she was insane for not having already known that fact), but all evidence she’d gathered pointed to someone she really didn’t want to serve. That didn’t matter in the least, what with the entire society around her seeming to be devoted to that service, but it still rankled.

One part that did strike her as odd was the fact that she HADN’T just been smote and removed as a problem permanently. There had been a moment or two where she’d almost felt like there was a regular person (whatever that might mean in the case of a demon) under there but the fact of the matter was that real person pissed her off. Then again, she did suppose that she had to be a little grateful for continued existence after that behavior, she could think of quite a few dictators in human history that wouldn’t have been that generous. She resolved herself to be a little less shitty if she again found herself in the presence of the supreme commander of all the demonic forces of the land.

The next fight proved to be disappointing to all assembled, especially after the upset they’d just witnessed. It was a band of Orcs battling against a trio of Draconid. Neither side had any particular advantage and they just battled around the ring without any particular flair. Eventually, she just tuned them out and started people watching. She’d always enjoyed doing it back on Earth, and it had to be said that this crowd was far more interesting to observe than any batch of mallrats she’d had the pleasure of zoning out to.

Orcs were definitely the most populous race in the stands. She couldn’t be certain if that was a matter of status, or actual population, but there were tons of them. She made out at least three distinct types of dress that seemed to be a cultural thing. Other Lenore hadn’t paid much attention to other cultures, and had mostly focused on her brawling, so those memories were of little use, but she did recognize that the leathers belonged to the faction comprised of the southern tribes. They tended to be the ones most directly engaged with the battle against the forces of man and were the most warlike. There was a separate group that wore more brightly colored cloth garments like Kila had, and Len guessed that they were more the tradesmen and merchants of the land. Then there were a smaller number of massively armored orcs that she only could identify thanks to a few of them going without their helmets. She had no idea what their deal was, but she suspected she did not want to end up fighting them.

Besides the orcs, there were a number of trolls and ogres spattered throughout the crowd, no strong distinctions that indicated any particular lineage, just larger warriors there to compete or be entertained. She noted that her trio were the only goblins present and recognized that the prejudices she’d heard about from them was probably at play there. Now that they’d won a match, her three weren’t getting too much hassle out of the crowd, but it was always uncomfortable being individuals that stood out.

Her expression soured as her gaze swept over the Demon Lord again. Astrid was lounging on her throne looking utterly bored with the proceedings. A part of Len couldn’t fault her for that. The fight was pretty boring but this was a damn matter of State. The leader of that State should at least be pretending to give a fuck about what was going on. It was disrespectful to the people fighting, and the people who were dying for her amusement here.

“Hey boss, you’re scowling,” Moe’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Eh, sorry, just saw something I didn’t like.”

“Yeah, they do kinda suck, don’t they.”

“That’s not what I…” she sighed. “Yeah, they’re pretty crap. Still, they’re trying their best, should at least respect that.”

“Boss, even without your help, I could’ve taken out two of those guys. This is just sad.”

As he said that, one of the Orcs got a lucky strike that cut down the smallest of the Draconid. Now outmatched two to one, the remaining pair were overwhelmed. It was a slow and embarrassing affair from start to finish, but the Orcs eked out their victory and roared with entirely more triumph than their performance deserved. Len offered a polite clap that was repeated in a few small patches in the stadium, but mostly everyone just wanted the teams gone. The Draconid team were hauled off to the triage tent, and Len offered up the sort of prayers one wastes on people they don’t really care about and then promptly forgot all about them. She wasted another glance at Astrid and was disgusted to see that the Demon Lord was actually taking a nap.