5 Aftermath

By the time that they arrived back in their cell, the excitement of having won the fight had already worn off. For Gaebril, at least, it was a rather familiar feeling. He had always felt something similar, every time that he had a face-off against the idiots from the Red Guards, who were always trying to capture him. This felt something like that.

The other two seemed to feel something similar too, although Gareth was quicker to come back down from the same, thanks to the ache in his side and his twisted ankle. That had not stopped him from taking part in clearing up the Arena after the fight, and snatching up the weapons and gear that they could use earlier, from the bodies of the slain.

Edmon, on the other hand, seemed a little reluctant to join in, and had only managed to snatch up two of the poorly made spears that had been used earlier. Gaebril wondered about that, although he knew better to question the short fellow.

Nor had the guards bothered to stop them from retrieving those pieces of equipment.

In fact, from the dull expressions that they were wearing on their faces when they finally showed up to usher them back into the tunnel under the Arena, it looked as if they had expected them do just that. Well, it certainly explained why the other survivors had also been scrambling for the weapons and armor that had been left behind.

Gareth was clearly feeling the effects of his injuries too, after the fight. He had collapsed onto his rough cot as soon as he got back into the cell. The gear that he had managed to snatch up was promptly thrown into a pile in the middle of the same as he lowered himself with a obvious groan. Which was enough to prompt Edmon to head over, and start to unbuckle the man's leather tunic. It was clear that he was intending to take another look at Gareth's rib-cage.

So Gaebril chuckled to himself, and focused on the gear that they had managed to bring back. There were some pieces that were clearly superior to the others, and he focused on them at once.

He was still trying to split the goods in a way that would maximize their effectiveness, when Gaebril heard the tramp of boots in the darkened corridor outside. And they had all drawn back, with weapons in hand, when he spied the arrival of a familiar face outside the cell.

"Well, I see that you have survived the fight, and gained some useful items from it too. That makes it easier for me."

The visit by the Templar was a surprise, to say the least. But Melior Twohammer ignored the way that the trio gripped their weapons, and how they stood as he reached the door of their cell. He remained out of reach, however, as he leaned against the wall of the corridor, near one of the torches there, as he spoke.

"Since you have snatched up those weapons earlier, it saves me the trouble of supplying you for your later fights. And it will certainly draw less attention from those who are watching the gladiator bands," he chuckled as he stepped inside. He glanced at one of the cots that lay closer to the opening in the bars, and sniffed. Clearly, it did not meet his standards.

Instead, he leaned against the bars of the cell, and smiled at the trio. Edmon was glaring as though he was about to launch an attack on the man, while Gareth was still pale from his efforts earlier. So Gaebril hid a sigh and took a step forward. He would have to deal with the obnoxious man, it seemed.

"If you have come to congratulate us on our victory, you should have brought a basket of fruit or somewhat. That is what I hear is popular these days, is it not? But I believe that you are still upset about our discovery of the petty little spy that you placed in our midst, so I suppose we should forgive you," the former road-thief said with his usual smile.

"Oh, very good. I see that there is at least one of you who has some sense. You are probably the one called the Grey Cat. The one who identified my boy, I suppose. I guess I should have known that a criminal would recognize another. Perhaps using Aeric's name was a bad choice, eh?" The Templar laughed while he shook his head. But when he looked up again, his face was serious.

"But now that he is out of the way, and you three know that we are planning something, it only makes sense that we include you in our plans. You can either work for us, in place of our spy, or you can die. The choice is simple."

Gaebril laughed, before either of the men at his side could respond. "That doesn't make a very good pitch, my dear Melior. You have only mentioned the bad side of it. What of the good? That is usually how such things work, you understand?" he said quickly, before there were any interruptions from the pair, "I hesitate to ask if you actually have a reward planned out for our success, but I can only presume that the job is not as simple as walking into the Arena. Otherwise you would not have bothered with your pretend Aeric, would you? So what is it? And I should mention now that I believe that the reward should match its difficulty. And its risks."

"Oh? You pretend that this is a paying job for you then?"

"Isn't it? Why go through all the trouble of setting us up with the false Aeric Redfang then? And throwing Gareth here our way? No, you want something done, Twohammer. The only question now is, what are you offering for it?"

"Oh? You think that it's worth that much then? I would let you live. That's a better offer than any you'll get in the Pit."

"That's not the way to go about it, you know?" Gaebril sighed then, and made a show of sneering at the man, "But I suppose that the Temple doesn't bother to teach you the basics, so I shall have to take on the task:

"You should first mention that working for you would have certain benefits. And tailor such to tempt us. But I doubt that you'd let us walk free - Not me at the least! That would leave you to figure out just how much this little mission of yours is worth to you. That's before you tell us what it is that you want us to do."

Gareth coughed then, and the bearded man turned to the same, sitting on his cot. "I can only presume that it has something to do with the Fifty Families, and their so-called Blessed Weapons? Weapons from the Great War, that tore the land before your Temple was ever built. Not that we are likely to be of much use, trying to track them down for you. We're still bound to the Arena," the man said softly.

"Only for the moment. There will be opportunities for you to get clear later," laughed the Templar then, even as he nodded at the mercenary. Then he turned back to Gaebril, and grinned. "Your lesson is not unfamiliar to me. I have heard something similar to it, long ago, before I joined the Temple, and rose to become a Temple Guard. But I prefer the other variant, where I threaten, rather than cajole."

Gaebril laughed back, as he stepped back to his cot, and sank down into the same, picking up a knife and starting to wipe it with a rag. "That only works if we have something to fear, my dear Melior. And here, faced with dying under the hands of other aspirants in the Arena, that seems to be less efficient, doesn't it?

"What will you do, I wonder, when you are faced with a situation where your threats do not work? Hmmm?"

The Templar scowled back at him. But Gaebril refused to budge. He had expected Melior to use intimidation. This was something that he was already accustomed to, when dealing with the Temple and its agents. Besides, he was not lying when he said that he had nothing to lose.

A quick look at the pair at his back told Melior Twohammer that he was facing a man who spoke for all three of them too. Which was enough to make the Templar's frown deepen.

And that was enough to make Gaebril grin at the gloomy red-bearded man in front of the cell.

"There aren't any other people that you can rely on, are there? For this particular task?" Gaebril asked quietly, flicking the rag in his hands in the direction of the Templar. "So don't you think we are entitled to make a few simple demands in exchange for this service? After all, what's to stop us from telling this Queen of Night about your curiosity towards her?"

Melior snorted when he heard that. "I don't really care if you tell her that. Feel free to make up whatever story you think would interest her. Frankly, I do not intend to bother with the three of you so long as you track her down for me. So there is no point in trying to bargain with me.

"It is just a waste of time, you see. After all, you three don't have any options except to do as I demand. That is, if you do not perish in the Arena first."

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