4 The High Roller Den

It was a few weeks after the death of Caiaphas.

Qionne was spotted in the outskirts of Torin's borders one hot afternoon. The prince of Elfeinne continued his march, wearing a new olive-green cloak and a new bow and set of arrows he had crafted within the woods of Basilinne.

The path he went through was desert-like, speckled with small rocks and hard sand baking in the sun. Glittery pebbles which shone like diamonds and white colored driftwood scattered all over the place, usually the evidence of previous ambushes on unfortunate wanderers who were unaware of the path's dangers.

The road was commonly a traveling route for illegal immigrants, thieves and bandits and its notoriety was favorable among pilfers who smuggled priceless goods from one province to another.

For those who were familiar with Torin's mountainous geography, they would know that most encounters within that path often lead to a bloodbath.

But in spite of the known dangers, Qionne chose the route since no one knew of his nobility within the area. There was more danger in traveling through safe cities, where every eye knew who he was, than a peasant's road that catered to anonymity. The fact that he dressed like a thief was a plus.

He happened upon a small trading village, most likely a place not found in any existing map. It was a hidden community between two rocky hills, known to those familiar with the place as the High Roller Den. There were no houses, save a few small secured huts for storage and makeshift stables for horses. In place of homes, there were tents made of animal skins, though some of the less shabby ones appeared to be made of priceless fabric. By the hillsides were unique fortresses made up of wood and stones.

It was only normal for such a place to be battle ready, since it was a gathering for criminals who were most likely on the famous list of Garuda's most wanted.

He found a circle of ruffians at the heart of the small market. The gathering, as he had heard, was an 'auction' for stolen goods and antiquities. Though referred to as a legitimate auction, Qionne knew that it was a human cockfight over these coveted rare artifacts. A betting pool was made for the fighter who would win each match, and the victor would achieve his featured prize. The prince could only assume that apart from bags of gold and silver, or artifacts that every kingdom on Terra dared

to covet, slaves were also part of its promised winnings.

There were fighters of every race and kind that participated in the event. Some were men armored with metal plates and wielded ancient looking pistols who would participate in the quick draw matches. Others were groups the size of half-giants and others slender as scarecrows participating for the brawler battles. There were also some Orients with bald heads and blank eyes, wearing robes of blood red and ebony black who moderated the event.

A lot of Torin Brawlers dressed in armor and iron studded belts and coats littered every category of duels. There were also a few dark-skinned women from the Atlantis, although their shaved heads and bulky muscled figures would cause some confusion over their genders.

All were crowded around a small arena framed by a circle etched in the dirt. He squeezed himself in through the crowds to get a better view. No one seemed to pay heed over him, and those that did only chided over what a kid like him was doing in a place as sinister as the High Roller Den.

Not that they minded since the cleverest of thieves were often children.

Qionne was able to squeeze through in time for a match between two large-built men. One was as blond and fair as a northern prince, while the other had hair as dark as night and skin like polished bronze. The latter, Qionne observed, possessed eyes that had a uniquely haunting amethyst glow and seemed to shine brighter for each successful punch he landed against his enemy. The dark one clearly had the upper hand as his more handsome opponent looked like he was about to see stars soon enough. It didn't take long before the blond fell to the ground in defeat.

An Oriental, the size of a child no older than seven, stepped up to the small wooden podium across the arena. "The victor, Blood the Savage Brawler!"

Crowds erupted into loud cheers, altogether chanting "Blood! Blood! Blood!"

Because he was a young man who also fancied a bit of violence, Qionne joined the cheering as he pumped his fist into the air chanting "Blood! Blood! Blood!"

There was a vicious yet gentle gait to the dark brawler's manner of fighting that the prince found fascinating. More so, the way the bronze skinned fighter seemed aloof towards the crowd's adorations gave him an aura of mystery and depth.

Who is this man? Qionne wondered. He was sure he had never met him before. Yet the amethyst eyes that had now dulled into a rare pale violet felt quite significant in the prince's memories.

He watched as the game master presented the fighter's winnings: three sacks of golden eggs studded with gems as white and pure as stars. The prince's eyes went wide. He held back a chuckle, for he knew that the eggs belonged to the King of Torin who was also his uncle. The man would surely throw a fit once he learns that his prized heirloom was stolen by a bunch of low-life ruffians.

The fighter brought the sacks over to a stout old pirate. The man was dressed as if he wore the feathers of every bird he's killed. Only then did Qionne realize why the fighter's eyes seemed familiar.

"Hey," he tapped on the shoulder of one of the spectators, "that guy, the one named Blood... is he from a Karavan?"

The spectator deadpanned. "Aw gee, what gave it away?"

Their conversation was interrupted as the game master announced the following auction.

"Next match!" the dwarf declared with his loud high pitched-voice, "three minutes against the great and mighty Xerxes!"

It didn't take long before crowds thickened when Qionne had to fight his way back to the front. The man they called Xerxes was as dark and menacing as a mountain's shadow, and the prince could see it even as throngs of people fought for the front row. He caught a glimpse of hard muscle peppered with scars and wrapped in lion-skin along with a polished bald head that shone against the sun. The fighter's teeth were an awkward row of white and gold, and one of his eyes had no iris.

Above all the hype and cheer, no other fighter stepped forward to challenge Xerxes. Even with all the coaxing and promising of the gamekeepers, the remaining brawlers still seemed to cower under the man's presence.

"I can't believe I squeezed my way in for this," Qionne whispered tiredly to himself. He briefly wondered why he even bothered coming to the match when his intention was to find a carriage that would take him to Vivasti. He pulled the hem of his hood to hide his face from the crowds and the sun and began to pull away from the front lines...

Until something caught his ear.

"Yes run! Run like the little cunts that ye are! These knuckles 'ere took down the Cursed Centaur weeks ago! You all aren't a match for me!"

The prince nearly tripped, an odd mix of mortification and rage coloring his features.

Lies.

His fists curled and his anger and pride boiled beneath his skin.

Lies.

The crowd fell into awed silence.

Lies.

The slave masters and traders threw money at the huge man's feet.

Lies.

The silent audience erupted with cheers and praises for the arrogant fighter.

The gem beneath his cloak burned against his collar, threatening to flood the air with fiery light. Galahad often responded positively with its master's wrath.

"This idiot can't claim credit for our victory, Galahad." He muttered darkly as blue eyes flashed with mischief and vengeance. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the ring, pulling off his hood with one hand while he raised up the other.

The people's noises died down into confused murmurs. All eyes bounced back and forth between Qionne and Xerxes who appeared to be holding his laughter with difficulty.

The prince smiled. Both of them weren't so impressed with one another... just the way he liked it.

"I'll fight," he declared.

Like he expected, the spectators responded with laughter.

"Are ye lost, kid?" Xerxes chided snidely. "This isn't yer measly playground."

"Am I lost? Maybe. Is this my playground? Yes." The prince placed both hands on his hips. "And in my playground, I don't take shrachath from people claiming they won something they didn't. It hurts my ego. I can't have ugly old farts hurting my ego.

The large man took three slow steps towards the boy, his eyes narrowed to slits. "And what are ye insinuating?"

Qionne stared enchantingly into Xerxes' eyes, a conceited smirk forming on his lips. "You didn't kill Caiaphas."

There was a tense and silent pause.

"I did," Qionne added, mischief and a tiny hint of blood-lust gleaming through his steely blue eyes.

The dwarf gamekeeper descended from his stool, comically sprinting towards the boy like an angry parent.

"The hell is with you young'uns?! You want to get killed?" the dwarf ranted. "And what have you to bet?! You don't look like you could afford even a nick!!!"

"Get off the ring show off!" hollered one from the audience. "Your funeral kid!" cried another.

With a confident grin, Qionne removed his cloak and presented the jewel embedded on the collar of his shirt. The gem was a deep blue color that glittered like water beneath the sun. The noise of the crowd once again fell into a hush as they stared, mesmerized by the enchanting light that bounced off the ridiculously large gem.

"It cannot be." Xerxes marveled, his previously stony face colored by greed and awe. "Is that...."

"This is the Brisingamen," Qionne announced as he held the stone high for all to see. "This is the gem said to have come from the heart of the phoenix, once a jewel that graced the neck of the elven goddess Freyja, granting her the grace of flight. What you see is the very same jewel, passed down the line of Maya that transforms into a phoenix possessing the rune element of its master."

Hushed 'ooh's' and 'aah's' echoed through the crowds while the gamekeepers and fighters looked like they itched to take the stone from Qionne's grasp.

The prince lowered his voice, as if imparting a dangerous secret. "I stole this from the prince of

Elfeinne while he was on his diplomatic trip to Torinhime. They believe that spies from a small rebel group poached the item. The kingdom of Elfeinne, I hear, is offering a very handsome price for the one who'd return this beauty back to its master."

Xerxes had unconsciously reached out to take the jewel in the middle of Qionne's expositions. The prince wasn't surprised as he craftily hid the gem underneath his cloak, causing Xerxes to slightly falter in his tracks. The man eyed him menacingly, but the boy was not fazed.

"Will this be enough to let me enter the match?" he turned to the dwarf with a cocky grin.

"O-of course!" the dwarf spluttered awkwardly as he was still dazed by the gem's beauty. "You may fight the mighty Xerxes!"

The crowd briefly cheered when Qionne silenced them with one hand and one question. "And what do I get in return when I win?"

"Heh, the kid thinks he's going to win."

"That's youthful boasting for you. He's as good as dead."

"What will I get when I win?" Qionne repeated, the question now turned to Xerxes.

The man smiled cruelly, snapping his fingers at a couple of men from the sidelines. Two men stepped into the ring, dragging a girl between them.

The girl was short, but was surely around the same age as Qionne. A sack covered her head, revealing only a body that enticed every eye within the vicinity. She was a figure of ivory skin that looked as smooth as the purest milk covered in dancer's garments. Her neck was a column of beautiful skin, sitting atop collarbones that lascivious lips would want to nip. An amethyst jewel worn on a golden chain dangled around her neck and full breasts were covered by a brassiere made of differently colored beads, sequins, and tiny ringing bells. Two slender arms were tied behind her back, with wrists rimmed by a thick rope and golden bracelets on each hand. Puffy translucent silk pants hugged her legs and her feet wore shoes made of gold that was curved at the tip.

The gamekeeper went to the girl and pulled the sack covering her head, revealing a tumble of brilliant black waves over the girl's face and pearly shoulders that looked soft to the touch. She was the picture of both innocence and sensuality, of a pure little girl ripening into a beautiful young woman dressed in the most perverted of ways.

Qionne's face was a mix of pure shock and horror, while the rest of the men hooted and whistled.

They cried, "Bring the lassie 'ere!" and "Look at that beauty!"

The men who held her captive took bundles of her wavy locks and held them against their noses, taking deep disgusting breaths. One man to her right yanked her close by the arm, sniffing the back of her neck while chanced a small lick. The girl who refused to show her face choked back a sob.

The men were all monsters.

"If by some stupid miracle you win, you'll get my lovely little whore." Xerxes grinned wickedly. "I doubt ye'd have her though, and I'd dare not let ye. This little wench hasn't had a taste of me' pillar down below yet, and I'll make sure to be first to take this pure and fresh wee lass-"

CRACK!

No sooner than a heartbeat, the mighty Xerxes was flung from the center of the ring to the far side of the market, knocking over several men and a handful of stalls in the path. The pregnant silence that ensued did not quiet the loud angry beating of Qionne's heart. He breathed in and out, posed like a fighter who just punched a man towards oblivion. The gem on his chest burned red like blood, charring the fabric and skin underneath it slightly. What the prince planned to be a long and entertaining victory was shortened to less than one second, brought on by the rage within him that was slowly but surely teetering out of control.

"He..." one of the spectators whispered, breaking the silence. "He beat Xerxes."

The dwarf wordlessly stared at him. The men who held the girl captive nervously freed her wrists from its bonds. For a teenager, Qionne's display of strength was both unbelievable and frightening.

"Who are you?" the dwarf asked fearfully as Qionne walked towards the girl. Qionne wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, not noticing the slight flash of her eye peeking through the thickness of her locks.

Qionne cocked his head to one side and smiled rather sweetly at the dwarf. He chuckled a little like, drawing the sword he found pierced on the stone from his sheath. "I am Robin Hood."

The men looked at each other, panic clearly written all over their faces. They knew the story of a young man who stole from noblemen to feed the poor, feared by both the just and the vile. He commanded authority over nearly a hundred men: thieves of honor whose footsteps are quieter than stagnant air. Many assumed that Robin Hood was more fey than man, for a mere whisper to the wind would have the sylphs answer his every beck and call.

He was the best thief and archer in all of Garuda. The leader of the Order of the Hood.

"R-Robin Hood?" the midget stammered. "Here! T-take the wench! Just keep that pointy thing away from me nose!"

BAM!

A barrel flung from the market towards them. Qionne quickly slashed the wood with his sword, but did not expect Xerxes charging from above, ready to topple him with his brute strength.

"You son of a bi-"

But the man was knocked over by an equally strong fighter. The dark-skinned Blood had charged from the sidelines against his master's wishes, pushing Xerxes down with a chain attached to his wrists. Blood's purple eyes flashed a terrifying violet, mirroring the heat radiating off the hands that held Xerxes' wrists down to the ground. Xerxes let out an unimpressive cry as the man's hands charred his own. The other servants of Blood's master charged, restraining him with a pole choking his neck while the gamekeepers tried to pacify a traumatized-looking Xerxes.

The prince was perplexed, watching dumbly as the girl he freed tried to rush to the one they said was a savage brawler. Only then did he see the girl's face as the wind swept her dusk-colored hair over her shoulders. It was a face worthy of a thousand praises, with an aristocratic nose, apple-tinted cheeks, naturally red lips...

And enchanting amethyst eyes.

"Vra'd! Arruva!" the girl sobbed.

"Durrag!" the man named Blood screamed with his deep raspy voice. The other fighters fought to

restrain him, tying him with every rope and chain they could find. "Go!"

Qionne saw the plea in the man's eyes. Before any of the gamekeepers or spectators took notice, he sheathed his sword and pulled the girl by her wrist as they dashed away from the crowd. With his other hand, he took the gem from his chest and channeled power into it, transforming the crystal into a white scarf-like energy that extended magically around them, taking the sacks of jewels and coins unattended by the fighters who restrained Blood.

"Arruva!!!" the girl cried, pointing to the man who was being tied and tortured like a wild bear. Qionne briefly caught glimpses as other fighters as large as Blood kicked and punched him to the ground, while the master lashed him many times with a fire-infused whip.

"We have to go," he told the girl firmly, forcibly pushing the questions he had in the far back of his mind. They made a sharp turn towards one of the nearby tents and found the gem-studded eggs Blood had won for his master earlier inside. He took the eggs, hurriedly placed them in a sack and took them with him.

"My uncle would want these back," he told the tearful girl, although he doubted she understood.

"Arruva," she repeated sorrowfully, chancing a glance through the slip of the tent they were hiding in. Qionne followed her gaze.

"His efforts would have been wasted if we go back," Qionne told her firmly as he resumed gathering more gold and silver into bags. "I doubt Xerxes would give you away freely after getting punched to the other side of the village."

The girl's violet eyes went wide, a mortified look sketched across her face. "Then I have no master..."

Qionne paused, "You speak the common tongue?"

Their small talk was interrupted by the chorus of gamekeepers screaming for Robin Hood's head.

"That boy has a king's bounty!" the dwarf yelled as he waved a wanted poster on the fighter's faces.

"Find him!"

Before anyone realized that he had stolen anything, Qionne whispered the phoenix's name, transforming the scarves into a brilliant white bird. The tent that sheltered the winnings was destroyed, revealing Galahad the white phoenix, intimidating the crowds as he descended.

The phoenix uttered a loud cry that deafened the people of the High Roller Den, prompting his master to mount him. Qionne forcefully pulled the girl up with him, for she struggled to get back to the man who saved them, and flew away.