A Bored Lich

Doevm stepped off the arena with cheers and boos following after him. He met up with Frey and the rest of the winners in a room similar to the one he had just been in. While it was a little more tolerable than the waiting room, that was only because they were given a few cushions, and there were less people. While most of them were happy, they were still recovering from their fights. Heavy breaths and coughs were common. Frey was lying flat, his limbs spread wide like a starfish. When he got up to greet Doevm, he left an outline of himself. His entire back was covered in sand. "Nice job," he said. "What happened with the referee?"

"I'll tell you after," Doevm said. He sat on one of the benches and threw up. The rest of the commoners distanced themselves from it and complained about the smell. He held up his middle finger: "Who says you lot smell any better?" The complaints ceased when they smelled their armpits and reeled back. Everyone there was, after all, a teenager; a smelly, unbathed, sweaty, mess of filth and dried blood. Only teenagers were allowed. Anyone older than eighteen would be denied entry, no matter what their accomplishments were. Frey had just barely made it, with his birthday being a little over a month away.

The winners waited with their noses held for the rest of the matches to finish. The crowd cheered. The loudest cheering originated from a noble with glasses, who was chucking power stones at a certain unhappy dark-clothed noble, who was playing with a dagger. His high-pitched laughter filled the Colosseum after each battle's conclusion.

After all the battles concluded, the last winner entered the room, the clerk following him. "So now the tournament is done, you have all been accepted. Congratulations!" While his words were joyous, his expression was anything but. "Damned Eugene. How did he know? Robbed me blind." He stormed out towards the exit and beckoned for the winners to follow. While the winners did want to follow, they did so at a snail's pace. Everyone's energy was sapped from the adrenaline from battle and the crowd had made them try harder than usual. They slogged after him and back to the commoners' quarters, where they were taken to a bath. All except for Doevm and Frey, who headed for the medical room.

Compared to the medical wing back at the base, this room was much smaller, with only two dirty beds hanging from the ceiling with chains. Oliver had just finished healing his last patient, who thanked him and walked off. He sighed and sat on the filthy bed, letting the blood stain his white robe. When Doevm and Frey walked in, he sent his partner away so they could talk in private. "Doevm, Frey, it's nice to see you two again. General Marble said you would be coming."

Doevm and Frey plopped down on the other bed, which they immediately regretted since the chains and bed rattled around under the weight. Doevm looked at Frey, who shoved him and stood up: "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Doevm lifted his hands in the air.

Frey sighed: "Oliver, it's good to see you too. The last thing I heard; you were carried off by the general. Did he just assign you to the Colosseum as a healer?"

Oliver shook his head: "First I had to go through a trial, but it was all pinned rightfully so on Ashtehar. I'm not just the Colosseum's healer. I'm a healer at the knights' academy. Whenever any of you get hurt, come to me. It's the least I can do for you guys after…you know." He sighed and looked out at the arena through the iron bars. "I saw your fights. You've both gotten a lot stronger."

"That's mostly the equipment," Frey held out his new spear, then looked to Doevm. "Speaking of new equipment, your vest is already damaged, and you got hurt. You fought like crap before Alexander said something to you. What did he say?" Oliver leaned forward, just as eager for an answer as Frey.

"He told me," Doevm balanced the truth and a lie in his head, weighing the advantages of them. "That I fight in a disgusting way." He moved the broken armor out of the way, letting them see the cut across his chest. "And he was right." Oliver jumped up and a magic circle formed over Doevm's rapidly closing chest wound. "Thanks."

"But why did he pull his sword on you?" Oliver asked. "Not even Ashtehar would go that far when disciplining me. He looked like he was going to kill you."

"I think that was the point," Doevm said, wincing at his strength being sapped away, a side-effect of the healing process. "He put fear into me so I would stop thinking so much when I fight. I thought he was going to kill me too." The magic circle flickered a bit, which Doevm didn't miss. "What? Is there something with my body?"

"I-I don't know." The magic circle moved up through the chest to Doevm's head. "Physically, you're fine but…"

"But?" Frey was on his feet, practically leaning over Doevm like his companion was dying.

"I need more training." Oliver dispersed the magic circle, which had completed its job. "Ashtehar was teaching me about a different type of holy magic, but our lesson was cut short. I can feel…something. I don't know how to describe it other than a thing in the corner of your mind. Something is tangled up and twisted. It loosened a bit, which I guess is Alexander's doing, but it'll re-tighten over time. I'm sorry I don't know anything more." He shook his head. "I need to go meet up with General Marble. I'll try to remember everything that I can and contact you if I remember anything." He opened the back door and hurried off.

Doevm and Frey shrugged and walked back to the commoners' quarters, where everyone was taking a long bath. For half an hour, they floated on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Then, one by one, the energy returned to them. They wordlessly cleaned themselves then went back to their rooms on shaky legs. Doevm and Frey were one of the last ones to leave and go to bed.

Hours later.

Doevm opened his eyes. The "Sun" had gone to its dim state, simulating the moon. He sat up and replaced his new clothes with rags he had stolen off the Dummy Brigade. While they were baggy on him, that was only for now. From his spatial ring, he took out his mask put it on, its cool metal surface waking him up. He looked in the mirror, admiring Kilot's handiwork. It had arrived just as expected, a metal skull.

He took a deep breath as the pain arrived. The mask's back lit up. Tendrils of magic wiggled through his body, expanding and lengthening his limbs. He went from a fifteen-year-old kid to a tall, burly adult in a few seconds. His rags now fit him.

He left through the window, making sure to eat a late dinner before leaving. All his strength had returned. He no longer saw flashes every time he blinked. He traveled down the streets, which were packed even more than usual. Everywhere he went, people talked about the tournament. Of some of the conversations, some were about Frey, who had made an impression with his armor and fighting style. Even more than the talks about the commoners' tournament, was rumors about the nobles' tournament and how it would turn out. Above everything, however, they talked about Alexander's interaction with Doevm. Baseless speculations were tossed out like trash only to be grabbed and worshiped as truth.

'Idiots,' Doevm thought. 'How is pointing a sword at me considered a way to cheat? Humans will always blame their problems on something else, no matter where or what time I'm in.' People made space for him as he walked. The guards which patrolled the streets did double takes on him before whispering to each other.

Doevm headed for the gap between the middle-class district and the poor district. Walking down a narrow alleyway between one of the repeating houses, he found a doorway. He knocked in a certain pattern and said, "In Draken, the rules are meant to be bent." The door opened, and an unreasonably buff man bowed and gestured for Doevm to enter. He did so and the door closed behind him.

Inside the house, there was nothing. No furniture, no windows, no curtains, just four walls and a set of stairs leading into the depths. 'I hope nothing has changed much down here,' he thought as he descended the steps. At this time of day, the part of the capital that was most busy, was the Underground.

No matter how strict the laws were, it meant nothing if the king could not enforce them. This place always survived, just like the royalty. The reason behind their survival was because, while the king was feared, he was not loved. In all the people in the capital, the nobles were the worst. Their power had long since corrupted them. They often conducted deals here, out of the king and his faction's eyes.

The stone pathways down here were broken and cracked. The black market wasn't the Underground, but the largest building in the Underground. Here, there were not patrols, no order, and no laws. The people were dirty and the money was more so. While it didn't look as good as the Capital, to Doevm, that didn't matter. All he needed was some information, and the perfect place to get that, was the black market.