The Red Continent

Chapter 15

Easton Arena sat on the banks of the Pence River running through the heart of the city. The atmosphere surrounding the arena was venomous that night, so for his safety Leander would travel up the river by boat to make his entrance. Hateful citizens lined the banks as he floated by, cursing and tossing debris at the passing vessel. But Leander paid them no mind, his eyes unfocused watching the rippling water in the boats wake.

As darkness fell and the arena came into view. Its construction was commissioned as Christian's first public project with the aim of being the finest on the continent and most would say the new king accomplished his goal. Named after the recently fallen Easton Varela the vast structure was a symbol of contemporary architecture and the most expensive arena ever constructed. Unassuming by day the shell of the arena was covered in plates that by nightfall illuminated to any color on the spectrum. That night the arena glowed red, a deep blood red. IT was clearly a message from Christian who was surly certain of the outcome. For the better part of a month Leander had slept on a stone slab and survived on one small meal a day, leaving him weak. Even if he was resigned to fight he would stand no chance in his condition and Christian knew it.

The vessel docked and the guards roughly pulled Leander from his seat and pushed him into the stadium. Through the bowels of the arena they prodded him into a dressing room.

"Clean up," one of the guards said pointing to the shower.

At least I'll die smelling clean, Leander thought. Waiting for him in the shower was a razor and soap so he took his time. The warmth of the water felt soothing and for the brief time as the beads of water fell upon him he nearly forgot what was about to happen, but only nearly. When he emerged from the shower he took a seat on a long wooden bench and asked the guards, "Am I to fight in a towel?"

"Your sword master will bring your things," the guard said. "He'll be your only visitor."

Leander was relieved that he would at least see one friendly face before he died. He also felt heartened to have someone to deliver a message to his mother for him. While he waited Leander dropped his head almost between his knees as he attempted to clear his mind but found his efforts unsuccessful. An hour passed and as the arena began to fill, he could hear the clamor bleeding through the walls. Finally the door opened and Mathias came barging in.

"Young master are you alright?" Mathias said embracing Leander.

"As good as can be expected Mathias...it's good to see you."

Mathias studied Leander intently and snarled. "You look sick...they starved you. I'm going to your father, this was not part of the agreement."

As Mathias turned Leander grasped his arm. "Mathias, you could delay this six months and the result would be the same."

"Highness, given time to train and study your opponent you can win."

Leander smiled and put his hand on the old man's shoulder. "No old friend...you can't win if you don't fight."

The blood drained from Mathias's face. "But highness you can't-"

"I've made up my mind...now we don't have much time I want you to tell my mother-"

"She's here young master," Mathias said.

The words rendered Leander breathless. With his eyes closed shaking his head. "Promise me you will shield her eyes when the time comes."

With a hint of moisture in his eyes Mathias said, "I beg you to reconsider highness...for your mother's sake, your father's sake...for mine."

"Just promise me Mathias...please," Leander said.