Page 68 of The Prisoner's Gambit
Betting would be fast and fierce and a great deal of currency would change hands. All legally, of course, as the Mondarian magistrate had decreed gambling to be a welcome form of entertainment. He also collected a small percentage of every bet made, win or lose, as well as a fraction of all profits.
It was a system based on small amounts taken in volume rather than large scale taxation, and as a result the peons didn’t complain. They had their fun and didn’t even think about the tiny cost. Of course, that small amount multiplied by every single wager made and paid out added up to a sizeable sum going into the Mondarian coffers every week.
While the public reasoning for the grift was that it was money that helped fund the tournaments and pay out the fighters, the reality was the vast majority went straight into the magistrate’s personal accounts.
Maureen was oblivious to all of those underlying machinations. All she knew was the Tormiks would be attending in their private box and she would be required to serve them for the duration of the tournament. After the last time, she was grateful that at least they were not interested in the early matches. That meant she would not be forced to see Bodok take a beating.
Or so she thought.
“Make sure to pack extra,” Vaxxa instructed her as they prepared the baskets of food and drink for their employers.
Maureen shrugged it off and began loading more snacks. “Why extra? Are they bringing company with?”
“Guests? Oh, no. No guests. The Tormiks enjoy their space during the tournament.”
“Just hungry, I suppose.”
“No, the mistress said she wished to go early today. It’s really unlike her. She despises the lower-level matches. Finds them boring. But for whatever reason, today she has quite the interest in them.”
Maureen’s stomach knotted but she kept her mouth shut. She knew why Mistress Tormik wanted to go early. The sadistic bitch was going to make her watch her lover get beaten to a pulp.
It shouldn’t have surprised her. Mistress Tormik had already shown her true colors. But this? This was more than just passive displeasure. The woman was taking an active role in making Maureen’s life unpleasant, even if it meant doing something she did not enjoy. For a woman of Tormik’s position and predilection for her own personal comfort to do so, Maureen must have gotten under her skin far more than she’d realized.
She packed the rest of the food in silence, mentally preparing herself as best she could for what was to come.
The trip to the arena was a quick one, as all traffic cleared when Vice Quaestor Tormik or any of the other high-ranking officials were traveling. Maureen rode in a follow vehicle, the conveyance floating on a cushion of energy rather than wheels. It made for a particularly smooth ride, but she felt a wave of nausea in her gut regardless, though it had nothing to do with the trip.
While the Tormiks greeted other esteemed guests and said their hellos, Maureen and Vaxxa took their cargo and hurried ahead to prepare the luxury box for their arrival. They quickly lay out a spread of snacks, drinks, and savory treats, then took their positions standing on either side.
Most would envy the servants their role on a day like this. After all, they had ringside seats to the tournament. But at this moment Maureen wanted to be anywhere but here. Unfortunately, she had no choice in the matter.
Mistress Tormik soon arrived, smiling icily at Maureen while her husband greeted a few more familiar faces before joining her.
“I must say, I am glad you wished to come early today, dear,” he said, taking his seat. “I’ve seen a good many faces I have not spoken to in ages. One must keep in touch with the common people if one wishes to expand one’s influence, after all.”
“Yes, it was good fortune,” she said. “The rabble do so enjoy the early matches.” She glanced at Maureen. “It is too bad these early combatants will meet a quick end. Looking at the schedule, I see some difficult opponents for the challengers. And oh, what’s this? The new Pokri is slotted against one of last week’s victors.”
“Is he?” her husband asked. “I heard he was a large fellow. But if he is facing a contender for a championship bout, I think I will refrain from placing any wagers on him.”
“Yes, dear. It would be best to bet against him. At least the poor fellow will fall quickly. Against an opponent of this caliber he does not stand a chance.”
The cruel gleam in her eye as she flashed a malicious little smile at Maureen made one thing clear. This woman had pulled some strings to ensure Bodok would be facing a far more difficult adversary than a newcomer would normally be pitted against.
She wasn’t just a bitch, she was a vindictive one.
Maureen was at least able to take a little pleasure in the fact that the first several matches were rather uneventful and as a result Mistress Tormik was visibly bored to the point of agitation, though she did her best to hide it.
The combatants fought decently, considering their status, and while bones were broken and blood flowed, none were killed and only a few suffered what would likely be permanent injuries.
When the next level of fighters began to compete, however, things changed. These were the ones trying to become contenders for the championship-level fights, and they were not holding back. The violence was tenfold that of the others, and the crowd loved it.
“Esteemed guests,” the ringside announcer called out over the wireless voice projection system. “Next up is a man from a distant realm. A fighter of great skill and strength. A warrior hoping to rise to the level of champion. Please give a warm welcome to Navaris!”
The crowd cheered loudly for the bare-chested beast of a man as he ran out of the tunnel into the arena. He sprinted fast around the perimeter, displaying his speed as well as his agility.
Maureen couldn’t see clearly with his constant movement but his body appeared to be covered with a fine layer of golden fur, darker spot marks dotting his flanks and spine. He really was a beast, almost cheetah-like in his form and markings.
And like an animal, he was running fast, shifting between two and four legs with ease. While not as bulky as some, he was nevertheless lean and sinewy, clearly capable of inflicting serious damage.
