The simple but noisy meal at Demas Tavern concluded. The diluted wine was more than half gone from the large pottery jug, only a few crumbs remained of the rock-hard dark rye bread, and the plate of overly salty dried meat had been mostly finished off by Alcon. Rober, having skillfully extracted valuable information from the fun-loving Phylas and achieved his initial goal, decided it was time to move to the next stage.
He raised his hand, catching the eye of the skinny serving boy who was bustling back and forth between tables with a wooden tray.
"Boy, the bill for us."
The boy hurried over, placed the tray on the table, and began calculating the cost of the meager meal on his thin fingers. Phylas, now somewhat tipsy after several cups of wine, generously declared:
"Allow me."
He fumbled in the small pouch at his hip, the one that came with the clothes Alcon had "borrowed", intending to take out money.
Alcon and Rober chorused their thanks.
"Many thanks, Phylas!"
After Phylas had settled the bill, Rober turned to the serving boy, lowering his voice slightly so only the boy and those at the table could hear:
"We were sent here by the crew of the ship Maika."
He deliberately emphasized the ship's name "Maika" a password he had learned thanks to the Sage System from Alcon's earlier query.
The serving boy, hearing the name "Maika" looked up. The initial naive, fearful look in his eyes was replaced by one of tacit understanding. He gave a slight nod, indicating he understood, and said quietly:
"Go around to the back of the tavern, sirs. Someone there will lead you further."
Rober nodded his thanks. The three of them stood up from the rickety wooden table and stepped out of the loud, bustling Demas Tavern.
They went around behind the tavern, entering a small, dark, and damp alleyway. This alley was even narrower than the one where Rober and Alcon had hidden earlier. High brick walls rose on either side, stained with moss and caked with dirt. The air here was thick with the smell of mildew, refuse, and the foul stench of sewage rising from small ditches running along the base of the walls. The only illumination came from the faint, weak moonlight filtering through the gap between the tall buildings above.
As they walked, Alcon, naturally curious, turned to Rober and whispered "Hey Linus, do you really know that Maika crew? How come I've never heard you mention them?"
Rober smiled, replying vaguely "Not exactly acquainted. Just happened to overhear them talking in another tavern, that's how I found out about this place."
He didn't want to explain too much, knowing that the more he explained, the easier it was to slip up.
When they reached the end of the alley, a small, old wooden door appeared before them. Standing in front of it were three large men with fierce faces. They wore dark leather clothing, with short swords and even battle axes hanging at their belts. Their eyes were cold and sharp, filled with vigilance as they stared intently at Rober, Alcon, and Phylas.
One of the three men, likely the leader, stepped forward, blocking their path, and asked in a harsh voice:
"Who are you? What business do you have here?"
Alcon started to answer, but Rober was quicker. He said, his tone calm and confident:
"We came to watch tonight's fights."
The three men exchanged glances, then looked Rober, Alcon, and Phylas up and down, as if assessing and scrutinizing them.
"Watch the fights?"
The leader smirked, likely because they looked like unfamiliar faces.
"You think just anyone can walk in and watch? This isn't a place for the merely curious."
He was deliberately stalling, making things difficult, probably hoping to extract some "benefit" from those wanting entry to the underground arena.
Phylas, with the experience of a seasoned nobleman, immediately grasped their intention. He cleared his throat softly, stepped forward, reached into his tunic pocket, took out a few bronze coins, and discreetly pressed them into the leader's hand.
"We just wish to observe for a little while" Phylas said amicably.
"A small token, hoping you gentlemen might accommodate us!"
The leader glanced at the coins in his hand, then back at Phylas, his expression shifting slightly. He nodded and said "Alright. Out of respect for this old fellow, I'll let you in. But remember, keep your mouths shut and don't cause any trouble."
He signaled the other two guards, who pulled the small wooden door open.
Thus, Rober, Alcon, and Phylas successfully passed the first "gate" and stepped inside.
Immediately behind the wooden door was a long, dark, and damp tunnel. It descended deep underground, with rough, uneven earth and stone walls. The air here was cold and smelled of damp soil and mildew. Occasionally, small drops of water fell from the tunnel ceiling, creating tiny tapping sounds that echoed in the quiet space.
They had to walk a considerable distance through the dark tunnel. The sound of their footsteps echoed continuously, creating a somewhat eerie sensation.
Finally, after traversing the entire tunnel, they saw faint light ahead and heard the growing sounds of noise and excitement. They stepped out of the tunnel, and an entirely new scene unfolded before Rober's eyes.
He stood at the entrance to a vast space carved deep underground, resembling a giant cavern. In the center was a large, circular area covered with thick sand, the arena itself. Surrounding the arena were tiered rows of rough wooden benches, rising like steps.
Hundreds of people were crammed onto those benches, cheering, shouting, and betting fervently. The air was scorching hot, stuffy, and thick with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and... the metallic tang of blood.
On the sand arena in the middle, two powerfully built men, bare-chested and wearing only simple loincloths, were fighting ferociously. They wielded different weapons, one used a sword and shield, the other a trident, lunging at each other, attacking, defending, dodging with swift and brutal movements. The sharp clang of weapons colliding, the roars of the fighters, the frenzied cheers of the crowd... all merged into a wild, stimulating spectacle.
Rober surveyed the scene, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. He hadn't expected such a large underground arena to exist right beneath the capital city of Edoras, apparently undetected by the authorities.
Just then, a man with a sly face and shifty eyes emerged from the crowd and approached Rober's group.
"Welcome to the Demas Arena" the man said, his tone somewhat fawning and obsequious.
"Here to watch the matches, are you? Tickets, please."
Rober asked "How much is the entry fee?"
The man held out his hand.
"Twenty coins, sir."
Rober wasn't sure what type of coin this was, but based on the amount Phylas had given the guards, he guessed 20 was a rather large sum.
As soon as the ticket seller spoke, someone sitting nearby, having overheard the exchange, turned to look and let out a quiet snicker. The laugh was soft, but loud enough for Rober to notice. He glanced at the snickering man, then back at the ticket seller, certain he was being overcharged. The entrance fee surely wasn't that high.
Phylas, perhaps accustomed to spending money without thinking, or simply wanting to avoid hassle, began to reach for his pouch. But Rober quickly stopped him.
He knew that appearing like a naive newcomer, easily tricked, could invite further trouble. The people here might see them as easy marks and try to extort more money or pick a fight.
Rober looked directly into the ticket seller's eyes and asked, his tone calm and probing "It seems... the ticket price has gone up today?"
Hearing this, the ticket seller stammered, looking flustered. He realized Rober wasn't some gullible fool.
Rober didn't want to press him or draw unnecessary attention. He turned to Phylas, took the twenty coins from his hand, and gave them to the ticket seller.
"Alright" Rober said. "Let's just say there's a special match tonight. I'll pay the twenty."
He paused, leaned closer to the ticket seller, and spoke quietly, just for the two of them:
"But I would hope, for this 'special' price, I could perhaps find out who is on tonight's fight card. A special match must have special fighters, wouldn't you agree? This extra amount should certainly be enough for a detailed list, shouldn't it?"
The ticket seller, initially surprised, quickly grasped Rober's meaning. He nodded eagerly.
"Yes... yes, sir. I... I have the list right here. Please wait just a moment."
He hurried off somewhere, then returned with a worn piece of goatskin parchment, densely covered with names and numbers. He handed the list to Rober and then quickly scurried away, as if afraid of being caught.
Rober unfolded the list to examine it. Phylas, meanwhile, paid little attention to the conversation or the list. He scanned the arena, then remarked with admiration:
"Well, I never! To think they could build such a large-scale illegal operation right under the ground without the royal authorities knowing a thing. Quite ingenious!"
Meanwhile, Alcon, true to his nature and slightly emboldened by the wine, hadn't waited for Rober and Phylas. He had gone off on his own to find seating. After searching, he spotted only two empty spots together on a bench quite close to the arena. However, next to the empty seats sat a large, burly man.
Alcon didn't hesitate. He strode straight over, fueled by a bit of liquid courage, pointed at the large man's face, and declared loudly:
"Hey! Move your backside somewhere else! This spot is for me and my friends!"
The large man, seeing Alcon's aggressive demeanor and deciding he wasn't worth tangling with, silently stood up and moved to another spot.
Alcon, having successfully "claimed" the seats, turned back and shouted loudly, calling to Rober and Phylas:
"Hey! Linus! Phylas! Over here! Got us seats!"