Chapter 17: Exhibition Matches

During the walk from the inn to the guild’s arena, Gretel explained to Lexi how the operation functioned, largely putting the paladin at ease.

In its earliest incarnation, the arena had simply been a training ring, where adventurers would spar against one another, to hone their combat skills between quests. However, as time went on, word got out to the city at large, and a slow trickle of onlookers began. This trickle continued to grow, week after week, until the simple outdoor ring used by the guild members was nearly inaccessible to both the adventurers themselves as well as the onlookers — a situation which invariably led to actual fights breaking out within the crowd.

Seeing that the situation as it existed was bound to produce more trouble for the city’s guards and prisons, and also recognizing that there was apparently an enormous appetite among the populate for combat-oriented entertainment, the nobles funded the construction of the great arena.

“Today,” Gretel concluded. “This serves a dual purpose, both its original function as a place for adventurers to spar with one another, and for the capitol’s citizens to gather, watch the fights, and — of course — place bets on the outcomes.”

“People place wagers on sparring matches?” Lexi asked with some disbelief.

“Well,” the mage amended. “The thing is, what used to be more friendly sparring matches between comrades has also turned into exhibition bouts, where adventurers will try to show each other up, and gain recognition among both their peers and the public — in a way that’s relatively safe.”

“Relatively safe?”

“As safe as any kind of combat ever can be. Exhibition matches are either unarmed, or the fighters will use blunted wooden versions of their usual weapons. Even still, all kinds of accidents and injuries can happen from that.”

“Gotcha,” Lexi said nodding along. “So, since these obviously aren’t death matches, how is a winner determined?”

“Three ways,” Gretel answered, holding up an equal number of fingers. “Either one person ends up unconscious, or they chose so submit, or the judge calls the match — that usually only happens if it looks like someone’s going to get seriously injured. After all, the city depends on the adventurers to help keep the greenskins and other monsters away from the city. It’s only because of the guild’s expeditionary work that the city isn’t constantly under siege. So, the nobles want to make sure that what happens in the arena doesn’t end up maiming or killing any more otherwise healthy adventurers than can be avoided.”

“Wow,” Lexi said, awed at the tight logic of the system. “That’s actually a really well designed arrangement.”

“Yeah, it definitely seems to work in a couple of different ways, which is great. Aaand, for our purposes, the way that each day’s matches are organized should give us the perfect opportunity to scope out a potential third member for our blossoming little party.”

“What’s special about the organization?”

“Since there’s so much betting involved with the exhibition matches, the guild decided that the best way to both keep the fighters safe and to maximize the public’s engagement was to order each day’s bouts along guild rankings. That way, adventurers are only fighting their peers of the same rank — you don’t have novices getting torn apart by masters. And since the novices draw the fewest onlookers, those bouts take place pretty early in the morning.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Lexi said smiling. “After all, I doubt we’d have a chance of enticing anyone other than another novice to join us, so this should hopefully get us exactly what we want.”

Gretel nodded back, both girls smiling at one another in accord as to their mission for the day. It seemed like a good plan, after all.

What could go wrong?

The arena itself reminded Lexi very strongly of models she had seen in school of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. It was a large round two-story building with a single large entrance facing the street. It was done in the half-timbered style common to most of the city’s buildings, which Lexi had long associated with medieval buildings. The wood shingled roof followed the circular plan of the building. However, as Lexi and Gretel walked through the gate and entered into the arena’s grounds, the paladin saw that — just like the Globe — there was a large circular opening directly above the central platform.

Similar to the Globe as well, Lexi noted that there were three levels of stadium-like seating which wrapped around the entirety of the arena, providing room for a large number of onlookers. Although, at this early hour, the stands were only populated be a few dozen somewhat groggy looking individuals — many of whom appeared to be either hung over or still drunk. The one notable difference from Shakespeare’s playhouse was that the stage was not set into the back wall of the arena, but was set dead center, equally observable from any vantage point within the circular building.

“This way,” Gretel said, snapping Lexi’s attention back to her, and guiding the paladin into a row of seats along the ground floor. “We got here just in time. It looks like a match is right about to start.”

Just as the mage had indicated, as soon as the pair of adventurers sat down on the wooden bench, two men who Lexi assumed must be the fighters — based on the fact that they both bore wooden swords and mismatched scraps of leather armor — climbed the stairs on opposite sides of he square platform. They were joined at the same time by a small, rather dapper looking man in a black velvet doublet which was embroidered with a large crest made up of stylized sword and shield, marking him, Lexi supposed, as some kind of guild official.

The man pulled out a very curious device from a pocket in his doublet. It was wrought entirely of gold, and reminded Lexi of a very fancy version of the kind of wire hoop with a handle that kids would use to blow bubbles.

“What’s that?” she whispered to Gretel, pointing at the strange implement.

“Amplification wand,” the mage answered. “You’ll see what it does in just a second.”

Just so, the small man held the wand up to his mouth — just as if he were going to blow a bubble — but instead, simply started to speak. What was amazing was that this magical device was apparently very aptly named, because for all his diminutive size, the little man’s voice boomed throughout the entirety of the arena, filling the stands with his sonorous intonation.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice boomed. “Spectators and adventurers, well-wishers and naysayers, welcome one, welcome all to today’s exhibition matches of the Adventurer’s Guild of Astyanax!”

There was scattered applause from some of the less visibly intoxicated or otherwise impaired onlookers, to which both Lexi and Gretel lent their support. Whether he failed to notice the muted reaction, or was just indifferent to it, the man continued without skipping a beat.

“I am grandmaster Johann Baader, chief mage of the city’s guild chapter, and I shall be the host and judge of today’s events. We have, today, a well-rounded slot of scheduled bouts between novice competitors which have already been prearranged with the guild. However, there is enough leeway in the agenda to accommodate a few ad hoc matches in the event that any onlookers decide to try their hands against each other.”

“People can just decide to get up on stage and fight each other?” Lexi asked Gretel.

“Oh yeah,” the mage chuckled. “Usually, it’s some fat louse drunk off his ass, and everyone has a good laugh over him making a complete ass out of himself. Sometimes though, you’ll see someone just decide that — for whatever reason — they’ve got to challenge one of the adventurers who’ve fought that day. Usually, that’ll be some blow-hard that thinks the fighter won a match too easily, and that they could’ve done way better than the loser. These are usually pretty funny too, but you never know. Sometimes it can just be a total wildcard in the audience that actually can fight, and ends up showing up the adventurer.”

“The first two challengers of the day,” Johann continued over Gretel’s whispered explanation to Lexi, “stand before you now.” Gesturing respectively to the young man on the right and the older one on the left, “I give you Franz Elsner and Albert Heilmann.”

Franz could hardly have been a day over eighteen, Lexi thought. The babyfaced young man looked so much like the legions of physically frail young men who had populated the majority of her computer science classes back in the other world. His ill fitting leather helm and breastplate did nothing to improve his image as a “warrior,” nor did the clearly inexpert way he held his single-handed wooden sparring sword.

The boy’s opponent, Albert, could hardly have presented an image that was more dissimilar. He was as old as the boy was young, and as fat as his counterpart was skinny. He wore no breastplate — and Lexi doubted whether one would have even fit over the gut which hung down over the waist of his trousers — but did wear mismatched bits of boiled leather on his arms and shins. He too was armed with a wooden sword, although it was a two-handed style, which he slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Begin!”

As soon as the announcer made his proclamation, the previously quiet stands exploded into a veritable cacophony of noise. It seemed there was hardly a bystander around Lexi and Gretel that did not want to place some kind of bet on the bout’s outcome.

“Three coppers says the lardass gets knocked off the platform!”

“Are you daft? I’ll take that, and raise you an extra copper what says the lad pisses himself before he gives in!”

“You’re both off your rockers! I’ll take both your bets and add another copper to the pot that says neither one can finish the match, and the bossman calls it for ’em!”

So went the dull roar of voices that rebounded through the wooden structure around the paladin. Though Lexi obviously had no intention of throwing her coins away on a wager like this, she was fascinated at how intense so many of the spectators were when it came to staking a position on one of two combatants that none of them were likely to have ever laid eyes on before — much less having seen them fight!

At the same time that the onlookers began shouting their bets over one another, the two men on the arena’s central platform began slowly circling one another. The boy, Franz, held his sword out in front of him with as much finesse and skill as an old man trying to show off a misbehaving dog with a rolled up newspaper. It was clear to Lexi, and obviously to the boy’s opponent, that he had no notion of how to wield a sword, wooden or otherwise.

Albert swaggered towards the boy, his circling steps growing tighter around him like a noose, bringing him a little closer with each loop. For all his excess girth, the older man seemed relatively light on his feet. And although he still had his sword slung over one shoulder, Lexi was keenly aware of the way the man’s hands had shifted into a loose grip at just the right points along the two-hander’s long handle. He was clearly ready to swing the sword at any time, despite his relaxed appearance.

As expected, after one more loop, the boy’s nerves got the better of him. With a stuttered shout, he leaped towards the slovenly older man, attempting to slash at his opponent’s seemingly unprotected head. In an instant, Albert pumped his shoulder, rolling the sword into a perfectly executed parry, blocking the boy’s clumsy slash. And, with the same movement, the older man snapped the blade of his sword forward in a sharp downward slash, connecting cleanly with Franz’s forehead.

“Holy shit!” Lexi called out, slapping her palms hard on the wooden rail in front of her, completely caught up in the excitement of the turn of events. She had expected nothing from the paunchy old man, so this demonstration of skill came as a complete surprise.

Franz’s eyes crossed, and his knees locked, as the boy went stiff as a board, falling flat on his back unconscious. The stands erupted into a seemingly evenly mixed jumble of cheers and boos.

“We have a winner!” Johannes’ voice magically amplified voice echoed, carrying clearly over the dissonant clamor.

And with no further ado, Albert slouched off the platform, his wooden blade once again slung easily over his shoulder, while a pair of what appeared to be Johann’s assistants — based on their matched liveries with smaller versions of the guild’s crest — dragged the unconscious young man down and onto a bench to recuperate.

“Like I said,” Gretel shouted, a huge grin spread across her pretty face. “You never know how a fight’s going to turn out!”