Minvávriel had donned her black durassium armor and was organising the citizens into groups. When she and Vanátorás had taken over this sorry excuse of a city, they had brought order. The humans were clearly ranked depending on the district they lived in, making it easier to put blame on a single soul for the shortcomings of the many. This made those few individuals incredibly interested in keeping everybody in line. It had taken some work to whip those savages into shape, but now they did better than the average rot of orcs.

Her plan to properly “train” the human, that Vanátorás found so very interesting, was to present him with a challenge. She would send the humans to fight him, which was not much different from his earlier battles. But she would limit him severely in order to motivate improvement. If the human died… Then it would be so. It was not important. Her objective in this little game was another.

She made sure to put the human women into the groups of fighters as well, taking their children hostage to keep them in line effectively. She put those little ones in the viewing stands of the arena, to keep whoever was fighting at the time motivated. After she assigned various officers and explained them what to do and how, as well as the possible consequences, she left for the dungeon of the fighting arena. It was time to explain everything to the human in question.

Speaking to all those filthy savages had put her in a foul mood and she would enjoy the feeling of an empty city afterwards.

The fighting arena was pretty well designed, but it lacked beauty. It had been literally carved out of the mountain the fortress had been built on and reached pretty deep. The stands were able to hold a thousand people with ease, while the arena itself was shaped in the form of an oval. The best view was Cleary to be had from the chambers the two Albae had set up camp in. And naturally so, since those had been the chambers of the former human rulers.

The walls of the arena were around four to five meters in height and the stone was smoothed enough to make it impossible for any human to scale the tall walls. For Minvávriel it was nothing. The humans were not capable of doing any job right, so this one was no exception. There were slight elevations in the smoothed walls, barely visible to a human eye, but for her it would be enough to climb at any time.

Below the countless standings, a couple dozen staircases winded down into the dungeons that were situated right below the fighting area. Minvávriel was sure that the impact of blades and the screams of agony could be heard from below, which was pretty sadistic. It would be lovely to have such a arena back in Dsôn. Keeping tortured elbs below the very place their race would find its end was quite the interesting idea. It could probably be monetized properly as well.

As she stepped down the long winding stairs, she shoved the thought aside. Her mood lifted when she saw Vanátorás already speaking to the human in question. She stepped next to him silently. He had put on his dark leather armor and carried a longbow on his back. Dozens of black feathered arrows rested in the quiver on his hip. He looked good. She had a quick thought about last night, before diverting her attention to the human.

The cells were constructed with literal beams of wood that had been built into the walls on two sides and stone walls on the others. The space in between the wooden beams was not large. That made it possible to speak to the prisoners and observe them at any time, while still keeping them locked up well. Maybe it was also designed that was so they could hear the arena from above? Minvávriel appreciated it, for now she didn’t have to actually enter the filthy dungeon cells.

The human looked...well. It was odd, since her brother sent him to fight every couple of days and she knew that he would hardly make it an easy fight. He wore clean clothes, he looked clean and bathed. Apparently her brother treated him well. She had not expected this.

Minvávriel stepped towards the cage and spoke to the human. “What is your name?”

Thasun opened his left eye and looked at the woman, clad in black armor calmly. It was the first time since they had left Sandrei. She had struck him from behind, after which a sharp pain made him faint. That was the last thing he remembered. After that he had been unconscious for weeks, maybe even months. After he had woken up in this shody prison cell, only the male Alb, Vanátorás had appeared from time to time. Thasun did not know why they had not killed him yet, but if he ever got the chance, he would kill both of them and escape this place.

Thasun had healed up well, thanks to the breathing techniques of the Iordai clan and the care of various doctors that the Alb had sent him. The swordmaster had to admit, these creatures truly deserved to be the rumors of legends. He would lose to either one of them, and their entire race was probably hardly any different. But Thasun was close to the fourth level now. The months of meditation, mixed with fights had done wonders. He was progressing quickly.

Once he reached the same level as his master, he could fight the Albae on equal footing. Probably. He had never actually seen them fight properly and he could only guess from their movements and behaviour during the siege of Sandrei. He still felt that the female one was much more dangerous, although he could not tell why.

He ignored her question defiantly and closed his eye again.

This pathetic human had the audacity to ignore her question. Rage lines shot all over her face below the dark durassium plate helmet and she put some of her natural abilities into her voice as she repeated the question.

“What is your name~?” She asked, with a soothing voice.

The eyes of the human shot open and he was about to answer her call, as he bit his own lower lip. Hard. As a few droplets of blood ran down his chin, the pain ripped him from her magical grasp.

Minvávriel was impressed. Very few savages had so far managed to do so. Shrugging, she took off her helmet in a flowing motion and stepped closer to the cage. Then she repeated the question, using her looks to amplify the natural beauty of her voice. Even Vanátorás looked at her intensely.

“Who. Are. You.” She whispered.

“Thasun Torréi.” The human replied, unable to stop himself.

Her charm had already taken root. It would be hard for him to refuse her requests now.

“You will have one last fight. Follow us.” She said, throwing the keys into the cell and turning around. The human complied, hurrying after them.

Vanátorás did not make the mistake to underestimate Thasun. He walked behind him, his bow undrawn but his hand on one of his knives. It would be foolish to turn his back to the human. He was not THAT weak.

“Why didn’t you kill me? What do you gain from keeping me alive?” Thasun asked with a frown.

Minvávriel did not answer. She did not care for whatever this savage being thought. He would be dead soon either way.

“You will find out in due time.” Vanátorás replied in her stead.

They remained quiet for the rest of their ascent towards the arena. As Minvávriel stepped into the fighting grounds, everything had been prepared as she had wished for. Countless children below the age of fourteen were placed in the stands, and the first challenger had taken position on the other side of the arena. Satisfied, she turned towards Thasun.

“You will fight all the humans of this city. You will do so without the use of weapons. While they may use whatever they want.” Minvávriel smiled sadistically. It was easily enough to further shake the swordsman's concentration with her charms. She had his full attention.

“Everytime you use a weapon to defend yourself, Vanátorás will kill one of the children. Everytime you kill one of your opponents, he will kill one of the children. Every time he sees you accepting surrender without actually beating someone…” She sighed. “...he will kill one of the children.”

Thasun nodded. “I understand.” His face was grim, and he seemed to understand the implication of her words.

Minvávriel nodded towards her beloved and left towards the fortress. When she exited, she heard the beginning of the first of many, many fights.

Thasun looked after the beautiful, blonde woman. It was bizarre, but even though he knew what she was and the things she had done, he was unable to resist her charm. Like a invisible hand that forced him to listen to whatever she said. A worm that sat deep inside of his mind, rearing its ugly head.

He was glad that she left. Concentrating would have been difficult otherwise. Clearing his mind as best as he could, the warrior opposite of him started to charge him. The children on the stands above cheered for him.

The man looked experienced as well. From the steel and bronze reinforced leather armor he wore, Thasun deduced that he was either from the city guards, or the fortress garrison's. He had no way of speculating any further than that, however, since he had never been conscious outside of this fighting pit, after he had been taken in the battle of Sandrei.

The soldier used a short sword and a round shield. Both were light and allowed for quick and precise movement. And his opponent was rather skilled for a common guard. The first three quick sword strikes were placed almost perfectly and would have left a normal warrior little choice but to block or parry.

Thasun however was too quick for that. He evaded to strikes with fast side steps and dove below the third strike to grab hold of his opponents shield.

“Every time you use a weapon to defend yourself…” The thought shot through his mind and Thasun let go of the shield immediately. Albae did not make empty threats. They would shoot every single child up there if he defied their will.

His opponent stepped forward quickly and bashed his shield against Thasun’s shoulder. It did not have quite the effect he had hoped for, as HE was sent flying towards the ground instead. Thasun was above him immediately, breaking the soldiers wrist with a hard kick, knocking loose the short sword, before he put the man in a choke hold below his foot. A few moments later the man dropped unconscious.

This way of fighting was hard. It would cost a lot more energy to disable someone instead of going for a quick kill. It was not the way of the Iordai school. He really would have to conserve his energy here.

Two guards rushed from the sidelines of the arena to pick up the unconscious man. Thasun was not certain, but the Albae might use all the fighters he beat repeatedly against him. The threat to kill children if he killed, implied as much.

His next enemies were a woman and a man. The woman held a bow and a quiver, looking frantically over the stands of the arena. She was clearly looking for her child. Thasun felt anger rise up in his chest, when he thought about that. If someone put him in the same situation with Ollowyn… He gritted his teeth. He would kill those two Albae!

The soldier was armed with one long and three shorter spears, wearing a chainmail. Thasun emptied his mind in order to concentrate. Seconds later he was in a state of utmost control. He felt good. Calmly he walked towards his two opponents.

The man acted first. A short spear flew towards Thasun with good aim. This man knew what he was doing. A quick ducking step forward let Thasun evade without much trouble, but the woman had been waiting. Her arrows flew towards his chest. The swordmaster had expected as much. He caught the arrow out of the air skillfully.

A single arrow wasn’t much of a threat when he saw it coming. He broke the arrow like a twig in his hand, in order to avoid being under the suspicion of using it to defend himself. The Alb was watching after all.

He continued his calm walk towards them, but both his enemies showed fear and clearly were not willing to fight anymore…