**[Rita]**

The sounds of garbled voices and clinking of metal sent stabbing pains into her already throbbing head. The previous night was a complete haze and any thoughts were slow and difficult to muster. She opened her eyes slowly, raising a hand to wipe away the crusty residue stuck on her lashes. The large auditorium was littered with passed out bodies, those awake were groggy like she was. There was no sign of a mop of blond hair to signify Aiden was near or any glimpse of Horace’s awkward smile. She tried to rise to escape the strange dreamland she found herself in, but her leg collapsed under her at the barest amount of pressure. The cool floor and exhaustion nearly lulled her back to sleep as she collapsed against it, yet the pressing demands of nature compelled her to sit up.

Rita looked down hesitantly towards her right knee. The pain had brought back the memory of what had occurred. A stained cloth covered it tightly making it difficult to bend. There was a lot of dark blood clumping around the bandage and as she peeled it off, fresh bright blood began to pour anew. Her movements paused as she pondered what to do. Her experience with wounds amounted solely to clean breaks and the occasional small cut. She had never been injured to this degree. A sudden voice behind her nearly caused a scream to escape her parched throat before she realized who the voice was coming from.

“Keep peeling, the bandage needs to be replaced,” the female orc in question spoke loudly, uncaring of the groaning orcs around them or Rita’s own headache. As the least knowledgeable here, she did as she was told and removed the cloth inch by painful inch. The discomfort she felt looking at the torn flesh and pieces of loose white bone was just as awful as the actual act of cleaning it.

Before Horace’s arm, she had never seen a serious injury up close, and it took every ounce of her newfound ladylike demeanor to resist the urges to faint, puke, or turn away at the sight. "I am stronger than that." It honestly impressed her to find that she could fight off the need to act out her disgust since in the past she would not have even had the option. As a result, she gained a newfound respect for noblewomen everywhere while also feeling saddened by their inability to show emotion publicly.

Her own mother had never cried in her presence and on the rare occasion, she saw her sisters, they had held a perpetual bored expression throughout their stay. She used to think they were actually uninterested in regular life after being in the army for so long, but now she wondered if they ever took off their mask of indifference. All the women in her family worked in the military and likely saw death and blood constantly. It had gotten to the point where she assumed they had been truly desensitized under their masks, but she will probably never know for sure. Rita hoped it would never stop bothering her. Once you stop seeing the pain and suffering then you stop living.

Her mask would not be like that she vowed to herself. It would keep her grounded and looking stoic, yet not block her from sharing a connection with those around her. The warrior beside her was one such person she would allow to see through the mask, though only slightly. The orcess named Lirah had shown a savage sort of kindness to her the night before and she knew her leg might be worthless if it hadn’t been for her timely treatment. Despite this quick action on the part of her new friend, she recalled being told that she was ‘lucky’ to be a spellcaster since she would likely never move properly again.

After the wound was cleaned using some questionable alcohol found in a nearby glass, she rose unsteadily to her one good leg and looked to Lirah to see where the bathrooms were.

“Where can I go to the bathroom?”

“Where can’t you? You need not have moved, Ry’ha, none would have minded given your injuries.” The calm dismissive tone of her companion nearly caused an enraged flush to rise on her bare face and neck, but she forced the indignation down by pairing it with the pride of her new orc name. It could not replace her born one, yet at the same time, it meant more since she had earned it. However, she could not resist the need to respond to clear up what had to be a miscommunication. A civilized person can’t just go to the bathroom where ever they choose, it would be madness.

“Is soiling oneself considered commonplace here? I would think you would have a place designated to avoid an undue mess in your common room.”

The resulting boom of laughter made her wonder what she was missing. Lirah soon explained in her stilted deep voice while rudding her calloused hand through Rita’s brown locks. The female orcs had a weird fascination with her hair, probably because they lacked any themselves.

“It may get messy for a bit, yes, but the dungeon cleans it all up quickly even when it is on your clothes. It was the Prince’s first decree when we settled here. Much nicer than back in the old dungeon.”

“Huh. This is not the only dungeon they control then. It's strange how they can travel through more than one when normal dungeon creatures are tied to their place of creation...” Rita had slowly been collecting bits of information since she had succeeded in impressing the Dungeon Lord the night before. A lot had been lost, so what little she could recall was carefully repeated in her mind to keep the details from being forgotten until she could see the bigger meaning.

Despite Lirah’s assurance that it was ok to go anywhere, she still worked her way across the busy room to a nearby tunnel. Some things were too hard to change no matter the inconvenience. The twinges of pain with each hobbled step nearly changed her mind, yet she somehow found the energy to keep going.

Once she felt more human again, she found a table to rest at and chewed on some nearby meat to sate her growing hunger. Fortunately, she had never needed to eat much to stay comfortable. It was one of the few benefits to her small frame and lack of musculature.

*****

Later on, Aiden brought out some kebabs that were far superior to the bits she had been snacking on and she was relieved to see the genuine smile on his tired face. If only she could figure out where Horace had gone. With her leg, she could not go searching, and the orcs she was sitting by simply shrugged when she asked. Aiden expressed his concern as well when he passed by her to serve the more important orcs sitting around the dais, but he was too busy to look either. The answer to their question was shockingly answered when Gar’ath, the Dungeon Lord’s right hand man, announced the fights to occur that afternoon.

“Today is a grand day for the orcs of Jesting Joy! We have the disgraced cook vs an elder stone adder, and Horace the Human against a drop claw to avenge himself. Should he survive he will represent us against a slave from the lower dungeons. Neither will be a fair fight, but the power of our great prince will be felt by each blow of our mighty warriors. Our brethren will be arriving throughout the next week and a tournament will be held in the following days as an act of celebration. Our new humans will bring luster and wealth to us all! We are the only settlement in record to have a human cook and a sorcerer. May our fellow orcs roll with envy."

The resulting cheers drowned out her own gasp of surprise. How could Horace survive? Even if this ‘slave’ was weak, whoever it was would likely be far superior to the limbless boy. Not to mention the slim possibility of him even getting to that point. It had taken three of them, Horace's arm, and all her magical energy to slay a weak drop claw. There was no way for him to succeed in a fair fight. "Is there a way for me and Aiden to aid him?" Rita was conflicted. Her position was now fairly secure especially after that proclamation informing everyone here how important of a trophy she was. Still, Horace had not meant to be so strange the day before and she knew he would not wish ill on her if he were in her position... It was a difficult choice and as she looked down at her leg she did not see how she could reasonably be expected to help.

The speech also brought up the question of what lower dungeon they were referring to because she had never heard of their being more than one in a location. Although given what she had heard thus far, this was hardly the most shocking. Thinking about the information and strange inconsistencies she had learned of helped her to forget about the boy being sent to fight.

She was further distracted when the giant chef was hauled out and tossed into the sand. As the apparent 'guest of honor' she was placed right next to the prince with a clear view of the resulting slaughter. She made sure not to flinch. To his credit, the rotund orc did not die easy. The first adder died to the delight of all those surrounding her and she thought that would have ben it. Alas, they did not intend for him to live. Another snake with the same dull sheen to its scales and unnaturally tough body slithered in. This one lunged straight for the man's throat, but his fleshy neck kept it from doing lethal damage. The chef's strong arms ripped at the adder's body failing this time to get the grip he needed to split the hide and kill the creature. The snake did not stop after its failed bite. It kept the neck in its glinting teeth and wrapped its length around the orc's body. The death took minutes, and even after the chef stopped twitching, the snake did not release. An untold amount of time, maybe minutes, possibly an hour went by before it detached and moved off the body.

Rita felt a slight tension release from her shoulders as she waited for the arena managers to remove the snake and corpse to allow her to turn away from the heinous sight she had just witnessed. Sadly, she did not know about snakes. Like the rest of its kind, this adder moved to the head of the chef to begin working to swallow it whole. She gagged, but only on the inside. Outwardly she may have just burped or hiccuped. She eyed the orcs around her to see if they noticed, yet their attention was riveted on the snake. Bets were being placed on whether it could fully seat the corpse inside and how fast it would get through it. She was completely disgusted and it was no longer because of what the creature was doing. It was being a snake she now knew from the words of those around her. however, these orcs were luxuriating in the death of someone they had known without a shred of pity for his suffering. He may have been a traitor, but no one deserved this.

Taking a big breath in, Rita once again raised her head high and stared down at the spectacle. She refused to join in on the revelry, yet she did make a side comment to the prince about how long she thought it would take and Gar'ath was told to place a bet on her behalf. She wasn't sure what they were wagering or why it was as fun as these beasts made it look, and she kept a disinterested expression on her pale face to disguise her hand shaking against her side. She hoped no one saw.