Things were progressing steadily, and on the 4th day was when they made their final sales-push in preparation for the auction.

They kept to shorter schedules at the auction house square and made everyone who’d done decently in the role take scheduled turns, designed around keeping their energy high for the full duration of the market day.

But there remained those who had no particular talent for such things; Harold, Oscar, Sten and Redd & Ronia–in addition to Kalle, who certainly could have done well, with the use of his Skills–but instead did everything he could to get out of it. Apparently being assailed by a constant river of insufficiently disguised greed all day was not all that much fun.

Livia would have had to disagree.

Nobody treated you like customer service here, instead it was presumed you were, if not the creator, then certainly the owner of the item in question; each engagement was either a polite, relaxed inquiry for purchase or an intense bartering battle. She enjoyed both sides of the spectrum, even if people were always looking to get one up on them, including fellow [Merchant]s and hobbyists with stalls of their own.

The [Guild Master] simply felt privileged to be in a position to make sales at all, she'd read far too many stories where the character had to rub two coins together for a month to make a third; and each sale felt especially rewarding with the knowledge of where their proceeds would be invested next: Right back into their [Guild]s future.

But for those who wanted to get out of it, other sites in the city centre beckoned, namely the Arena. And they did have a decent excuse, since Moa had sent a message requesting to meet there to clarify the details of their bet’s resolution.

Oscar was fully recovered after receiving Harold’s ministrations, but mostly due to his levelling up–and the rest of them were also aching for a good fight where they could stretch their Skills. But it wasn’t likely to go overboard like with Moa, not unless they got into another bet somehow. Footing the bill for a healer was not cheap, and nobody was about to offer to pay for the opponent’s side of things, and provoking anything high stakes seemed like a bad idea even to Harold, since this was obviously a pretty critical juncture.

Now that they had established themselves somewhat, the only ones likely to take the bait were those with secret weapons of their own; Sten made it clear they’d already gotten lucky with being underestimated once, and that the Arena usually swallowed rookies up and spat them right out in most cases, even the prodigies.

When the gang made their way there with full bellies, they arrived at the bustling training centre while it was still early, and so they had some time to look around before the amateurs were let on.

In between the many supportive pillars which held up the Arena's narrow corridors you could find alcoves and some of them held the occasional martial arts instructors advertising their services in various styles, and even some minor street vendors selling a cheap selection of training gear.

The last time they had walked right in, so it was a given to make the full lap.

They walked for a full thirty minutes after falling victims to the sunk cost fallacy, despite how the corridors were emptying as the crowds got let in, but once they completed the full lap around they found a room on the southern end where spray-paint had apparently been permitted, with strict limitations.

What they found was a list of rankings far more extensive than the one that had been painted on the Adventurer’s [Guild] house for their local teams. This was at least a decade of rankings, all sporting the year and month at the top, and which category and part of the Arena where these deeds had supposedly taken place. It stretched and stretched across the corridor walls, and it was seemingly getting updated by crew working to update it with yesterday's results even now.

Sten went up to read one closer. This one had several rankings based on what base Class a person was known to fight with, but it was including for how long the fighters had been active here; listing those who had first fought over a year ago, three years ago, five years ago and then there were the 10+ year veterans–which was how you measured all the way up to around level 40.

It appeared that things got a lot more complicated once Classes reached that high, and the niche Skills that popped up made the number of years of fighting in the Arena less of a factor? The only rating being shown on the final list was a sort of handicap and next to it an estimated level; but the higher level fighters evidently liked to maintain their secrets–plenty of the levels were merely shown as question marks, not even daring to estimate.

It was exciting stuff going through it all and getting to put a name to some of the best individual fighters who cared to be known, and the cavernous room even held enough space for portraits of the top three fighters; with the biggest surprise being a couple of Ogres and Foxkin in the mix in years past. One wall's champions even some race none of them managed to readily identify, although that fellow was only in the three years list for that season.

But their biggest surprise came when Kalle looked more closely at the newest list, among the rookies; they had a shorter list on a wall in the far back; one with only a thousand names, and it was for everyone who’d been fighting less than three months, and lo and behold; Oscar was placed as #874.

Sten asked someone who looked to be in the know for clarification, and as it turns out Kumite spars were worth triple points if they went a sufficient distance without longer lulls, which their fight had managed with a rather good margin. As the winner, Oscar's performance had certainly been noted. Even Moa was likely to have gotten ranked, even if she didn’t make the list of the top 1000.

Evidently it wasn't about winning, but about what the members with a certain type of Class thought of your complete fighting style, which only counted as worthy of scrutiny once you faced a fully resisting opponent. If Sten and Oscar had only went in there to spar and gone home, then nobody would have taken much note. But part of the duel preparations on the day had been registering their names and [Guild] affiliation, so it was down to this minor bureaucratic detail that Oscar was now getting this unexpected, if temporary, sign of acknowledgement. You could only earn points in this limited list for your first few months after all, and by the end of the year no further entries were allowed.

Still, it was good motivation. You could come and truly prove yourself here; so long as your were willing to put your head and limbs on the line.

With that bit of encouragement the group headed out to the cliffs, since Moa had asked them to meet her at the rocky section of the Arena training grounds–and they found her there alone. She was looking nervous–at least to Kalle. But mostly like she was set to face the ordeal of a lifetime, and determined to come out the other side better, but somehow likely to get damaged in the process.

Adding another face to their mix was bound to make things complicated, at least for a while, but if they got to know each other and fit well, then the opposite could well be true and maybe this gal would be a positive influence and provider of solutions and harmony, only time would tell.

And if they did not mix well; it wasn’t like they were about to truly hold her to the 3-year duration of the contract.

Sure, Livia and Elin might get it in their heads to try to gain some compensation for it if they aborted early on–and the feeling that it couldn't be worked out was mutual–but still.

None of them expected her to act like some serf afraid of getting disciplined, what they hoped for was a team member to match their march up the levels, after all.

Sten went ahead to greet her with a familiar face that she hadn't spent too much time trying to stab, and she went up to hail them readily, if rather stiffly. “Greetings. I appreciate your meeting me here, I stand fully prepared to provide the promised service, Spirits willing I shall be of use to you for the entire duration, as agreed.” Her lilting Finn tones made for a nice change of pace to their Salcret dialect, and certainly to Livia’s hurried speech. But the overall impression for Sten and Oscar was like she’d turned to an entirely different person from the braggadocious, confident young contender they had met.

She was standing there in simple training gear, and she had both her real sword and a new shield, and lighter variants for training besides, all hanging by her shoulders and belt. Behind her was a knapsack on the ground, and she both looked and felt isolated already.

But there was nothing like a Roldy for breaking the tension.

He walked right up to her and smiled like a predator in her face. “So, you’re the one I heard was beating on my little brother, huh. Is that right? And with your warrior Class to boot, are you the big, bullying type then, ya little shit?”

Thankfully he delivered the admonition with teasing eyes, rather than a glare, and the group chuckled lightly to make the meaning clear; and Moa seemed like she was also used to some warrior’s humour–but Harold had gotten awfully close, and though they were of a similarly impressive height, he outweighed her by probably a good 30 kilos. And even worse–he looked dressed like a Caster.

Kalle could read how she was taking it, and since she was partially ready to defend herself physically he hurried to step in. “Ha ha ha, alright Roldy. Good one, but maybe save the joking for once she’s gotten to know you a bit better, yes?”

Moa was still looking very bruised from their extended fight, even though the levelling must have done a great deal to help her body heal from the more severe cuts.

Harold’s smile immediately softened from wolf into more like a big, older dog, and he unabashedly clapped her on the shoulder. “Yeah, just kidding obviously. How could I be mad at your helping him level?”

And she seemed to relax a bit at that. But Sten had to ask. “You said fully prepared, so I take it you plan to leave here with us. Is that all you’re bringing?” He indicated the knapsack behind her.

She looked behind her before responding, despite how she must have known what he was referring to. “Yes. Well, that is all I was able to bring. I did not personally own much, but was still gifted my sword outright, and even provided a new shield. They do expect me back, make no mistake.”

And that sounded like an awful little to send your daughter off with, especially to Redd who had tagged along to provide pointers. But if their family were already saving coin for something important, or had lots of other kids in need, then perhaps it made sense. But those last words also made it clear how little she knew of what sort of company she’d ended up in, so soon into her Class. She expected to be treated like a mercenary.

Redd decided to reassure her. “We will provide, make no mistake. Even if all you do is act as a sparring partner, you will certainly not go hungry or lack for a place of your own to sleep, once we are settled. We will work you into our fighting formation where you fit best, have no doubt.”

She nodded to the huge, one-legged man with his impressive staff, itopped by the form of a giant arrow. “If that is so, perhaps you would not mind giving me back my other shield, which was lost during the duel? I had practised with it for quite a while, and was dismayed to find it gone, even if I understand the concept of spoils of battle… That is not usually how we do things here in Dormata, not for duels,”

And that just made them all look bloody surprised, but only Sten and Oscar had been there, so they all turned to the two, expecting a swift refutal from Sten who hadn't had to get carried out. “I assure you, we did not grab your shield on the way out, we had far bigger things on our minds at the time, I had just reached my capstone in fact,”

And now Moa looked confused too, so she looked to Oscar. “I could have sworn it remained stuck underneath your shield when we were both forced to let go, after that strange suction thing you did?”

And that’s when they were forced to explain just how little they had had time to learn of Oscar’s newest piece of gear, and so they went and found a hidden corner of the Arena to unveil it in to try and figure something out, with Moa joining them all to stand in a long row, looking perplexed at the strange egyptian eye.

It looked right back, suddenly not seeming quite so lily-white anymore.