A Fond Farewell

The red sand shifted under Aiden's feet. With the sun beating down, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the excitement of the cheering crowd. Sweat rolled down his neck, and a cool breeze blew across the arena. From the bottom row to the seat of the Pantheon, they shouted his name to the heavens. Once the chains turned, a wave of silence rolled across the crowd, followed by thunderous drums and trumpets echoing to the city’s farthest reaches.

His opponent stood behind the great gate and slammed his weapon, a colossal mace imbued with the flames of Kyra, against the hardened iron bars. Sparks flashed in the darkened tunnel, revealing the beast’s face. The atrician barbarian Oulo locked his fiery gaze on the lightly armored Aiden.

Their eyes met, and the gate started its ascent. For Aiden, the world stood still; he could hear each person in the crowd and even the breathing of a squire sitting at the edge of the arena. The chains clanged together, and gears moaned, but he remained focused.

As the gate neared the halfway point, Aiden’s field of view narrowed. He could no longer hear the world. Aiden blocked out all sound other than that of his opponent, he could see the foam at the corners of Oulo’s mouth and hear the ragged breath between his guttural calls. All that remained was him and Oulo.

With rage, the Atricia barbarian slammed against the walls. Not waiting for the gate to be completely out of his way, Oulo charged through, warping the metal and shattering the stonework. Oulo raised his weapon above his head. Standing twice the height of a human, an atrician was more like an ox than a man and was related to the great ogres of Marthreal. With hooved feet and thick fur, they had curved horns like a ram, but unlike the violent ogres, the atricians were peaceful and well-regarded as scholars.

Oulo’s heavy-handed strikes were easy for Aiden to dodge. Being smaller and quicker, Aiden’s attacks were swift and devastating. He slashed Oulo along his thigh and placed the blade to the fur on Oulo's throat. The barbarian's eyes glared with furious anger at Aiden. Oulo swung his armored gauntlet and shattered a stone pillar.

Aiden smiled and stepped back, avoiding another advance from his much larger and stronger opponent. Aiden took the time to pick apart Oulo’s defenses, nicking his other leg and both arms while waiting for him to tire from the continuous assault.

Oulo crumbled to his knees; the weight of his weapon became more than he could carry, and his injuries, though superficial, would require time to heal before fighting again.

"Yield, Oulo... you are beaten, or shall we spill more blood? there is honor in knowing one is defeated." Aiden offered an outstretched hand.

Oulo’s gold-tipped fangs dripped blood onto the white stone at the center of the arena. A gash ran from Oulo’s lip to his eyebrow, where Aiden missed his mark slightly. Oulo reached for him, the clawed hand missed its mark and scraped across the armor on Aiden’s chest.

They readied for another bout and stared each other down. Oulo charged, his feet tearing at the earth, and his eyes staring through Aiden. Oulo barreled at the man with reckless abandon.

Time slowed for Aiden once more, he heard the flap of a moth’s wings in the halls below and the gasp from a small child on the top row. He watched Oulo grab the burning mace and drag it along the porous stone of the arena. Oulo brought the weapon down on Aiden, the force of which smashed the stonework and sent a plume of dust into the air.

Being nimble, Aiden managed to slip out of the way and drag his weapon along Oulo’s back, cutting deep in the beast’s flesh. The attack sent Oulo crumbling into the sand. Defeated he rolled over and pushed his weapon away.

Another thunderous applause broke out, and cheering ensued. The crowd of thousands was on their feet, chanting “UNDYING!” A name given in honor of his record in the arena.

Aiden gave a bow, and amid flowers being thrown into the arena, he followed the group of gladiators who came to recover his opponent. They loaded Oulo onto a cart destined for the healers.

Through his gravelly voice and hissing growl, Oulo gave a nod. "You’re getting sloppy." Once in the tunnel, the beast rose and stumbled to his feet to walk alongside Aiden into the darkened gladiators' hall.

"Sadly, you’re right. One cannot live forever, and my fiercest opponent waits at home." Aiden said.

"You’ve earned the right. Go, raise your pups. It was an honor to be your last challenger, sir Oro.” The crowd stomped in unison and shouted for one last bow from Aiden. “Send Dirna my best, It would seem they want to send you off with a hero’s farewell." Oulo was tended to by the healers before Aiden slapped his shoulder and returned to the arena.

The crowd again burst into applause, a chant of his name rose high as people threw more flowers and streams of ribbon into the arena around him. He relished the moment and looked at the great throne. The gods of the living pantheon were in attendance, as they were for all the glorious fights.

Silence fell as Athys held out a hand and hushed the excitement. Her soft yet stern voice carried to all corners of the coliseum and the city beyond, "Dearest Aiden Oro." While she spoke, Balessa walked onto the field, the voiceless queen carried a box and was trailed by twenty men carrying chests of gold and other riches. She stopped and placed the gifts at Aiden’s feet.

"I offer you a gift, forged by our brother and imbued with the light of our maker," Athys said.

He opened it to find a smooth sheath and handle. The sword stood at shoulder height and was free of any blemish or marking; the pommel of silver held the mark of Kasridak, and the blade hummed with arcane energy. "For your service to the people and to me, forever will you be favored by the pantheon.” Athys gave a nod to Aiden. “Enjoy your retirement and know that all will fall short of your legacy, in Apolis and throughout the Olian Empire."

He tucked the weapon under his arm.

Balessa held out her hand, and through her, his voice reached every corner of the empire. "I served for the glory of Olian; you honor me more than I deserve, and I will cherish your favor and adoration until my last breath. Should you, should any of you require me, do not hesitate to knock at my door."

The main gate swung open, and thousands lined the streets of Apolis. Flower petals rained from the sky, and Nyasom joined the procession leading Aiden out of the city. The parade stretched to the outer wall and beyond. With music and celebration spreading through the streets, the Empire would celebrate for days in his name.

Aiden greeted nobles and peasants alike. Taking the time to enjoy a reward earned through decades as Olian’s champion. His service was to the people. Beyond the arena, he worked to bring peace to all corners of the empire.

Outside the city, Nyasom stood with Kiara, Sterward of Bruin. where Aiden’s horse was prepared. His wealth of rewards was saddled and placed in the care of legionaries from Tania. Soldiers sent as an honor from the great Ualeon queen.

Kiara offered a necklace of black glass to Aiden before she bid farewell and rejoined the celebration. They had few interactions outside of a single confrontation in the arena.

"For a human, you have accomplished what Gods dared not; would you reconsider my offer?" Nyasom asked.

Aiden placed the necklace into a saddlebag and stuck the sword in a sack.

"My wife would be the ruin of us all if I entertained that thought, but if you ever need me outside of such fanciful notions, it is a short trip to Lomas," Aiden said.

“Be safe, dearest Aiden. Kasridak would have been here, but a matter arose in Aud Nua that required his attention.” Nyasom pulled his hood back over and made his leave. “Goodbye, as the commoners call you, be well, undying.”

Aiden put a foot into the stirrup.

"Not going to wait to say goodbye to an old friend, or are you giving me a reason to travel north?" Melisande waited by the gate, the frills on her white robe danced with the winds off the Borethian mountains. "Thirty years in the arena, and only one defeat. Quite the accomplishment, for a human."

"One defeat? I thought we agreed it was a draw... and without an audience, is it even a true match?" Aiden hopped down and embraced Melisande, but pulled away to look over the city one final time. “I will both miss and be relieved to be far from the city.”

Melisande wiped speck dust from his shoulder. “Does anything ever bring down your spirit?”

"Would the Queen of Ciro truly wonder why a mortal never finds himself at the mercy of his own emotions? No, you wouldn’t do such a thing, you’re far too wise.” He hooked his arm onto hers and walked back to his horse. “When death calls me, ask again... maybe I will have a different answer.”

She flicked his ear and smiled, “You didn’t bother answering now!”

“Thought I did... Dirna would love to see you, and where is Dareneth? Figured he would come to see me off as well. Although it is in his nature to be cold." Aiden gave Melisande a firm pat on her shoulder and mounted his horse, "farewell, may you not call for I wish to grow old and fat and do not wish to be troubled by elf, Anian, or Baeothen, but truly come visit. I will likely grow bored within a week."

Melisande tossed her cloak over her shoulder. “Goodbye, and tell Dirna, I’ll be along once things settle in Aud Nua.”

Aiden smiled and spurred the horse. Without a moment to waste, he galloped ahead of his escort. the city fell behind the rolling hill, and gone were the crashing waves of the dread sea. Ahead were the great plains of the north. Weeks of hard riding would see him through the rocky terrain and into the region of Marthreal. He found comfort in seeing the snowcapped peaks and heavenly bells at the gates of the dwarven city of Iskal.