The Vampire & Her Witch

Underneath the arena, a short, horned merchant paced back and forth nervously in one of the many preparatory chambers reserved for champions of the arena. In the ten days since Yotsun’s unintentional feud with the Willow Witch had begun, his salt and pepper hair had turned even more gray and he swore that the bald spot at the crown of his head had doubled in size from all the stress that piled up on him is the pressure mounted.

At first, he’d thought little of the diminutive witch’s claim that she could do as the Blood Princess had done, standing for ten days in the arena and fighting at least ten men a day. He had never expected that High Lady Erna would be standing near enough to overhear their increasingly boastful spat or that she would step up to act as a witness to their wager.

The morning after the banquet, though he quickly assembled a team of arena regulars, Yotsun was prepared to laugh the whole thing off as a joke once he taught the little girl from the Vale of Mists why his ancestors had never once considered returning to a place filled with weaklings and cowards that sheltered under the wings of the Blood Princess.

While the men he hired were by no means famous champions in High Fen City, they were capable enough to fight in the largest arena in the entire High Fen rather than being relegated to the smaller venues within the city or worse, the much smaller dueling grounds that were common in the outlying towns and villages. They should have been more than sufficient to put the newly born ’Willow Witch’ in her place.

After that, Yotsun intended to make a great show of being the bigger man. He would disregard their wager or perhaps ask for a single favor. Either way, he would remind everyone watching that both he and the young witch had consumed a great deal of alcohol and that he, as the older and wiser party, wouldn’t hold the rash words of youth against a promising young witch.

The old merchant expected that such a grand display of magnanimity would raise his stature in the eyes of many of his peers and his act of mercy might even earn him additional rewards from the new Mother of Trees. In the end, it should have taken a single day in the arena to conclude this entire affair.

Yet now, ten days later, he’d pulled his hair in frustration so often that he knew he would be bald within a year from the stress of this disaster alone. If the first defeat could be forgiven for using a random collection of common fighters, then everything that happened from the second day on could only be considered an exercise in throwing good money after bad.

Now, ten men in dark crimson and black robes stood before him as they awaited the signal that they could enter the arena. The sounds of battle had faded long ago, yet for some reason, they had yet to be allowed to take to the sands, leaving Yotsun to fret about what might be happening on the floors above.

"Sit, little man," a slender figure in dark robes growled. The man’s voice was hoarse and rough, and when he spoke, he sounded like each word had been pulled through a throat that refused to let more words escape than was absolutely necessary.