Chapter 56 – The Price of Freedom
Chapter 56 – The Price of Freedom
Dustville’s Arena roared with life.
The coliseum towered above the surrounding sandstone buildings like a sleeping giant, its jagged stone walls stained by centuries of dust and blood. Inside, the oval-shaped pit was surrounded by row after row of rickety wooden benches, overflowing with spectators screaming for violence. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and bloodlust. Metal gates clanged open and shut below, dragging in fresh fighters, dragging out the broken.
Vendors shouted, peddling roasted skewers and ale. An oily rat-hybrid weaved through the crowd collecting gold and handing out slips to gamblers placing their bets. Tyler’s eyes followed him for a moment.
“You’re thinking of betting?” Farnak asked with a sly grin.
Before Farnak could wave the rat over, Tyler raised a hand. “We aren’t here for that.”
Another roar rose from the crowd as a fight ended. A hulking rhino hybrid stood victorious, his hammer soaked in blood. The loser—a young cat-hybrid barely breathing—was dragged across the sand, leaving a crimson trail.
Tyler turned away, disgusted. If I wait any longer… Kelmo’s dad will probably end up like that.
Without another word, he walked down from the stands. Farnak followed. “Hey, where are you going? Don’t go starting anything. These people aren’t exactly subtle.”
Tyler ignored him and approached one of the guards stationed near the pit gates. The guard, armoured in black leather and iron, looked him over with clear disinterest.
“I want to buy one of the captured fighters,” Tyler said.
The guard raised an eyebrow. “Captured? I don’t know what you’re talking about. All the fighters here, participate voluntarily.”
Tyler pulled out a pouch and dropped 500 gold into his hand.
“I want to meet your manager.”
The guard glanced around, snatched the pouch, and said flatly, “Slaves aren’t for sale.”
“What about your manager?”
“The manager does not have time to meet insignificant people like you.”
Tyler slowly pulled another pouch of 500 gold. The guard hesitated. Tyler noticed the way he said ‘insignificant’ earlier.
Tyler reached into his inventory and pulled out another 500 gold. The guard’s eyes lit up as he quickly took both pouches.
“Follow me.”
“Sometimes I wonder if your specialty is fighting or bribing,” Farnak muttered.
As they walked, the guard held out a hand to stop Farnak. “Only one allowed. Another will cost extra.”
Tyler frowned. “Wait here.”
Farnak sighed and leaned against a nearby pillar. “Try not to get enslaved yourself.”
Tyler followed the guard up several flights of worn stone stairs until they reached the uppermost floor of the arena. Here, away from the stench and screams, the noise dulled to a distant hum. A heavy wooden door opened, revealing a large room lined with paper bundles, stacked crates, and glittering pouches of gold.
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A lavish red carpet led to a wide mahogany desk, where a rotund NPC sat reclined with his feet up. His moustache curled like a villain from an old fantasy novel. His eyes were sharp—too sharp for someone who pretended to be lazy.
“So,” he began with a lazy smile, “how much have you paid to get here?”
“Two thousand to enter. Five hundred to sit. Fifteen hundred to reach you. Total 4000 gold.”
Drellic Wane, a vulture-scorpion hybrid, and the manager of the Arena, chuckled, slow and guttural. “Oh my, they really squeezed you dry. You must be new.”
Tyler didn’t respond.
Drellic leaned forward. “Then tell me, stranger. What’s so important that you’d drop four grand just to talk?”
“I’m here to free someone. One of the captured fighters.”
Drellic blinked once. Then smiled. “Captured? You must be mistaken. All combatants here fight of their own volition.”
“Don’t waste time,” Tyler said coldly. “Your guards already tried that line.”
The arena manager laughed again, louder this time. “Who is it you’re after?”
“I don’t know his name. A turtle-hybrid. He was captured, along with his—”
Tyler did not complete the sentence. He couldn’t fully trust this manager. So he avoided mentioning Kelmo, in case things go south.
Drellic’s grin stretched wider. “Ah… the one with the runaway brat.”
Tyler froze.
“What, surprised? I keep track of everything. Especially the liabilities. That man was half-dead before we even threw him in a cell. Probably roughed up by our guys before he got here.”
Tyler gritted his teeth. “So you just let him rot?”
“He’s worthless. Weak. Not even good enough to fight. No one would bet on him, and I’d not make any money. I even had to cover the medical costs. Capturing him only brought us losses.”
Tyler, shocked, then proceeded to ask, “Is this really how you value lives? Whether they bring your profits or losses?”
Drellic grinned, “Why? Do you have a problem with that?”
Tyler scowled. “Then why not sell him to me instead? Name your price.”
Drellic leaned back, fingers steepled. “Normally a fighter costs 1000 gold. But since I had to bandage up your little friend, let’s say… 2000.”
“You injured him yourself!”
“I didn’t. But someone did. Does it matter? Take it or leave it.”
Tyler clenched his fists, but forced himself to stay calm. “Fine. I’ll pay.”
But before he could pull out the pouch, Drellic raised a hand.
“Let me ask you something. Are you satisfied?”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You just dropped four thousand to get here. About to pay two thousand more. All to save one man. Doesn’t seem like a great deal, hero. Shouldn’t you aim for something, glorious?”
“I’m not a hero, I can never be a hero. And I’m not doing it for glory.”
The manager looked at him curiously.
Tyler continued, “I’m doing what is right.”
Drellic laughed, saying, “Oh our hero is so humble.”
Tyler scoffed, “Yes, it is true that I’m not satisfied with what I’ve achieved. I was aiming to liberate more slaves.”
“More slaves? How many are we talking?”
“All of them.”
The manager laughed out loud, and then with a dead serious expression he said, “Do you even hear yourself? You have any idea how much that is going to cost you? Do you perhaps own a gold mine or something?”
“I knew that the price to be paid would be too high, but still… I wanted to try, like at least get an estimate how much it would cost.”
The manager smiled mischievously and said, “Oh dear hero, I don’t know if you’re good with numbers, so let me help you out a bit. The average price of a slave is 1000 gold and there are at least 150 slaves here, so it will cost you 150,000 gold.”
Tyler shouted, “ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND!! You must be joking, does that much money even exist?”
“Hoho of course it does, my monthly income from the Arena is about that much.”
Tyler was dumbfounded.
Should I just turn into a giant and trample everything over? Should I just activate Berserk and slice through everyone who tried to oppose me? Or should I use poison mist to—no… I will never use that skill again. And I will never turn to violence where a peaceful alternative exists.
But if I wanted to earn that much gold, I might actually need to find gold mines. Several of them, in fact.
While Tyler was going through his internal turmoil, the manager spoke once again, “However for a strong and brave hero like you, I have an alternative deal. Would you like to listen to it?”
Tyler, who had lost all his hope, suddenly seemed to find light at the end of tunnel when he heard the manager’s words. However, he couldn’t immediately jump into it recklessly, or he would end up in more trouble, or worse—hurt more people, including Kelmo’s father.
He calmed all his thoughts and looked at the manager and said, “Speak.”