The Wrath of Glory

The streets of the city found themselves barren, the roads and alleys devoid of noise. There was, however, an overwhelming presence and sound emanating from one place alone: the circle of stone which so ostentatiously stood in the middle of the city. It was an intense structure, impossible to miss and impossible not to appreciate. Beautifully crafted stone raised the structure as high as one could see, casting a great shadow on everything around it. It told the other buildings that it mattered more. That it was greater. That it was more glorious. And it told no lies. The area was not merely glorious; it was glory itself.

The sun peaked its eye at the stone walls and gleaned over the sands of the arena, warming the ground on which the warriors would walk. Each grain of sand within the stadium told the tale of a valiant battle and held the last footprints of men who gave their final moments to the crowd. These footprints would be forgotten with the next pair of steps.

The crowd resided all around the sands, every angle covered by a spectator’s eyes. Each person sat along the carved stone stands, dressed in silks and wallowing in sweat. They screamed and bellowed their unintelligible chants. Their voices were a mirror of their emotions: animalistic and bloodthirsty. The air was humid from the evaporating sweat, causing their skin to become slick with oil.

But none of them would spare the time or care for hygiene. All they hungered for were the final grunts of men as they gave into death. They were starved of their violence, and as a neglected newborn does when presented with its mother’s breast, they turned their insatiable starvation into manic anticipation.

Corentine, unlike everyone else, was not eagerly awaiting the soon-to-be display of cruelty and blood. But like everyone else, his face was blackened by soot. His fair skin was caked with the mulch of everyday life, his skin heavier from the filth that had been left to fester. His brown hair was weighed down by sweat and grease, and had he not been accustomed to it, its stench would have disturbed his stomach to the point of retching.

Looking at the unthinkable size of the crowd, he felt intoxicated. But no ale polluted his veins. His blood was infected with nothing but nervousness for what was to come.

His gaze shifted to the king, who was sitting in the shade of a canopy. He, just as his citizens, gazed into the stadium with anticipation, excited to see the gory display that would be shown. He laughed at something his advisor next to him said, and Corentine felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. If all went according to plan, the bright smile that adorned the king’s face would never be seen again.

Common doubts of his allegiance entered his mind. Why would he decide to be here, a den of danger and violence? Why would he sentence himself to fight for a cause he wasn’t sure of? Who could be so important to him that he would stand beside them and kill with them? Who? Then, the questions running through his head found their answer.

“What’s the matter, Cory?”

As if woken up from a trance, Corentine’s head shot in the direction of the voice. His eyes landed on his best and only friend, Vax’ildan. He had a playful grin plastered on his tanned face with green eyes that saw right through Corentine’s instant attempt to mask his nerves.

“Nothing is of the matter, Vax,” he said, attempting to sound passive.

“Hm?” Vax'ildan’s eyes widened. “Then I must have only been imagining the expression on your face!” He started to mimic Corentine in an exaggerated form. “N-n-n-nothing is of the m-m-matter.” he mockingly said as he bit at his nails.

Corentine rolled his eyes at his friend’s words, but the absurdity of his friend’s expressions made his annoyed demeanor crack. A small smile creeped onto his face, and this did not go unnoticed by Vax’ildan.

“Don’t worry, Cory. I understand. At my first real fight, I practically pissed myself! Just trust your instincts, trust your lessons, and trust us. We’re family.” He smiled at his friend with sincerity. “But trust your heart. You can learn how to swing a blade in theory, but only you can muster the strength to do it. Zone in on those feelings of love and hate all at once and dance your dance of death.”

The crowd erupted in ear-splitting screams as the warriors entered the stadium and began lining up before the king. Each held high hopes of attaining glory. Each held high hopes that it would not be their last day living.

“But… Vax, why do we have to be the ones to risk our lives for–”

“Is that the prince?!” Vax’ildan exclaimed.

Corentine scoffed. “Yeah, Vax, the king would have his own son fight in–” his eyes widened. “Oh!”

Vax’ildan laughed heartily. “He will die! Or at least get maimed. Only makes our objective easier. This will be such a powerful display, Cory! We will win back our ways and traditions through our might!”

The king looked upon the warriors. He adopted a worried look upon seeing his son before hesitantly nodding to them, allowing them to begin their battle.

The warriors instantly began to clash with one another, blood spewing onto the heated sands. The crowd cheered them on.

“Is spilling all this innocent blood just to get our slaves back really a just cause?” Corentine said as he watched a man run his spear through his opponent’s chest.

“Innocent blood?” Vax’ildan exclaimed incredulously. “Look around, Cory! These people are no more ‘innocent’ than any of us! They scream in pleasure when they watch men die, just as I do! They enjoy the killing; they understand the beauty of death! Yet they sit there idly while our traditions are wiped away and our economy is destroyed! This is not ‘innocent’ behavior. Look, Cory, how can my family eat without slaves? We can’t! Our trade is nullified by the king’s pathetic idea of compassion. Which is why he and anyone in support of him must die!”

A man is run through while another cuts a slash in the prince’s arm, causing a wide smile to form across the man’s face.

“I know, I know… But… I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a slave.”

“You aren’t weak enough to be one. The strong thrive while the weak fall. That’s how the world works. The strong use the weak. If some slaves claimed their freedom through the glory of battle and bloodshed, so be it, but not through the decree of an inherited throne.”

Vax’ildan’s excitement peaked when the prince fell to the ground, but it soon deflated as he was helped up by his last opponent. They began their final brawl.

“What an idiot. Fool should’ve jumped on that opportunity to end a skilled opponent,” They watched the prince fight his savior and slay him. “And now the fool is dead. And it looks like our prince survived. I suppose the fool felt as strongly towards honor as you do our cause,” Corentine said.

“Impossible. My loyalty outshines even the strongest of convictions!”

Just as the prince’s victory was being celebrated, a man began to make his way towards the king. The man thought he was unnoticed, but as soon as he prepared his killing blow from behind the king, a spear tore its way through his chest.

And the chaos started.

Vax’ildan quickly pulled his hood over his head and looked towards his friend, who followed in suit.

“Draw your blade and cut a path straight to the king’s heart!” Vax’ildan screamed as he plunged his blade into the neck of the woman sitting next to him.

Corentine, too, drew his blade, but he did not stab the man sitting next to him. The man just looked too scared. He looked too human. But the man then jumped at him and grabbed for his weapon, causing Corentine to instinctively wrench the blade upwards and into the man’s eye.

The chaos of violence overcame him. He stabbed and slashed at everyone who neared him. He cut through a woman who he thought was trying to harm him. Or was she just trying to protect her son?

“Stop it, Cory!” he thought, “Deaden your thoughts! You have one mission: kill until the king is dead. Don’t think. Just kill. But it’s… NO! It must be just! Vax would never so religiously fight for a cause without merit!”

With newfound justification, he plunged his blade into a man as he attempted to flee and quickly moved down the arena and towards the sands. He spotted the king and his advisor surrounded by guards moving from one side of the arena and towards the exit, so his pace raised to a sprint.

Midway down the arena, a man in armor stood in his way. Corentine instantly began to slash at the man, cutting at his hand and slicing through his fingers. He was parried and the man returned the favor by cutting a gash down his leg. He then attempted to finish Corentine but was abruptly run through from behind.

“By ‘follow your heart’, I didn’t mean to get a sword through it!” Vax laughed as he removed his blade from the corpse. He helped his friend up and turned back towards the sands. “Come, Cory! I can smell the king’s blood! I can taste our victory!”

Corentine looked into Vax’ildan’s shimmering eyes, which were pointed directly at the king, who was fleeing in the protection of his many guards, and he instantly understood what was going through his friend’s mind.

“The king is weak. It will be an easy kill,” Vax’ildan said, proving Corentine’s assumptions to be true. As glory-hungry as ever, Vax screamed and broke out into a run towards the king, even as Corentine attempted to stop him. Vax’s speed proved to be much greater as he ran past his friend and towards his certain death.

“Vax! Don’t be a fool! What are you doing?!” Corentine bellowed.

But his desperate shouts fell upon deaf ears. Corentine could do nothing but watch as his best and only friend, the person he cared about most in the god-forsaken world that he lived in, was impaled by a no-name, lowly guard. 

“NO!” Corentine screamed, his yell laced with agony and disbelief.

But his grief was cut short, as he, too, felt a sword cut across his stomach. As he fell, his head turned to the man who had dealt damage to him, but he couldn’t see his face; the man had already moved on to eliminate the next hooded warrior.

And when Corentine hit the ground, all thoughts of the battle surrounding him were erased. All thoughts of the king were erased. All thoughts of the cause he was fighting for were erased. The only thoughts that ran through his mind were of his friend. His vision tunneled on his friend’s corpse, and even with all the pain he felt, he crawled towards Vax’s body, wishing for nothing at that moment apart from being with him.

But his path was cut short as a guard’s spear was plunged into his skull, ending his life in an instant.