Kequil Newman, the High Legate of The Velim Empire, entered the Emperor’s Suite. He walked with slow grace, each step light and calculated as he made his way beside a throne. His eyes swept the surroundings outside, screams of the thousands, roars of applause, and the eyes of many swarmed what was the greatest colosseum society had ever constructed. Kequil’s eyes followed the base of the arena, up to its towering pillars made of ivory pyramids, 200 feet off the ground. Kequil held back his awe of the structure, remaining stoic as he looked back at the crowd of 100,000.


    “The Champion’s Game is progressing well,” Kequil said, his voice just audible above the ravenous crowd.


    “Indeed, indeed!” The Emperor, Vincent Velim exclaimed, his voice slurred with excitement and violence. “Has the Champion from Mushima appeared yet?” He questioned, his eyes glancing toward Kequil''s slim, yet muscular build.


    “No, my Emperor,” Kequil responded, his voice flat and dry.


    “Ha! Of course not. And I do not believe you’d want to watch that anyway!” The Emperor laughed, looking at Kequil. “I’d hate to watch my compatriot fall in battle so far from home.”


    The words mocked Kequil and his ancestors.


    “Once more, we do not send a fighter to these games,” Kequil reminded him, as he had every 2 years.


    “...Yeah, yeah.” The Emperor waved Kequil off.


    Kequil, not one for senseless violence turned away and walked to the back of the suite. There, 3 servants stood, awaiting to be commanded. Kequil ignored their utility, believing it a disservice and laziness to ask for simple commodities from others. He wandered back and poured himself a cup of hot tea, the liquid jostling around from his hand shaking. From his side, a woman walked up.


    “You seem anxious, Kequil.” Her voice was gentle and flowed like the waves of a calm sea.


    “It’s nothing, Dolores.” He said, not willing to face her.


    Regardless, Dolores laid her hand under his chin and pulled his face toward her. She stared into a white mask that covered his face - and then scanned his crimson red and golden yellow plated armor.


    “I don’t need to see your face to know you are a horrible liar.” She scoffed as she helped steady his hand, guiding the tea into the cup. Their two hands sat on top of one another, as Kequil looked down toward the identical golden rings that both of them wore. Kequils eyes stared at her hand, the mention of his mask made him think of those he left in his homeland. Now, all he had was the armor of his past identity, a reminder of the man he was in the Isles of Mushima.


    Kequil and Dolores exited the box as the crowd let out a mighty roar as the name,


    “RODERO! RODERO! RODERO!” began to chant throughout the Colosseum.


    From the gates directly below the Emperor’s Suite, a man walked out. A brutish figure, wielding a sword, glinting in every direction, walked onto the arena. The crowd continued to scream out the name of Velim’s Champion. Rodero Sessilus - the fiercest warrior the world had yet to know. Rumors of his exploits in regions across the globe persist, but his true home was located in the frozen lakes north of the capital city of Proceius. Rodero was undefeated in battle within the Colosseum, and now he made his return. He held his sword high in the air, walking past each section of the arena, assuring his presence by the audience. He came to a slow stop in front of the Emperor’s suite, where he raised his sword to the Emperor in respect.


    The crowd silenced immediately as the sun’s rays glinted off the Emperor, who now stepped toward the Champion.


    “Champion of Velim! I give you my blessing. Fight for your nation!” The Emperor exclaimed, returning to his chair satisfied.


    The crowd roared to life once more as the challenger from the desert kingdom of Kaeiwal entered the arena, ready to do battle with Rodero Sessilus.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The battle began with the screams of the crowd. The Emperor, Vincent Velim, looked on the fight, his mind beginning to claw toward an impending announcement he had postponed till the game’s end.


    Rodero gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, his body setting into a stance to generate a powerful offense. His feet settled into the arena’s sandy surface as his eyes met his opposition. The Champion of Kaeiwal seemed unphased by his presence, but Rodero knew deep down there was fear. Even if it persisted in the tiniest form - Rodero would bring it to light.


    He lunged forward, his swing prepared, and his stance changing on impact as their swords connected, sending a shockwave through the crowd. Rodero locked eyes once more as a smile crept across his lips. He studied his opponent right then, up close, was there true fear? Was there hesitancy or anxiety? He’d figure it out, he had to. He was committed always to giving his audience the best show.


    Then - his opponent sliced at the air, Rodero slipping past his attack with a quick dodge. Sand flew across the arena, as he rammed his hilt into the man’s back, sending him stumbling forward. Rodero saw an opportunity to make first blood. Holding his sword by his hips, his blade tore through the man’s back, cutting through the man’s skin like leather. Cheers from the crowd erupted as blood began to stain the arena’s surface. Rodero smiled, looking out toward the audience with an affectionate gaze. His smile soon disappeared as he heard the man begin to pull himself up. Rodero waited, making circles around the Champion of Kaeiwal. As the man regained himself, Rodero readied his stance once more, this time though, he adopted a much more open form. His sword hung low to his side and he felt a single drop of sweat fall down his face. The Champion of Kaeiwal, straining to move, his muscles painfully tense with each movement, darted at Rodero without thought. And the fight was over as soon as it began. Rodero slipped the man like a bullfighter to an overzealous bull. His sword arced with a fast descent, slashing through the man’s stomach, a long gash marking the man’s side as he fell to the ground, the sand now painted in his blood.


    The crowd was ballistic now, the chants of Rodero’s name echoing not just in the arena, but the whole city as the Champion of Kaeiwal lay dead at his feet. A satisfying smile crossed his lips - he had entertained his audience. He raised his blood-stained sword into the air - then pointed toward the Emperor.


    The Emperor clapped, a passionate and gleaming smile of success marked his rigid face. He stepped once more toward the front of his Suite, his long black and purple robes following behind him as he looked out at the audience of excited spectators. His mind was crossed with exuberance, yet the thought of his announcement graced his mind once more. He regained himself quickly, not showing any emotion but that of passion. The crowd cheered as Rodero returned to the gates under the arena, making one final nod to the Emperor, before disappearing into its shadowy depths.


    The games roared on as hours passed - with the High Legate Kequil returning to the Emperor’s Suite. His eyes hung low to the ground, his breathing slow and steady as the crowd’s continued excitement would shortly be stifled. He walked to Emperor Vincent’s side, laying his hand on the throne.


    “This doesn’t have to happen.” Kequil’s words were harsh, cutting into the Emperor’s mentality like Rodero’s blade.


    “Strength in numbers, Kequil!” The words came from the Emperor with an edge of joy - joy that sent a shiver down Kequil’s spine. The Emperor’s attention returned to the crowd, where his smile faded.


    Why did I say that? The Emperor wondered to himself. He was not happy with this decision, he was not proud of it… why would he say it as so?


    The night went on, the brutal fights drew to an end as Rodero, the Champion of Velim completed his conquest, laying the final opponent to his reign to death. As Rodero pointed toward the sky, thanking the unknown, the Emperor drew to his feet - steadily walking to the edge of his suite. The crowd drew quiet, the night’s festivities screeching to a halt. The spectators all now sat in anxious worry, watching the Emperor draw his breath.


    “Citizens, spectators. Men and women of my Empire and those across our realm,” The Emperor’s words and tone were a sharp contrast to before. His voice was monotone yet sharp enough to split wood. It echoed off the high walls, booming across the entire arena.


    “Today’s display of war and the grandeur of battle is one to remember. All these fighters fought valiantly for their homeland - each one a testament to their strength and power. I want all of you citizens of Velim to take note of their bravery. They each looked into the eyes of death and fought regardless. As is the same for our nation now. We are in troubling times, the Island Republic of Novahoshi creeps closer to our doorstep, and so do the rebellious brutalists to our eastern borders. War is not a chance, but a guarantee. After careful deliberation with my advisors, and members of my court, beginning tomorrow and lasting till our time of crisis is over - the Velim Empire will be instituting a required service of all men of age, between 16 and 25.”


    The crowd immediately let out a gasp that shook the stadium. Words began to be exchanged between spectators as the noise of people speaking grew louder and louder. Immediately at this sign, the Emperor slammed his hand across the wooden fencing in front of him. The crowd’s noise dissipated and the attention returned to him.


    “The Velim Empire has existed for 1,000 years and its fall will not come at the hands of traitors or cowards. The choice was not seen as a light or easy one, but one of careful thought to better the lives and survival of the citizens of our Empire as a whole. That is all, thank you.”