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'They sold you as slaves to the Imperial Arena?'_Bloodies-His-Face nodded and refilled his goblet with wine. _'What was that like?'

'It was scary at first. We were only young--myself probably only three years of age--and we were scared of Gaius,' Bloodies explained, 'he was a hard man, but I learned very quickly that he wasn't cruel. As long as we did what was expected and what we were told, we were fed and taken care of.'

'But to be only children in a place like the arena?'

Bloodies shrugged. 'Mm, looking back it seems terrible,' he said, 'but... We became used to it. After your first few times watching the physician stitch up the gladiators while they screamed, you learn not to look away.'

'Did the Blademaster allow you to train under the gladiators?'

Bloodies smiled. 'And rob him of free labour?' he asked in reply, while shaking his head. 'Gaius never let us pick up a sword unless it was to keep it sharp and polished.'

'But then, when did you learn how to fight?'

Bloodies turned his goblet on the spot. 'Ten years after that day, we met our hero...'

---

'Get up, pit dogs!' Gaius' voice boomed.

All the Argonians, none of them older than an adult but no longer hatchlings, stirred their wakening bones and did as they were told. However, there was always one who was slow to wake. This time it was Bloodies. After the others had cleared out of the room and already gotten to work, Gaius stepped in with a bucket and tipped cold water over Bloodies. He sat up with a jolt, shivering at the temperature change.

'Get up. You know the rules,' Gaius told him sternly. Bloodies stood up and stepped out into the bloodworks, shaking himself dry as much as he could next to one of the torches. Gaius shut the door to their quarters as he stepped out. 'You're on mop duty again, Redface.' He put the bucket he used on Bloodies in his arms and nodded to the mop hanging on the wall before walking off to his gladiators. Bloodies snorted and got to work.

The mop slapped soapy water upon grimy stone brick floor and as it swished, it cut through grime like a knife through butter. Really disgusting butter. The pungent smell of the bloodworks itself--a gross blend of dirt, sweat and blood--was enough to overpower even the fancy Imperial soap the Arena was given. But still, like the rest of the inhabitants, Bloodies was used to the odorous aroma. It took the first six months for him to stop wrinkling his nostrils at it.

There was probably something to be said for the monotonous chores as well. None of the other Argonians liked mop duty because it felt like the most pointless job out of all the work they did. Gaius would give out a mop and bucket and expect every spot of the bloodworks' floors to be fit for the Emperor to tread upon. But not even an hour after it might be done, or even during the job, the gladiators would come back down through the Red Room with boots soiled and muddied and the cycle began anew.

Bloodies liked it, for some reason. Gaius thought he was making life hard for Bloodies, but he got to watch the gladiators practice their martial skills on the training dummies. Sometimes he stopped while his mop soaked up soapy water and just pictured himself with the gladiatorial gear strapped on. He never let himself linger for too long as Gaius made his rounds to check on his gladiators and would probably smack him for 'slacking off'. But that daydream was enough to keep Bloodies going. It had for the last ten years.

He was finishing up the last of the gladiatorial quarters when he saw Fleet-Feet carrying a funny-shaped sword and a shining cloth. It had a circular and almost flower-like guard, while the blade itself was single edged with a slight curve. It was much unlike the straight double-edged gladii most gladiators used. 'I've never seen a blade like that before,' Bloodies pointed out, 'who does it belong to?'

Fleet smiled and flicked his head to one of the chambers Bloodies was about to mop. 'One of the heroes, they call him the "Face of Akavir".' Fleet kept grinning as he looked Bloodies. He always seemed cheerful. Fleet's scales were a vibrant green that just matched his constant joy. He had gentle goldenrod eyes, and a dorsal fin coming down his head to his back.

Bloodies tilted his head curiously. 'Isn't that the one who wears that scary mask all the time?'

'Yeah, I heard nobody has ever seen his face!'

Fleet then looked down at the mop and bucket. 'Did you annoy Gaius again?'

'Eh, doesn't matter,' Bloodies replied, shrugging his shoulders. '... Hey, come with me and check out the Face's chambers.'

Fleet had a nervous look on his face immediately. 'We shouldn't just snoop around...'

'Psh, I have to mop in there and you can just say you don't know where to put that weird sword.' Bloodies then opened the door to the room and looked at Fleet. 'Come on!' With evident hesitation, Fleet agreed and followed Bloodies inside.

The Imperial Arena was a massive structure with an equally substantial substructure. Within the underground, the bloodworks was both training grounds and residence for the people who fought and worked at the arena. Pit dogs, like the Argonians, were the lowest of the low; people from all walks of life who are arena hopefuls and are thus made to stay together in shared quarters with other pit dogs and work chores to earn their keep. Brawlers and Bloodletters were the next ranking up, having participated in a few actual matches and proved they can handle themselves; they are also put in shared quarters, although they get actual bunk beds. Mymidons and warriors were brawlers and bloodletters who earned fame and money through winning an exhibition match or two; they were also put into a shared living quarter but had their own individual beds. Gladiators were the cream of the crop in the bloodworks, having survived a grand melee whether they won or lost; they were given their own living chambers such as this one. But then there were heroes, exceptional combatants who had won three grand melees and as such was afforded more privilege and standing; heroes were given residence out in the city proper.

The 'Face of Akavir' was a hero who chose to live in the bloodworks.

'Hello?' Bloodies called into the chambers, 'we're here to clean the chambers.' He opened the door more as there was no reply, and then a smile grew on his face as he saw the room was unoccupied. 'Come inside!' he said to Fleet as he stepped in with soapy bucket and mop in hand. Fleet just gingerly followed with the sword wrapped in the shining cloth. Bloodies put the bucket down on the floor with the mop next to it and started going through the hero's collection of trophies and rewards.

Fleet just scoffed. 'Shouldn't you at least start on mopping the floor?'

Bloodies ignored him as he picked up one of the trophy cups and caught his reflection in the shiny gold metal. The reflection, though richly tinted and slightly curved, captured his face and the 'bloody' splatter on his black scales. For a moment, he wondered if he would ever see that reflection again as a victor of the arena. He then put down the trophy and looked through the others when Fleet came to join him.

'He's won so many,' he commented, 'I've only ever seen other heroes win one or two trophies.'

Bloodies smiled. 'One day, I'll win this much,' he boasted.

Fleet's snout and lips shifted to the side clearly in doubt. 'Sure, and will you do it with a mop?'

'Psh, you don't think I could?'

Fleet smiled and leaned into Bloodies' side. 'Maybe one or two trophies.' He planted a kiss on Bloodies' neck.

'Would you love me if I didn't win at all?' Bloodies said as he turned to Fleet, pulling him close.

Fleet placed the sword on the table of trophies before looking back at Bloodies. 'Maybe,' he whispered, 'would you be mad if I were the one who beat you?'

Bloodies laughed quietly. 'We both know that would never happen.' The two locked lips together, putting a stop to any further teasing as they embrace one another.

'Now this is not what I was expecting.' Bloodies and Fleet immediately broke apart. As they did, Bloodies kicked over the bucket and Fleet knocked a trophy on the table. Soapy water spilled onto the floor which Bloodies immediately tried to stop as trophy cups fell over like dominoes. The two of them looked like idiots in that moment, and in front of the Face of Akavir himself.

'I'm so sorry!' Bloodies apologised as he turned the bucket back upright with notably less soapy water than before.

Fleet tried to put at least three of the trophies back up before picking up the sword and cloth. 'Y-yes, we both are!' he stammered, 'we just got, uh, distracted while we were cleaning!' He bowed low and avoided looking up at the masked hero.

There was an awkward silence thereafter and, were it not for the sounds of distant training, Bloodies could have sworn time had come to a stop. The masked hero, covered in dirt and blood that was most probably not his own, simply leaned in the doorway without even movement for breath. The spilled water and suds had already spread across the floor enough that it had stopped, and Fleet dared not move lest the hero might cut off his head.

The hero was a man of Akavir, so far as anybody knew, a foreigner to these lands. He was not tall nor imposing, but rather commanded respect through martial skill and speaking only when he saw fit. His skin was rough, with scars here and there to speak of his life of combat. His hair was long and dark, trailing down from his hood down to his shoulders. He wore the leather armour of the blue team, one of two teams which at times fought duels with each other in the arena. The most notable feature, of course, was his mask made of cold steel. It was a cast of a demonic visage whose expression was cast with a manic fanged grin and eyes narrowed with glee.

'Ah yes. "Distracted",' the Face commented with a hint of snark, 'I think that water will see more use if you use that mop.' He pointed to the implement which Bloodies had simply left on the floor next to him. The Argonian immediately picked it up and started mopping. The Face then walked over to Fleet, who shuddered as he came near without a word. Even Bloodies paused his swishing through the water tentatively.

After a moment, the masked hero took his sword from Fleet. 'Thank you for this,' he said, 'I'll be needing it tomorrow.' He then put the sword on the rack nearby. Fleet straightened up and made to leave. 'Wait a moment...' Fleet froze, though Bloodies could see every muscle tensing and begging for retreat. 'You aren't finished.'

Fleet turned around and saw the Face was gesturing to the fallen trophies. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I'll get those now...' He walked over and started straightening the rest of the trophies. Both he and Bloodies silently worked their tasks as the Face watched them from the side.

'At first I thought you two were going to steal one of my trophies, the way you mentioned "maybe one or two",' the Face spoke, and it made both Argonians quiver. Fleet's tail wavered. 'So, I leaned in the doorway but obviously you two were very "distracted" with each other.' Fleet's tail curled timidly. 'I have to admit, I am curious as to what you meant by "if you didn't win at all"?'

Bloodies stopped mopping and looking at Fleet's uncurling tail as he saw the Face had directed this question to him. 'I didn't mean anything, sir,' he lied, 'I was just joking.'

The Face tilted his head in a way that made his 'smiling' mask adopt a look of incredulity. 'You sounded quite intent on it to me.' Bloodies continued mopping the floor and soaking up the spilled water.

'I would never win my first match,' he glumly admitted, 'I've only ever held a sword to polish it.'

'But what if someone gave you training?' the Face asked, 'would you try to win every match until you became champion?'

Bloodies thought about it for a moment, but Gaius' chiseled frown flashed in his mind. 'The Arena Blademaster told us we're not allowed, and we'd never be able to train with him checking--'

'I didn't ask if you were allowed, just imagine if you learnt how to use a sword,' the Face interjected, 'then would you fight until you became a champion of the arena?'

'... I would.'

'And you?' the Face asked Fleet, who froze for split moment with a trophy in hand. 'Would you fight?'

'Y-yes,' Fleet replied half-heartedly. He then swallowed the lump in his throat. 'I would.'

The Face leaned against the wall again, as though it were his natural state. Bloodies could just picture him in his spare time--mask and gladiator gear donned still--just leaning against a wall and staring down a spider in the corner of his room. He pictured it because he could not tell what the hero was possibly thinking. Was he going to suggest training them? He hoped he would. But as he continued mopping the water and Fleet finished straightening the cups, only the same silence from before beckoned.

'Thank you for that, you may leave,' the Face said to Fleet, who took his leave eagerly. He looked to Bloodies as he passed him-- the way he would convey affection when they were being watched-- before he left.

Nothing further was exchanged between the Face and Bloodies over the next twenty minutes. But even as Bloodies continued mopping the dry floor of the rest of the room, the Face did not move from his spot nor did he stop watching the Argonian. Bloodies dared not break the silence if that was what the hero wished for, as he and the other slaves learned early on in their servitude not to speak to the gladiators unless they were spoken to. He just wished the hero would offer his mentorship, even as he mopped the last corner of the chambers save for the spot the hero stood in.

'I just need to get that spot...' Bloodies said. The hero stepped aside without a word and Bloodies mopped it. When he was finished, the hero patted him on the back.

'You have done good work,' the hero said, 'you may leave.' Bloodies' heart sank as he nodded and took his leave. He took one last look at the hero and then his trophies, before he shut the door behind him.

The rest of the day went as normal. Bloodies finished mopping the bloodworks and watched after hanging the bucket and mop as gladiators came downstairs from the arena. They splashed water on their faces from the great 'Basin of Renewal' and laughed as they left dirty and bloody footprints in their wake. Bloodies sighed but did not go to pick the mop and bucket back up.

'Redface!'

The moment he heard Gaius' booming voice, Bloodies picked the mop and bucket back up and turned. 'I'm sorry, I just need to get more water--'

The metallic clap was audible, a burning sensation in Bloodies' face scales and a ringing in his head.

Gaius lowered his gloved hand and Bloodies was thankful in that moment he was not wearing his gauntlets. 'Tell me where you hid the trophy,' Gaius asked, his voice low but no less fear inspiring.

Bloodies narrowed his eyes, partially from the pain but mostly in disbelief. 'I'm sorry?'

'Don't lie to me boy or I will make you sorry,' Gaius raised his fist and Bloodies backed off.

'I swear I don't know what you're talking about, sir!'

Gaius lowered his hand and then folded his arms as he stared into Bloodies' soul. 'Hm...' A few moments passed, and then he grumbled, 'whatever, you're going back to the Face's room and you're going to do as he says.' Bloodies hung up the bucket and mop and did as he was told. 'If I find out either of you lied, you'll be in that arena you hear?' Bloodies looked back at Gaius wondering who he was talking about, and then he thought of Fleet. His tail curled with worry.

When he got to the room, Fleet was waiting outside the door. He had his hand to his face much like Bloodies did.

'Did you steal a trophy, Red?' he asked.

Bloodies shook his head. 'I swear I didn't, and I know you couldn't have either.'

'Then why are we here?'

'I don't know, but we're about to find out...'

Bloodies knocked on the door.

'Enter.' He opened the door and did so, Fleet following close behind. As he shut the door, the Face came out from the side of the chamber with two swords.

Fleet's eyes widened and his tail dropped between his legs. 'We didn't take any trophies, we swear!'

'I know,' the Face replied. Fleet and Bloodies both looked confused, and then they looked at the trophies. Although there were more than a few of them, Bloodies felt like none of them were missing.

'I lied to the Blademaster and told him one of you must have stolen it,' the Face explained, 'So, I said I'd punish you both one night every week for the next five years. "Death by a thousand cuts" I told him.' He then stepped forward with both swords in hand, and Fleet backed against the door looking scared. 'I'm not going to hurt you,' the Face quickly reassured. He then then flipped the swords and offered them by the handles. 'I'm going to train you.'

Bloodies' eyes must have lit up because the Face looked at him as soon as they did. 'You will?'

Surely the Face was grinning behind his smiling visage because his tone changed slightly as he repeated his words. 'One night a week for the next five years.'