The gates of the elven duke's estate opened slowly. Not out of urgency but out of expectation as the caravan rolled forward over polished stone, its weight creaking against the wheels as it passed beneath towering iron arches. Guards stood at attention along the inner walls, their armor clean, their posture rigid more for appearance than necessity. This was a place of order, of control.
Bjorn guided his horse alongside the caravan, posture relaxed, eyes forward. He didn't take in the estate the way most would no curiosity no awe Just awareness, Entrances, Exits Sightlines, Old habits the noble inside the carriage shifted, clearly eager now that they had arrived. "About time," he muttered, adjusting his sleeves. "Try not to embarrass me when we step inside."
Bjorn didn't respond, the carriage came to a stop near the main steps, where a small gathering had already been waiting. Servants, Guards And at the center The Duke. He stood tall despite his age, silver long hair and pointed ears, draped in layered robes of deep crimson and gold. His presence was not loud, but it carried weight. The kind built over years of command of decisions that shaped more than just his own life His eyes moved first to the carriage. Then To Bjorn and stopped completely. Bjorn felt it, that pause, that shift. He swung down from his horse without comment, adjusting the reins as if nothing had changed but something had happened. The noble stepped out of the carriage with a flourishing, immediately moving into a shallow kneel. "My lord duke," then said smoothly. "A pleasure, as always—"
The duke didn't answer right away, his gaze hadn't moved still fixed still studying.
Bjorn exhaled quietly through his nose. "…Of course," the noble continued, slightly thrown off. "Your shipment has arrived without issue. Though I must say, the help you hire these days—" "Enough." The word wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the air the noble fell silent. The elf, duke stepped forward slowly, his attention never leaving Bjorn. "You," he said.
Not a question. Bjorn didn't look up immediately. He adjusted the saddle strap once, twice small, unnecessary movements buying a second. Then he met the duke's gaze. No reaction no recognition shown Just calm. "Yes?"
The duke studied him closely now. Not just his face but his stance, his build, the way he held himself even at rest. "…It's been a long time," the duke said. the noble blinked. "You know this… ork?" Bjorn's expression didn't change but his eyes shifted slightly just enough.
The duke noticed. "I knew what he… was," the duke replied.
A quiet tension settled over the courtyard footsteps approached from behind. "My lord, I heard the caravan—"
The voice stopped Bjorn, didn't need to turn to know someone else had entered but he did anyway and for the first time since arriving, something in his expression changed.
The duchess stood a few steps away; her eyes already locked onto him wide, Uncertain and Searching. …No," she said softly as she stepped closer slowly at first then faster. "It can't be" She stopped just short of him, her breath catching slightly as she looked up, time had changed but not enough to erase recognition. She didn't finish it and didn't need to.
Bjorn held her gaze for a moment then looked away. "Just a hired escort know one of consequence," he said. The words were flat and untrue.
The duchess shook her head immediately. "No. No, I saw you, I remember—"
"My Lady," the noble cut in, clearly irritated, "I assure you, this is nothing more than a common ork brute I picked up for protection. Hardly worth"
Bjorn turned his head slightly not fully, just enough.
"That's not quite right" she said.
The noble frowned. "Excuse me?" The duchess voice stayed even with awe, "he's not what you think he is he is far more." The noble scoffed. "But he is just an ork. I can see that well enough."
Bjorn had enough, nodded once. "Orakai," he added, as if that explained everything and to some, it did the duke's eyes narrowed slightly with an analytical look. The duchess didn't take her eyes off him. "A Rare breed indeed, bred for war and leadership, don't see too Many of that kind anymore" the duke murmured.
"Doesn't matter," the noble said quickly. "He's still just brainless muscle. Right?" Bjorn let out a quiet breath, more tired than annoyed. "Believe what you want." As he turned, the duchess stepped forward again. "You disappeared," she said. "After, your defeat…" She stopped herself, the word hung there, Unspoken. Bjorn's expression didn't change but he did meet her eyes this time the duke watched that carefully very carefully. "…We should move inside,"
the duke said at last, breaking the tension. "There is more to discuss." His gaze lingered on Bjorn a moment longer. "Especially with you." Bjorn gave a small nod. "Not much to say, my lord." The duke's expression suggested otherwise. "We'll see." The noble straightened himself, eager to regain control of the moment but the atmosphere had changed, something quiet, something unfinished, as they began to move toward the estate, The duchess fell into step beside Bjorn, not speaking at first. Just walking Then, softly "You really expect me to believe that?"
Bjorn didn't look at her. "You should... the Blackwolf is long dead."
She studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "OK now for how honest and honorable you used to fight… it makes sense, you were never a very good liar."
Bjorn didn't answer Just kept walking away. Night fell She was given permission to stay the night indoors, but he preferred to camping out. In the grounds As Bjorn finished his camp as well as the warm fire now resting throughout the night The Duchess stepped into the clearing, a small basket in her hands. She was dressed more simply than the day before, though nothing about herself truly looked simply. Even out here, away from the manor, she carried herself like someone who belonged somewhere important. "I thought I might find you here," she said.
Bjorn didn't turn immediately. "Most people don't look." she smiled faintly and set the basket down near the fire. The scent of fresh bread and cooked meat quickly replaced the lingering smoke. "I brought something Probably. better than whatever you were planning to eat."
Bjorn glanced at it, then back at the embers. "That obvious?"
"Painfully." She settled across from him, smoothing her dress beneath her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
"I used to watch from the highest rows," she said suddenly, Bjorn's eyes shifted toward her.
"When I was younger," she added. "My father thought it was improper, of course. Said the pits were no place for nobility." She gave me a small shrug. "That didn't stop me."
Bjorn let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Didn't think nobles cared for that kind of thing."
"We didn't," she said. "That's why it was so interesting." She picked at a piece of bread, turning it in her fingers. "You were different from the others," she continued. "Even then. Most fighters… they were loud. Showy. They tried to win the crowd before the fight even started." Her eyes lifted to him. "You didn't."
Bjorn reached forward and nudged one of the embers with a stick. "Crowd doesn't win the fight."
She smiled and glanced towards him. "No," she said softly. "But they remember who does." He didn't respond, she studied him for a moment longer before continuing.
"I remember one match," she said. "You were smaller than the one you faced. A dwarf, I think. Heavy armor. The crowd thought you'd be crushed."
Bjorn's hand paused slightly against the stick. "He almost won," she added.
A faint smirk touched Bjorn's expression. "Almost…"
"You didn't overpower him," she said. "You waited. Watched. Let him tire himself out. Then…" She made a small gesture with her hand. "It was over."
Bjorn leaned back slightly. "People make mistakes when they think they've already won."
She nodded, as if confirming something she'd long believed. "That's what made you different," she said. "You fought like it mattered. Not for coins. Not for attention."
Bjorn looked past her, toward the trees. "It always matters."
The Duchess was quiet for a moment. "Was it the war?" she asked.
That made him look back at her. She held his gaze, not accusing him, simply curious. "A lot of fighters came from it," she continued. "Soldiers who could not go back to normal lives. The pits gave them… something else." Bjorn's jaw shifted slightly "War doesn't leave much behind," he said. "Not for anyone."
"No," she agreed. The fire cracked softly between them. "So, you stayed," she said. "Fought. Won. Again, and again." Bjorn did not confirm it but did not deny it either. The Duchess smiled faintly. "You do not have to say it. I remember how the crowds reacted. Every time you stepped in, it was different. Quieter, somehow… before it got louder. Always moments of awe and wonder the way you never killed and kept the brutal arena to a level of honor and respect."
Bjorn let out a reminiscent sigh and smiled in front of her for the first time. "Crowds like a story. Craft someone into something that does not exist, building them up and up."
"And you gave them one Hell of a tale sir." He did not answer that. Instead, he reached for a piece of bread from the basket. It was better than what he would have made.
"You know," she said after a moment, "the arenas changed after the war." Bjorn glanced at her. "Less chaos. More structure. Rulers started paying attention. Using fights to settle disputes instead of sending armies." He nodded slightly. "Cheaper than war." "And cleaner," she added. "…At least on the surface."
Bjorn took a bite, chewing slowly. "Nothing's clean about it."
The Duchess studied him again. "You sound like someone who's seen both."
Bjorn Didn't answer, but his silence only confirmed She was right. She did not push further, Instead, she reached into the basket again. "There's another name people talk about now," she said carefully, Bjorn did not react. "Kasathar." The name hung in the air like a shadow. "They say he's never lost," she continued. "Not in the pits. Not in the arenas. Some even claim he has taken more than just victories."
Bjorn's gaze dropped briefly to the fire. "Stories grow," he said.
"They do," she agreed. "But fear grows faster." Silence settled again, this time heavier. she watched him closely. "You've heard of him?" she said.
Bjorn shrugged. "Heard enough."
"And?"
He poked the embers again, sending a small burst of sparks into the air. "Means someone'll try to stop him eventually." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Someone like you?"
Bjorn huffed quietly. "I'm not that man anymore."
The Duchess leaned back slightly, studying him in the morning light. "No," she said softly. "Maybe not." She stood, brushing off her dress. "But I think that man is still in there." Bjorn did not respond.
She picked up the basket, pausing for just a moment before turning to leave. "You know," she said over her shoulder, "the first time I saw you fight… I thought you looked like something out of a story."
Bjorn stared into the embers. "And now?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "Now I think the story just hasn't finished yet." Then she disappeared back through the trees. Bjorn sat there for a long time after she was gone. The fire finally died completely, leaving only ash. But he did not move, just sat there watching the last ones burned out.