Kre and the other two helpers were sent through a small side door and along a short passage to the next room. The large chamber they found themselves in was already populated by four other servant types, two younger than Kre and two older. Kre waved and offered a greeting to those in the room, but no one bothered to acknowledge him nor even look up.
The two that came in with Kre moved to empty areas of the room and plastered themselves to the walls, keeping their eyes down. In the unoccupied corner of the room was a table that held a clay pitcher and some clay cups. Kre assumed that it was water and he also assumed that it was for the competitors, and not for the likes of him.
It was about five minutes before the first of the competitors came charging into the room. He was the man that seemed too fat to compete, but muscular enough to make a show of it. “Tier three,” he snarled. “I’ll show the lot of them.” He looked the room over and scowled before stamping off to the corner with the table.
After another few minutes, another competitor came in. This one was dressed in long flowing robes with darkly colored ribbons trailing from the seams. He hadn’t been there in the other room and Kre began to wonder just how many competitors there would be. He gave a polite nod to each of them in the room, though none of them but Kre returned the courtesy, and sat down along the far wall with his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, and his eyes closed.
The room slowly filled with hopeful gladiators. Some entered as angry as the first man, some came in with a smile on their face, and others were just unreadable. Barry came in before Beleg and the large man zeroed in on Kre and made a direct line for him.
“Give me the scoop,” he said in a hushed tone that only Kre could hear.
“I.. uh… what?” Kre stammered, not expecting the command.
“Tell me,” Barry said slowly through clenched teeth, “the measure of the men here. You’ve watched them all enter, yes?”
Aside from the first two men, Kre paid little attention to the consistent influx of competitors until Barry had walked in, but Kre also knew that Barry would not be happy with that result. “The first guy that came in, the round, thick one over there, said something about being tier three. He seemed pretty unhappy about it.”
Barry nodded, “I had him pegged for that, or even tier four, so that’s not a surprise. Who else? I see some faces that weren’t in our group.”
Kre gestured over at the robed figure that was still sitting against the wall, “That one came in but didn’t say anything. He moves like a cat though, graceful and smooth, but he hasn’t done much else since he came into the room.”
With narrowed eyes, Barry took measure of the robed figure and grunted. “Using the mysterious mystical persona. How droll. Still, if he moves like you say, he might have some skill behind those idiotic robes.”
Kre could only nod in response, not really certain what else he was expected to say. Barry raised his hand to gesture at a group crowding in the corner, as if preparing to ask about the lot of them, but it was then that someone entered the room and was immediately met with some light applause and quiet murmurs.
“Ah,” Barry muttered, “I was wondering if he’d show.”
“Who?” Kre asked, trying to get a better look. It was difficult given how crowded the room was with about twenty-five contestants milling about so far.
“The Champ,” Barry said with a scowl.