Dain nodded, sitting himself down in one of the chairs and partaking of the small meal in front of him. “We must be quick about it then, as I am expected back in the stands soon. I only came to inform you that you would not be fighting this night. There were a number of… accidents earlier in the tournament and they prefer to keep enough fighters in healthy condition for a big show tomorrow night.”
“That well, huh?” Beleg asked, rubbing his chin with a frown on his face. “Did Barry fight yet?”
Dain nodded. “Two on one that was. Barry toyed with them for far longer than necessary. I never knew he was that cruel. He must have cut the one a hundred times before ending him, and that was the quick one.”
“That’s not normal,” Beleg countered. “Barry is usually far more pragmatic than that in his killing. Never wastes a movement, that one.”
“Well,” Dain said with a shrug, “he must have changed, because the man that fought tonight was downright sadistic.”
“That’s Cormordean,” Kre said. He noticed Grivallt look down and away from the others, but not in the usual submissive way that he had been. “You know something of that sword of his, don’t you?”
Beleg’s head snapped over at Kre, “What, you mean that sword that you didn’t want me to have?” His eyes snapped back to Grivallt, “If you know something, please share it.”
The Ylveryan shook his head quickly and cast his eyes downward, “My lords, truly we servants of the Master know nothing about the weapons other than what is enough to ensure that they are not mishandled.”
The immediate scoff came from an unlikely source, Virryn. “Leave off that. We must show them our own trust if we are to earn theirs in turn.”
“Biha been’ahatiin?” he murmured back. Kre knew that Beleg spoke very little Ylveryan, but was uncertain as to how much Dain knew. It turned out though, that he needn’t have worried.
“Do not show rudeness to our guests,” she snapped back. Virryn bowed her head in turn to each of them, “I apologize. We shall speak in the common tongue from now on.”
“The common tongue,” Grivallt spat. “The language of the oppressors.” All pretense of his submissiveness was gone and what seemed to remain was molten anger. It was such a fast and savage transition that it made everyone else, including Virryn, jump back a bit. “What do you hope from these strangers aside from another punishment from the Master? Stop trying to drag random strangers into our lives! It never ends well for either of us.”
His face softened and he bowed his head, “Shikei doo ni nihi, Tsinki’i,” he whispered before turning towards Dain. “Shieki… I mean, I am sorry my lords. I can only hope you can forgive my outburst and our shameful attempt to include you in our business.”
Dain and Beleg shared a glance that Kre couldn’t quite read but he had a general idea of what the nonverbally conference was about.
“We think we can help you,” Dain said finally. Virryn nearly leapt to her feet, a grin wide on her face, but she regained her composure quickly and returned her hands to making the vigil bowl sing as she waited to hear more. She couldn’t hide the smile entirely though. For his part, Grivallt just scowled a bit, but did lean forward just a bit to hear more. “We are no strangers to the evils of slavery and could not turn our backs on those in need of help.”