The Master waved his fork to settle his companion and gave Beleg a critical look. “You certainly do seem the part.” He resumed eating in such an unconcerned way as if the topic was no longer one of consequence.
The other man barely ate, instead using the time to poke at the food and to drink heavily from his mug that he had Virryn fill no less than three times in the span of five minutes. Beleg had no such trouble eating as he finished off his food in that same timeframe. He nodded his appreciation to Virryn as she had anticipated that he would still be hungry and brought him the entire fruit bowl, taking out only two fuzzy peaches for the Master and his guest should they wish for a sweeter treat after their lunch.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” the Master said finally, setting down his own mug and leaning back in his chair. “I wouldn’t normally visit with the fighters, but certain events from last night have prompted a change in protocol.”
“As your man says, I am a champion,” Beleg rumbled after wiping his mouth with his arm. Kre appreciated how well he played up the big dumb brute role so well. “It’s natural to want to see the likely victor before the other patrons so you have more of an edge in the betting.”
The Master smiled with his lips pressed tightly together. It was clear that he was more used to dealing with less blunt, more refined conversationalists.
“That,” Beleg continued, spearing an apple with his knife, “or you have an offer for me?” He bit into the apple at the stem side, chomping through the core, seeds and all.
“You are astute,” the Master said finally. He pulled his own personal knife from his belt, a long, wicked-looking curved dagger with black etchings all along the blade, and he started to slowly peel the skin from his peach.
The result was impressive. The entire skin removed in a single peel with not the slightest bit of soft peach flesh damaged in the process. “As you have guessed, there’s quite a lot of money riding on these contests. A lot of my own money, specifically.”
He slowly moved the peach to his wide-open mouth and slid the entire thing in without pause, masticating on it methodically and with far too much of a noisy sucking sound for anyone to be comfortable with. Eventually, his teeth clamped down on the pit, but instead of spitting it out, he bit harder and continued chewing until he swallowed the remains. It was clearly a power move designed to counter Beleg’s brutish apple eating.
Beleg leaned back and crossed his arms, “I do appreciate your generosity in this tournament. I wouldn’t have signed up if the prize was something I could win arm wrestling in any tavern.”
“Nor should you have to suffer such minor contests any longer. You are a true gladiator, and I think you and I can come to a very profitable agreement.”
“Possibly the same agreement you made with the other competitor… the one that seemed to have stolen something? I’m not one to play second lute to anyone.”
The Master glared at his companion, who immediately winced, recalling that it was he that had revealed too much information as soon as they had entered the chambers. He immediately resolved to busy himself in his drink in hopes that the withering look would turn from him.
“I make many deals,” the Master continued, returning his gaze to Beleg, “but this one is truly exclusively for you.”
He leaned forward on the table and set the point of his dagger onto the wooden table, spinning it slowly, drilling it into the table’s surface. “I want to pay you handsomely to lose.”