“I am no loser,” Beleg snarled, clenching his hands into white knuckled fists.
The Master raised his free hand and gently motioned for the fighter to calm down. “I’m not indicating that you’re a loser at all. In fact, it’s because you’re clearly the best among the best that I make you this offer.
“This is entirely about money,” he continued in this casual sleazy manner that caused goosebumps to rise along Kre’s neck, “so please don’t misunderstand or take any insult. This is simply a business deal.”
“You want to buy my honor and my reputation,” Beleg said with a shrug. “I think I understand perfectly. Neither is a trade good for sale to the highest bidder.”
“The Master is being very generous,” the other man finally said, a slight slur in his voice showing the effects of his rapid consumption of alcohol. “You are a fighter for hire. You are simply being hired to lose, rather than win. Given the competition here, no one would think less of your abilities if you lost in the final round.”
Even as the other man spoke, Beleg’s eyes never wavered from the Master. It was not an intense face off, but there was certainly a powerful energy wavering between the two of them. It was finally Beleg who broke the awkward silence.
“But I’m not going to be losing to one of the other tier one competitors, am I?”
The Master’s eyes flicked downward, breaking the gaze before returning to look Beleg up and down. His smile grew wider as he examined his potential business partner with a newfound respect. “What makes you think that?”
Another shrug of the massive shoulders. “Part of being a master class fighter is knowing how to read people and situations. My guess is that you have a ringer in the tier three class. You wouldn’t have placed them in the lowest tier as to cause an immediate outrage and calls of cheating, but not high enough that others would bet heavily on him. You’ll have others in the middle ranks picking off the tier ones and the highly favored of the tier twos in upset victories, so as not to reveal your hand too soon. I imagine those fights will be today.
“You’ll also keep me sequestered for one more day, along with the Champ, to keep your wealthier patrons on the line with the hopes that one of the two of us will win it all without ever seeing us fight and to keep the two of us from seeing the fights themselves, so we can’t study our future opponents. In the end, your chosen man will fight his way through the rank and file through what seems like luck and adrenaline, but there will be only the dead bodies of those once would-be gladiators to tell the story of how they were lied to.
“Blasted hells,” the drunk man whispered. “He knows it all!”
A flicker of fury flashed across the Master’s face. Anger that his colleague had confirmed all of their plans. He regained his composure quickly and inclined his head as he asked just one question in response to Beleg’s explanation, “How much?”
Beleg rubbed at his chin as if thinking very carefully about the price for his silence and for his honor, but Kre could tell by looking at the big man that he had already come up with his ask.