The crowd went wild.
Caithe rolled free and stood up to survey the battlefield. She shouted to Logan, "Let's give Rytlock a hand!"
Logan turned and saw that Rytlock was in a desperate scrum.
Sohothin lay out of reach, twenty yards away, and a scorched norn held Rytlock in a headlock. Growling, the norn drove his weight onto the charr, hurling them both to the sands.
The two other members of Edge of Steel jogged up to where the charr and the norn wrestled.
"How you doing?" Logan asked.
Spraying sand from his mouth, Rytlock said, "How do you think? Stick a blade in him."
Caithe leaped onto the norn's back and jabbed her dagger into a buttock.
"Yow!" the norn yelped as he climbed off Rytlock.
Caithe leaped free, rolled on the sands, and came up with her stiletto ready.
The remaining norn stared, panting, at his foes, then looked beyond them to the two figures lying in the sands. The norn's expression went from anger to amazement. "You laid out my brothers?"
Caithe smiled, cocking her hips. "Want to see how?"
"There's an easy way and a hard way, my friend," Logan said, his comrades coming to stand beside him. "We're the hard way."
The norn nodded. "Then let it be." He charged.
"Let it be," Rytlock replied. He ran head-on into the towering warrior, knocking him to the ground.
The norn struggled to rise.
Caithe leaped on him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and squeezed.
The norn thrashed, trying to throw her off, but she clung on. In moments, he teetered and then toppled and flopped down, unconscious.
Edge of Steel emerged from a cloud of dust, their latest victim lying in the midst of it.
The stadium roared.
Rytlock grabbed the hands of his comrades and lifted them high. The cheer redoubled. "It'll be a thousand silver this time."
"Enough to buy some new armor?" Logan said faintly, his slick hand dragging from Rytlock's grip. He fell forward, and his friends saw four red stripes down his back.
"We need a chirurgeon!"
Logan got his chirurgeon-and a new plate-mail breastplate, an upgrade from his leather. Rytlock got his glory and his thundershrimp. Caithe got her name spoken on ten thousand lips: the woman who fought with the frenzy of a whirlwind.
They paid four hundred more silver toward their billet. "How much does that leave?" Rytlock asked Sangjo.
"Four hundred ninety-three gold," the man said with a serene smile.
Rytlock cocked his head. "Looks like we'll be fighting a lot."
"Looks like it."
The next day, they fought a band of charr. Rytlock was reluctant at first, until one of the charr walloped him in the head with a mallet. A quick healing touch from Logan revived him, and Rytlock was all business from then on. Logan acquitted himself well against them also, and Caithe discovered that charr could be monstrously strong but have numerous "weak points."
As Edge of Steel stood together atop the fallen charr, Caithe said to Rytlock, "No one has ever reported that charr are ticklish."
Rytlock nodded. "Ticklers do not live to report it."
The next day, they fought a band of six humans. It was Logan's turn to feel chagrined, triumphant over his own people. But it was as Caithe had said-they all had the same strengths and weaknesses. Only groups of mixed races and abilities had any hope of succeeding in the arena.
For two weeks, Edge of Steel went undefeated. Their wealth grew, and their fame with it. They moved further and further into the lineup, clearing away opponents before them. Humans, sylvari, asura, charr, and even mixed groups of all these. None could stand before Edge of Steel.
After two weeks came a second exhibition match, which Sangjo described as "an epic battle against a secret foe for the delight of a special personage."
"What do you think we're going to fight?" Logan asked Rytlock as they trotted out onto the sands, to the cheers of the crowd.
Rytlock humphed. "Who knows? Maybe a pack of skritt. Maybe a herd of centaurs. Could even be an oakheart for all I know."
"At least an oakheart is flammable," put in Caithe.
The announcer called from his tower, "And before we announce the foe this afternoon, all rise in honor of our special guest-all the way from our ally Kryta, the most noble, most high, Queen Jennah!"
The stands erupted with cheers, and trumpeters along the upper courses played a fanfare that echoed beneath the wooden dome.
"Queen Jennah!" Logan whispered, looking up into the stands.
At the top, a pair of double doors opened, and white-garbed Seraph marched through. They descended the stairs with precision, unrolling a red carpet and tucking it securely onto each step.
Then the queen herself appeared, and mesmer magic projected her image out to hang above the center of the arena.
Logan turned toward that image.
Queen Jennah was young, powerful, regal-garbed in a white gown and wearing the mantle of Divinity's Reach across her shoulders. She had dark hair, tan skin, and riveting brown eyes.
"She's beautiful," Logan murmured.
The huge image that hovered above the sands spoke to everyone gathered there: "Thank you, good people of Lion's Arch. Thank you for this welcome to your beautiful city! Once you were a part of our homeland, and always you will be part of our hearts."
Cheers answered her speech.
"Today, before Commodore Marriner and the Ship's Council, I have confirmed Kryta's commitment to work with Lion's Arch for the good of Tyria's free races. Together, our people and yours declare an alliance. We will help you fight the Orrian undead, who threaten your shipping lanes, and you will help us fight the centaurs that raid our villages."
Applause filled the arena, and the image of Jennah smiled beautifully.
"She's wonderful," Logan sighed.
"I asked your excellent Ship's Council what great entertainment I must not miss in my brief stay, and they all turned as one to Captain Magnus the Bloody Handed, proprietor of this great establishment"-gleeful cheers interrupted her-"and he brought me here! And so, to all who do battle here today, I wish success and health and wealth!"
"All who do battle?" Logan stepped back breathlessly. "That's me!"
As Queen Jennah's mesmeric presence faded from the center of the arena, the stadium applauded her one last time. Waving to the crowd, she slowly descended the stairs, flanked by her bodyguards. Seraph bowed to her, one by one, as she passed.
Logan drifted toward her across the sands.
"Where are you going?" Rytlock barked.
"My queen," Logan muttered, his steps growing more sure.
Queen Jennah entered a private platform, with guards ranked in white all around her. She had other attendants, too-blue-robed men and women in courtly attire, their eyes sharp and scanning the crowd.
As Logan approached the stands, a number of the Seraph watched him in anticipation. Their swords raked free of silvery scabbards. One shouted for Logan to stay back, but he kept on walking.
Then another Seraph waved the others back and descended to the rail. "So, it's true-my kid brother's in Lion's Arch."
Logan blinked, only then seeing who it was. "Dylan!"
Dylan didn't return the greeting, and there was anger beneath his black brows. "What are you doing here? I thought you were guarding merchant caravans or something."
Logan averted his eyes-it had always been difficult looking into his big brother's relentless gaze. "My group was slaughtered… down to me."
"By what?" Dylan asked.
"By ogres." Logan glanced behind him, where Rytlock was taking practice swings with Sohothin. "The charr back there saved my life."
"Really," Dylan said coldly.
"Really," Logan responded, finally looking him in the eye.
Dylan nodded coolly. "So, now you fight beside a charr, in the arena?"
Logan shrugged. "Yeah."
"I shouldn't have expected more," Dylan sighed. "I hope the queen likes the exhibition match today."