"You have fun?" Seth asked as he opened the door for her into the guest room he was given.

"It opened my eyes, seeing how someone from Danmor thinks." Seth bitterly smiled and nodded.

"She finds it fun to debate those things with people who hate the city. I asked why once, and she said it was becuase there was pleasure to be found in hypocrites who judge her." Waving his hand, he carried on, "But she is still a lovely lady if you can ignore her worldview, so don’t be too offended."

"She didn’t offend; rather, I see what you mean. I can tell she is a kind person, but one whose morality is severely warped in comparison to my own." Walking to the table where multiple sheets of paper sat, Isis stared at the detailed drawing on them all, wondering how Seth had put it together so quickly. "This is it?"

"Make a choice." Isis nodded and picked the first up, a hand cannon like Seth’s, just smaller with fewer shots available. Staring at it, although she found his weapon cool, she wanted soemthing of her own, not an imitation of his weapon.

Dropping the blueprint, she picked the next one up and chuckled. It was a large crystal ball with three crystals embedded in it. What would be carved on it were numerous runes, each one of which provided three attacks that would need to be recharged after use. An attack that uses fire, one that uses water and another that uses air. Staring at it, she imagined carrying the crystal ball around and feeling the weight of it in her bag and in her hand. Then she imagined how she would look holding it and shook her head.

Although it was cooler than the hand cannon to her, it would be an annoyance to carry around and, more importantly, fail to match her aesthetic. Taking the third, it was a small crossbow that could be held with one hand. The only difference compared to a normal crossbow is that it lacks a drawback mechanism and, instead, like the hand cannon, has numerous crystals to represent how many shots it can fire, which could fire spells or condensed arcane power, depending on what was decided.

"There is one more thing I’m going to make you," Seth said, pulling the crossbow blueprint away, sliding in a new one. Looking at it, Isis rolled her eyes and looked at Seth, "It’s not what you’re thinking." Seth said with a laugh. Looking back down at the blueprint depicting a ring, Isis slowly put it down.

"Then why are you making a ring. One weapon is already too much." Seth wave dhis hand and sat down.

"Do you know how many pointless things Magi and sorcers create every day, simply because they can? They do it so they don’t get rusty or..." Seth smiled, lifting the blueprint, "They are inspired. Don’t worry about that one, just choose from the other three." Isis sighed but didn’t press, not wishing to talk her way into a debt.

Looking at the three, her option was quick, "The crossbow. All I ask is that you make it quite sleek, if possible. I still want it to look pretty." Seth nodded to say it was possible and grabbed the two other blueprints. Going over to a candle, he let them burn before chucking the ashes into a plant pot.

Isis looked down at the ring blueprint once again. Unlike the crossbow, it was rather basic in what it would do, creating a gust of strong wind from around it when Isis gave the command. It wasn’t lethal in most circumstances, but she could see how useful it would be.

Stretching, she turned to Seth, "Then I’ll leave it to you." Seth nodded and moved over to his bag, pulling out numerous materials.

"What will you do. I can’t escort you and make this after all." Isis closed her eyes and wondered for a while.

"I’ll explore a little bit."

"You sure. Whilst no one in Danmor will pick someone off the street and put them in a collar, will you be able to control yourself if you see soemthing you don’t like?"

"What do you take me for, Seth?" Her innocent tone got a roll of the eyes in reply.

"You planted a tree in Cras because you didn’t like it." Isis chuckled and sighed.

"I’ll stay on my best behaviour knowing I don’t have you to bail me out." Getting a halfhearted wave, Isis peeked a final glance at Seth as he laid out the materials, wondering which ones he should use. Leaving the room, she walked the halls and stared at the servants around. Unlike what she expected, there was a mixture of lessers and freemen, those free servants coordinating the lessers in tasks they needed to carry out, the lessers happily abiding and running off.

A few freemen completed menial tasks such as dusting a decoration, but the majority existed to coordinate the lesser and solve more difficult tasks. ’I guess she still needs people to delegate.’ Shaking her head, Isis stepped out and took a deep breath, smiling in satisfaction, feeling the fresh summer air on her face. Walking along, some people shot her looks, seeing her beautiful looks, before quickly looking away, assuming she was of a higher standing than they were, even if her outfit didn’t match that.

Her stroll was casual without a destination in mind. The sounds of the city flooded her mind, but over them all were the cheers of the colosseum. Isis stared at the massive structure and thought for a moment before making up her mind and heading towards it. Although blood sports weren’t her fancy, she did enjoy the tournaments of Vestons and had seen more than enough accidents in jousts and melees that she no longer felt squimish, let alone her journey to Oros and the pirate hunt.

As she got closer, the shops changed. Small stalls selling food that was easy to carry and easy on the stomach littered the roads, replacing more traditional restaurants, whilst a few people sold goods related to combat, be it old equipment from fighters or replicas of famous weapons used in the arena. What surprised her most were the organised gambling dens that sporadically appeared, filled with their own guards and workers, perfectly organising and managing bets placed on upcoming events to take place in the arena, some weeks in advance.

Gambling was normal at such events in Veston, but it was never so organised, rather being lone merchants looking to make a quick coin with unfair odds that favoured them alone. Here it had become a way of life that perfected the art of betting, able to skim the most money from patrons, enticing them to return when they lost, in the chance they could win it back.

Isis felt tempted. Even if she liked melees, she wasn’t the biggest fan, but the incentive to win soemthing from it did increase the appeal. ’What am I thinking?’ Slapping her cheeks, she realised how the places had so many customers and rushed past, keeping her head low so she wouldn’t be tempted to make a bet on something she didn’t understand. Stepping in line for the Colosseum, she watched as soldiers searched visitors before waving them through without taking coins.

It was confusing, and as she approached her, she looked at the soilder, reaching into her coin purse. "Do I not need to pay?" Asking, the soilder raised an eyebrow and realised she was a foreigner and shook his head.

"Free entry." Nodding, she walked forward and lowered her head, wondering. ’They make no money from entry and let anyone in, freeman or lesser. If so, how do they...’ The realisation where the source of money instantly clicked, and thinking of how packed the gambling houses were, she understood, ’People will spend more money there than any entry fee could cost.’

With free entry, people would likely be more willing to bet, she realised. Walking through the dark halls of the coliseum, which seemed to shake with excitement, her mind erupted at the deafening cheers that boomed every few seconds, making her feel like she was one of the people ready to enter the pit. Climbing higher, she followed the halls and saw the end of the corridor and stepped out, covering her face, hit by the sunlight.

Her heart raced as she looked around. Every section of the arena was packed, fans leaning over the unsafe railing, shouting at the two men in the centre. Never had she seen so many people in one place at once, and part of her couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. Across the stands, a large wave of cheers echoed as some cried with joy and others lamented what had happened.

Looking down, she saw one of the fighters on his back, breathing deeply, staring at the sword at his neck. The other fighter wore thin armour that covered his chest, biceps, and legs, and circled around the downed fighter, raising his hand for the audience. Slowly, his free hand turned into a fist as he held his thumb out to the side.

The crowd fell silent, the tension eating away at everyone as they waited. Isis watched, able to hear the people next to her gulp. The warrior shook his thumb up and down, teasing the fans, before it stopped and slowly tilted upwards. Throwing his sword to the side, he held his hand out for the fallen warrior as the crowd blew up in fanfare, praising the mercy and honour the warrior showed for his defeated foe. Some cursed at the lack of blood, but they were a very quiet minority whilst the rest cheered the warrior’s name, hoping that they might be one of the thousands noticed.

’Everything is a show in this city. Even fighters have fans.’ The defeated warrior limped off, head held low, as the victor bowed over and over towards the fans, pretending to blow kisses, basking in their cheers. After a while and knowing he would soon overstay his welcome, he walked off, waving a few times before he was gone.