Laz sat there, drinking wine while across from him was the arm he had removed from his armor. The stiff fingers had been wrapped around a goblet of wine as well as though someone was sitting across from him and drinking as well. While it might have looked ridiculous, no one sitting around Laz was laughing as each of them had lad out other goblets of wine and were drinking and talking to people who were no longer there. The gladiators were given a heroes welcome as the lead of the column and had been given access to food and drink and treatment while the rest of the legions made their way in. While the beasts had continued to harass them, it was nowhere near the battle they had been through.

As for the solders who had received them, as they had been dressed in standard legionary garb, they had no way of knowing that they were treating slaves with such care.

At least not until the other legionnaires had arrived to the tent set up and saw the men drinking with empty seats that had drinks placed in front of them.

"Fucking slaves," One of them said and decided to grab one of the filled yet untouched drinks before an armored fist came flying from the opposite seat, sending the rude man flying.

"You dare to lay hands on us?" One of his companions said before the sound of swords being drawn and pointed at him and his friends caused them to stop in their tracks.

"Who allowed you to retain your weapons...?" They said, an edge of fear in their voice.

Laz didn’t join in, but sat their looking at the hand wrapped around the cup which was starting to go pale from the absence of blood.

As for the ones starting trouble, they backed away leading them past where Laz was seated.

"Heh. At least this one still knows his place," the man who had been hit said, not at all happy with the treatment he had been shown. He reached out and was about to grab the opposite cup but noticed the hand attached to it.

"FUCKING ANIMALS..." He said before Laz’s hand shot forward grabbing the mans wrist and squeezing, causing all the bones in his wrist to break and his hand went limp.

"AAHAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAHHHH!" He screamed and backed away.

"If I had drawn my sword, none of you would be walking out of here," Laz said and sat back down, to immerse himself in his thoughts once more.

Without waiting for their screaming buddy, the men started running as he did his best to follow. The others simply nodded towards Laz and sat back down, all while muttering "First..."

That was Laz’s name to these sixty-seven men who had survived. He was known as the first since he was first one to walk through the stone gate alive.

They were then left alone for a while as the women providing treatment to them returned to change their bandages and clean the wounds again, none of them approaching Laz who had no wounds to speak of.

*He was only a passing character in the story of your life. You mourn him too much...* Kat said, trying to get Laz out of his funk which was exactly what he was experiencing.

’He was. Just one of dozens if not hundreds whose names I won’t even remember in a year. And that’s the problem. He was still a man, a living being who had a family somewhere in the piece of shit world. A family he will never see again. And I know I wasn’t the cause of it nor was there anything I could have done to prevent it. Perhaps it’s just me realizing my wish for people like him is foolish. That he could have lived through all this, went home to his family and lived out his days in relative comfort and contentment. A happy ending with him reaching his goal of freedom. Ha... Do any of us have a happy ending in sight? This is nothing more that a fucking side quest I got dragged into yet here I am morning the death of an NPC...’ Laz thought as he again drank down the fire like liquid. Noticing his cup was empty, he rose to grab another one, only to see the barrel of whatever it was gone.

"FUCKING... hell...." Laz said, setting his goblet on the counter as the others looked over. It seemed like none of them had noticed when the barrel they stole had disappeared from the thick wooden counter.

Laz returned to his seat, changed out his goblet with the one Jacob’s hand was grasping and continued to drink before an armored team arrived in the tent.

"Slaves of the gladiator legion. You are ordered to report to the command tent for reassignment," the man said, interrupting their ceremony.

None of them even made an effort to move so the guards all drew their swords, all fifty of them.

"You are committing treason with your failure to follow orders. Either do as we say or we will be forced to kill you for your actions," the man said, his shiny armor reflecting the light of the burning torches. Compared to them whose armor was covered in blood, guts and who knew what else, it was clear they didn’t even have to fight coming in.

None of them made to move.

As Laz was closest to the door, they moved his way first and swung, intending to take off his head as a show of force.

Laz didn’t hesitate even once, gulping the last of the drip and rising in his seat before turning around and throwing the wooden cup into the mans face, causing the wood to crack along with the man’s nose. Laz was then on him in an instant, landing a knee into his face as his body had bent over from the previous blow and knocking him backwards, straight into the ground. The other gladiators followed suit and attacked, turning the once peaceful and organized tent into the scene of a bar brawl. They started running after they became outnumbered two to one and not a single gladiator was hurt.

Chasing the screaming men from the tent, Laz was at the lead as he kicked forward, sending the guard closest to him into the mud face first.

"Who the fuck stole our booze that we stole rightly first?" Laz yelled at the crowd that had gathered due to the noise. His eyes scanned the crowd until one man flinched and turned away.

"You there... you were here when we arrived. Where did our barrel go?" Laz asked as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords... I... I... don’t have... a lot of product... left.... and none of you... had money...."

"Of course we didn’t. That’s why we stole it.... FUCK. Fine..." Laz said, reaching down to the passed out legionnaire in the mud. Laz cut the strings of his money pouch and opened it, finding several gold coins, Without even counting it, he tossed it to the merchant and simply asked,

"Where is it?"

"It’s in the wagon behind the tent..." the man finally said and Laz nodded while two of the gladiators walked off to the back of the tent.

Laz and the rest of the men turned around to head back inside when he heard a women’s voice speak up.

"Care for some drinking company?" It asked.

"Not in the mood," Laz replied without bothering to look.

"We’ll fill the glasses for you?" It then asked and Laz stopped while several of the gladiators turned towards him.

"Fine. Grab the purses off the ones passed out inside as your pay," Laz then ordered and without even a glance, walked back inside behind the rest of the men.

The woman flashed a smile as she straighten the sword on her belt and walked forward, followed by dozens of other women dressed in a similar fashion with weapons at their waist while black leather covered their fair bodies, their red skin and horns a stark contrast to the more human looking people who had gathered to watch.

Laz sat back down inside as the two gladiators brought back their original barrel along with another that had been offered by merchant since the pay was more than enough for both of them.

Laz sat down and before he knew it, a fresh mug of the amber colored liquid was set in front of him. Laz looked up and saw the woman for the first time, her white horns and bright red skin standing out in the fire light of the room.

Laz just grunted and accepted before moving the mug over to Jacob’s arm and using his empty mug to request another.

The demon woman smiled and got him another while the passed out guards were being removed by the woman’s companions.

Once Laz received his drink, he turned back to face the empty chair in front of him while the woman just stood by the side, neither moving nor showing any signs of impatience. Laz knew she was there, but didn’t let it bother him as the entire tent was still quiet minus the sounds of the men drinking.

Once his cup was again empty, the woman silently made to refill it and brought it back as Laz still didn’t move.

"You know... my people have a custom... to send the dead off with a song... if you would like...?" The woman asked finally breaking the silence.

Laz looked up at her, half annoyed she broke his ceremony, but also understanding her effort.

One of the women near went out of the tent with others following her. When they returned, she carried a case to the one standing near Laz and presented it to her.

It was a lyre...

"We can even choose the song..." she said before stopping. Laz reached out his hand and she placed it down for him. Laz pulled the instrument close and strummed it, so like what he knew and so not. But he knew enough.

The strum was low, hollow and yet it echoed with such power. It’s waves had an effect on those present as they all seemed to bring their mugs down at the same time.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Like the footsteps of a march.

Laz strummed again as the other women held instruments themselves, looking to Laz as though feeling something dangerous and exciting from him. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Once more... and the woman right next to Laz couldn’t stop herself, letting out a lament in a hoarse yet hauntingly beautiful voice. Laz kept strumming as he began to sing, his voice low and guttural.

"The last rose of Cintra

Has blood upon her thorns

A forgotten tale of Elder Blood

And all futures past reborn

Swirling spheres of otherness

Of hope and doom forlorn

Her path could lead to happiness

Or the end of times for all

Ghosts of futures falling

Have saddled up to ride

Seeking the Lion Cub of Cintra

Last living of her pride

And every hand will reach for

The power that lies untold

The time of axe and sword is nigh

Blood-red seeds of war are sown"

Laz’s hair turned white as his skin turned grey. His eyes took on a shade of red they hadn’t been in a long time as he continued on, his Asura bloodline reacting to the dirge he sang. Cups bashed on tables as instruments played along, knowing the path without knowing the song.

"So seek ye now the White Wolf

He’ll stay their wicked hand

A steel and silver burning heart

To guide through darkened lands

Your future lies unspoken

In timeless emerald eyes

A world may burn as pages turn

Or a savior may arise!"

(The Last Rose of Cintra-Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli)

Outside, the haunting sounds echoed over the courtyard as heads bowed and tears were shed. Laz’s companion continued her lament even as his voice faded, the women taking the lead of mourning with their instruments.