“Where can we sit?” Seth asked.
“We just have to avoid the boxes,” Virgil said, indicating sections of seating surrounded by low railings. The nicest boxes were canopied, rendering a few rows behind them useless. “There are plenty of empty seats in the reserved section. More than anywhere besides the upper reaches.”
“Does this place ever fill to capacity?” Seth asked.
“Seldom,” Virgil said. “It’s really big. But there is always a good crowd. Let’s snag prime seats.”
They descended the stairs almost to the floor of the arena, then worked their way sideways, selecting cushioned chairs between a couple of canopied boxes. Down on the arena floor, workers raked the dirt level, while others mounted weapons at intervals against the arena wall.
“How many fighters will come out?” Seth asked.
“It varies,” Virgil said.
“Can they claim any weapons they want?” Seth asked.
“The gladiators can use any weapon within the arena,” Virgil said, “including what they bring themselves. If combatants get disarmed, it’s rare for them to make it to a new weapon.”
Seth absently stroked the arms of his chair. “We’re about to see people die?”
“That’s the idea,” Virgil said. “I’m curious to get your take after you see a few rounds.”
Seth wondered how many people would perish in combat today. And for what? A chance to win a magical item? To entertain a crowd? How much did Humbuggle care about the people giving their lives to win his contest? Looking around at the huge coliseum filling with paying spectators, he realized that the demon dwarf seemed more than happy to cash in on the fatalities.
“The Giant Queen is here today,” Virgil pointed out.
“Where?” Seth asked.
“See that central box on the far side? Gilded wood with jewels? Only one like it.”
“Yes,” Seth said. It was the only sheltered box not made of fabric. A stoic woman sat inside, crown on her brow. “I thought she would be larger.”
“Nobody over ten feet tall is allowed into the arena,” Virgil said. “The only exception is Falstaff the dragon wrangler, who works directly for Humbuggle.”
“She shrinks to come here?” Seth asked.
“Giants enjoy their full size over on Big Side,” Virgil said. “The Giant Queen has private access from Terastios to Big Side, and from there to the arena. But for giants to enter the arena, or to go anywhere in Small Town, they have to surrender most of their size.”
“Can the giants shrink whenever they want?” Seth asked.
“Humbuggle set up a way,” Virgil said. “He always does.”
“And she comes?” Seth asked.
“Once or twice a week,” Virgil said. “Especially when giants compete.”
“Is one competing today?” Seth asked.
“Gurnan,” Virgil said. “He has thirty-nine wins.”
“He needs a hundred?” Seth asked.
“A hundred would get him the Wizenstone,” Virgil said.
“Has anyone come close?”
“This place gets wild when anybody racks up more than seventy victories,” Virgil said. “Combatants become legendary if they break eighty. The record is ninety-one. The challenges get harder the more a combatant wins. Especially after they pass fifty. The fights get berserk after seventy and almost impossible after eighty. Contestants not only have to climb a mountain to win—the slope gets perpetually steeper.”
“Sounds brutal,” Seth said.
“Almost seventy percent of competitors are defeated in their first fight,” Virgil said. “More than ninety percent don’t survive the first ten.”
“You know the numbers,” Seth said.
Virgil smiled. “It’s my area of expertise.”
A hefty troll stepped onto a prominent platform, hands upraised. His golden robe flashed with sequins, and pronged antlers projected from his brow. The chatter in the coliseum stilled.
“Welcome to the Titan Games!” the troll shouted, his voice magnified without a visible microphone. It had to be a spell of some sort. The crowd roared in response. He quelled the cheering with downward motions of his hands. The troll bowed low. “We recognize the presence of the caretaker of Titan Valley, her royal majesty, the Giant Queen.”
Facing the queen’s box, the announcer dropped to a knee. Around the coliseum, everyone slid out of their seats and went down on one or two knees. Seth and Virgil did likewise. Seth even noticed a centaur bowing, the knee of a foreleg touching the ground.
“Have you come for thrills?” the announcer called out, to the delight of the crowd. “Are you ready for battle? Today we will discover if Portia the Improbable can continue her charmed run, and whether Gurnan can secure forty victories, but first, how about six brand-new gladiators going head-to-head, a three-on-three battle royale?”
The crowd responded enthusiastically. Seth cheered along with them, then leaned over to Virgil. “If a gladiator keeps winning, how often do they fight?”
“Normally no more than once per week,” Virgil said.
“So it would take around two years for a hundred wins,” Seth said.
“That’s right,” Virgil said.
“As always,” the announcer declared, “if you get inspired to participate in the combat, feel free to join the fray.”
“Is he serious?” Seth asked.
Virgil nodded. “Anyone can jump down to the arena floor and join the action.”
“Does it happen?” Seth asked.
“From time to time,” Virgil said. “Not often. It isn’t a very strategic move. Combatants get better treatment and advantages if they formally enroll in the Games.”
The troll on the platform was announcing gladiators by name. So far there was a bearded human, a hobgoblin, and a reddish minotaur. The crowd cheered them half-heartedly.
“Once the gladiators sign up, can they quit?” Seth asked.
Virgil laughed. “No way! Do you know Humbuggle at all? Whether you join the Titan Games by signing up or by jumping into the combat, once you’re in, the only escape is victory. The competitors all live here in the coliseum.”
“How can he lay claim to those who jump in?” Seth asked.
“His policies are posted around the coliseum,” Virgil said. “I can show you if you want. They serve as a basic contract for anyone who spontaneously joins the fight.”
“They just grab a weapon off the wall?” Seth asked.
“Wherever they can get one,” Virgil said. “You’re not thinking about it, are
