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The crowd in the underground arena roared and jeered as Balthus’ opponent slumped to the mat — a total knock-out. He hated to do it to the poor kid, but there was money on the line. And more than money, there was his pride; he was Balthus von Albrecht, the Legendary King of Grappling! Even if he couldn’t be open about who he was on the surface, down here in Abyss, he was properly recognized. He raised his arms, waving and mugging to the spectators with a sting in his jaw.
He made eye contact with Hapi, who rolled her eyes at him even as she sent a much-appreciated Physic his way. His jaw clicked as it set back into place, and he let it hang loose for a moment or two. He’d been working like a dog all night, though it was at least work that he was good at. It paid well too; and speaking of pay, he looked down ringside to find Constance talking with Yuri as the trickster raked in coin from the bets the crowd had made for this one to finally be the one to take down Balthus. Yuri caught him looking and gave him a wink, and Balthus laughed.
It was good to be King, but it was better to get paid.
As some of Yuri’s people lifted the guy Balthus had just flattened up onto a stretcher to take him off for healing, though, an unexpected figure with dark hair walked down through the crowds and right up to Yuri’s side. Unless Balthus was very mistaken, this was none other than Shamir Nevrand, who was probably the scariest Knight of Seiros out there. Balthus had, of course, made a pass at her once, since she was very attractive.
But the key word there was once.
He loved a strong woman, but when he shot his shot at her the Dagdan sniper had looked like she was about to put him in a world of hurt. He’d let it go quickly enough after that. He was curious, though… What was she doing down here?
Yuri’s furrowed brow told Balthus that whatever she was here for, the boss-man didn’t like it. He ambled over to the post closest to them, and leaned against the top turnbuckle, waiting for his chance to ask what was up. The two of them talked for a few moments, all terse and quiet in the way that people who stuck to the shadows like them were so good at. His opportunity came after Shamir finished speaking to Yuri, turned to give him a sharp, appraising look, and moved off into the shadows of the room.
“So… What was that about, pal?”, Balthus asked in what he hoped was a casual enough tone.
Yuri looked up at Balthus, his mouth thin, and approached the ring. “Well,” he said slowly, “I’ve got a new fight for you, but… Let’s just say I’m not the biggest fan of this arrangement.”
Balthus cocked his head to the side. “Why? I’m sure I can take whoever it is. Let me at ‘em!”
Yuri shrugged, and muttered “Your funeral.” He then leapt nimbly up into the ring, clambering up on top of the post Balthus was standing next to with practiced ease. He cleared his throat, then did a little magic to amplify his voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we’ve got one more match for you tonight! A new challenger is here to face off against our own King of Grappling himself — the Silver Lily! Give her a warm Abyss welcome, and don’t forget to place your bets for the final fight of the evening!”
He waved his hand again, cutting off the magic at his throat, then hopped down out of the ring. He turned back to face Balthus and gave him a grimace. “Good luck, then. You’ll need it. Don’t underestimate her.”
Balthus laughed heartily, and folded his arms. “I don’t need luck, pal! I'm the King, remember?” Yuri just hummed at him in response, though that was barely audible as the crowd started up once more. Balthus looked towards where the crowd’s attention was gathered, and his jaw fell open.
Approaching the ring as confidently as anyone he’d ever seen was a masked woman. Green hair, pinned in place and braided tightly, poked over the top of the mask, which was itself a strange-looking piece of silvery fabric that covered most of her head aside from her hair, eyes, mouth, and chin. A gold band of material, almost looking like a tiara, ran across the brow of the mask, and large, stylized white lily designs featured prominently on either side of her head.
The rest of her outfit was pretty modest for a fighter wearing something that ostentatious — it was just a normal, grubby set of clothes not unlike what Balthus would wear to train in (though he of course trained without a shirt on). It didn’t hide that she was a very attractive-looking gal, or that she was pretty obviously ripped in her own way, but… There was something outside of her appearance that was captivating about this strange woman, the so-called “Silver Lily”. It felt like there was kind of force emanating from her that pulled the eye in. Yet, as she got closer…
Oh yeah. This lady radiated danger.
Balthus swallowed, and gave her a grin as she approached the ring. “Well, well! Haven’t seen anybody using a mask gimmick in a while. How’s about we make this match more interesting?”
The Silver Lily twisted sideways as she reached the ring, slipping between the ropes with a strangely practiced ease. As she stood back to her full height, she said “I did not come here for anything ‘interesting.’” Her voice was surprisingly deeper than Balthus had expected. “I came here to fight. But… I suppose I shall indulge you. If you win, I will remove my mask.” Her lips curled into a smile.
“If”, she repeated. “And if I win, I imagine that the betting population of Abyss will give Yuri quite a lot of business.”
Balthus laughed, and rolled his neck. “Now you’re speaking my language! Let’s go then.”
The two of them approached each other in the center of the ring. They glanced over to the referee, who was standing outside the ring next to a brass bell (he was another of Yuri’s boys, not that he’d rig this thing for Balthus), and then touched fists. Her fist, wrapped up in thin strips of cloth bound tightly across her knuckles, was small— almost comically so compared to his unwrapped one —but Balthus knew better than to underestimate an opponent because of their size. After all, that new Academy professor with the blank stare had absolutely thrashed him not too long ago, and she was about the same size as the Lily here.
They backed away a few paces, and then the fight was on.
Balthus immediately tried to press his size and weight advantage on the Lily by getting her in a grapple, but to no great surprise she was too fast for that. She dipped out of his lunge, and he was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp jab to the stomach that sent him back a couple paces. He reeled for a moment or two— this lady was strong! —before his vision cleared up and he shook himself back to full awareness. The Lily hadn’t wasted any time though, and had climbed up onto the top turnbuckle nearest to him. Before he could comprehend what was happening, she leapt.
He looked high, watching in amazement as the Silver Lily came off the top rope and twisted herself in the air, angling her heeled sandals towards him. They sailed past his head, defying his expectation that he was about to be kicked in the face, and she landed on his shoulders, crossing her ankles behind his head. She didn’t linger there, either; showing off more of her bizarrely high strength, she yanked his head and shoulders while still suspended on him, sending him careening down to the mat. She disentangled herself just before he impacted, landing all prim and proper in the far corner, a smirk on her lips.
Balthus, meanwhile, was seeing stars. He could still fight, but damn if that hadn’t jarred him a lot. He rose unsteadily, but played to the crowd with a goofy, good-natured wave. A trickling sensation from where his head hit the mat clued him in that he was bleeding now. The crowd roared as the red ran down his face like the pack of vultures they were, but Balthus would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t learned to love this kind of atmosphere.
He moved in again, more cautiously this time, and caught a couple more of the Lily’s jabs on his arms. They still hurt like hell, but he was able to power through it for a few moments until she presented an opening. He feinted like he was about to throw a hook, and maneuvered instead to sweep his leg at hers. This succeeded at unbalancing her, and he followed up with a rising uppercut that caught her on the jaw, slinging her head up and back and eliciting a grunt of pain. She fell back a few feet, then spat out a glob of green something-or-other onto the mat before locking eyes with him. She grinned at him with the familiar, fierce joy of someone who loves battle; he would almost swear that her teeth were too long and too sharp in this light.
She dashed in, speeding past his defenses and launching a flurry of strong punches and kicks that left his arms and side aching. Balthus tried his best, and managed to land a few more blows on her, but after only about a minute of actual time he knew full well that he was severely outclassed. Some part of him burned about that, but it had honest-to-goddess been so long since he could fight against somebody that actually stood a good chance of beating him that he could push past his pride here. Getting his ass kicked wasn’t fun (although getting his ass kicked by a well-built pretty lady could be), but to actually have a contender for once?
That was nice.
He laughed loudly, reveling in the flow of the fight even as he was inexorably pushed back towards the ropes. The Lily seemed to be enjoying herself too, though her punches now had a strange sort of desperation to them. It wasn’t like she was flagging; she was doing better than him right now, and probably could go for a lot longer than this anyway. It felt more like… Like how Holst used to fight, back when Balthus actually got to see the pink-haired dastard.
His best friend had always chafed under the soon-coming responsibilities that would land on him as the next Duke Goneril, and his fights with Balthus back in the day had been wild and desperate, with Holst longing to let loose and just be himself for a change, instead of the heir to his house. The Silver Lily felt desperate too, and Balthus could only wonder, as she finally managed to knock his guard aside and wound up for what was probably going to be a devastating cross, what kinds of pressure she was under in her everyday life.
Her cross landed square in his face, and he definitely felt his nose break. Blood started flowing from it in earnest as he was spun around, and he landed in a crumpled mess against the bottom two ropes. He held onto them for dear life, a red mist settling over his vision as he tried to get his body to cooperate with him and get back up. He shook himself, whipping his hair out of his face and getting a little blood on the front row in the process, not that they cared. He made eye contact with Yuri, who stood by the ref with his arms folded, and the lavender-haired man just shook his head. Balthus grinned at him.
Suddenly, a hand curled around the middle rope near his head. He turned to look, only to find that the Silver Lily had a hand on both the top and middle ropes, and was leaning at an angle close to his face. She brought her mouth to his ear, and whispered “It appears you’ll not have the pleasure of seeing my face tonight, von Albrecht. But at least Abyss will prosper for this.” Her voice was enough to send shivers down his spine on its own, but the fact that she seemed to know exactly who he was was pretty damned unusual for some random pit fighter.
Before he could work out a response to her, though, the Silver Lily stood, then flipped her body sideways in the air. She slipped nimbly between the top two ropes, and pivoted herself with force and speed at his crumpled form. The last thing that Balthus saw was a pair of strong legs approaching his face, and then everything went black.
---
Yuri entered the ring once more, utterly unsurprised by this turn of events as he passed by his u nconscious friend on the way in. The so-called “Silver Lily”— he had to roll his eyes at that; who did Rhea think she was fooling? —regarded him with a grin between her heavy breaths, and made no moves to exit the ring. He hopped up onto the nearest post, applied his spell to amplify his voice, and overpowered the roaring, jeering, animalistic crowd to say “We have a winner! The Silver Lily has taken down our very own champion — give it up for her, everybody!”
As the crowd cheered and whistled and hollered, Yuri glanced down at Rhea, who was waving gamely at everyone in her silly little mask. What he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking, coming down here… But, he supposed he wouldn’t complain too much.
His men were already getting in position to flank the doors, just to make sure that everyone paid up before they left. Hardly anyone bet on Balthus losing these fights anymore, so only an enterprising few (or lucky, as the case may be) had won this time. The gold that this little operation had managed to make would help Abyss along for several moons, easily.
Well, let it never be said that Rhea never helped them out, he supposed. Balthus was probably happy to get beaten up by an attractive woman, and Rhea was obviously happy to have a chance to beat the stuffing out of someone without repercussions. So long as she hadn’t done him any lasting damage, he’d almost be tempted to call tonight a total success.
---
Balthus awoke some time later with a lingering headache. As he blearily opened his eyes and looked around in the pale moonlight, he realized that he had been moved out of the arena, and was now lying on a bed in what he very clearly recognized as the Garreg Mach infirmary. He’d been here enough times as a student to tell it on sight, even in the dark.
The first thing he saw as he started to survey the room was Yuri sitting in a chair near his bed, scratching at notes on a clipboard with an annoyed look on his face. He noticed Balthus stirring, though, and quickly put it aside. “Hey friend. How are we feeling, hmm?”
Balthus groaned. “Like that ‘Silver Lily’ had bricks for hands… How long was I out?”
Yuri hummed, and a smile crept onto his face. “Oh… Not too long. Our esteemed Lily is quite the healer, too.”
“I… huh. I didn’t really expect that. Just who the hell is that lady, anyway?”
Yuri’s smile grew wider, and he cleared his throat. “Well… Why don’t I just show you?”
He got up without waiting for Balthus to answer, and walked over to the closed infirmary door. He knocked on it, then turned back to Balthus with a sharp grin, one Balthus would have commented on had what happened next not completely stalled his ability to think; to Balthus’ abject shock, Lady Rhea walked in through the door, her hands wrapped in still-bloodied cloth strips, and that silver mask in her hand.
For the second time in the same night, Balthus’ jaw fell open.