Adeluna, like most other cities in the realm, had its varying class structure and was built on that foundation. The castle was towards the city’s heart with its royals and nobles with high class merchants and other politicians and council living close by. The further out you went, the rougher things got. Past the slums were the fields and farms where farmers toiled to plant, grow, and harvest crops year round. She had watched countless crops grow and had seen the slums do the same until they were nearly bursting. Hundreds of years later, she, like the city, was still standing. 

Saoirse was of dragon’s blood some thousands of years through her bloodline. She had even been brought up to know the language. What little was left of their society was mostly nomadic and spread thinly across the lands. Thousands of years ago her ancestors had grown with dragons, shared bonds with dragons, and had been the best of riders. Now they lived in relative anonymity among people.relationships were difficult. She had watched many friends and lovers grow old and die.

What remained tradition in their culture was teaching both young boys and girls to fight. She had trained with swords, daggers, almost anything as long as she could bear the weight. They bothered only with hides and furs for armor though they were more closely resembling clothes than armor. 

Hundreds of years of drilling and fighting made one a potent force to deal with. When she had tired of simply caring for the horses in Adeluna’s Calvary, she started to meddle with more… interesting ways of pulling in money. 

Hanging around rowdy men with no graces meant you heard of all sorts of illegal or less than admirable activities. The fighting pits had caught her attention. 

Nearly fifty years later she found herself with messy and braided hair, her body covered in hide armor in a dirt pit with people screaming and cheering as they went at it hand to hand. He had just lunged at her, her ducking down sending him stumbling past her. She gathered momentum and landed a devastating haymaker to his face, blood spurting from his nose as he collapsed unconscious. 

There seemed to be a slight hidden golden undertone to her skin that stood out when she was slick with sweat. She had some gashes around her left eye and the jaw of the same side looked a little swollen. She spit a little blood into the dirt, egging on the crowd as she exited the pit itself and got herself a strong ale. She took chugs of it while she collected money and turned around to place bets on the next fight. 

It had not been that long since Blaze had arrived in this world – he had made no plans to travel here. The elf had simply dropped out of the sky. He didn’t believe in luck; fate had intervened in his life far too many times for that – even in this world. The first person he had encountered had been the son of his dead best friend. Hiro Kouen was the closest thing Blaze had ever had to a nephew, and he loved him with his whole heart.

The young man had taken Blaze in, allowing him to stay with him at his smithy. Unfortunately, Blaze was a proud man, and the charity had made him feel uncomfortable. He had decided he would stay in this world; he had made a plan to re-build a life here. It had started by leaving the smithy – and Hiro behind for now. Blaze was out to make some money.

Blaze was a solider first and foremost – but for the last three hundred years he had been a skilled tailor. The elf had a long-term plan, he would open his own shop – as close as he could to his Nephew. Instead of asking Hiro for a loan (Which he would almost certainly of been happy to do) Blaze had decided to go into prize fighting.

He watched as Saoirse fought, her boxing match, she had won – he had actually made a little money on her fight. Now though, was his turn. The familiar smells of sweat and sawdust filled his nose as he stepped into the ring. His top half was bare, revealing the scars of hundreds of battles, his long chestnut hair was tied back with a simple leather band, and his hand wrapped to fight.

His fight took seconds. His young opponent lunged forwards, and Blaze was able to just slip to the side and smash him in the side of the head for a knockout. It was slightly disappointing – but the money he had just made would make up for that. Quickly he unwrapped his hands, revealing the tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on his hand. He rushed out of the ring and grabbed his simple black tunic, slipping it on he made a point to catch up with the fighter that had gone before him.

“Hey! One sec, wait up.” He said to Saoirse as he slipped through the crowd. “Yours was a very impressive match. We don’t usually get people of your skill here.” He added as he finally caught up to her. He offered her his tattooed hand to shake. “My name is Blaze; can I buy you a drink?”

Some of the fights in the pit seemed to be all too disappointing. Occasionally the opponents paired up were a severe difference in skill and things were over quick, fast, and in a hurry. One of those matches came up to stage. By now she knew enough from doing and from watching and betting to size up a fight before it ever started. “I’ll put fifty crescents on our friend with scars there,” she motioned towards Blaze with her sloshing glass and took another gulp. She slid the coin across to the bar keep and he scribbled something basically incoherent on parchment in front of him. 

The crowd geared up and the match started. It took one completely clueless lunge to do in the elf’s opponent. He was easily sidestepped and a vicious crack to the side of the head sent him flat to the floor. With a hiccuping laugh, she held her hand out and the barkeep paid out her winnings. She shoved them into her pocket quickly, not wanting to have to brawl her way home to her shack just to keep her winnings. 

Saoirse had been poised to get up and take her leave for the night when she heard some shoving and a voice that seemed to be calling after her. She glanced over her shoulder. The man was far more handsome up close, however disappointing it may be that he was now covered with a tunic. She noted the tattoo of the snake and wondered what it meant. If the occasion presented itself. Perhaps she would simply ask. 

“Thanks. Yours too, of course, he had it coming with such a stupid opening.” The tugged and untangled a few of her braids and locks. Hazel eyes watched him curiously and with great interest. “Blaze? Where you from Blaze? You don’t seem very keen to this area or this type of… business.” 

She motioned for him to take the seat next to her at the bar where they could keep betting and still see all the matches if they wanted. 

“Names Saoirse. I help run the stable for Adeluna’s Calvary units. Shoeing horses and cleaning tack and grooming, things like that. Pay could be worse, but I’m looking for a little more out of life than this mundane drudgery.” 

She tapped the bar top twice. It seemed to be a code to the barkeep who returned rapidly with two mugs and set them down in front of them. She eyed him out of the corner of her eye. He was particularly handsome. With that many scars he was either one hell of a fighter or very long lived as she was. It was promising. 

“Nothing but a bar room brawler that one.” Blaze said of his opponent. “And not one that can take a hit apparently.” Blaze’s accent was broken – Originally he had come from a highborn elf family, but the years and places he’d lived had seen to that stuffy accent quite quickly. Now he had such a mix that it was impossible to tell where it had all started. He didn’t look the typical elf either. Yes, he a little over six feet tall – but he was well built unlike most of his lithe cousins.

It had been a lifetime of serving in various armies that had shaped his martial skills. Again, before he had been exiled from his homeland he had served in the royal guard. It was in that role he had saved the queen from an assassination attempt. (The only reason he’d been exiled, not executed.) At one point, his friend Sabishii Kouen (Whom he’d taught to fight) had employed him to train his followers. He’d stayed on after the fall of the first avatar of fire had fallen and trained the followers of the second avatar of fire – his then partner Caitlin Mckenna. His experience gave him the ability to pick apart the opponents at this pit with ease.

Blaze sat himself down when instructed and received his drink with a polite smile. “Oh an old little town, worlds over. Keepa, it was called.” It had been over a hundred years since he had last spoke the name of that place, but he didn’t miss a beat. Those memories were far, far behind him now.

“Its nice to meet you Saoirse.” Blaze offered her his tattooed hand for her to shake, before tossing a few coins onto the bar to pay for their drinks. It was nice to meet her, despite the black eye and signs of prize fighting she was bloody beautiful. “And that is something I can relate to.” He laughed; his amber eyes locked into hers, he even risked a slight touch of her arm. (How long had it been since he’d flirted?) He hoped he’d not forgotten what he was doing – back in his youth he’d certainly been quite canny with the ladies.

For the first time since sitting down he pulled his eyes from her face to find the bar keep. “I’ll have that whisky on the back when you’re ready friend.” He lifted a hand and pulled the leather band out of his shoulder length chestnut hair before turning his attention back to Saoirse. “I’m new in town, have you been here long? Maybe you could show me around a bit?”

When the barkeep set the whisky down, alongside two crystal glasses, Blaze poured them both a drink, and offered one out to her. “To celebrate our victories!”

Saoirse nearly snorted in laughter at Blaze’s assessment of his opponent. It was certainly true. No doubt he could swing his weight around in a bar with a bunch of ill experienced patrons, but this was far from that. This was serious, for all your money prize fighting. You had to be serious to be involved. It was as illegal as not paying a levied tax. “Aye, true. I’ve seen a barmaid take a better hit than that.” She drummed together her crescents, silently eyeing up the next pair to face off in the dirt pit the grandstand had been built around. 

“Oi, Stanley! Stop flirting with that girl and take your bets. Fifty crescents on the shorter one. He looks a right bit beastly.” The now red faced barkeep came over and received the fifty silver crescents she slid across the bar to him. 

Keepa was not a town she was familiar with, though this world had been known to be the receiver of those from other worlds entirely. In their history there had been what seemed like a mass exodus from another world to this one. She remembered the hordes of refugees flooding the cities and sapping their resources. It had only bolstered illegal methods of making money like prize fighting. She had seen an uptick of new opponents then, though they didn’t always bring skill with them. 

Blaze seemed to be unabashedly flirting with her. His smile. The soft touch on her arm. Perhaps they would get more out of each other than a simple conversation. She certainly wouldn’t be disappointed. He was comely and clearly skilled in more than just throwing punches. Saoirse wasn’t accustomed to such attention, most men being put off by her feisty and bold nature. Hazel eyes worked across the jut of his jaw, lingering on the taut cords that were his arms. 

“I’ve been here for ages,” she half complained, her eyes falling away from the tantalizing lines of his form back to the pit just in time to see her short pick take victory. The barkeep gave her back her fifty crescents and then some for her winnings.

She grabbed her glass and motioned for him to do the same. “I’ll return them,” she explained. “Not like Stanley doesn’t know where I live if I don’t.” She shrugged, honestly very unbothered by the situation. 

They took a walk and climbed some steps out into the streets. They were in the slums, the outermost rings of the city. She had heard of much classier pit fights further in the city, but further in meant more guards and more possibility of being caught. It required more secrecy that she had yet to find a way to circumvent. 

“This is Adeluna. The biggest city on this continent. Of course as you can tell from the various hovels and businesses of ill repute we are in the outskirts. The slums.” She knocked back some of her drink. “The fighting is very much illegal. The guards just don’t much care what happens outside the more publicly visible areas of the city.” She shrugged. Personally she didn’t know why prize fighting had to be an illegal game. 

“So what would you like to see in this grand city? My hovel of a house?” She half joked with a smile, getting her bearings on her own style of flirting. 

Blaze followed her gaze to the next fighters, a grin formed at her assessment – and her reprimanding the barkeep. As Saoirse dropped fifty crescents, Blaze found himself matching her bet. At this rate he would have enough money to set up shop in no time. “I’ll take that bet as well, thank you.” As he finished speaking a young lad approached them, struggling with Blaze’s pack. It was a simple leather thing, but it contained everything he owned in this world. Poking out from the top was an ornate looking bow. “Thanks Henry, here you go, well watched.” Blaze gave the boy a smile, and a few coins.

“Were you raised here?” Blaze asked in response as he searched through his pack for something. “I fell out of the sky one day. Practically landed on my Nephew.” He added, finally finding the pipe in his pack. After stuffing it with herbs, he lit it with a simple click of his fingers. It was very simple magic – but it was this that had led to his exile from his homeland. (Not that he would tell you that. His name wasn’t even Blaze, it was a nickname that had stuck.)

Stanley gave them their winnings, and then Saoirse suggested they go for a walk. He missed a beat but hid it well. Throwing his pack over his shoulder he scooped his glass and the bottle and followed her out of the building and up a flight of stairs.

They were now in the undercity – slums. It was not so bad; he had certainly been in worse places. “I have always preferred places with less law enforcement. I suppose I was a little bit of a tear away in my youth.” Blaze gave a roguish grin before throwing back his whisky. It wasn’t the worse, but it certainly wasn’t the best.

It started to rain, then the heavens opened. In seconds they were soaking.

Devilish grin still plastered across his face he looked into her hazel eyes. He felt like excitement like a teenager. Was it the whisky or the fact he had not lost a fight tonight? Confidence bolstered him as he stepped closer and put a hand on her arm softly. Then he leant in and kissed her.

“Aye, why not, lead on.” He said with a laugh.

“Good Gods no,” she laughed. “I was raised in the Highlands. I’m sure here they would tell you it’s a rough and uncultured land.” She took a good chug of her drink. “But if you ask me it’s here that’s uncultured. We look after each other back home. Certainly there’s districts like here. But whereas here a noble would no sooner spit on us, a well off lord in the highlands would break bread with us.” She shrugged. ‘Civilized’ often left her wondering. There was not nearly as much importance placed on birth though. Titles were earned there. 

“Of course you might get run down by an orc clan, but that’s the chance you take for culture I suppose.” She chuckled beneath her breath, watching Blaze dig around in his pack and find a pipe and some herbs. She stuck to spirits, preferring not to muddy her lungs with smoke. “Aye happened to a lot of people. Saw a big surge of refugees at once. Crime took its toll. It’s more settled now though. The stories I’ve heard of your homeland are all interesting, though, got to give you credit for that.” She tilted her glass in a mock toast. 

The heavens opened and rain poured, her head tilted to the sky and letting the rain wash over her, cleaning her of dust from the pit and dried blood. A fire lit in her veins as his lips pressed against hers. She bottomed the rest of her drink, tossing the glass aside. She’d give the bar keep crescents for it. She gently backed him up against the wall of the nearest establishment. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this. Her moaning was muffled by his lips as she spun and switched them to where she was the one with her back to the wall. 

After a moment of devouring his lips, she led him down a few twists and turns with a smile. They came upon a modest house crammed in with several others. Her shaking hands fumbled with the key. She heard it drop as she twisted it in the lock and made a mental note to find it later. The door banged open and she pulled him inside hurriedly, swinging it closed behind them. 

Saoirse peeled off her damp tunic, revealing soft and supple breasts. Her hands unlaced his trousers and slipped inside, coaxing him with a rough hand until his member felt like it was throbbing in her grasp. 

She kicked her boots off and slipped off her soaked pants, smirking at him as she did so. The bed was next to them, and she climbed onto it on her knees. “Come then.”