A sharp snap echoed past her lips as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and adjusted the heavy load under both her arms. The smell of cinnamon, cayenne, and ginger left a smoky trail with every step she took, towards the large wooden building and its sterned face guards, eying those that pass. When she had accepted her fatherâs request for this delivery, coming to the Rose Arena, was the last destination on her mind. She had expected another restaurant or perhaps a bakery in which she could spend her precious few coins on sweets but not this.
A massive wooden building that if she had passed by and spared it nothing but a glance, would have assumed it was just another warehouse. A rather well maintained, oddly decorated, and heavily guarded one. A burly man, with a nick in his mustache from what Suâyina imagined, was a brawl with an unruly patron, held out a hand for her to stop. His beady gaze narrowed on the two sacks in her arms. âHalt.â The manâs rough voice gave her pause, the sound stilted and hitched as it left him. Unabashedly, she stared upwards before remembering what she needed to say.
âHere to deliver spices for the kitchâ. From Black Cat Spices.â Why the shop was named that escaped the tsat. When her father had acquired the storefront from the elderly couple, the place was already named what it is and with business doing well enough and customers loyal and constant, there had been no need to change it. The man paused at her reply then promptly turned towards his partner. In a second, a snort and a shrug that could only embody just how often they worked together, was passed between the two. âAight kid, head on in. Go round the back ân head up to the kitchen.â Just because she wasâŚvertically challenge did not make her a child. The displeasing thought made her nose scrunched and a huff to escape her as she hauled the load deeper into the arena.
Beyond the guarded gates, the Rose Arena was much more impressive than Suâyina imagined. Then again, anything was impressive compared to the one-room hovel she called her home. Dodging around a group of fighters, the tsat continued her path even as the din of excitement began to ring through the arena. The shuffling of bodies in a singular direction and the growing cheers could only mean one thing in a place like this. A fight was about to start, and her father was not here to stop her from watching it.
With haste, she careened past the bodies that were starting to flock and up the flight of steps towards the third for. The tip of her boot knocked against the closed door. âDelivery!â Bouncing gently on the heels of her feet, Suâyina waited for the kitchen doors to open before unceremoniously letting the bags plop onto a nearby counter. âSorry, was getting heavy.â Two bags of spices may have been nothing to a grown man, but to a girl barely 17 it felt as if she had been lugging bunches of bricks. It did not help that her arm strength was reminiscent of baguettes, solid but ultimately squishy. The withered looking slave shook her head before digging into the slit sewed beneath her patched apron.
âHere.â
Suâyina hands greedily gripped the square coins that were plopped into them. âThanks!â And with that, she was off, leaving the others to deal with the bags. She took the steps down, two at a time, to the first floor before making a sharp left towards the ring. Pushing herself through the throng of watchers, Suâyina made her way towards the front. Save for the occasional one-sided fight between the barkeep and drunkards from the bar in front of her store-home, this was the first time she would see a real fight. The excitement was not a word that could describe the chaotic cacophony of delight that was swirling like a storm in her chest. Not even the bitter sour scent of summer sweat could dash it.