PP’s hulking stood menacingly in the middle of the pit. Moonlight glimmered off his back, casting shadows over PP’s face. Tension hung heavy in the air between the two slaves. He quickly surveyed his surroundings. Across the pit lay fallen trees entangled in leaves and broken branches. To PP’s right, pieces of cloth protruded from the mud, relics of past victims of this grim punishment. There was nothing here to even the odds against the big man’s unfair physical advantage. It was a one-on-one brawl, and he knew he stood no chance. If the big man fought seriously, he could overpower four men. Four men! Not boys like me! He could snap me in half with one hand. He isn’t really considering fighting me, right?

  “I said: Begin!” the Baron commanded.

  Wha-?

  The Prized Possession wasted no time, charging at him with intent. A jolt of electricity coursing through his legs sent him sprinting to the right, narrowly dodging the onslaught. Instinctively, he had sensed the big man’s deadly intent before PP crashed into the pit’s wall behind him. The fist buried in the muddy wnall had nearly crushed his head. This isn’t a brawl! He’s out to kill me!

  From his position on the ground, he realised PP was too close to the wall to land a proper punch. His footwork seemed worse than in the previous fight with the miners.

  “You don’t have to do this!” he cried out.

  PP turned his gaze towards him. The big man’s eyes, illuminated by moonlight, were wide open, fixed on his own. There was no hint of mercy in that glare. He knew he had to run. Five whole minutes?

  As PP wrenched his hand from the wall, he began to run. His first two steps slipped on the mud, and PP almost seized him, but he managed to get away. It’s the mud! The ground here is still slippery from yesterday.

  He zigzagged counterclockwise towards the pit’s far side, taking light, rapid steps—something the big man found difficult. He had a vague survival plan in mind, but a shrill laugh from beyond the pit broke his concentration. Baron Bonatelli was pointing and laughing at him, speaking words he couldn’t discern to Reacher, who tried his best to not pay attention to the Baron. Bastard!

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  There was no time for anger, for PP was closing in. The big man was nearly upon him as he reached the cloth-covered area to the right. At the last moment, he leapt over them, bracing for a slippery landing. As his feet touched the ground, he slid forward and continued his run, hearing a grunt and a thud behind him, mud flying up. A quick glance back confirmed PP had slipped on the cloth and fallen on his back. Yes!

  A deep laugh came from outside the pit now. It was Reacher. The Baron had fallen silent. He dismissed the two and dashed to the fallen trees. He had scant seconds to find a branch suitable for defence. Sifting through leaves, he discovered a branch as thick as his arm. It was longer, but if broken correctly, it would suffice. He tried to pull it free but lacked the strength. Pressing his foot on it, he tugged again. Though the wood was dry, it refused to snap. Another glance back showed PP closing in fast. Shit!

  He vaulted over the tree trunk, sprinting to the next tree. There, he found a smaller branch on the ground. Too thin and short to be more than a walking cane, it would have to do.

  “A stick,” the Baron laughed hysterically, “he picked up a stick!”

  For reasons unknown, that made him blush. Asshole.

  Quickly, he refocused on PP. The big man reached the branch he had attempted to break earlier and snapped it effortlessly in one motion. Then PP clambered over the tree and charged him again. There was no chance of a direct confrontation. He tried fleeing along the wall once more, but PP cornered him by the next tree. If he attempted to climb, the big man could easily strike him. With his new wooden weapon extending his reach, PP launched an attack that left no room to evade. He raised his branch to defend, but it snapped instantly. Fortunately, the clash of branches deflected the blow, sparing him. He attempted to flee through the opening the attack had created between the big man and the pit’s edge. He didn’t get far before PP struck his right arm directly. The sharp pain unbalanced him, slamming him into the wall. It took a moment to regain his senses. The attack hurt less than he feared, but the impact had left him dazed on the ground. The big man loomed over him.

  “Finally,” PP panted heavily.

  “Please don’t do it! Those Adventurers have no right to command you like this,” he pleaded.

  “The Baron is my master, and he stands directly under King Ahlgren. I have no choice,” PP replied.

  The big man raised his branch, ready to strike again. He was about to plead further when he noticed something that astounded him. Above PP’s head hovered something peculiar—a self-illuminated sign displaying a green bar. Atop it read ’Prized Possession,’ and beneath the bar, numbers appeared with the label ’Life Points’.

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