[sub]All foreign language has been translated from the native Periseti and placed in brackets for convenience.[/sub]

[i]"{By god, I don't believe it!} Bronze Lion {has [/i] broken this man in half!! [i]We have a condemnation, folks! Son of My Right Hand, corrupter of wives, has been executed!}"

Leon Alabaster stood triumphant over his opponent's corpse. The amazed cries of Minty Doukas, the Fight Pits' most famous announcer, rocketed around the sandstone walls of the Fight Pits, inciting a riotous applause from the audience.[/i]

Leon Alabaster shook himself from the haze of his daydreams and focused on the task at hand. The hardy horse he had loaned worked its way into the stables of the Winnowing Cloud, a public house just inside of Jeorva. The innkeeper, a portly man with a gently concerned face, gladly gave Leon a spot in the common room for a modest price. 

Leon didn't quite understand [i]why[/i] he was going to Jeorva, but he was always in the mood for prophetic visions. Perhaps Jeorva saw the light and moved from public hangings to the fair and equitable system the enlightened people of Periset used? Leon hoped so. He always saw foreign executioners as needlessly grim individuals who didn't get enough exercise. Maybe making their job entail fighting criminals to the death would help them in that regard.

The sights that greeted Leon as he passed Jeorva's gates and rode down the streets certainly didn't prove or disprove his assumptions. No crying barkers, no flying banners, no crowds of hissing spectators flocking to the glorious sights and sounds of righteous slaughter. Indeed, it seemed Jeorva was as barbaric and banal as it ever was.

Stifling his mild disappointment, Leon briefly entertained the thought of simply going to sleep. However, he realized that he had offered a promise to the caravan master. He would need to help the caravan he rode in on ply its wares. In particular, he would need to help carry cargo to and from the caravan's chosen marketplace. On the whole, Leon considered it a fair deal. Flipping a grubby coin to the innkeeper for his horse's safety, Leon headed out the door and down the street. The marketplace was just a few blocks down, and Leon knew exactly where his cohorts were. Perhaps when he finished, he would look into just what could have given him cause to move to Jeorva.