She looked to the waiter. “What do you recommend?”
“The sunset steak is exceptional. As is the summer salad.”
“I think I’ll have the steak, well done.”
“And to drink?”
“Wine.”
He took the menus without asking Talyn for his order.
As she opened her mouth to speak, a human male hesitantly approached their table.
“Hammer,” he said to Talyn, whose face turned even more rigid. “You ready for tomorrow night?”
“I am.”
“Good. I’ve got a month’s credit riding on you. I’m looking forward to the payout.” He held a small link and stylus out to Talyn. “Would you mind signing this for my grandson? He’s a huge fan of yours.”
Only then did Talyn relax a degree. “Sure. What’s his name?”
“Gelun. G-e-l-u-n.”
Talyn signed it and handed it back to the man, who smiled happily.
He clutched the autograph to his chest. “I won’t keep you from your female. Good luck tomorrow night.”
“Thanks.”
Felicia arched a brow at the strange occurrence.
“I’m a Ring fighter.” Talyn took a drink of water.
“One of my friends told me that after I’d signed our contract. I had no idea before then. What made you want to be one?”
He sighed heavily. “They wouldn’t let me into OT, otherwise.”
“OT?”
“Officer training.”
Felicia felt sick at what he was telling her. Ring fighting was a brutal blood sport where opponents tried to kill each other for entertainment. Many times, they succeeded. Honestly, the entire sport and those who participated in it repulsed her. “How long have you been fighting?”
“Nine years.”
That shocked her even more. Who in their right mind would allow their child to participate in something so horrific as a baby? “You were an infant when you started.”
“Almost eleven. Normal age for most boys who seriously go into it. I was big for my age back then. They thought I was fifteen and I didn’t bother to correct them.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Besides, Open doesn’t ask for ID – which is why it’s called Open. So long as you have the entry fee, they’ll let you fight.”
Felicia barely caught herself before she contradicted him about the beginning age for fighters. For Vested fighters with lineage, seventeen was the normal age to start – after years of private training, with carefully selected instructors, and very specific rules and limitations for those who weren’t ranked as pros. As a bastard without lineage, Talyn would have been in the Open league, which was even more brutal, as they were treated like, and viewed as, cockfighting animals. They had no rules whatsoever, or personal trainers, and she had no idea how old those boys were when they began. Obviously, they started in infancy.
“How often do you fight?”
“Two or three times a month, during prime season.”
She was aghast at the amount.
“Iron Hammer! Holy shite!” This time it was an Andarion male in business clothes who came up to them. “I didn’t know you ate here! Would you mind taking a photo with me?”
“Sure.”
The male handed his link to his friend as Talyn rose to stand beside him. After his friend took the picture, he held his hand out to Talyn. “I’m a huge fan. It’s so awesome to meet you.”
“You, too.” Talyn retook his seat after they left.
Frowning, she was confused by all the attention he garnered. “Are you famous?” Since they were considered the mongrel dogs of the Ring sporting world, it was rare for any Open league fighter to be known to the general public.
His cheeks mottled with color before he answered. “I just won the Zoftiq title for Vested a few months back. And I’m the former Open league Zof champ. I had to surrender that title when I won Vested.”
She gaped at something that was as impressive as it was rare. Fresca had definitely not told her that. Nor had she found it on her cursory search.
Strange.
“Really?” she gasped.
Sheepishly, he glanced away. “I’m also undefeated in both leagues.”
Her head spun at what he was saying. “Talyn… that’s incredible! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You said on your profile that you hated Ring fighting and wanted no part of it.”
“Well, yeah, but —”
“I didn’t think you’d talk to me if you knew.”
He was right. She probably wouldn’t have. She’d always thought of fighters as brain-addled morons who pummeled each other because they were too dumb to know better. But that wasn’t true of Talyn. He was definitely not what came to her mind when she thought of the lunatics who made their glory in violence and entrails.