Of all the races upon the world, there were none that were more considered opposite of the homunculi than the dwarves. The stout mountain folk were honorable warriors and craftsmen, always delighting in a good fight and spilled blood in an arena. The homunculi meanwhile were often underhanded and preferred to be as far away from a fight as possible, sending in combat golems to do the fighting. Friction between the two races was legendary. One might think two rather short races might find kinship in the world of the big; however that was not the case.

Ever since the carriage had entered the mountains Erik had been stewing in a foul mood. A dwarven princess. The fact that the dwarves possessed the capacity for social order at all astounded him. He just assumed they preferred to figure out who was in charge by hitting each other hard enough. He also found the images conjured by the word princess and the ones conjured the word dwarf to be in conflict. Rather like pleasant housefire. Or soothing snakebite.

Lucius cleared his throat, jerking both the brooding prince and the gently snoozing knight at his side to attention. In his hands was his little leather bound book. Ryna had taken to calling it The Princess Diary, which Erik had also started calling it as it flustered the prim and proper Lucius to no end. Regardless he was already not looking forward to this next suitor and he didn't even know who she was.

"Right. So next on the list is one Princess Eva Redfist." He said.

Ryna's eyes shot so wide at the name that Erik gave a fifty-fifty chance to them rolling out of her skull. "Eva Redfist? The Eva Redfist?"

Erik lifted a brow. The name sounded vaguely familiar but it didn't cause immediate recognition. "You are familiar with her?"

The klutzy knight nodded, her expression darkening. "You know Knight-Princess Silverhand's missing eye? She's the one that took it."

The homunculus blinked and his face quickly paled as he remembered why the name had sounded so familiar. Lea had warned him of her, calling her violent and ill-tempered. She had not however mentioned the bit of her losing her eye to her. He swallowed hard. Ryna opted to continue as Lucius was also granting her his full attention.

"She is a ruthless warrior on the battlefield, seeking out the strongest warriors to fight. Supposedly one of her hands was blessed by a dwarven god of war, turning it red. Hence her name, 'Redfist'. According to legend, she has never lost a single fight." Ryna continued.

Erik shakily turned his gaze back to Lucius who was frowning as he looked at his information on her. "She is the sixth born of the High King and is considered a social pariah among the upper circles of the dwarven nobility. Fifty years of age, so she is still rather young. Has killed at least two of her suitors in duels and castrated another. Naturally this has led to fewer- are you feeling well, your grace?"

The diminutive prince was running his hands through his hair as each word spoken about his newest suitor added an increasing bit of panic in him. He was now convinced that his father was trying to kill him. A dwarven princess known for having killed and castrated suitors. Why couldn't any of his suitors be normal? Why couldn't he just spend a nice, quiet afternoon with a moderately attractive woman who wasn't incestuous, stupid, domineering, authoritarian, or bloodthirsty? Was that too much to ask for really?

"Ahem... I'm certain that this will go well, your grace. Your charm and tact will see you through no doubt." Lucius said, turning a look to Ryna.

"Uh, y-yeah! I'm sure it'll be fine! I mean you've survived this long, this should be a cakewalk!" She assured with a forced smile.

Erik groaned. "When she cuts me in half be sure to tell my father I hate him, Lucius."

With that the carriage fell into a rather awkward silence as it rolled along the road leading into a rather large city. Lucius opted to check his book, likely looking in vain for any reassure information on this new suitor while Ryna looked out the window. Erik was just slumped over back on his cushion, staring up at the ceiling. It would have to be a dwarf that finally did him in wouldn't it? He let out a sigh when the carriage eventually came to a final halt. Time to face the music.

The trio stepped out of the carriage and were actually outside of an arena of sorts. The braying and cheers of a blood crazed crowd were audible from the outside. A rather gruff looking dwarf in servant's livery walked over to them and jerked his head towards the arena itself. He was a squat creature as all of his kind were, standing at roughly half the height of the average human. The prince's entourage followed after him, both retainers alert and ready for anything in this place.

The entryway of the arena was massive and sweeping with a high vaulted ceiling to boot, statues of various warriors arrayed throughout the chamber. Erik didn't miss the dirty looks he received from other dwarves gathered her and he adopted a scowl in response. To him most every single one of them was an ugly crude creature. Whatever gods had created the dwarves could have likely taken lessons from the human creator of the homunculi.

They were led to a vacant spectator booth and bid to awkwardly seat themselves in the dwarf sized seats. With this done the servant left, likely to fetch his mistress. Erik was a little put out she wasn't here to meet them, though more as a matter of pride. He was silently hoping she had passed out drunk somewhere and he could just leave. Regardless he supposed he would have to indulge watching the barbaric bit of blood sport. Not much else to do really.

The rather mangled form of the loser of the previous bout was carted off the arena floor and a voice boomed through the grounds. The words were in the traditional dwarven tongue so Erik understood nothing though he was more curious as to how the voice was projected through the stadium. He looked around and spotted what looked to be a brass horn of some sort sticking out of the wall nearby. Interesting. It was similar to a homunculus design. Quite a few of them must have been placed through the arena to carry the voice of the announcer.

He turned his eyes back to the battleground and saw two warriors emerge from gates on either side of the bloodstained arena. One was clad entirely in rocky looking black armor, the other in spikey red armor. Both had helms obscuring their faces. The red warrior hefted a mace in one hand and an axe in the other, while the black clad one held a massive hammer. The two warriors bowed to each other and the announcer spoke one word, prompting them to begin.

Lucius was peering down in obvious interest while Ryna was squinting slightly, as though in thought. For himself the prince watched in obvious distaste as the two fighters went at each other with the intention to kill. The one with the hammer moved first, charging the red warrior and swinging the massive weapon in a wide arc. The red warrior backed off out of the range of the hammer and moved in, axe at the ready. The dark warrior anticipated this and thrusted out with the base of the hammer, jabbing the red warrior in their helmet.

The red warrior was sent reeling back, disoriented and confused. The hammer was swung over the head of the dark warrior and returned to its original arc, this time managing to clip the red warrior in the shoulder. They were sent spinning to the ground, their mace torn from their fingers to skitter away across the arena floor. They managed to just roll aside in the nick of time as the hammer was brought slamming down upon the ground, cracking the floor where the red warrior had been moments ago.

Despite himself Erik found himself actually feeling a slight bit of excitement watching this, a bit of adrenaline working its way into his veins. The deafening roar of the crowd mixed with the sight of two people fighting to the death had something to it, an almost intoxicating feeling that clouded at one's mind. It was still rather disgusting and he doubted he would ever understand its appeal entirely but actually sitting here he thought he grasped something. He had sneered at the idea back home with his colleagues, laughing at dwarven barbarity with his few close friends. Now that he was actually confronted with it though... it was hard to say what he actually felt.

The red warrior looked to be in trouble as they were forced to duck and weave their way through the continuing assault from their opponent. There was no letting up and the hammer wielding dwarf seemed to never tire no matter how many times the weapon was swung. If Erik had to bet at the moment he would say the dark warrior was going to win. It was only a matter of time before their opponent was going to make a mistake.

However the red warrior surprised him by suddenly charging forward between one of the hammer swings. The red warrior actually tossed aside their remaining weapon and tackled their slightly off balance opponent. The pair were sent tumbling to the ground as the red warrior quickly tore of their opponent's helmet, revealing the scarred face of a balding grey bearded dwarf. What Erik witnessed next cemented the idea of the dwarves being one of the most brutal of races.

The red warrior started pounding away at the fallen warrior's face, the spikes on their gauntlets quickly turning bloody. They pounded and pounded and knocked aside any feeble defenses from their opponent, punching away at the exposed flesh. His face was mashed and bloody, almost unrecognizable however still the beating continued until the skull was cracked open and bits of brain matter went flying. The dark warrior went limp and Erik felt his heart pounding in his skull, unable to look away from the scene before his eyes. The crowd cheered and for the briefest of moments he forgot himself and almost cheered with them.

A single blood and gore soaked fist was thrust into the air as the red warrior stood over their opponent, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The voice of the announcer shrieked over the arena as the red warrior basked in the fruits of their labor. The body of the defeated dwarf was dragged away as the victor collected their weapons and departed by the same gates they had emerged from. Erik let out a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding.

"Huh, I suspected as much." Ryna said aloud.

"You saw it too?" Lucius questioned.

"Of course, it was pretty obvious."

Erik looked to his two retainers. "What was obvious? What are you two going on about?"

Ryna shrugged. "The outcome of the fight of course. The red one was the more skilled one by far though the black one had experience. Skill, unfortunately, outweighs experience."

"Not in all cases, but it was pretty obvious how wide the gulf between the two was." Lucius said.

Erik blinked. "How could you tell?"

Lucius smirked. "The dark one was pretty skilled with the hammer but the red one was quicker on their feet. Speed trumps raw power usually. Not always but in this case the end result was clear the moment the red warrior escaped the initial barrage."

The prince turned his gaze back to the arena floor. He still didn't see it. Then again both of his retainers were more martial minded than he. He shrugged it off and turned his eyes to the arena again. Even if he didn't meet with this dwarven princess he was going to come out of this with a basic education in martial skill. Before he would have cast such things aside as worthless but after his time on the road it seemed less so.

The clank of metal alerted the trio of a visitor at the entrance of the viewing booth. A quick turn had both Ryna and Lucius on their feet and gloved fingers moved protectively around Erik. Through them the prince could see their visitor. The red warrior, blood still dripping from their gauntlets, stood at the entrance. Erik's eyes widened as they stepped forward, fumbling with their helmet. Muffled and heavily accented common came from beneath.

"Fuckin' thing never comes off right! Must have dented it with that first hit..."

Finally the helmet popped off, revealing the red warrior for all to see. A rounded feminine face lay beneath, rather plain all things considered in Erik's opinion. Neither shockingly beautiful nor hideous and lacking in scars of any kind. Red hair was pulled back in a tight bun behind her head. Her full lips were turned down in a frown as she inspected her helmet. She stood slightly taller than Lucius's waist though managed to seem imposing even without the height. Her green eyes were currently narrowed and her fair skin was covered in a sheen of sweat.

She snarled at the dent she found in her helmet, baring her teeth to reveal one missing from the front row. Not exactly surprising given her profession. It was hard to get a feel on her form, given that the armor was quite bulky. "Eh, I'll need to get it fixed. Great."

Lucius cleared his throat. "Excuse me ma'am, what are you doing up here?"

She turned her gaze up, raising a single red brow. "I'm here because I heard some bite sized princey was here to try and work his way into my panties. Is that him?"

Erik felt his like his heart was about to stop. This was Eva Redfist. Of all the ways to start a meeting with a suitor this had to trump them in terms of awful. Looking at her, from the unimpressed look upon her face to the gore sliding down her hands the prince knew one thing. He was going to die.