Asher is the Master of the Arena. It’s not an honor, or a right. It’s because he lives in the arena. He is master the way the master of a library both dwells in it and knows the holdings, the filing system, and the books themselves, as well as (if challenged) how to use them.

Asher found that, in an architectural construct made of rules, seeing it requires a rule, entering it requires a rule, but dwelling in it requires a very special rule. That rule happens to be Asher’s First Maxim. If Asher discovers he’s wrong, he changes his mind. If he didn’t, he would bleed. Asher is so deeply embedded in the Arena, that for all he knows, the Arena is actually himself. But in fact, he believes that if he ever did leave the Arena, it would continue to stand.

Very few ever dare to enter the arena, and none have ever stayed to fight for an especially long time. Asher hones his skill in the master’s circle, like Zorro with his whip. For most people, Asher’s home is a circle of hell. Asher things, however, that it’s perhaps the most beautiful place in the world. He always awaits someone capable of wounding him, or even defeating him. He challenges anyone to enter. He dares anyone to stay.