“All of you out now. Out and no fucking around either. Come on!”

The loud shouting was accompanied by a harsh banging upon the tattered carriages wooden sides. And with that sound Attis knew it could only mean one thing; they had finally arrived at their new ‘home’.

Home isn’t exactly the right word; prison is more accurate.

It had taken them a week of riding to reach the destination, and given how it had been one of the worst weeks of Attis’ life, he couldn’t help but be relieved to have arrived

They had been crammed into the carriage at a capacity greater than the space allowed, forced to struggle with each other for whatever free piece of room they could find and essentially been left to rot in the heat. Whatever magical prison they had been transported in was far more than its shabby appearance suggested. It had prevented almost all noise from entering its container, let in only the bare necessity of sunlight and worse, prevented them from uttering any kind of sound.

An entire week of stifling heat, cramped quarters and utter silence.

If it hadn’t been for the fact, they were let out twice a day to eat, drink and relieve themselves, Attis was quite sure he’d have gone mad and even then, he wasn’t hundred percent sure his mental state had made it out the other side intact.

One week was a long time to be left solely with your thoughts and pained memories.

The experience had been a traumatic one and something he was keen to put far behind them along with the awful smell that consumed the air within the carriage.

Pure cruelty, what else should I have expected from these people? If this is only the journey here, I need to find a way out as soon as possible.

But first, he like every other man in this prison was keen to get out of it and embrace whatever sunlight still remained in the day. With far more energy than Attis had seen in a long time, the twenty or so men rushed out of the carriage, grunting and pushing against each other as they did so.

Not wanting to risk injury in the scuffle or be the first one to walk into a trap, Attis let every other man leave first before moving to take his place at the end of the line.

Let’s see it then. Our Arena.

Attis hadn’t exactly known what to expect when those doors opened, would he be at the entrance to a grand and luxurious villa, at the heart of an arena even simply on the streets of a bustling city? He hadn’t quite expected his first sight to be of what was essentially a building site combined with a prison. There were numerous piles of construction materials all haphazardly placed around, everything you would need seemed to be here from timber, and stone to clay and nails.

At the centre of the materials, however, was a large square hole covered with thick metal bars and a singular locked passage that led to the surface.

It was a rather disorganised and mismanaged site and hardly the place for training gladiators. Unless they were stored in the carriage that brought them here, they lacked the weapons, food and clothing they would need. Even if they were given the bare necessities there was nowhere for the bastard who bought them to live unless he fancied joining them in the hole.

There was no fancy villa, or mighty training house, not even so much as a hovel for the man or his guards to sleep in, well from what Attis could see that was.

He didn’t exactly know the layout of the land, or its surroundings, all he could see was the hellhole in front of him and what may have been the outlines of a city in the far distance.

“Slaves on your knees!”

The guard's shout did two things, first, it made Attis fall to his knees so as to not risk any wrath falling upon him in this relatively helpless situation, the second thing it did was make him turn around to see just who was shouting.

It was a rather large bulky man covered in full tight leather armour that prevented Attis from seeing any of his facial features. An appearance shared by the twenty to thirty or so other guards all littered around the area intermingled around them was another group of men and women, all unchained.

Staff and slave masters maybe, I doubt those whips are for anything else.

They were all stood either watching them or filtering around the fifteen other carts that accompanied his, in total only two had been used for slave transport, what the rest contained Attis had no idea. But given the number of people and horses present, his best guess was supplies and weapons.

However, out of the random assortments of materials, carts and people, there were two that stood out among them.

They were stood ever so slightly apart from the rabble with two guards flanking them at all times. Their garments and robes were dyed and luxurious, the type expected of a nobleman.

It's him, the one who bought us.

Attis couldn’t see the man clearly back at the auction but now, he could finally get a true sense of his new master.

Younger than I thought.

The young man could not be any older than twenty-five at the absolute most and even that as being very generous. He had a skinny frame and a youthful appearance that was solely extenuated by the first wisps of a beard that appeared on his slim unscarred and unblemished face. His short hair whilst a very light brown colour was far thicker on the top of his head than the rest, giving it a sort of mushroom-like appearance.

What strange fashion this place has. How can such a man expect to command respect when he looks like that?

The young man next to him had a far more traditional appearance, whilst still young his face appeared rougher than his companions and held a more standard hairstyle, with the man having long black hair that had been chopped just before it reached past his chin.

His clothes are beyond a servant, a friend or advisor perhaps, why else would he have been at the auction as well?

It was clear from the mutters around him, that Attis wasn’t the only man assessing their surroundings. Although another shout from the guard and the slow approach of the young master did put an end to that mumbling.

“Form a line.” The guard called, this time adding a crack of the whip just to eke out some extra enthusiasm from the stiff, tired and hungry slaves.

His voice seemed so much louder than it should have, a guard skill perhaps.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Attis had little experience with such skills, his village hadn’t exactly required a force beyond a civil militia. But as curious as Attis was, he soon pushed that aside and rushed to join the slaves as they scrambled into one long line with the guards taking places at either side of them.

Are they watching for escape or just putting on a show for their employer?

In truth it didn’t matter either way, all that really mattered in that moment was that Attis knelt in line and kept his eyes on their master as he approached the first kneeling man, a fairly young man with a muscled form and long shaggy hair.

But before he decided to interact with the man, their new owner turned his gaze upon all present.

“I am Scipio, of the mighty house of Plutus. I have come to this city of Ravenna for one reason. To build the greatest Ludus that Rome has ever seen. My gladiators will be the terrors of the arena and raise my name above all others. You all will serve and if you serve well, you will find great patronage under my roof, if not, you will be cast aside” the man Scipio half shouted as he gave an apparent dramatic pause for effect or just to simply catch his breath.

“I have saved you slaves from your barbaric lives and in return, I expect you to fight and die for me in the arena. Any attempt to undermine my future and you will be executed, any attempt to escape and you will be executed, if you do anything I deem unworthy, you will be executed. Is that understood!”

A handful of ‘yes’ chorused in response to the man’s questions but before more voices could be added, the second younger man interrupted.

“Yes, Dominus!”

“Yes, Dominus!” the voices of the slaves called; Attis included.

And with his authority apparently shown, their Dominus finally turned to the slave at his feet.

The man’s owner gave him a quick disgust-filled glance as if trying to assess his worth in the short amount of time he could bear to look at him.

“Hardly an impressive specimen, but we’ll see if we can turn you into something worth my time. What is your name slave?”

“Salvon, my Dominus,” the man muttered in reply.

“No, Salvon is the name of a free man, you are but a slave, your name is Scum. If you want a true name, you must earn it in the arena.”

“Now, what is your name slave?”

“Scum, my Dominus.”

Scipio seemed far too pleased with himself for that demonstration, but Attis couldn’t disregard the strategy's effectiveness in enforcing their new position. But with Scum’s new name given, he was dismissed with a simple wave of Scipio’s hand and dragged away by the guards, who with little effort, opened up the gate to the pit and threw the man inside.

Rather thankfully, he was thrown in from the dugout side entrance which did limit the blow a little but even then, Attis wasn’t looking forward to that fall.

The next man in line was a large brutish brutish-looking man who would have likely towered over Scipio if allowed to stand, not that guards restraining him would have ever let such a thing happen.

“A gladiator, I wonder if this barbarian ferocity will hold up in the arena. Tell me savage, what is your name?”

The man didn’t answer instead he simply looked and maintained fierce eye contact with his new master.

“I said what is your name?”

Atts was sure the man would resist but the fact the guards’ hands went to their sheathes seemed to put some sense into him.

For such a fierce man, I don’t remember seeing him in the arena, either he was brought separately or I simply lost him in the chaos. Likely the latter, out of the hundred, only the older man, the teen and the large man with the sword stuck out.

“I am Bruto… my Dominus” the man muttered out clearly reluctant to do so.

“A name yet to be earned, you are simply Cock and Balls, a name all will mock and one you will keep until you have brought glory to my ludus.”

Bruto or Cock and Balls as he was now known didn’t take kindly to that new name change but with four guards dragging him away, the chance of him successfully claiming revenge was slim, still, the man did put up a good show, if they had been any slower to grab him or lesser in number, Attis would have but good money on him strangling Scipio to death easily within his large hands.

With that display over, the next man was brought forward, the man was far smaller than Bruto and honestly seemed dwarfed even by Scipio. Turning him into a gladiator seemed like a difficult task and one Scipio seemed keen to avoid. He gave the man’s long blonde hair and soft features another scrutinising look before ordering the guards to take him towards the carts.

“Have the other slaves freshen him up, his smell is lingering.”

Compared to us, he’s gotten off lucky.

The man’s fate did reveal another detail about their future prison, that being the presence of more slaves beside them. Given the size of the household present, it was more than likely there would be dozens of house slaves to fulfil Scipio’s every whim and need. Although Attis was unsure of their number or which cart they were kept in.

I can’t imagine he’s brought that many house slaves yet, he needs a house first.

Attis’ musings were cut short as, yet another man was ragged forth. This one however was extremely frail and withered. The journey had clearly taxed his already weakened state. Even the task of kneeling before Scipio seemed almost too much for him.

His master gave his frail slave a truly disgusted look before simply assigning him the name roach and having him dragged away.

I wonder if he’ll even survive the throw.

Attis supposed he would find out eventually but for now, he was more interested in the show before him, more specifically the fate of the grizzled man who had aided him in the arena.

This man was treated slightly differently than the rest, with Scipio raising the man’s chin with his hand and getting a closer look at the many scars which littered his face.

“You are no stranger to battle are you slave?

“No, my Dominus. I was a bandit for many years in my youth, reaching level forty before I was imprisoned and later sold to you.”

His answer wiped away any interest Scorpio held in the man. Apparently, a bandit wasn’t quite what he was hoping for, although Attis couldn’t help but feel he was being too quick to judge. Combat was combat and any past experience, even without levels would surely help in the arena.

“Well bandit, you shall now be known as Vermin.”

“Yes, Dominus.”

With that, the ex-bandit was taken to the pit and soon joined by several others, all of whom were seen fit to join Scipio’s great Ludus as gladiators.

Perhaps one in ten men were taken as house slaves but Attis cared little for those, the only ones he would have any real contact with were his fellow gladiators and this was the best chance he had gotten to truly examine those who walked the same path as him.

The next to face Scipio was the same man who had thrown so many to the beast in the arena, but against Scipio with guards on all sides, the man simply remained still and restrained

“I saw your actions in the arena, how many slaves did you throw to the beast without ever daring to face it yourself? From this moment, you shall be known as Scared Little Child,” Scipio spoke with more scorn in his voice than it usually had.

I can feel the hatred from here. Scipio best hope that none of these men ever escape. They’ll skin him alive.

The man-turned-child was soon dragged away from his master and a new man, with dirty blonde hair, was brought forward to take his place.

“The auctioneer sold you as quick and nimble. Tell me your name and previous occupation slave.”

“Hector and messenger, my Dominus,” the slave replied quickly and curtly.

“With my leadership, I shall turn you into a gladiator famed for his agility and speed and so I name you Fly.”

I would rather be Fly than Cock and Balls, his names are either just insulting or absolutely horrible.

Fly was quick to buzz off and join the rest in the pit and with him gone, it was now Attis’ turn to be given a name. With as much dignity as he could muster, Attis took his place before the man and made sure to meet Scipio’s brown eyes with his own. From here he could truly study the baby-faced youth up close, study every detail he needed and embed it into memory.

White and purple toga he wore, gold signeted ring, silver chain, skinny frame, pale skin, small ears, every detail may prove important.

Scipio met his gaze with how own and once he had apparently seen everything he needed to, he spoke.

“Marcus, my friend, why don’t you name this one?”

“Hmm, how about Shit Stain?”

“A fitting name. We shall see how long he wears it. Take him away and bring me some wine, all this talking is thirsty work,” Scipio answered dispassionately as he turned his back on the silently fuming Attis.

Shit Stain, shit stain, oh I’m going to fucking kill you. Little fucking pricks.

The rough hands Attis felt dragging him by the shoulders quickly put an end to any chance of Attis killing them now. The only blood in his immediate future was his own as Attis was roughly thrown down the stairs and into the pit below, earning him a dozen scrapes and scratches in the process.

Just another reason to kill that man, this insult won’t go unanswered.

[Title Acquired- Slave Level 2]

(Slave Path Unlocked- Obedience)

(Slave Path Unlocked- Disobedience)

(Ailment Acquired- Possession)

(Ailment Acquired- A Masters Whim)