Thank the gods for that breeze, the heat down there is stifling.

Attis’ first night in the massive hole in the ground hadn’t been a comfortable one., the rough surfaces, cold dirt and lack of any bedding had made it a rough sleep. The morning hadn’t been any better, not only had he awoken with stiff limbs and an awful soreness, but with an empty stomach that had only been fed with cooked rice. Even then he had barely managed to get more than a mouthful of the stuff before he and the other slaves managed to devour the large goop of rice that had been tossed down from above.

It was only after the early breakfast scramble had they were dragged out of the brutally warm hellhole they called a slave pen and brought out into the wind. That short bit of joy had lasted scarcely a minute before they were roughly forced together, held down, and chained.

All that suffering and dehumanisation had only been the start, Attis was sure of it. And all he could do now was wait patiently as the last of his fellow slaves were chained together in pairs.

Just the sight of it was enough to once again make Attis curse in anger and wriggle his left foot around, as if such a simple motion could free him from his entrapment.

The chains were heavy by themselves and made of thick iron, they’d be enough to slow him down even without being attached to another man.

Salvon or Scum I think it was.

The younger man hadn’t so much as looked at him, not that his eyes would have been that visible under the long shaggy hair that covered much of his head. They would need to communicate to ease movement but now wasn’t the time for such a thing.

One of the guards was exchanging quick words with the friend of their masters, all whilst making vague gestures at them.

And once the small conversation came to an end, the guard quickly got to work bellowing out orders.

Everyone to my left wait here for further commands, everyone to my right will follow me!” The guard shouted before lowering his voice and turning to the guard next to him.

“Tession take half the available guards and masters, keep an eye on the rest and set men to patrol, the other half will accompany me.”

“Yes sir.” With that, the lightly armoured man rushed to obey as the guards around them either remained still or began herding the right prisoners away from the rest.

It wasn’t immediately clear where they were being herded to, the only thing south of their position was simply more cleared lands and a light scattering of flowered hills.

Still, Attis did as ordered and despite struggling with his chains, he and Scum managed to hobble along with his remaining slaves, occasionally tripping and stumbling as they did so.

Much to his already exhausted feet’s relief, the small march came to a halt barely a minute’s hobble away from the shithole they called a Ludus. They were well within sight and shouting range but far enough from the carts and construction material that they wouldn’t get in the way.

And more than close enough for a couple of house slaves to come running up with a few dozen wooden swords clutched tightly within their arms. They wasted no time in dropping them to the ground before running back up the small hill to the encampment. The sound of chinking metal collars following them as they did so.

Training in chains, how are we meant to train probably like this. I’m not only a slave but one forced to serve a disorganised shithole of a Ludus that seems barely functional.

Attis knew little of the gladiator life, but he was fairly sure this was not how they were trained; he assumed he would have been enslaved within a strong-walled compounded with strong guards and experienced trainers to teach them. He had not expected to be sleeping in a half-built construction site and trained in a small open field with wooden swords and no way to increase his mobility.

Then again, this dysfunction only made escape easier. Poor security, disorganised guards and no walls made the chance his chance at finding freedom only easier. He just needed to form some kind of plan or wait for his captors to make a mistake. Time was on his side but even with it, he would need every advantage he could get to fight for his freedom, even if that advantage came in the form of restricted training.

With his fellow slaves simply staring at the pile of swords unsurely or busy staring off at their admittedly lovely surroundings and views, Attis moved to pick up one of the wooden swords, dragging a solemn and hesitant scum with him.

The man didn’t seem keen to be one of the first to pick up a sword but after a few tugs of his chains, he soon followed Attis’ lead, even giving the sword a few random test swings.

I don’t think he has much practice with one, not that I can boast any different. I doubt many here can boast anything more than militia training.

Neither of the large men that Attis assumed had any sword training had been put in his group and out of the twenty-six men present, the only one here who likely had was Vermin but even then, how good of a swordsman could an enslaved bandit be?

The older man wasn’t even showing any interest in the blades or training, he was just simply looking around disinterested or giving the guards disappearing glares whilst he pulled at his beard.

These men, these conditions, this training. There will be no glory in the arena for us, just a slow drown out death.

Attis had little confidence in this so-called training or his fellow gladiators but to their credit, they did all eventually pick up a sword each without any of the bastard guards or masters around them having to threaten them to do so.

Those whips look nasty,

If the guards weren’t enough to maintain order and security, it seemed their Dominus had hired a dozen masters to aid them in doing so. Attis wasn’t exactly sure how the role differed from a guard, but he could only guess the masters would focus solely on the slaves and their development whilst the guards would also protect their employer and all of his property.

Be it either guard or master, they were his enemy and at least the masters were much more vulnerable. They wore no armour or protection just simple cloth and harsh-looking whips; they would surely be formidable but not as much as the armoured guards.

None of these men look strong, their levels must all be low, this Ludis really is a cheap one.

The lack of levels present simply made Attis’ life easier, although it did create one problem.

Who will teach us?

Not one of the guards or masters made any moves to organise and teach them. They didn’t step forward and begin sprouting out swordsmanship lessons, they didn’t demonstrate techniques and tactics, and they didn’t even go as far as to draw their own weapons or even so much as mutter encouragement.

“You are here to train for your deaths in the area, get on with it and fight!” The lead guard shouted once again before turning his back on them and taking a seat on one of the nearby hill slopes, crushing several patches of flowers beneath him as he did so.

From his new position, the guard seemed happy enough to simply sip from his canteen and watch them.

Useless bastards, I need to use this opportunity wisely.

With most of his fellow slaves either confused or simply staring at each other uneasily, Attis took it upon himself to try and get some use out of this ‘training’.

“Spread out in your pairs, practice on each other, attacking, parrying and countering?” Attis spoke attempting to share what little sword knowledge he had. It was unclear how much was taken and understood but they did at least spread out and ready their blades. And with that done, Attis turned to his opponent.

The younger man had yet to speak but he was standing ready with his feet apart and blade raised. A stance mimicked by Attis.

Gods I’m rusty. I really should have paid more attention to militia training.

“So, Scu…Scu… So, tell me, friend, do you know anything of combat?”

“Scum is fine, it's better we get used to these new changes and no I do not,” the man replied in a much deeper tone than Attis expected.

“Me neither, perhaps we should take it in turns, one attacking, one trying to parry or block it, you can strike first,” Attis replied turning his last few words into an open invitation to begin.

And after a moment of hesitancy, Scum attacked. His first attempt was a slow clumsy overarching attack that Attis easily blocked with his own sword. The next was a faster harder slash from the side, one Attis barely managed to counter. A motion they repeated a handful more times until Scum turned his slashes into fast rapid jabs.

The first jabbing motion caught him straight in the side as his attempt to sidestep the blow failed miserably, the second he attempted to smash away with his own strike, only for it to be redirected into his shoulders. Scum did seem somewhat apologetic for actually landing the blows but that didn’t stop the man from continuing his attacks until Attis was reeling from pain and clutching his stomach.

“Your turn yes?”

“Yes.”

After taking a moment to catch his breath and let the worst of the pain settle down, Attis steadied his feet on the ground and placed both hands around his sword before quickly returning to a one-handed striking stance.

Scum was ready for him, he was pacing from foot to foot, a surprising feat given the bulky chains wrapped around them, swaying his sword gently and watching Attis’ arms like a hawk. With as much speed as he could muster, Attis thrust forward, catching his opponent on the hand and forcing him to drop his sword as he clutched at his bruised fingers.

“I’m sorry, that was harder than I meant.”

“It is fine Shit Stain, do not apologise, here we must all do what is necessary. Again?”

Attis nodded in response and allowed Scum to regain his position before striking again, this time he swung his sword around, striking at the man’s right arm. Scum countered with his own strike which caused both blades to collide into each other harshly.

I think it’s coming back to me.

His rather limited swordman experience was somewhat returning to him, or so Attis hoped but before he and his duelling partner could continue their back and forth a voice called out over the shared duelling stage, halting the actions of every man there.

“Stop, I can’t watch this any longer, this training is an insult to fighting never mind the arena. You shall watch me and… Fuckface duel and mimic everything I do, is that understood?” The voice of Vermin called out and given he was the only man with any apparent combat experience, Attis was willing to obey.

There wasn’t a verbal shout of agreement to Vermin’s rather annoyed words, but that didn’t mean any of the exhausted men present did anything other than copy the man’s stance and ready themselves to learn. If they were to survive the arena, they needed all the experience they could get, and this was an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted.

With a quick nod to his partner, they both got into position and copied Vermin’s stance. Placing their chained feet at the front, both eh and Scum angled their bodies slightly, spread their feet and placed one slightly ahead of the other.

Once every slave was in the correct stance, Vermin began to attack his opponent using deliberately slow and clear motions to highlight the correct method. He showed them the basics of attacking first, how to position yourself, how much force to use, where to aim and sense where your opponent is striking.

Well, that is what Attis assumed, Vermin was showing them the movements, but his own instructions were short and basic to the point where he may not have bothered.

Still, the man knew his stuff with all those years of marauding apparently giving him the chance to hone his own swordsmanship technique even with him now having lost the skills of that class.

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The man wasn’t exactly willing to teach them given his lack of verbal commands but watching the motions in action was better than nothing.

With keen eyes, Attis watched the man’s movements and mimicked them against his partner, he held his sword straight, aimed for the top of his opponent’s blade and used it to deflect the sword away from him and put him in a great position to strike should he have wished.

Next, they exchanged a handful of strikes and counter cuts, all whilst keeping one eye on Vermin or the many men around them all attempting to copy the techniques.

It was hard tiring work, especially under the hot sun, but compared to the days of torturous cart travel, it was more than bearable. Attis doubted any of the men would put their exhausted bodies and tried muscles above learning these techniques, not if they wanted to survive in the arena that was. Survival was a powerful motivator and with their lives on the line, even Attis was grateful and desperate for the small period of rest Vermin granted them as a slave approached with a heavy bucket of water clasped tightly within her hands.

They aren’t guarded as tightly and are not weighed down with chains other than the leather collars around their necks, they could run for it, but they surely have measures in place to stop it.

Attis wasn’t the only one observing the approaching woman but it seemed their reasons were far different than his. The slaves around him were likely far more interested din finally getting some water than anything else but a few of the guards were definitely giving the young woman unkind looks. The lead guard included, the man was staring at the woman almost unblinkingly and whilst she was homely with long brown hair, a pretty face and nice figure, the guard was acting as if he had never seen a woman before.

Cheap and undisciplined. What else should I have expected?

Attis doubted Scipio was the kind of master to allow his servants and staff to touch his property but that didn’t stop the man from slapping the woman’s rear as she walked past, sending her and the bucket of water crashing to the floor.

“You bastard!” A voice from Attis’ rear called before it was quickly quitted by a mutter of shushes and warnings. But it was far too late for that now, the guard had heard it.

“Who said that? You two bring him here!”

Without another look at the young woman still clutched to the floor or Attis and the others still staring at the drying water desperately, the guard raised himself from his seat and placed himself at their head.

It took a moment for his fellow guards to find the slave he had called out and drag him and his par before there, but they did eventually with no opposition from Attis or any of his fellow slaves. This was not the time or place for such a thing.

And so, Attis simply watched as the man was pulled forward and forced to stand eye to eye with the armed guard.

To the slave’s credit, he wasn’t backing down from the man’s gaze nor grovelling for his actions, despite being a tad smaller, weaker and with a much skinnier frame.

“Something to say, slave?” The guard asked as if daring the man to repeat his words.

“No.”

“So, it wasn’t you who called me a bastard.”

“No, I simply called for another bucket to replace the lost one. It’s too hot without water.”

Attis agreed with the man, his mouth was heavily parched already, if they kept up these conditions for too much longer, Attis knew it wouldn’t be the arena claiming lives but the hot mediterranean heat.

“Another water bucket, why would we waste the perfectly fine and precious water we already have? I’d hate for it to go to waste, so kneel and have your fill.”

What a bastard, some people can’t handle even the slightest sip of power.

A sentiment surely shared by the slave who did not look keen or willing to sip from the dirty mud-filled puddle of water at his feet.

Do it, it will be worse if you don’t.

The scene had the attention of all present, with all of them waiting for the situation to unfold.

Attis was on the side of obeying, he may have hated the guard and the hatefulness of his actions, but here he would have obeyed. The dirty puddle may have been disgusting, but it was not a hill to die on.

“No.”

Fool

“I said drink your fill,” The guard muttered angrily, getting ever closer to the man as he did so.

“Please drink,” Came a small whisper from the man chained to the destined slave.

“No.”

The man’s defiance was interesting and as much as Attis knew the importance of such an act, now was not the time and sadly it only took a second for him to be proved right. Still angered by the defiance, the guard smashed the slave around the face harshly with his armoured fist, sending him crashing to the ground in a spray of blood and broken teeth.

But even with the man lying across the floor, clutching his broken jaw, the punishment wasn’t over, the guard gripped the back of the man’s head, pulling him by the hair and forcing his face into the muddy puddle.

He’s lucky there not enough water to be drowned in.

Attis wasn’t sure just how much leeway the guards had been given but the fact no one was interrupting to stop the guard from repeatedly smashing the slaves face into the ground spoke volumes of their authority.

“Rebellion will not be tolerated, you obey when ordered, now drink your fill.”

With his mouth still spewing blood and his face bruised and broken, the save somehow managed to drink from the puddle, forcing the filthy water down with pain-filled glugs. And only once the last of the water was gone, was the slave finally released from the guard’s grip.

“Rest time is over, back to training. Now!” The guard shouted and with his display more than fresh in everyone’s mind, the slaves, Attis included all rushed to continue their training.

Except for two that were, the beaten slave remained flat on the ground with only the occasional shallow breaths to show he was still alive, his partner remained by his side, seemingly unsure what to do. Not that Attis blamed him, if he aided the man, there was a fair chance he would end up in a similar situation.

Instead, the man seemed forced to switch his attention between his fallen partner and the dozen slaves around him who had returned to practising their swordsmanship techniques. Even with their thirst and hunger, it was best to train while they could, any wasted moment could easily lead to their deaths in the arena. A fate Attis was keen to avoid.

There was nothing he could do for any of his fellow slaves and so he returned to Scum and continued their back and forth strikes, constantly pushing and testing each other in a desperate attempt to increase their own skills.

No matter how much his muscles ached, or his feet hurt from the chains wrapped around them, Attis continued his training, ignoring any bruises or scars that appeared on his form or tattered his already ruined slave clothes.

Only when the sky had begun to dimmer did Attis and Scum stop their training and even then, its end was due more to the shuffling of the guards than anything else.

It seemed their shifts had swapped and with this new change of guard came the time for the assembled slaves to be halted, put in order and finally marched back up the flowery hill to their slave pen or hell pit as was more fitting a name.

With every slave far too exhausted to do anything other than obey meekly, they were all soon unchained, marched back through the pit door and treated to a small helping of grain and water before once again being left to themselves in the dark uncomfortableness of the out.

It's changed.

It wasn’t exactly easy for Attis to tell given the fading light, but he could just about make out the basis of clay foundations within the dirt, he was far from a builder or stone mason, so what the small structures meant was far beyond him. But it did at least prove one thing, their pit would be the first to change and with it, their chance of escape diminished.

I need information and some kind of a plan for that matter. I’ve learned enough about the unorganised mess of a Ludus to start piecing one together, but I will need help.

Luckily for Attis, the solution to both his needs was already present in the pit, the other group were already here, all spread out across the pit eating and drinking whilst they finally had the opportunity to do so.

Food first.

He needed to prioritise his body needs first however and so Attis quickly moved to secure his own meal before finding a spot near a small conglomeration of other slaves and the man they seemed to be seated around.

The man was far larger than the rest with a rather bruised and rough-looking face, he had a very barbarian appearance, one which wasn’t helped by the fact every inch of him was either covered in dirt or scarred in some way.

Bruto, I think it was. Best not to call him Cock and Balls if I can avoid it.

“Gladiator training was a joke. We had no instructor or guide, if it wasn’t for Vermin, half of us wouldn’t even know how to hold a sword correctly. What hells have they put you through?” Attis asked attempting to build some kind of bond with the group through shared suffering.

“Tis truly a circus. I hear stories about the glory of Ludus and power of arena. But this place. I spit on it,” came Bruto or Cock and Balls’ reply with a thick heavy accent.

I have no idea where he’s from, lands above the Rhine maybe

“The boy who calls himself master, he has no home, not even hut, we make it for him,” the large, accented man continued before stopping and allowing another one of the slaves to fill in for him.

This other slave was far smaller and much more average looking but just like Bruto, he too was covered in thick layers of dirt.

“We spent most of the morning just organising what we had, wood, stone, clay, tools, nails, wood. Everything we need to build a Ludus, except the knowledge of how to do that, that is,” the other slave spoke with a much more familiar accent.

“So, we're going to be building it ourselves, what are these for?” Attis replied gesturing to some of the small foundations that had been laid upon the hard clay-like ground.

“Base layers or some crap like that. One of our guys, the young one in the corner, he was a stonemason’s apprentice, were going off what little details he can remember.” Came the man’s reply as he gave a small point to said apprentice before shovelling some more grain into his mouth.

Obviously, none are happy, but I need to be careful about mentioning escaping, I can’t risk anyone mentioning it to the guards for a reward. I need to build up their trust.

“Fantastic, so not only are we learning to fight from scratch but to build as well. What kind of man funds an endeavour like this without knowing and preparing every little detail? Everything is unorganised from supplies, labour, spacing, knowledge to staff, I don’t know what to make of it.”

“I’ll tell you what to make of it, the master is a young rash idiot noble who took his family's money and ran off with it. No thought, no planning and little preparation or understanding of how to run a Ludus, he’s winging it and were going to suffer for it.” Another one of the slaves added, his words were quickly met with mutters of agreement from those listening to the conversation.

“The other one he seems more collected, smarter.” Came the voice of another one of the slaves, a man Attis recognised as the partner of the beaten slave.

“Hmmm. That just means we're even more fucked, one master to fuck and abuse us, one to fix his mistakes and keep us in line.”

“Fucking Basterds.”

“Then what do we do?”

It was at this point Attis finally saw a chance to lead the conversation and hopefully gain some much-needed information out of it.

“If we’re going to survive this, we need to work together, pool our resources and strength. We may have lost our classes, but they can’t take away the knowledge. Before this hell, tell me, what skills, classes, and abilities, had you all earned?” Attis asked, opening the question up to all gathered around them.

“Woodcutter, four five, powerful swing, could carry heavy logs.” Came the voice of Bruto.

The muscle of the group, his strength could be key.

Apart from giving Attis a few ideas, Bruto’s answer also laid the way for the rest of the men to chime in.

“I was a fisherman, its skills made me an excellent fisherman, I could sense fish below me, track schools of them, haul large nets. Not exactly useful for this. It was my trade, and they took it from me.”

“Herbalist, only low level though. I can still make a few remedies, they just won't be as effective. Apart from herbalism, I just had your basic common classes, gardener, cook, hunter, day-to-day stuff.”

“Merchant, not quite sure I can negotiate my way out of this.”

With that man speaking his peace, Attis went next, it was important they knew he was contributing, plus the more information he shared, the likelier it was the men would come trust him.

“I was a level sixty-seven clerk, I specialised in organising large projects, dealing with supply chains, staffing, project time and scale was how I earned a living.”

“I would not have thought you a clerk, especially such a high-level one.”

“I’ve never met a man above level seventy who wasn’t ancient, it's impressive.”

“Thank you but I am an odd case, I devoted all my free time to the class. I heard it was the easiest way to reach a hundred,” Attis replied, deciding to share something a little more personal with his fellow slaves.

It’s harder to betray a friend than a stranger, the more they know, the better my odds.

“I didn’t realise anyone still attempted such a feat.”

“The last ones I heard about died in the seventies, the highest I heard of was level eighty-one.”

“Hundred chasing always seemed a waste to me, rushing through a class, just think of the traits you’d miss.”

“What is hundred chaser?” interrupted Bruto, his thickly accented voice easily putting an end to the chatter around him.

“Someone attempting to reach level one hundred in any class,” Attis replied somewhat surprised by the man’s lack of knowledge on the subject.

Maybe it's not a common thing across cultures, maybe the teachings of Delias never spread north.

“Why hundred? Why not get many classes, more power, more skills?”

“They say that when you reach one hundred, you reach enlightenment, you can see a depth to your soul that was previously hidden from you. I wanted to see that enlightenment for myself, see what the soul is capable of. The philosopher Delias spoke of the soul’s true power,” Attis answered before taking a quick moment to better phrase his next few words.

“It is said he could see the world in more detail, see the power you got for each activity, see how much you needed to reach another level. Achieve new levels and classes instantly without being at rest. The world was revealed to him as were the souls of other men, wounds were given numbers, he could see just how much health a wound could cost a man. I had to see if the legends were true, if such goldy power was possible?”

Attis definitely felt his words had enraptured Bruto’s attention and why wouldn’t they have, who didn’t want to learn of enlightenment and unlock the depth of one soul?

“And now you’re fucked, a level one just like the rest of us.”

That fact had definitely been a blow to Attis, one he had struggled with for days during his capture, but he had not lost hope yet. He had no idea if freedom would return his levels to him and if not, he still had time to do it all again. He still had a chance.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Attis answered ignoring the small laughter of his fellows.

It was likely the first time any of them had laughed in a long time and Attis wasn’t about to interrupt that short moment of joy by returning to a more sombre conversation.

He had made the first headway towards a bond with the group and he didn’t want to push it, especially given how exhausted everyone was, both mentally and physically, Attis included.

With the last of his gruel eaten and the precious water drank, it was time for Attis to get some rest, he would need whatever energy he could recover for tomorrow.

Another hard day in this hell. I miss home. Roman bastards.

His body was more than ready to rest and even when laid upon the hard cold ground, Attis felt sleep coming to him far easier than he could have imagined, but before he could drift into the safety of sleep, an all too familiar calling erupted within him.

[Title Acquired- Slave Level 3]

[Title Acquired- Slave Level 4]

(Skill Acquired- Starvation Resilience Level 1)

(Starvation Resilience- This skill represents the body’s ability to operate without proper nutrition.)

(Skill Acquired- Dehydration Resilience Level 1)

(Dehydration Resilience- This skill represents the body’s ability to function whilst dehydrated.)

(Skill Acquired-Work Without Rest level 1)

(Work Without Rest- This skill represents the body's ability to continue working despite exhaustion and fatigue)

(Obedience Path Expanded-Alone and Obedient)

(Disobedience Path Expanded- Plots and Subterfuge)

[Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 2]

[Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 3]

[Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 4]

(Skill Acquired-Basic Offense Level 1)

(Skill Acquired-Basic Defence level 1)

(Skill Acquired- Commander level 1)

I don’t have the energy to examine each one, just another task for what will surely be a hellish morning.