They weren’t immediately thrown into combat. They weren’t beaten. They weren’t tortured. Instead they were forced into the communal bath, fed, and then given standard clothing. The only thing that they were not allowed to remove was their iron slave collar.

Tibi scratched at the long uncomfortable tunic. He was unused to such low quality fabric, but weeks in a hold had toughened him up. His left hand rested at his waste, on the thick leather belt as he stood with the other men who had been purchased.

The women, girls reallys, had been pulled aside as soon as they had arrived, and he hadn’t seen them since. Of what had become of them he had no idea, but he prayed to Zenut and Hermia both that they would be okay.

The men next to him looked like they ranged from late teens to early twenty cycles of age. It was clear they would all be tall, fit, and handsome, though somewhat emaciated now. Clearly the mistress of the house had a type.

Deckard, the lanista, stood in front of the line of new slaves, pacing with his hand behind his back. The new slaves stood, sandels shifting in the stand as they all did their level best to stand up straight as they had been commanded. They had already seen the lanista was a strict taskmaster and a free hand with his whip.

Though he had yet to strike anyone so hard that they had been damaged, the sting was quick and painful. Behind the grizzled lanista stood a matching row of veteran slaves.

“You will each be paired with a senior. They are here to instruct you in our ways, our rules and other basics. You will treat them as you would a master for the time being.” Deckard huffed. “The lady has invested in you, so we will teach you, prepare you, so that you do not embarrass house Cinder on the sands.”

Deckard stopped his pacing in front of Tibi and looked down at him. “Some of you more than others.” The lanista snorted when Tibi kept his eyes straight forward, refusing to make eye contact. Deckard waved his hands and the row of veterans stepped forward and motioned toward the junior slaves.

The man who motioned to Tibi had the darkest skin Tibi had ever seen, nearly black. When he motioned to Tibi, he showed his white teeth making him almost seem sinister. As Tibi stepped forward the man spoke. “Welcome to hell.” A deep voice grumbled. As Tibi’s eyes narrowed. The man broke out into a light laughter. “Just pulling your leg, new guy.” This time his voice was much higher, like the voice before had been fake. “I’m Hamish, the finest fighter currently talking to you!” the man laughed again, and this time Tibi cracked a smile. It seemed Hamish had a light heart.

Hamish put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him along. “Come, this way for you private tour young sir.” Tibi glanced at him wondering if he knew about TIbi. “New slaves are always so uptight, so feel free to let loose a bit. This isn’t a prison, Mistress Cinder is far from the worst masters you could have.” “Tibi” Tibi finally remembered to introduce himself as they moved on.

They walked around the yard. Hamish showed him the barracks where he would sleep, attached to that was the men's bath house. The sand where they had all been standing was the fighting pit, but there was an entire other training ground with pells and obstacles, as well as many small private areas. The perimeter was a twelve foot wall which looked to be made from plaster, but Tibi was sure that wasn’t the case. Small iron spikes ran the top.

“Seems small, and I haven't seen many guards.” Tibi mention in almost a whisper. Hamish smiled. “And where would you go young Tibi? We are on an island and your slave collar is clear for anyone to see. Surely you noticed none of the citizens cover their necks on your walk here from the docks.” When Hamish only received a small shake of the head, he continued. “The first time you attempt to flee is a lashing so bad you will be in the infirmary for weeks. The second is death.

We are property and as such they don’t want to damage us, but property that doesn’t work as it should is trash.” Hamish said this with a smile, but Tibi could see the slight dimming of his humor when he said this. No matter how compassionate the master was, the truth that they were owned, was no small matter. As they walked further they came to a shorter eight foot wall with a small wooden door.

“Beyond this wall is the woman's complex, we are not allowed there unless asked, only a few have a key to the door, but do not jump the wall if you know what's good for you” TIbi gave him a questioning look and Hamish gave his twinkling laugh. “Get caught in the women's quarters and” Hamish held out his fore and middle fingers moving them up and down. “Snip, snip. Trust me, I know from experience.” Tibi was horrified and glanced down like he could see through the other man's tunic.

Hamish just laughed. “You don’t really miss them when they’re gone, but I still wouldn’t recommend it.” Tibi just shuddered in response. They came upon the back of the villa. There they found the armory with this steel bound door and a massive lock. “You will be allowed to train with real weapons when they fit you with an upgraded slave collar, most of the chaff never get that opportunity, but I got the impression you were a little different.” Tibi had no idea what the man meant. “Upgraded slave collar?” Hamish nodded.

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“Do you not know about the collars? The iron you wear around your neck makes you chaff. It means if you die, no one really cares. “Copper” he pointed to his own neck, and for the first time Tibi noticed it was different from his own. “makes me a low level gladiator. I’ve fought in the pits, I’ve survived, I’m allowed to train with weapons when the guards are out. Silver make you special, a gladiator on the rise maybe, or a house slave.

You would be allowed outside the manor with a guard because the silver collars are enchanted. Lastly are gold like the Lanista wears. That’s reserved for champions of the ring, or a lord’s most trusted slave. They can walk the street alone, because they are trusted or valued, and the the collars are enchanted again.” Tibi nodded somewhat understanding now. “What do you mean by enchanted?” Hamish shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure to be honest, I’ve heard stories, but those with the collars don’t talk. It’s sure to be some sort of mind control or instant death I imagine.” Tibi gently touched his iron collar, somewhat happy he wasn’t in silver.

“Don’t worry, enchanting is costly, you have to be quite valuable for them to waste coinage like that. I’ve been here for three years and still copper myself.” Hamish laughed again. It was hard not to let some of his original reservations go whilst being shown around by the jovial black man.

The manor was completely off limits to the gladiators, so all they had left was the infarmy, which wasn’t far from the armory. “This is an important spot, as a junior, this will be your home frequently. The training is rough, and you look a wee bit younger than our usual new meat, but again, they value their property and don’t want it broken. Now let's head to the final, and my personal favorite place… the food hall!”

Tibi sat in the large room at a small table with Hamish and two others. They had introduced themselves as senior Thibaud, and Caleb. Caleb had apparently come from Valeria as well. A journeyman who had lost his apprenticeship when found in bed with his master's daughter. Shunned he had taken a night out to drink away his sorrows and awoke in chains. Thibaud had been with the mistress for only two years but he was a talented hand with sword and shield and hoped to become a silver soon.

“Where are the others?” asked Tibi. Only around seven of ten male slaves he had arrived with were present. While they had been fed a light lunch earlier, he assumed most would be hungry again after so long with little to no food. Thibaud grimaced. “Some of the Seniors like to take advantage of the new meat and… get their spears polished if you know what I mean.” Tibi paused, his spoon half way to his mouth, eyes open wide.

Hamish nodded. “Its frowned upon, but the lanista doesn’t care as long as they don’t damage the product. Occasionally they offer one of the female slaves to gladiators who are winning in the arena, but its hardly enough for some.” Thibaud agreed. “My favorite is Sheena, with that dark hair, thin waist and those perfect, perfect, breasts.” Tibi noticed the man seemed to be drooling.

“Others don’t care as much and take what they can get, and well fresh meat is fresh meat.” Thibaud finished. “Why do you think I risked sneaking into the woman’s quarter? '' laughed Hamish. “Now I don’t crave release near as much, I’d almost recommend it!'' As he and Thibaud laughed, Tibi noticed two of the other Seniors walking in with their juniors.

The seniors were all smiles, but he could see the dark redness around the eyes of the juniors, even as they kept their heads to the ground. Tibi had a hard time getting back into the conversation after that, his mood had fallen dark. When they finished their mystery meat and vegetable soup the seniors led them back out to the training yard, the tenth duo had never come in for food.

Once in the yard the Lanista was again there, Tibi noticed that the other senior was there as well, and he was the only senior with a silver collar instead of a copper. The junior wasn’t to be seen. Apparently golds and silvers didn’t eat with the chaff. “We will begin with testing your ability. Do any of you have any prior weapons experience, feel free to raise your hand.” Tibi didn’t want to raise his hand, but he also didn’t want to be caught lying this quickly.

He and two others raised their hands, and Deckard waved at them to speak. “Jules sir, I’m a… was a hunter, so I’m good with a bow and spear.” Deckard nodded and motioned the next. “Welsh. Knife.” Deckard paused for a moment to see if the boy would continue but then moved on without care. Tibi was last. “Tibi, trained with sword, shield and mace.” He still didn’t want to give up all his aces, so he played his ability down. Deckard just nodded. “Good, good. I just wanted to clear it up for those of you who think you are any good with a weapon just where you truly stand. Ichabod if you please.”

The man with the silver collar stepped forward. His face screamed arrogant and aloof, he only held a wooden rod. A few coppers had walked up and tossed an actual spear, dirk and sword and shield to the three who had spoken up. Tibi bent down and picked up the sword and shield. Normally he might tell them to screw off, but he worried about the tenth junior and wanted to take that smirk off Ichabod’s face. “I use two.” Said Welsh.

They simply tossed him another dagger. Welsh took the daggers tight in his hands and Jules picked up the spear giving it a few practice swings. Tibi buckled on his shield and picked up the broadsword, it was a bit heavy for him as he was still young, but he felt he could handle it. The four of them stepped forward as everyone else stepped back creating a circle around them.

“Fight,” growled Deckard. Welsh shot forward with an agility that belied his size. Tibi quickly moved to the left flank, with Jules and his spear moving right. They hadn’t coordinated this, but any fool knew to take an advantage where you could get one. Any fool but Welsh that seemed.

His right dagger moved in for a quick stab to the chest with his left coming in low for the abdomen. The dark look in his eyes said that perhaps this wasn’t the first time he had tried to kill a man. Ichabod seemed like he was about to yawn as he slammed his rod in the Welsh’s left hand eliciting a gasp of pain. Ichabod brought the rod left into Welch’s right wrist. And just like that Welsh was disarmed.

It had happened so quickly, Tibi hadn't even stepped in to attack yet. With a kick Welsh was sent flying back. Jules stepped in with a spear stab while Ichabod was unbalanced, but the man recovered too quickly. He grabbed the spear with his left pulling him forward bringing his wooden rod to Jules’ temple. Jules crumpled but now Ichabod almost fully exposed his back as Tibi moved forward to skewer the man between the shoulder blades.

Tibi stumbled when his sword passed empty air. A moment later he lost his breath and fell to his knees as Ichabod struck him directly under the ribs taking his breath, then another strike to the back of his leg. And just like that the man with the stick had beaten three armed men. He hadn’t even broken a sweat while the other three were sprawled out.

“As you can see, there is a reason we call you chaff. You’re worthless.” Growled the lanista. “Barely worth the food we feed you. Fortunately we are here to teach you. For quick learners there are perks to be had.” Deckard nodded towards Ichabod. “And for those who are slow, well, there is always death.”