“We differ in the auction category. I was…not sold at a public auction. I was taken directly to the Riem Colosseum. The traders’ specialized in capturing strong men for the arena. I was sold to my master…” Masrur’s eyes become clouded with an emotion the Fanalis had never shown so strongly about anything: fear. “…He was some authority in the blackmarkets and ran his business from inside the Colosseum. I was immediately trained for a year and then I was put into the arena at four for my first fight….” By now he was lost, looking at a past that will never go away. He didn’t see Morgiana anymore, but the walls of the Colosseum and the roaring of the crowd, calling for blood and death from a four year old.
“I was given my current large sword, with ball chains on my feet, I walked into the arena. My opponent was a twelve year old slave…who was just like me except he was not a fanalis………I remember the fear of first seeing the crowd. I wanted to run, but there was no where to run to. The slave attacked me and I fought back. It was a hard fight for a four year old and I broke many bones…but I defeated him.” His eyes become sad and full of regret and self hatred. “I learned my most valuable lesson that day. In the arena, in a battle, in life, there are no winners and losers, but to kill or be killed. The crowd screamed for the other’s death and after my hesitation, my master started flogging me…out in the stage. The crowd cheered louder…I gave in. I stabbed the other through the heart, ending the terrified and innocent slave’s life. I’ll never forget him…my first kill. From then on I stayed under the Colosseum, where all the slaves are kept. They were cage like cells with nothing in them but a bench and chains on ceiling, floor and walls, for punishment. I trained everyday with other slaves, trainers, and my master. My master was the most sadistic out of the others and whipped me constantly…almost daily. Something inside me broke…and has still not been fixed. It never will. I was conditioned to believe that I was lower than an animal. I was born to be owned and to serve. I was worthless…I…I…I…I still have remnants of that mentality today…despite how much everyone has tried…and I have improved…I still cannot escape that mindset…I remember the rules everyday. ‘Do not talk unless spoken to, never let any emotion show, always keep your head bowed, always have your hands clasped behind your back, always stand away from others in the room, obey every order no matter what without question, and do not resist punishment.’ It’s been engraved into my soul. I become hollow inside. I didn’t care about anything. I only wished for death. I hade no hope for what hope was their for an animal with an abusive master, who refused to sell him? I…I have no much innocent blood on my hands…I can’t count how many slaves, competitors, or exotic animals I had killed in that arena…some deserved it as criminals, but the rest…I lived next to slave’s who I had to kill later one. We all lived and trained together knowing we would be forced to kill each other later. Soon I felt nothing about killing. I didn’t enjoy it, nor did I hate it. I simply didn’t care. It was a fact of life. I still, today, feel nothing when I kill an enemy or animal…nothing…It remained like that until I was around fifteen, when Sinbad went to Riem to train with the magoi manipulation tribe. Because of fate he was my opponent…I never lost to anyone…until him. I lost, I should have died, I expected to die, I wanted to die, but he didn’t kill me, even with the crowd screaming at him to, he didn’t. It was the first time I saw such an extreme look of disgust and hate on anyones face about it all. He hated it. He stole me that day. I was confused and wounded. All I knew was I had lost so he had the right to own me and I’d take anymaster to get out of there…Even after Sinbad told me I was free, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t live without a master because I didn’t know what any other life was like. So, I…I stayed by his side, secretly believing he was my master and I was his slave…It took a couple years for me to fully understand that I was free. When I did, I asked for Sinbad’s financial help to go home…I traveled to our homeland, finding not one Fanalis left. I had no where to go. I broke down. What was my life? To be owned then freed to be alone again? I needed a purpose…I needed someone to serve. I realized I cared deeply for Sinbad, Ja’far, the others and Sindira. I went back and pledged my allegece to Sinbad and in turn Sindria. This…haven of no slavery and kindess, became my home, the generals my family, Sinbad my brother…however…and you cannot tell anyone this, Morgiana…no one must know…because I still am conditioned and have similar mindset of a slave…even after being free for so long…I don’t feel free. I don’t want to bed free as long as Sinbad is my master. He gave me a life, so shouldn’t he own it? Sindbad is my king, but…secretly…extremely secretly…I see him as my master. Only Sinbad and Ja’far know all of what I have told you and it is classified information. Morgiana if you told anyone, Aladdin or Alibaba or Hakryuu, Sindria will prosecute you and jailed. It is illegal to know personal records of generals because…we all have dark secrets. I am serious, you cannot tell anyone, ever.” He finishes out of breath. He hardly ever talked so much and his throat hurt. He just sits breathing with his eyes closed, afraid of her response to knowing all the innocent people he had killed. He couldn’t deny it. He was a murderer, a monster, and he knew it.
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