Days at the ludus started long before the sun rose. By the time Aurora finally rode across the sky Derek and his fellow gladiators had already spilled blood. He’d been bought many moons ago by his master, a prisoner of war when he tribe attempted to drive them out of their land. Derek had long forgotten the feel of fresh grass underneath his feet or the cold chill of snow from the mountains where he used to live. Months had passed, then years, though Derek never stopped thinking of the wife and son he left behind.
Training was tough, as usual, but Derek kept up. He was one of the more seasoned gladiators. His sword felt like an extension of his arm now. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light fabric from the balcony. So they had an audience today.
Doctorae’s whip lashed at his feet. “Do not forget your place.” the older man spat.
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