The Sound Of Despair

As the slaver reached towards his whip, he saw the two stripes on Sturm's arm and hesitated. The armband meant a slave could rest for two days with it. The Overseer warned all guards and slavers to stop unnecessarily damaging his property, as the camp was behind on its schedule, and they needed all the workforce they could get.

"Your group's turn is in one hour. If you try to play games with me again and get me to give you additional food, you will regret it very, very much."

The slaver decided to let him off with a threat. In any case, the slave was not part of the group he was in charge of. Even if the slave caused problems, he would not be the one punished for it.

Sturm thought about apologizing but determined it was best just to walk away and not say anything. He had one hour until he could eat, so he decided to check out the coliseum. No one stopped him from walking through the gate. After walking up some wooden stairs to reach the stands, he could see slaves cheering on the arena's fighters.

<<Why aren't these slaves working?>>

There were also a dozen guards standing in a special section in the middle of the stands on the opposite side. They were carrying massive tower shields and shortswords. The section they were in looked rather luxurious and had the best view in the arena. They did not seem to care about the slaves sitting in the stands but were still forming a shield wall around a throne-like seat. Sturm could not see who they were protecting, but it had to be a person of importance.

Taking a close look at the slaves, Sturm noticed they were in a slightly better shape than the other slaves. Even though they had a lot more scars across their bodies, they did not seem as malnourished. These were probably the equivalent of gladiators in ancient roman times.

Sturm sat down on a bank and watched the fight. Two gladiators were going at each other barehanded. Even without weapons, both were bleeding hard, turning the sand in the arena red. Sturm could not believe it. He did not expect people to fight like on Earth, where fighting had evolved to the level of science, but what he saw absolutely shocked him.

<<They aren't any better than random people fighting on the streets on Earth. What are those swings? How are they not dead already with such skills?>>

What he did not know was that ancient roman gladiators were often captured soldiers and warriors, who were then additionally trained in gladiatorial combat. These slaves used by the local pirates were mainly born into slavery and did not receive any training at all.

<<No guard. No footwork. No speed nor flexibility. No wonder they never kick. They would probably fall on their face if they do.>>

"Like what you are seeing? We combat slaves may still be slaves, but at least we do not have to work in the quarry. We get three meals a day and can drink water four times. The only thing we have to do is fight. If you win a lot, you can get even better treatment. One day I will have a long winning streak as well!"

A middle-aged man with a missing ear and a face full of scars approached Sturm. Looking at his smug face, it was visible how proud that man was of his status.

<<Is he the fantasy Van Gogh? What happened to his ear?>>

Sturm almost addressed him as One Ear and wanted to ask him about his ear but managed to hold himself back. The man seemed nice, but Sturm was in the body of a child. He could not be careful enough.

One Ear did not notice him staring at his ear and kept going on.

"If you survive and behave one day, you may join our ranks. Every child slave can try out for the junior combat slaves when they reach the age of 10 and are at least 135cm tall. At the age of 15, they stop being junior combat slaves and start fighting us adults. Only the best manage to pass the combat test and join our glorious ranks."

<<Wait, WHAT? These were the BEST, and they have been fighting for years? You cannot be serious!>>

One Ear left him speechless. Sturm did not know whether to laugh or cry. The one-eared man took the silence as admiration and began to talk and boast even more.

After seven more fights, One Ear finally stopped rambling. Luckily, he did not just boast and mentioned a few useful things as well. Explaining that the slaves with the most wins at the end of each month were promoted to fight in the arena in the nearby town, where they received much better treatment.

In the town, there was a tournament between the combat slaves at the end of every year. The winner got promoted from combat slave to gladiator and would be shipped to a bigger island. One Ear did not know where to exactly and what treatment gladiators would receive, but he was convinced they lived like kings. At least compared to slaves, that was.

If the deal with the merchant did not work out, Sturm had a backup plan. After all, one always has to look out for alternative paths.

"Do you understand how awesome we are?"

Sturm simply nodded, but he could not stop a tear from running down his face. Finally, he did not have to listen to this self-conceited combat slave anymore.

"My speech moved you so much that it made you cry? Haha! I like you boy, what is your name?"

"I am Sturm."

"What a good name! Did you choose it yourself? My name is Haktruknamanan. Awesome as well, isn't it? You will be a great combat slave in the future, I am sure. Maybe you will even be able to fight in the town!"

<<Hak what? Well… One Ear it is.>>

"Wow! With such a great name, I am sure you are an awesome fighter!" Sturm exclaimed.

This was the first slave that did not ignore him until now, well, except the neighbor that chose to distance himself when he found out Sturm got whipped. Sturm just did not want to offend One Ear. Even though he talked too much, he had given him valuable information after all.

"I rank in the top 30 of our camp. I can see that they gave you a day to recover. Do not tell me what happened. I do not care, but if you want me to teach you how to fight, then find me when you are ten."

„Mhm, I will!"

<<Like hell, I will!>>

Sturm's bright, excited puppy eyes were not in harmony with his inner thoughts at all.

"One Ear, you are up in two fights. Go prepare!"

A combat slave approached the two. Sturm found it amusing that the other slaves were calling him One Ear, too.

"See you, boy! If you have time, then watch my fight. You will be amazed, I promise!"

One Ear winked at Sturm and did some wannabe kung fu moves before he turned around and left. He thought he looked really cool doing that, but Sturm was less than impressed. Even though watching the fight would probably give him a good laugh, satisfying his hunger was more important.

It was already an hour later, and Sturm certainly would not miss his only meal for the day.