It seemed like only minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep when Lucius was gruffly awakened the next morning. As he stepped into the dark hallway, a sliver of dim light fell on the dirt floor, signifying that it was not long until dawn rose over the sands.
The arena guards, different from palace guards by their attire, took him outside through a passageway. A small chariot pulled by a single horse stood waiting. Lucius was pulled on by one of the two guards, and they were off.
Lucius was pulled up to the formidable stone building that was the training grounds and quarters. On the other side of this, he could barely see the flags of the arena blowing in the early morning breeze. He blinked sleep out of his eyes and followed the guards to a doorway.
The taller of the two guards rapped in sequence on the door and seconds later it was pulled open for him. The other guard shoved Lucius through into a dark tunnel leading down into the subterranean levels of the barracks.
When finally deposited in his private barrack, Lucius expected another Gladiator to be shoved in with him, but nearly danced in joy when say that he had the medium sized room all to himself.
On the bed were his new set of clothes; a tan tunic, brown breeches, and a leather belt. Lucius shed his old purple loincloth, and realized he had nearly forgotten how to wear a tunic, he had been so long without. The purple loincloth had practically become another layer of skin since he had become a slave.
The door swung open just as he finished changing into the loose garments, and a fat man dressed in a sweat-stained toga swept in, his lips already stuck in a curling sneer.
"I am your Lanista, Gallus. While you are here, and pray that your time is short, I will be preparing you to fight and die in the arena. Training begins when the horn is rung. I will see to it that you are fetched" With that, the ugly man turned on his heel and walked out.
Lucius slowly sat on his bed, stomach sinking. Things were going to be different in this place, he could feel it.
The horn came sooner that Lucius expected, and right on cue his door opened, revealing a guard. Lucius rose from his bed, following the armored man silently. They passed through the various dark hallways, different from the first time through only by the now lit torches at various intervals.
The ground began to rise, and soon Lucius and the guard stepped out into the dawn. Looking around, Lucius saw more slaves in similar garb to his beginning to mill about.
To his left, high in the air, the flags of the arena flapped in the slight breeze kicking up from the dunes. All around, a large stone wall enclosed the slaves in a long courtyard. On top of the wall stood a good many guards, all armed with bows and long daggers.
"You're the new whelp everyone's talking about" A gruff voice came from somewhere behind Lucius. He turned on his heel to see a grizzled old man sitting on a stool in the shadow of the wall. An eye patch covered what was once his right eye, and Lucius noticed several teeth missing when the old man grinned.
"Mind your business, old man" Lucius replied, trying to sound tough, but his voice came out in a barely audible squeak.
"Suit yourself, boy" The old man replied, pulling out a small knife and beginning to clean under his fingernails with it. Lucius tried to turn away, but something about the old man pique his curiosity.
"How long have you been here?" Lucius asked softly, realizing as he took a quick glance around that he was frightened.
"Lost track of the years" The old man replied, spitting into the sand. When he looked up to meet Lucius' gaze, he saw many emotions swirling in the old man's stare. The two held eye contact for a moment, then the old man raised his right hand in a fist.
Lucius blinked at the old man's gesture, and old Roman tradition he had been taught since infancy. Slowly, he returned the gesture.
"Aye, I know a fellow Roman when I see one" The old man said with a lop sided smirk. "M'name's Arus. I've been here longer than all of them-" He paused to sweep a scarred arm around the courtyard. "-Will ever hope to be"
Lucius bowed his head in respect.
"Listen well, boy. Following your instincts will keep you alive longer than any of the training these fops will try to give you" Lucius nodded, feeling to panic begin to set in again.
Arus looked like he would say more, but the horn sounded for a second time, cutting him off. The last of the trainees filed in, and the doors to the exits began to creak shut. Arus stood, brushing roughly past Lucius.
"Listen to the sword, and the sword will listen to you" The Gladiator growled.
The doors shut with an ominous crash, sealing them all in.