Barbarian Quest

Chapter 8: The Horus Gladiators

There were two kinds of gladiators. The first were the free gladiators. They were free men who had signed a contract with the gladiator brokers who were compensated in various forms and also had the right to refuse any fights they deemed too dangerous for themselves. The second was the slave gladiators. They spent their entire lives fighting for the brokers that owned them until they died. Slaves in the Empire, like these men, were mostly barbarians or foreigners.

The Horus gladiators had set up a camp. A bonfire was burning through the night, and lively chatter loudly made its way throughout the camp.

“Hey, Urich, come eat your meal over here. That area is for the slaves,” the other free gladiators called out to Urich.

“Oh, I’m fine over here. I want to watch them for a while,” Urich answered as he waved his hands.

“Why would he want to watch the slaves? What a strange guy.”

“He’s a foreigner too. Where did he say he was from? He has a really unique accent.”

“Judging by his size, probably from the north?”

“Is he trying to find a fellow northerner among the slaves or something?”

The gladiators chattered about the newcomer. Urich shrugged off the chatter and walked over to where the slaves were gathered.

“Hmm? You’re the rookie. Your name was... Urich, right?” The guard watching over the slaves acknowledged him.

“Where is that slave over there from?” Urich asked the guard as he pointed at one of the slaves. The guard shrugged in response.

“He’s from the south, obviously. He’s short, and he’s got copper-colored skin. Guys like him are often from the south.”

“Really? So, you can tell the southerners and northerners apart just from how they look?”

The guard widened his eyes in surprise at Urich’s question.

“How could you not know that? Where are you even from?”

“I’m from the middle of nowhere. Here, take this as a payment for this chat.”

Urich tossed a ten-thousand-cil coin to the guard. The guard chuckled as he snatched the coin out of the air.

“Well, I’d rather have someone to talk to than just stand here staring at these slaves. The southerners, like I said, are usually smaller—shorter and skinnier. You’ll see a bigger southerner occasionally, but that’s usually not the case. They also lacked the manpower because of their size, so it didn’t take long for the Empire to take over their land. The problem was the northerners. You’re not from the north, are you?”

“I have nothing to do with the north. I’m just a foreigner who doesn’t speak Hamelian very well yet, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so? I did hear that there were still some kingdoms that don’t speak our language... oh well. Anyway, the north was a pain for the Empire. It took us ten years to conquer them when it only took us a year to do the same with the south. It’s not like the northern land was any bigger than the south, but it still took us ten times longer. To this day, we still have a lot of old people who grind their teeth in anger whenever they hear about the northerners. Their resistance was so aggressive that it caused harm to the Empire as well.”

“Is the big one over there a northerner, then?” Urich picked out a bigger slave from the group.

“Oh? You’ve got decent eyes. You managed to pick out the only northerner in our group. That’s Sven, a slave gladiator who’s managed to stay alive for over three years now. As big as they are, they’re fierce and skilled in battle. Most of all, they are not afraid of death. They believe that those who die in battle go to heaven, which they call the Field of Swords. They also believe that dying of old age or illness doesn’t get you into heaven like dying in battle does. Pretty ridiculous if you ask me.”

“This old lady that I know also said that you’re treated well in the afterlife if you die as a warrior,” Urich remarked in response to the guard’s explanation.

“You can’t believe what old people say. You gotta know when to die when you’re that old.”

The guard laughed at his own comment and Urich laughed along. Urich was leaning against a tree as he watched the slaves. The slaves were shackled by their feet, so if any of them were to manage an escape, they wouldn’t get very far. Also, if they were caught running, their fate was quite predictable.

“Slaves.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar term to Urich. Sometimes, the tribes that don’t get along very well would go to war. They would try to kill all men and take the women as slaves. Children were no exception. After all, boys grow up to be the same men who pick up a sword to fight.

“Hmm.”

After watching the slaves, Urich walked over to where the group of free gladiators were finishing up their meals.

“Hey, rookie, yeah you over there,” someone called Urich.

“My name is Urich, not ‘rookie’.”

“We’ve never heard of you before, so you are, in fact, the rookie.” The group of gladiators cackled. “Come here and introduce yourself. You’re a rookie, so act like one,” one of the gladiators said to Urich.

It was a classic hazing. Urich approached them with an expressionless face.

“My name is Donovan. I’m what you’d call the face of the Horus Gladiators, if I do say so myself.” Donovan was a gladiator with sun-tanned, well-toned muscles who exuded the aura of an experienced warrior. Calling himself the ‘face’ of the entire squad didn’t seem like an overstatement. He was accompanied by several other gladiators, showing that he was quite an influential figure within the group.

“My name is Urich. See you around.”

“Stop right there. Where are you from?” Donovan asked Urich as one of his entourages stopped the latter.

“Hey, when Donovan asks you a question, you answer him, Mr. Rookie. U-ugh!”

Urich grabbed the gladiator’s arm and jerked it back. The gladiator screeched in pain as his muscles and ligaments gave way.

“Just a little more bend and you’ll be crippled for the rest of your life. No more gladiator work for you either, of course. How does that sound?” Urich chuckled heartlessly. The gladiator’s heart sank. At the end of the day, these gladiators were just glorified gangsters whose only talent was being handy with a sword. With a crippled arm, they would have no means of earning a living.

“Y-you’re joking, right?” The gladiator broke out in a cold sweat.

“Of course, I’m just joking, buddy.” Urich grinned at the gladiator as he shoved the latter back. The gladiator caught his breath as if he had just stared death in its eyes.

Munch.

Donovan ripped off a piece of the grilled meat with his mouth. He glared at Urich as he licked his grease-covered fingers.

“You’re a barbarian, aren’t you? I can smell it. I know the smell from going around killing your kind back in the day, rookie.”

“Huh? What smell?” Urich snarked at Donovan as he strode over to the latter.

“The smell of the beasts that couldn’t become proper humans, the smell of the ones that pretend to be humans on the outside. Which barbarian are you? The ones from the north? Or the south? What is a hillbilly like you doing here, pretending to be one of us?” Donovan cackled and the other gladiators quietly joined the mockery.

“Wow, you’ve got a hell of a nose. It’s like you’re a dog, not a man!”

Urich’s words stiffened the air. Donovan narrowed his eyes at Urich.

“If you’re a barbarian, act like one. Put on your leash and clean up after us civilized people and stop pretending like you can be one of us.”

Urich made no secret of his identity, but he wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize it. There wasn’t much separating Urich from the people on this side of the Sky Mountains, especially with the right clothes. But Donovan detected the distinct barbaric aura from Urich.

“When I was in the army ten years ago, we were sent out to conquer the barbarian lands in the south. I’ve seen and killed countless barbarians like you; Animals who still reek of beastly odor,” Donovan snarked with significant hatred.

Urich let out a light chuckle.

“What is this, are we just introducing ourselves now? ‘My name is Donovan. I was a soldier in the army, and I’ve slaughtered a lot of barbarians. Animals!’ What, you want me to introduce myself too?” Urich mocked Donovan with a mimic. Donovan’s face turned bright red from the embarrassment.

“Sleep with one eye open, rookie,” Donovan said with a malicious tone, but Urich shrugged off his threat like it was a joke.

“In my barbarian experience, there’s something critically wrong with you people.” Urich opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. “You guys talk too much with those busy tongues of yours, and I’ve been thinking about why... It’s because you don’t get your tongues cut off for talking so much, and because your necks and tongues are still intact, you can do all that talking again.”

Urich drew his sword from his belt.

Cling!

At the sound of Urich’s sword, the gladiators screamed and rushed to draw their weapons.

“H-he pulled out his sword! You really want to do this? Huh?” The gladiators shouted at Urich.

Urich lifted his sword and got into his battle stance. His muscles warmed up in preparation for the imminent fight. His eyes took on the color of a stone-cold killer.

“You insulted a warrior, and now you’ll pay for it with your lives, you loudmouths. I’ll split all your heads into two.” Urich’s ruthless words didn’t have a slight hint of humor. He was as serious as he had ever been, and his murderous intent filled the air with a distinct stench.

‘Is he actually trying to fight me?’

Donovan widened his eyes in surprise. He had no intention of bringing this to an actual fight. It was almost ritualistic for a rookie, a barbarian one at that, to go through a haze like this.

Urich was unlikely to win against a group of gladiators. And even if he did get through all of them, he’d just be surrounded by the armed guards anyway.

‘Does he really think he can win this? Or is this just a barbarian’s foolishness?’

Donovan drew his sword. As a veteran soldier and gladiator, he would never shy away from a fight. If he had to fight, he’d do so without hesitation.

The two men were about to cross their swords.

“Stop! Stop it, you idiots!” Horus rushed toward the two gladiators in a standoff. Someone must have reported the situation to him, or he may have been keeping an eye on the situation as he knew a fight had been brewing for some time.

“Don’t stop them, Horus! The barbarian drew his sword first. Where the hell did you find a barbarian to be your gladiator? He should be a slave like the other ones,” the other gladiators demanded of Horus. Urich silently prepared to counter the attack.

‘I have to parry the swing and slice his neck. I have to slash more than one with my first movement.’ Urich was actually intending to fight these gladiators.

“Stop it! You can’t die before you pay off your debts. If you really want to fight, do it in the arena! Urich, you took a hundred thousand cils from me upfront. Donovan, you already owe me over a million! Put your swords away. Otherwise, I’m turning the winner into a slave, regardless of who it is.”

Horus was furious. Donovan sheathed his sword without much rebuttal.

“If that’s what the leader wants, I’ll let you keep your pride,” Donovan muttered as he signaled the other gladiators. They all followed suit and withdrew their weapons.

“You got lucky, barbarian.”

The gladiators turned away.

“Who’s the lucky one?” Urich muttered as he plunged his blade into the ground. His sweaty muscles glistened in the reflection of the bonfire.

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