Chapter 14
The Horus Gladiators wandered through the Imperial lands, hosting their gladiatorial tournaments wherever they went. Every city they stepped foot in from west to east welcomed their visit.
‘This is good land.’
This was Urich’s first time seeing a vast farm belt. The people of this land supported a thriving population by cultivating their land, unlike back in his tribe where they had to rely on hunting and gathering.
“The further east we go, the vaster these farm belts get. The east is wealthier than the west,” Bachman said as he walked alongside Urich with his spear hung over his shoulder.
As they traveled further east, the land grew flatter and more fertile as the Sky Mountains remained further behind. The faces of those living on these prosperous lands radiated happiness and contentment.
‘This land is different from the land back home. It’s rich and fertile.’
The plains that Urich was used to were rocky and harsh. Growing crops was not possible, no matter how hard one tried.
“So, they sow the seeds into the soil and harvest the crops…?” Urich mumbled his thoughts. On the other side of the mountains, food sources were always scarce in the plains. It was difficult to obtain a stable food supply by relying solely on hunting and gathering.
‘Farming.’
When animals left the land, even the most skilled hunters had no choice but to return to their homes empty-handed, and gathering was an act entirely at the mercy of the sky and earth. Hunting and gathering were two things that humans could not control. When the wills of the sky and earth did not align with the needs of the tribes, and food became scarce, the children and elders were the first to die off.
“This way, we can sustainably harvest valuable crops, year after year,” Bachman said as he gazed at the golden-brown wheat farm.
“Every year?”
“Yes. With farming, we can manage to get through a tough year, if it ever comes down to that. But several years of crop failures is a different story. It could turn into a famine, and people can actually starve.”
Urich stared at the wheat field.
‘Food can be cultivated in this land.’
With farming, his tribespeople wouldn’t have to worry about starving to death. They wouldn’t need to spend days away from their home on a hunting trip, either. A single desire began to take root in Urich’s heart.
That night, Urich had a dream. In his dream, he saw himself leading the Stone Axe warriors over the Sky Mountains. Urich and his warriors marched on with dreams of a golden land.
“Ah,” Urich woke up from his dream. He remembered that he was in a city after waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling.
“What was that dream?”
His dream quickly faded into the subconsciousness the moment he awoke. Urich got out of bed as he scratched the itch on his head and groin.
“What a day, the weather is amazing!” Urich remarked as he burst open the windows. During his time with the Horus Gladiators, Urich saw many things. Each day surprised him with things he had never seen or experienced before.
‘I still have so much more I have to see!’
Urich got dressed and buckled up his weapons belt around his waist.
Step, step.
In the hall of their lodging, the gladiators who woke up earlier were already busy with their breakfast. A few waved their hands and greeted Urich.
“Hey, Urich, come over here and eat with us.”
Urich grabbed a seat and ate a baked potato. After practically swallowing the potato whole, he proceeded to devour an entire chicken.
“Horus is calling you, Urich. It’s probably about the matchups,” Bachman said to Urich as he tapped his shoulder. Urich wiped his greasy fingers on the ends of his hair.
“You’re here,” Horus said as Urich entered the room. Donovan was already sitting next to him with a dissatisfied face.
The Horus Gladiators were now run with two top gladiators—Donovan, the original face of the squad, and Urich, the new star. These two influenced the matchups of the gladiators, but since they were on anything but good terms, cooperation wasn’t an option.
‘This works great for me,’ Horus thought about the situation. Having two opposing top dogs meant a balance, and a balance meant that it was easier for Horus to maintain control over the squad.
“This time, there are going to be five Arigan gladiators, three of their slave gladiators, seven mercenaries, and also two champions sent by the nobles. The tournament is going to have twelve matches in total, and we’ve been assigned five. One of those fights is against one of the champions, so we’ll send out one of our slave gladiators as a throwaway card.
Horus was an adept leader. He could easily control the pace of the tournament negotiations.
“What do you mean by ‘throwaway card’?” Urich asked, and Donovan scoffed.
“You want to beat a champion that was hand-selected by a noble? We’re better off sending in a slave gladiator that we can afford to lose,” Donovan answered as if he had seen this countless times. Horus followed up with an easier explanation for Urich.
“These matches are why we have the slave gladiators, Urich. Sometimes, we just shouldn’t win the match.”
“Hah, is that right?” Urich scoffed as he picked his ear.
Losing matches like this was what the slave gladiators were for. Matches where a win seemed very unlikely, or matches that they should lose on purpose—whatever the reason may be—were where most slave gladiators met their fate.
“Let’s send out Bauman. He’s been getting some dark spots under his eyes, and he isn’t eating as much as he used to. He’s probably picking up a disease or something,” Horus said as Donovan nodded in agreement. Slave gladiators who fell sick were often the first to be sacrificed.
“Looks like our matches are in the first half of the tournament.”
“I’ll take the match against the Arigan gladiators,” Donovan declared. The matches between the gladiators of two different squads had significance as the gladiators fought for the pride of their squad. Whenever it wasn’t a match to throw on purpose, the face of the squad was often the one to fight. The winnings, of course, were representative of the significance of the occasion as well.
“It’s a three-on-three match. I think you and Urich should be in the three,” Urich and Donovan instantly met eyes as the words left Horus’ mouth.
“If you make us fight together, one of us is going to come back with a cracked skull. Isn’t that right, Urich?” Donovan snarked as if Horus had just offered something absurd.
“I also object. I don’t like that idea, Horus,” Urich said calmly as he shrugged his shoulder and raised his hand to show his objection. While the two gladiators wouldn’t actually fight each other in the arena, their mutual dislike was going to make their cooperation a very difficult thing to achieve.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just had to put it out there. Alright then, Urich, you take this one. Pick any two gladiators you want to fight with. You’ll each get one and a half million cils.”
“Hey, Horus!” Donovan was outraged. He had no intention of missing out on that much money.
Horus narrowed his eyes at Donovan.
“We did it your way the last tournament, Donovan. Now it’s Urich’s turn. If Urich doesn’t want to take this match, then you can have it.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to take it! I do have a suggestion, though. How about we use one of the slave gladiators as the third man and me and the other free gladiator each take two million cils?”
Horus contemplated for a moment, then replied, “Which slave gladiator do you want to use?”
“I want Sven.”
“If you use Sven, you can each have 1.8 million cils each.”
“That’s fine. Then it will be me, Bachman, and Sven.”
Horus wrote the three names on the tournament sheet. Urich carefully studied his writing.
‘Writing.’
Writing was what fascinated him the most recently. Leaving words as marks to record and remember things by—that’s what civilized people did. They preserved their history through writing, rather than through verbally passing them down.
‘If I knew how to read and write, I could learn so much more.’
However, even the majority of the people in civilization were inept in reading and writing. Most of them only knew how to read and write their own names.
“I’ll let it slide this time, Horus, but next time…”
“I know, I know, Donovan. We’ll do it your way for the next tournament,” Horus assured Donovan as he patted his shoulder. Donovan showed a bitter grin. The planning of the remaining matches proceeded swiftly.
‘This is going quite well,’ Horus thought as he watched Donovan and Urich leave the room. Ever since Urich became a second influence, the match-related complaints from the other gladiators declined drastically thanks to the fairer process than before. While there was some dissatisfaction from the Donovan gang, they still got to keep some of the benefits they had always had.
‘Donovan can’t demand as much power over the matchmakings as before.’
Horus stayed at the table and sipped on the rest of his wine. All the planning was complete, and it was now time to make some money.
* * *
“Hey gramps, why are you still a slave?” Urich asked Sven as he sat down next to him. The gladiator preparation room was reeking of sweat and stench.
“Because Horus gave me an opportunity,” Sven answered as he polished his two-handed axe. Unlike the other slave gladiators, Sven had his own special weapon. It was one of the signs that he was treated differently from the other slaves. The free gladiators were aware of this, so no one ever looked down on Sven.
“What opportunity?”
“An opportunity to still make it into the Field of Swords. Horus rescued me when I was stranded in the ocean, and even gave me a place to fight. Without him, my soul may have stayed in this world forever. Now, there’s nothing I want besides dying in battle,” Sven said brokenly. His eyes beneath his dark brows were searching for something far away.
“What about your home? Your family?”
“I have nowhere and no one to return to,” Sven answered grimly. The northerners retaliated against the Empire for a long time, and all their farmable lands had been taken away from them. The remaining northerners were forced to choose between making the harsh frozen lands their new home or to pledge their allegiance to the Empire.
“My tribe was going to migrate to the east. If it were just men, we would have fought to the death, but we men had women and children to take care of. If we died in battle, their lives would become incredibly tragic. I’m sure you know what happens to the women and children of the losers.”
“The women become objects, children shackled and enslaved unless they are fed to the wild dogs,” Urich answered as if it was obvious. Sven’s eyes had lost their focus. He was looking back into the past.
“Our legends tell us that there is a new land across the eastern sea. It is said that one of our ancestors stepped foot in that eastern land and returned and that the people of that land have black hair and black eyes.
“So, your raft was wrecked on your journey to this new land and you became a slave. My eyes are filled with tears right now,” Urich said as he chuckled. He had an idea of what the sea was like now.
“You can laugh all you want. It was a foolish decision. Now my only wish is to die in battle so that I may enter the Field of Swords.”
Bachman, who was listening in on Sven’s story, clicked his tongue in ignorance.
“Sven, there’s nothing in the eastern sea. You’ll only find cliffs at the end of it. Even if you had made it to the Edge of the World, you would have just fallen to your demise. I was a sailor, too. I’ve never heard of any land like that in the east.”
Bachman’s words made Sven twitch. He glared at Bachman.
“The shipbuilding skills of the north are far superior to what you have in the Empire. Have you forgotten that the best wood comes from the north?”
It felt as if a fight would break out between them even before their match has begun. Urich stood in the middle of the two heated gladiators to ease the tension.
“Eastern land, the Edge of the World, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t even believe that the sea is as vast as you both say. I’m sure that Edge of the World you’re talking about would only take me a few days of swimming to get to, no?” Urich retorted, to which Sven and Bachman immediately responded.
“It’s vast! Very vast!”
“You wouldn’t even be able to picture it in your head. You can sail for three straight days and nights, and you still wouldn’t see the end of it.”
Creak—
The door to the preparation room opened and a gladiator who had just finished his battle entered the room. He reeked of blood.
‘The Edge of the World.’
Urich became immersed in his thoughts. He was still yet to see the sea for himself.
‘Is there really the Edge of the World on the other side of the sea?’
The shaman of the tribe told him that beyond the mountains was the spirit world. But Urich crossed the mountains, only to find out that there was no such thing and only a different world of humans existed.
‘I won’t know what’s out there unless I check it out for myself.’
He opened his long-closed eyes. His eyes were bright with curiosity and certainty. He was an uneducated illiterate barbarian, but his knowledge of the joy of discovering the unknowns was greater than anybody’s.
“It’s a big world,” Urich murmured, “there is so much more to see.”
Urich, Bachman, and Sven rose at the same time and stepped into the sandy arena. The scream of the crowd, which had become familiar by now, cheered them in.
Cling.
Urich drew his sword. The gates on the other side opened and revealed their opposing gladiators. They were real, well-armed gladiators, not some death row prisoners or slave gladiators.
‘I’m not dying until I see more of this world.’
He breathed in the heated battle air. The fight was imminent.
“Oooh-ooooooh!’
Urich roared as he spread his arms like wings.
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