I sat on the cold, gray, stone floor. My bout was next. I sighed hoping my brother had made it through his. My parents had told the officers that I was the leader of the rebellion, and to sentence me to death for my actions. For my brothers actions, but I made a deal with them. If my brother could make it through his first bout and I could live through my first three, he would be free to live his life. They agreed to my terms.
Our agreement and my parents claim meant that I was to be kept separate from the other gladiators. For my safety, from those that despise rebels.
I've worked hard for most of my life so that I could make it into the Rangers' school. The Rangers' school was the name of a special ops training school. They only take the best and they rarely accept Sky students. For graduation, they make the students compete in the Tournaments. Students have to make it through three fights or one fight with a veteran in the tournament.
I was one of the few accepted. I spent most of the time training. More than I needed to, but I wanted to earn the Sky freedom and respect through the school, the tournament, and in whatever way I could without causing trouble. I was ready for the tournament, but I wasn't expecting to be here as a criminal.
"You're up, and don't expect a sympathetic crowd." Grumbled the guard as I felt the chill of fear run down my spine, "they're already demanding your death as the leader of a rebellion." It sounded like the terms of my bout would be a fight to the death. I didn't want to kill my opponent, but I would if it was to keep my brother safe.
The guard roughly grabbed my arm and led me to my gear. It was just as I had requested, when I was still a respected apprentice Ranger.
I pulled on my gear. The black pants and silk like shirt with slits for my wings in the back. My throwing knife in a sheath at my hip, a dagger in my right boot, and finally my two thin long swords crisscrossed my back.
I was ready.
The guard pushed me out of the archway with sunlight streaming through. I could hear the name of my opponent being called out. The cheers as he stepped out into the arena. It seemed he was well liked.