The rest of the day after our introduction to Lord Winston consisted of training. 'Great, more labor-intense training can't hurt much.' Now, I was in a luxurious suite cell alone. Courtesy of a generous patron, from what I understand. Apparently, I impressed someone important. There was no doubt this patron was betting on the next feature gladiatorial event I would be in next. Which was coming both the afternoon and evening of tomorrow. These orchestrated battles occurred three times a day. A series in the morning, the afternoon, and evening. Special events took place at night. I was wondering if this Oromanian Kingdom was centered around gladiatorial theatricals. If it wasn't, then it was more of an economic investment like the sports of my world. Not a promising future for one that finds themselves in my position. Considering I should be dead and burning in hell, I had no right to complain. All I could do was live now for the men that died in my place and the poor souls that didn't survive this world's version of an audition for showbiz.
I wasn't a showman by any means or a charming speaker like the corporate politicians of the Coalition. What I could do was fight, and that was my best option for escaping. Every institution has its weak points. Exploits or loopholes that I could be taken advantage of. Then I could worry about what the smiling man meant by he was searching for something or why he sent me here, to begin with. Suddenly, I felt a familiar presence. The same black and white tint to the world returned. My body stiffened under the weight of the universe again. That may have been all a fever dream from being summoned here. No one else seemed to remember the moments leading up to waking up here. Yet, here it was happening again. That same foreboding feeling came back.
"Yo...," The smiling man said, peeking over the foot of the bed like a ghost. "Long time no see," he added.
I suspended my sheer terror by subverting it with a question. "What purpose was there in sending me to this world?" I questioned.
"Oh??? Maybe I wanted to see you fight to the death?" the smiling man said.
"You could have watched that when I was in my world," I countered.
"I find your calm composure interesting in the face of the unknown. You haven't given in to madness at your new reality. That is fascinating," the smiling man revealed.
Here I was again, asking the wrong question. "You didn't come from God knows where just to chat with me," I said bluntly.
Again, the words roll right off my lips without my consent. Like I was compelled to state the obvious.
"As expected, you are straight to the point. I just dropped by to ensure you would survive the next round of matches. I have an invested interest in seeing how long you can last," the smiling man said. "With that, I leave you with a special surprise," he revealed.
The world returned to normal the instant the smiling man flickered out of existence. Orange and blue rays of sunlight lit the luxury room. A little green mixed in with that, a reminder that this world had three suns. Whether it had a moon or moons was a mystery to me. From the position of my room, it was hard to know. What I was concerned with now was that just moments earlier, it was night. The sun had just gone down, and I'd eaten a hearty meal courtesy of my new patron. A brief conversation with the smiling man had caused the night to fly by in mere moments. A place of food was left where my meal the night before had been sat by a servant. I made quick work of the food as I needed the strength. Not long after I was finished, the guard warriors came.
They brought better armor, another courtesy of this mysterious patron. A half-plate chest piece, gauntlets, boots, an armed guard for one of my arms, and armored pants. All forged out of iron. The same two-handed hammer I used the day before was provided. A chain served as a strap that could carry it on your back. In addition to that weapon, a few large knives were provided with a big belt to go with them. The last two items were a Roman legion-esque red feathered helmet and a red cloak. Again, I put the armor on as it was expected of me. This time, the warriors stepped aside and allowed me to follow the one in charge.
There were no words said; it wasn't necessary. They were soldiers, and so was I. There was an unspoken understanding between those that served in combat. I had marched to combat like this many times during the war. Times when the Coalition was grossly outnumbered. Yet we still marched in towards certain death. The heavy crushing of iron boots against the stone floor was a sound I was all too familiar with. The steady march of inevitability. I was joined by the men I fought with the day prior. We matched in our attire like a small four-man army. The Viking Sven was the only one without a helmet. The blonde giant wielded a great two-handed axe. Ballio wielded a giant cleaver sword while Grey carried a shortsword and round golden shield. We walked in lockstep as the Captain of the warriors led us to the arena.
"So, you're a Colonel?" Sven said in a Norwegian accent.
These were the first words I had heard from him. Another confirmation that many of the worlds were similar to my own. I needed to know more about things like this for sure.
"Yes," I said.
"Then you are a warrior like me," Sven said.
"We all are," Ballio countered.
"Even the small man beside us?" Sven said.
"I'm not much smaller than any of you," Grey said.
"But, you are a soldier," I stated.
"Then you understand that we need to operate as a cohesive unit," Ballio explained.
"That goes without saying. Otherwise, we'll surely meet a savage end," Grey said.
"We hit hard right out of the gate, no mercy. There won't be any given to us," I stated.
The conversation ended once we reached the tunnel. I had learned that the palace we stayed in was connected by an underground tunnel to the arena. Likewise, many of the surrounding structures were. The warriors of the Colosseum were distinctly different from those that provided security on the surface street and the primary military. I assume they were a dedicated regiment solely responsible for protecting the arena. They wore black cloaks instead of the blue cloaks the city warriors wore. The city warriors were better equipped than the black cloaks, but what they lacked in armor, they made up for in size and strength. My mind explored ways to escape. I could obtain one of the city warriors' suits. Their helms covered their entire face. That was a start, at least. The matter of the slave collar reminded me of a considerable hurdle that I would need to solve.
We surfed from the underground tunnel right in the staging area. Dozens of other unwilling participants are waiting in the large room.
Many wore matching attire like our party. I got the feeling this was going to be a team battle. By my count, there were nineteen other four-person teams. So of which had women as members. They may be female, but they had the look of warriors. Whether they were from another world or not needed to be clarified. Many of the other teams spoke the same language as the Oromanians. My observations were put on hold when I heard the voice from when I arrived here. This time, I could understand what he was saying.
"Gladiators, this afternoon's event is the Lord of the Castle event. You will be divided into two fighting forces. The gold and the silver army. You gathered here are the silver army and will defend the wretched savage Gormarian Empire of old," the man said. "For those of you that do not know me. I am Lord Solus Marakus Gravius, Governor of this metropolis and territory. Fight well, and you will be rewarded. Die well, and you will be honored. Such is the way of the Oromanian Kingdom. By strength and might, we conquer all that stand before us!" Lord Solus stated.
The black-cloaked warriors clap their chests twice and salute us. Lord Solus makes his way through the captive fighters with no sense of fear or intimidation. The elderly man was fitter than many of the new gladiators involved in this event. Yet, he didn't shy away from anyone's gaze, peering back at them with steel blue eyes. The man's face was stern yet commanded respect. Angled eyebrows, a fat nose, and plump lips defined his face. His rigid cheekbones and square jawline conveyed power. Lord Gravius finally stops before me, giving me a long cold stare. I'd seen those eyes before. This man was an influential leader, and he knew it.
"And for you? What will you do for today's events, I wonder?" Lord Solus said. "I expect extraordinary feats from you," he added.