A few minutes later in the arena's hall for gladiators, Kalen rubbed his eyes as he looked down at the slip of parchment in front of him.
"Why is the print so small?"
Match Request Form
Gladiator #322 (Tier 3)
Circle Match Type Below:
Paired Brawl - 1 Point
Classic Duel - 2 Points
Naumachia - 3 Points
Venatio - 5 Points
Points Required For Release: 100
Would you like to store your points for Release? [Y/N]
Points Required For Promotion to Tier 2: 50
Would You Like To Store Your Points For Promotion? [Y/N]
"It's so…expensive."
Kalen had high hopes for getting released, but now felt more cynical than before.
He knew that being able to buy his freedom wouldn't have been cheap in any place, but in this way, it required so many life-or-death fights, that he imagined most failed to succeed.
"Most who actually win their fights are probably so dejected by this number, they give up on buying their way out, and likely choose to buy the promotion instead."
Kalen crumpled the edge of the parchment. That was how they got most people, he realized. It was the illusion of choice that kept most motivated to fight.
The arena would rather have gladiators stepping up to fight on their own terms than being forced to fight.
It would make the matches more entertaining for the audience that way.
"But I don't have that choice! This is the only way I can see Layla and mom again. I have to fight for my freedom out of this place. It's the only way."
Kalen looked around the room.
Like the woman in the introduction session had said, many of the match types on this paper were already taken by the senior gladiators that day, creating an oppressive atmosphere for the hopeful newbies who thought they could find a safe option.
The two that had been filled up already were the Paired Brawl and Naumachia, a mock-naval battle.
As the match types had all been explained to them at the start, he knew why those had been taken already.
That left only the duel, and a match in which he would have to face a beast.
The latter was the highest paying on the list, for good reason, but Kalen didn't know his strength well enough yet to attempt it.
Rumble
Kalen grabbed his stomach. That was another thing preventing him from choosing the highest point value option as well. He hadn't eaten since the morning of the day prior.
During his training in Willowhearth, his teacher had always stressed not to go into battle unless he was in top condition, if he could afford to.
That idea had been so important to Old Marshall that Kalen even remembered being fed before their lessons on days that he hadn't eaten anything yet.
Kalen brought himself back to the present.
He would have to go with the duel, regardless if it was the second lowest paying on the list.
Unless he knew their capabilities, he didn't want to fight any kind of animal or beast while inhibited by hunger. A human being, he at least knew what he was up against.
Kalen approached the end of the hall where clerks sat behind a table, taking slips from the gladiators and writing down their numbers.
"You marked duel on your form?"
The woman assessed Kalen after taking his slip.
She had yanked it from his hand without any greeting, getting right to the point immediately.
"Yes."
"And you marked your preference to store your points for release? Did you know that?"
The woman said while pursing her lips.
"Yes, I did."
"Are you sure that's what you prefer? It's only half the number of points to buy a promotion, and they treat you a lot better in the second tier. You just can't put points towards both things at once. Did you know you get your own bed and bathroom in the second tier?"
'What's a bathroom?'
"I marked Release on my form as per my preference. Please submit my form."
The lady seemed annoyed by Kalen's curt tone, but penned a check symbol on his slip all the same.
"Alright, whatever. Good luck in your fight, Duels are the fourth door on the left. An attendant will instruct you on which gate to go into."
Kalen nodded and proceeded down that way.
The hall was the first room of the arena he had been in that wasn't entirely underground. It had multiple branching doors on its edges, leading to the different arena grounds where matches of the third tiers would take place.
Though the woman from the newbie introduction had just repeated much of what the old man had said, Kalen had learned that the arena's structure was more complicated than it seemed.
Instead of a single, large colosseum for all fights, multiple smaller coliseums were placed encircling a single central one, that was reserved for only tier one fights and higher.
All other matches took place in these small 'sub-arenas'. In the course of a day, many matches even took place at the same time in order to draw crowds to the city. Tourism was a pillar of Whitefinger's existence, and the arena was its biggest draw.
At the hall's edge Kalen had finally reached the door indicated by the clerk.
A guard standing at the side nodded as he saw Kalen, before motioning him inside.
"Go up the stairs and through the room in front of you."
"Okay."
Kalen nodded.
As he began to rise up the stairs he felt for the first time a feeling not unknown to him rise in his stomach.
Passing the room that the guard had said to go through, he put his hand to his heart as he saw multiple slaves putting on mail gear, and fastening plates to their knees.
'It's the same feeling from before my lessons with Marshall, only more intense.'
Kalen's heart began to race. He exited the room before stopping, now having come across a thick iron gate.
'Now where am I supposed to go?'
"Wait in place while we outfit you."
"What?"
Kalen's head turned to the side to see a woman standing there with a bored expression. She had a bundle of parchment in her hand, and spoke curtly as she finished writing something down.
"Wait in place. We need to take your measurements for armor that'll fit you."
The woman repeated.
"Oh, okay."
Kalen was a little surprised. Standing still like he was told in the dark room, he felt a little tug as another woman came up from behind him and grabbed his arm.
She began to wrap a thin strip of cloth around his extremities and torso, occasionally stating numbers while the other woman continued to write.
As she brushed against his skin, Kalen briefly thought of the curse, but he didn't say anything.
"Alright. I wrote his measurements down. Take this back and get everything in medium size."
The other woman nodded and left the dark room, presumably going back to the one full of equipment, Kalen guessed.
"Uh, do I get a weapon as well? It's supposed to be a duel, right?"
The woman at his side looked up from her notes with a glare.
"You'll be given a gladius just before your match. Don't get any smart ideas."
'That's like a short sword right?'
Kalen quietly nodded.
'I suppose I can understand her demeanor. A desperate slave who's just been given a weapon might get the idea they could escape. They've probably had incidents.'
"Okay now take a knee."
The other attendant had returned with the armor. Kalen took a knee while they put it on so they could better fit the chest plate over his head. Unlike armor Kalen had seen in the past, the equipment he was being fitted with was clunky, using minimal fastenings to fit into place.
Most of the equipment was in one piece, including the breastplate and bracers, which Kalen worried would have fallen off if not for the friction of the undershirt they had given him.
The woman at Kalen's side suddenly got a confused look on her face as they were finishing the equipment fit.
"What is this? How has no one caught this before?"
She said to the other attendant as she brushed back the hair on the side of Kalen's head. They had been interrupted by something just before putting on his helmet.
The other woman came around to look at what she was talking about.
"Eh! Verma! You're right."
"It looks infected. Those lazy asses didn't even bother to check, did they?"
They both shook their heads.
"Get the grease from the shelf, will you? That'll at least hold it for the fight."
The woman who had thus far been taking notes and telling the other one what to do suddenly said. She looked into Kalen's eyes.
"This is coming out of your points, you hear?"
"What? What do you mea–ah!"
Kalen suddenly felt something cold smear against the side of his head, right where he had received his gash. A sticky feeling took hold over that side of his face, before it began to feel numb and solid.
"What did you do?"
The woman frowned.
"Kept you together, that's what. The owners don't want their gladiators dying unless it's in front of a crowd, and it's our job to make sure of that. That grease will buy you at least enough time to be killed in the arena, instead of by infection."
Kalen touched the side of his head, but the 'grease' had already hardened there.
"It's infected?"
"Mhmm. Pretty badly too, you hadn't noticed? Hope you're storing your points for a promotion, because that's the only way you're going to get treatment."
"Now duck your head, we've got to put on the helmet."
Kalen ducked while thinking about that.
'That's news to me, but one thing at a time. I've got to focus on winning this fight before I can worry about infected wounds, or whatever.'
Kalen felt the helmet slide over his head. It was tight fitting around the face as it didn't have a visor that opened, so he could hear part of the hardened grease along his temple being grinded away.
"Okay, he's ready. Leave the sword on the pedestal."
Kalen heard the voices of the two women grow fainter as they began to leave the room.
CHICKCHICKCHICKCHICK
In the next moment the chains along the wall started to shake under pressure as they moved.
The iron gate that made up an entire wall of the room began to move as the arena's mechanisms pulled it up.
Rays of sunlight flooded in through the opening, bathing Kalen in his armor as he saw the arena grounds for the first time.
Kalen took the short sword from the pedestal next to him. He was ready.
It was time for his match.