Scene 1

The sun hardly reaches all the way down here. The rough stone walls are set in dim but warm light and even though it’s terribly hot outside, down here the air feels cool.

“Where are we?” he asks.

The woman that brought him here doesn’t answer. She’s turned away. Her hand runs over the cold stone of what might be some kind of coffin. Did she bring him to a grave?

Without turning around, she replies, “Where do you think?”

“It’s too big to be a commoner’s. And if my instinct is correct, we should be right underneath the temple. Maybe the grave of a long-forgotten king?”

The mysterious woman walks deeper into the room. Three coffins, three chests, and three paintings. The paintings are very beautiful. A man and two women but there are no crowns in it. No king would leave out such a thing. Not on the painting that’s hanging over his grave

Finally, the woman faces the man. She looks him into the eyes and asks, “Do you know how this kingdom was created?”

“You mean the legend? Yes, everybody knows it. The warrior, the monk, and the all-knowing bitch.”

“The leader, the innocent, and the academic,” she corrects him. For each person, she points at one of the coffins.

“You want me to believe that these guys not only existed but that we are standing in their grave? I think you need to take another look at the legend. The innocent was a man. I never really understood what was so innocent about him. Yes, his preferred weapon was a stick but if I remember correctly, he did plenty of damage with it. Nothing innocent about that.”

As he was speaking the woman opened one of the chests. “Not a legend,” she says amused. She takes out a sword.

“She always hid underneath her robe and never said a word in public. Only a few people knew about her real sex.” The woman hands over the sword. “Careful, it’s still sharp.”

 

Scene 2

A drop of sweat runs down his cheekbone as the man hands over his sword. The girl that takes it is his friend. Maybe even his only one.

The girl turns away and cleans the blood off the blade. “Did you kill him?” She asks.

The name of the man is Akin and the girl that’s helping him is called Sacara. Officially, she’s his servant. She helps him prepare for the fights, makes his bed, cooks, and bathes him. His owner assigned her to him a few years ago.

“He didn’t die on the battlefield,” Akin says as he sits down. That’s what he always says if he doesn’t know whether his opponent will make it through the next night. This time he performed a real number on him. His enemy was determined to keep on fighting even though it was obvious that he had already lost. Over and over, he got back to his feet and every time he did Akin was there to bring him back down. The crowd loved it.

Sacara begins to unstrap his armor. “That woman was here again. She bought another night with you. What does she want?”

“You know what these women want when they buy a night with a gladiator and I’m happy to give it to them. What is it to you, Sacara?”

She lifts off his harness and carries it to the other side of the room. “She’s been with you three times in the last two weeks. I asked around. She’s only seeing you.”

Akin laughs, “Are you jealous?”

Sacara hands him his clothes. “Do you even know who she is? No one I talked to saw her face. I think she’s trouble. Be careful around her.”

Akin stands up. “Don’t worry.”

 

Scene 3

The guard hands Akin a set of cuffs. “Put them on,” he says.

Akin looks at them surprised. “Why?”

“They just told me that you must put them on. Maybe that new woman has a fetish? Just do it. I can’t let you in without them.”

Akin does what he was told and the guard opens the heavy wooden door. Akin has seen the room behind that door before. A fancy bed, a table, two bottles of wine with glasses, a pot of herbs, and a shit tone of lit candles. All these noblewomen that want to fuck a real gladiator. Akin lays down on the bed and waits.

After a while, the door opens again and a woman enters the room. She hides her face in the shadow of her robe. As soon as the door closes behind her, she pulls down her hood revealing her face. Her blond hair falls down over her shoulders. Her blue eyes have widened in the dim lighting of the room.

Akin stares at her in amazement. She is, hands down, the most beautiful woman that he served in these nights but there is something about her that he can’t really put in context. The women he usually gets, do take care of themselves. Their husbands got bored with them and they still have to keep up the appearance of the perfect wife. But they are usually a bit older than that young woman that is standing in front of him now. And he doubts that anybody could get bored with her.

“You ordered them to cuff me?” Akin asks.

“No, I didn’t.” Her voice is lovely, it completes the whole innocent looking girl look.

“Here,” she says and throws him the keys.

Akin sits up on the bed and unlocks his cuffs. “You must be a pretty important person out there for them to not trust me around you.”

“If you say so.”

Akin stands up. “Should we get to it, then?” He asks.

The woman smiles. “Let’s start by talking.”

“You want to talk?” Akin asks.

She’s a talker, he knew there had to be a downside. Not the first and certainly not the last. They got the whole night. Most wait till after the fun part but he had a few that are like her.

The woman takes a look at the two bottles of wine and Akin joins her at the table. “The last time we didn’t really get a chance,” she says.

The last time? Then he realizes it. He has seen that face before. “You’re the woman from the market. You made your guards chase me, didn’t you?”

“So, you do remember,” she says. “They wouldn’t have killed you if that’s what you were afraid of. As I said, I want to talk. Something that dead people have a really hard time doing.”

“If your guards are as trustworthy as you claim, why did you slip out of their sight to see me back then? I think they were quite upset when they finally found you.”

The woman lifts her eyes from the bottle of wine. Up close she’s even more beautiful. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t ditch them for you. And they wouldn’t dare to refuse one of my orders but in the end, they are more afraid of my father than me. And there are things my father doesn’t have to know.”

“What’s your name?” Akin asks.

“Just call me Lin.”

“Ok, Lin. You want to talk? Then talk.”

Lin turns her head. She’s got to look up because Akin is pretty tall in comparison to her. “Why did you help out that boy?”

Akin turns away. Hell no, he thinks and lays back down on the bed. With folded hands behind his head, he just stays there while Lin watches him in disbelieve. “Why did you help that boy?” she asks again with a more persistent voice.

Akin doesn’t move a muscle.

With folded hands in front of her chest, Lin moves to the foot of the bed. “Tell me why you helped that boy! That’s an order.”

“An order?” Akin laughs, “Is that right? I’m curious, tell me. Who exactly is going to enforce that order if I refuse? You?”

Lin’s eyes widen. “You really got no idea who I am,” she says.

“Some spoiled brat that has never even heard about the meaning of the word no?”

Nobody has ever spoken to her like that. They’d be dead if they had. Who does he think he is? A gladiator, a slave. He’s got no right to talk that way in front of her. She paid for him. For this night he’s hers. “Well, it’s going to be a long night for you then. Because this spoiled brat is going to keep asking you the same question over and over again until you answer me.”

“And why wouldn’t I just leave?” Akin asks.

“Leave?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” he says, “You thought I’d have to stay here enduring everything you might want to do? Sorry to disappoint you. I’m free to leave if I choose to.”

“You’re a slave.”

“I’m a gladiator,” Akin clarifies. “I’m a slave because I want to be. Only slaves are allowed to fight in the arena. And this little night business they are running. You think they’d had to force me into sleeping with all these women? It’s a win-win situation. They get money and don’t have to hire whores to keep up the morale of their fighters.”

Did he just compare her to a whore? Man, this guy got some nerves. But what did he say? He’s not forced to do this? There goes her leverage. How did he do that? He’s a slave but it’s still feeling like he is holding all the cards. If he doesn’t wanna talk to her then so be it. She’ll get her answer sooner or later. There is no doubt about that.

“So, you’re here because you want to?” She drops her robe, revealing her beautiful white dress. Golden adornments hold it together. They shimmer in the lights of the candles. “What do you think?” she asks, “do you like what you are seeing?”

Hell yeah, Akin thinks but he can’t get a word out. She’s definitely the most beautiful woman that has visited him. But didn’t she want to talk? “What are you doing?” he asks in return.

Standing next to the table she takes off her bracelets. “I paid for it, didn’t I?” She pours herself a glass of wine. “You want some?”

Akin shakes his head. “I don’t drink.” He likes where this is going. Maybe he was wrong about her being that innocent but spoiled brat. She didn’t know about his arrangements with his owner but that was to be expected.

“Smart decision,” Lin says. She takes a hand full of the herbs and starts chewing them. With a good sip of her wine, she swallows them. “Sadly, I don’t really have a choice, since these things won’t work without alcohol.”

The herbs make it impossible for her to be impregnated this night. It’s commonly used by whores but it also proved quite useful for rich people that want to have some fun without taking on responsibility.

“You wouldn’t want to leave now, would you?” Lin climbs on the bed. As she comes closer a short expression of uncertainty crosses her face. A little imperfection in the otherwise perfectly majestic performance.

 

Scene 4

The shadows grow larger as the sun is fading behind the ranks of the arena. The sand beneath the two fighters is still hot. It’s been a long day but it’s finally coming to an end. All-day long people fought on these grounds.

Akin is one of the fighters. This is the climax of this celebrational event, the moment all these people sitting and standing around them have waited for. They came to see him win; they came to see him lose.

Today is special, they said. This time the royal family will attend the games and gratulate the winner, they said. But standing on this sand now, things like that don’t matter. There is only him and his opponent.

They circle each other waiting for the other to make his first move. Akin throws a swing. The sound of steel crashing on steel and the crowd goes wild. It’s a match, so great they’ll talk about it for years to come. Two undefeated champions going at each other, swing after swing.

You dodge one and you can be certain that another one will follow shortly. An even match or so it seems for the first minutes.

Then Akin moves slower; goes more on the defensive. His opponent keeps up the pressure, forcing Akin backward. One step at a time. A window presents itself and Akin’s opponent tries to capitalize on it. It doesn’t go as planned and he finds himself face down in the sand of the arena. As he looks up, he sees Akin walking around, a bit short on breath but without a worry in the world. “That’s all you got?” Akin asks.

His opponent was only down for a second. Back on his feet, the two start to circle each other again. This time it’s not Akin that throws the first swing.

This time it’s not an evenly matched fight. With an elegance that you wouldn’t expect from a gladiator Akin dodges everything that gets thrown at him until that one swing that presented the perfect opportunity. He ducks under his opponent’s arm. Not hitting anything throws the other fighter off balance. Akin takes the step around him, cutting the side of his opponent’s body.

A devastating hit. The blood starts running out of the wound. Akin turns his back to the other fighter, mocking him.

Back to start. They circle each other again.

A few encounters later it’s obvious who’s the better fighter. The only way for Akin to lose would be by a fatal mistake. It doesn’t seem likely. The fight has already lasted a couple of minutes. The crowd just waits for Akin to land his final blow.

The sound of steel crashing on steel. This fight is relentless.

Somehow Akin managed to get behind his opponent. He could end it right here and now but he doesn’t. The other fighter realizes what just happened and drops to his knees. He has put on a good fight but at some point, he’s got to admit his defeat. He takes off his helmet and throws it into the sand. You can see that he’s in pain.

Back in the days Akin as the winner would have to kill him now but this practice was eradicated by the last ruler of these lands. The crowd goes wild. The last time for today.

 

Scene 5

“I know you don’t like to kneel but I beg you. Please do it today. He’ll have you killed if you don’t. You only speak if you’re spoken to and don’t disrespect him. Please Akin …”

The pleading words of Sacara echo in the back of his head as he steps out on the balcony. There’s a little staircase down to where the royal family watches the fight.

“You’ll address him as king, my king, your grace, or just Kathar the great. You don’t speak to his family. His wife and daughter are quite beautiful but you mustn’t stare at them.” Sacara was more worried about what might happen after Akin won than about the actual fight.

Akin takes off his helmet and kneels in front of the royal family. They are still sitting in their chairs facing the arena. A servant girl tells Kathar that Akin has arrived.

He stands up from his seat, “What a great fight. It’s a pleasure to see your work, Akin.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Akin keeps his eyes on the floor.

“I think congratulations are in order. Stand up, you fought well. I mean for a gladiator you’re pretty good with the sword. You’re almost as good as one of my guards.”

His guards? They’d have no chance against him, he thinks but he bites his tongue. “If you say so, your grace.”

Kathar’s wife and daughter take their place at his side. Sacara begged him not to look and so he doesn’t. Kathar could take it as an insult if a slave stares at his trophy wife and perfect daughter but on the other hand, Akin heard that Kathar likes to show them off on numerous occasions bragging about their beauty.

Kathar orders him to step closer. With every step, he takes he can feel how the guards are getting more and more nervous. A trained killer, so close to their ruler?

Holding eye contact Kathar extends his hand. The traditional handshake for the winner.

“In the name of this country I want to congratulate you for your glorious victory.”

Akin never understood how people could have such a high admiration for gladiators but still have them be slaves, subhuman. On the bottom and the top of society at the same time. Some look at them like celebrities, some only see the dirt at the bottom of their sandals. Kathar seems to be more on the admiring side of things.

“Meet my wife Tinga the wise and my daughter Linara the beautiful.” Kathar signals the women standing behind him to step forward.

Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare, he thinks. The young one is the first that extends her hand. But it’s also impolite to not look at them while shaking their hands, so he decides to hold eye-contact for the short duration of the handshake.

He grabs Linara’s hand and freezes. She was already staring at him. Akin had seen those beautiful blue eyes before. A short flashback to that room full of candles. The picture of that naked piece of art that has burned itself into his memory. The feeling of her warmth.

Lin clears her throat. “You fought well, Akin.”

It’s really hard to take his eyes from Lin but then he hears Sacaras voice again, “you mustn’t stare!”

“I heard stories of your beauty but they don’t do you justice, my princess.” Then he turns to Tinga, the wife. She is equally as beautiful but not as young of course. She’s got blonde hair, too. If it wasn’t for the brown eyes you might think that she’s an older version of Lin. He shakes her hand.

With that, it’s over. The royal family leaves their spot on the balcony.