Chains: Nos Morituri te Salutamus

Blood for the Masses

A lone human sat in his cage, his black hair was cut short to keep from getting in his way during fights. He only wore a rag to cover his groin, and his feet were in simple foot wraps, doing little more than providing something that would give him better traction in the ring.

He was a slave, but a very specific kind of slave. Perhaps the most popular kind in all of Equestria.

He was a Gladiator.

He had one Master, and that was the Crowd.

His one job, to keep the crowd entertained.

He was born into this, and just last week, he was declared old enough to begin pleasing his Master.

The Crowd.

Even from his cage, deep beneath the arena, he could hear them cheering.

Calling for blood.

His blood or that of his opponent.

For the last month, his training was intensified, and his muscles still ached.

Before the trainer had left him in the cage to wait for his turn to be taken up to the arena, he told him in a hushed tone, “Show them you are worthy of a name.”

For the Gladiators, they only earned a name from the Crowd, and only after fighting several matches, and preferably winning.

The young man clenched his hands and took a deep breath, and released it.

He opened his hazel eyes when he heard the door open, and saw a pair of unicorn ponies walk in, covered in armor.

One of them unlocked his cage, “it’s time, newblood,” he said.

The human stood up and followed them towards the gladiator’s entrance, where another unicorn waited for them. He was holding an old sword in his magic.

As they got closer, the young man saw that the blade was nothing spectacular, probably an old one that’s seen a hundred matches, and the blood of hundreds of ‘newbloods’ like him.

When prompted, he took hold of the old sword, and tested the weight of it by swinging it, careful not to harm any of the ponies.

Then, the gates opened, and he stared out into the arena as both the light of day and the sounds of his new Master.

He felt himself tremble slightly.

Whether it was from fear or excitement, he didn’t know, but he took his first step into his new home.

The arena.

On the opposite side of the arena, was another Gladiator’s entrance, where his opponent was coming out from.

Another newblood, also wielding a sword.

Nameless, just like he was.

The crowd cheered for them.

The humans both looked up at the crowd, squinting through the bright sunlight.

The stands weren’t full. They never were for newbloods.

The humans then looked at each other, and then finally, they looked to the Royal Booth, where the Princess and other high ranking officials would sit.

The Princess almost never attended the gladiatorial matches, and the Council members wouldn’t waste their time to see a match for newbloods. However, the tradition was always the same.

The two combatants stood and saluted the booth, holding their swords in front of them as a sign of respect.

An announcer stood in a wooden stand nearby, and yelled out to announce them, “Today, two newbloods fight for your entertainment!” he said. “Stomp your hooves, shake the arena, and give them your attention!”

The Crowd stomped their hooves, and even though they were few in number, the sound surrounded the two fighters as they observed.

“Call out for blood! And let them give it to you!” With that the announcer waited one last time as the crowd screamed.

“Blood!” they called.

“Then Blood you shall have!” the announcer replied, looking to the two newbloods.

“Begin!”

The two fighters readied their weapons, and approached each other.

The dark haired human observed his opponent’s movements as they closed in, keeping just enough distance to be out of the way of each other’s swords as they sized each other up.

His opponent was the first to swing, lunging forward to try and catch him off guard.

The newblood jumped back to avoid it, and lunged forward himself, trying to stab his foe.

Their swords clashed and rang out.

He blocked his opponent’s counter attack from above, and kicked him away.

When his foot landed in the other young man’s stomach, the crowd cheered louder.

His opponent recollected himself and charged anew, slashing from the side.

He skillfully deflected the blow over him, and connected the pommel of his weapon to the other newblood’s chest, before pulling his arm back, and slashing him.

The cut was shallow, but drew blood, which splashed onto the dirt covered ground.

The crowd cheered and stomped.

Blood was what they wanted, and he would give it to them.

He attacked again, seeing an opening as his staggered opponent could only try and fend off his blows as they came again and again.

He knocked the sword from his opponent’s hand, and with his sword clenching fist, he backhanded him hard, causing him to fall to the ground onto his stomach.

He quickly pinned him there with his foot, holding his sword over the fallen man.

He looked to the Announcer and the crowd.

He had won, and now it was time to please his Master.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, we have a winner!” he called out. He was answered with cheers. “He and his opponent fought bravely!” He continued. “What shall be the fate of the fallen?” he asked them.

“Death!” Declared the Crowd.

“Death it is!” he said, looking expectantly at the victorious fighter.

The triumphant newblood nodded, and knelt down, stabbing his blade through the back of his opponent’s neck, staining the dirt with more red blood as the Crowd cheered louder than before.

They were cheering for him.

He raised his blood stained blade above his head triumphantly as he let the Crowd praise him and his deeds, before his gates back under the arena opened, and he made his way back, the cheers still followed him.

His first fight, and his first victory.

His first cheers of his Master.

The young gladiator returned the sword to the guardspony, and followed the other two back to his cage, as arena workers rushed in behind him, to clean up the mess he made, to make ready for the next match.

He had survived the battle, and soon enough, ponies would recognize when he entered the arena.

He would serve his Master.

The Crowd wanted blood.

He would give them blood.

Either his own, or that of his opponent.

He was a Gladiator.