the others. We lea

hostages and escorted to a separat

and travel. They were all young, robust, and different in their origins, their tribal tattoos and characteristics hinting at distan

led among them, his eyes al

re just meat, for now. In my ludus, you shall be forged. You will be tested. Many of you will break. Some of you will

traveling across the

You will be known as 'The Dog.' For your i

ch guy with his length of chain, leading to a central, hefty iron bar

load, was a terrible marvel. The scent of pitch and salt permeated th

oll of the waves. They were hustled below deck, into a dark, stuffy hold that reeked of bilge w

hat were unfamiliar and confusing. He lay on the hard boards, tied to a ring on the floor, the repetitive moan of the ship a gri

far away, remote pinpricks of light in a vast, uncaring vacuum. He

e flickered, fed by the solitary, scorching ambition

though still carrying the tang of salt, was thicker, heavier, tainted with the harsh, metallic aroma that Marcus was swiftly

sore and chafed. The light, after days in the oppressive darkness of the confinement, was blinding. Mar

carts rumbling, the melancholy screams of gulls hovering overhead. But their guards, the stone-faced m

g at the edge of the quay, a shadow ag

were like knotted rope, scarred and thick, and a rough, iron-studded club dangled from his waist. His eyes, tiny and beady, swept o

ed in Marcus's chest. He spoke the Imperial tongue but with a heavy, provinci

g furiously against his thigh. Luci

one dubbed 'The Dog' is in that group. Stro

steady, deliberate stride, his hefty boots crunching on the gravel. He

g back to reveal a pair of crooked, yellowed teeth

d with Marcus's jaw. The contact drove a shockwave through his skull, jarring his teeth. His

to collapse. The wrath, icy and controlled, began to s

with hate. You are no longer in your tribal mud hous

eyes searing into Atticus. He offered no answer, no defiance, no sh

ent, almost subtle, cr

ugh the tension. He learns rapidl

esting a hand on A

processing. They will eat and rela

ne streets of the port city. The air was filled with the scents of fish and h

d doorways, and statues representing stern-faced individuals in togas. This was

spikes. It seemed less like a school and more like a fortress, a place built to contain and to crush. A large, iron-bound gate

erable feet, was ringed by rows of low, windowless barracks. Beyond them, Marcus spotted what seemed like an

w dirt, sweat, and the harsh taste of metal

bathing room. The water, albeit frigi