The Protagonist Speaks

Dear readers, tonight with us is nominally the bodyguard of the protagonist — proving once again that everyone is the hero of their own story. He’s here to talk about gladiatorial games, about childhood in the forest vs life in the big city.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up in the forests of Arbarica, under evergreen trees. We lived in a remote village, only a few families, and my father and brothers hunted for furs and meat. At festivals, we went to the oppidium to trade the furs for tools, jewellery, and other things, and then stayed the nights for celebrations. The bards sang, and the druids dispensed law and lore, enthralling everyone with feats of magic.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

All the memories I have are cherished because there are so few of them. I was barely thirteen when the legions came. I took up a sword and stood with everyone I ever knew and more besides against the invaders.
It didn’t help. I have no idea how I survived. I don’t even recall the actual battle. Then I was chained and marched day after day to Egretia. I was a big one, even as a child, so a lanista from a gladiator school bought me. That was the end of my childhood.

What do you do now?

My dominus is a kind master, and I owe him my life. Gladiators don’t always die on the sands and the retirement options are limited, often reduced to begging. What else is there for someone who only knows how to fight, but can no longer do it once he’s too scarred and disfigured? Even those who survive the six years or thirty bouts to earn their freedom, find it hard to get a job.
Felix took me in when I had no prospects, gave me this metal hand you see, and now I protect his life. I go wherever he goes, to make sure he comes back.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

You’d have to ask the master about that. My dominus is very strict about client confidentiality. Without betraying any names… well, I got to mix with gladiators again, and got a much better view of the chariot races. There were things going on — with secrets and gods, and sacrifices and religion, and rich people tampering with things they shouldn’t — and I have no idea what they meant. I wasn’t privy to those conversations. I was just there for when the going got rough.

When it did! Now, that is something that gets the blood roaring in your ears. Not like the adulation of the crowds in the arena, but real fights in dark corners with real stakes. Makes you appreciate being alive.