You were forced into being a gladiator at a young age, you’re still young but you’re the victor. That’s all that matters, appealing the watchers and winning another meal and day of rest before repeating the whole process again.

“Get up!” The warden spat, grabbing the back of your shirt and dragging you down the hallway while you squirmed under the uncomfortable grip before being thrown down to the ground, the dirt and dust drifting up for a moment before settling and you coughed.

“You’re lucky, some fancy monarch wants you in his kingdom, so clean your ass up and get dressed.” The warden explained, glaring down at you getting off the ground.

You took a deep breath, the sword shackled to your wrist sitting next to you in the dirty.

“You waiting for some fucking invitation kid get your ass up!” The warden barked.