Chapter 6: Chapter 6

“What is your spell form?” he said, leaning in close. His breath smelled foul, and I couldn’t help but focus on his eyepatch to avoid gagging. The comfort of hearing the English language was stilted as he stared at me lecherously.

“Spelling?” I asked, not understanding. Check latest chapters at NoveI-Fire.ɴet

“Your affinity and spell form,” he said more impatiently.

“I…I don’t understand?” I stuttered as Varka uncoiled her whip.

The man held up his hand to stop her punishment. He chewed on his cheek, and I started to get nauseous from his breath on me. He looked at Varka. “We can have him tested when we bring him to the market. For now, figure out the extent of his endurance. It is likely a healing spell form.”

Varka talked very quickly, and I couldn't understand anything. “Why can't I understand her?” I braved to ask.

He looked at me briefly before answering. Now that I had some value to him, he seemed more inclined to answer my questions. “Because only our minds are linked with the comprehension spell form.” I felt a slight pressure in my head, and I could understand Varka, but I don’t think she realized it as she continued talking.

“What if he is hiding another spell form? We should beat him until he gives us the truth of it,” she said testily.

The man smiled at Varka. “This is the first time I have trusted you to train the gladius. If you damage him beyond healing, it will be the last time. I can always give him over to Lanista Carvillius.” The red-haired woman’s jaw tightened in anger, and I felt it was going to be directed all at me soon.

“I will break him, but not damage him,” she said, relenting.

“Good,” he gave me a knowing look that Varka was unaware I could understand her for the moment. “Give me daily reports and make sure Joren teaches him Telhian.”

“Do I still get tomorrow off?” I asked. I figured Varka might try to take my reward from me.

The man raised an eyebrow at Varka. “He earned a rite of rest? You are soft, giving one after the first day,” he said, amused.

Varka gave me a death stare. “I didn’t plan to let any of them win. I was riding and planned to get back first and declare myself the winner.”

The man chuckled at her deception. “Send him to the kitchens tomorrow, then. It will give Joren more time to teach him.”

“What do I call you?” I asked the man before I was forced to leave. He had ignored this question during the trip here, but maybe I had some leverage now.

He considered me for a moment. “I am Centurian Titus Cornelius Scaeva, former commander of the Garrison of Milites Conscriptae. I trained common men like you to become legionnaires and become the sword of the Emperor.” He said it like I should be impressed, but not knowing what that meant, I nodded respectfully. Varka hissed at me, indicating I should leave. The thing he called a spell form was gone as she berated me in the unfamiliar language.

We entered the kitchens, and Joren and the other cooks looked up from the stations. Varka rattled off angry words at Joren and left me in the kitchens. It looked like I would be here for the remainder of today and tomorrow. The smell of food was intoxicating, and I was not above sneaking samples.

Joren patiently led me to a table with stacks of potatoes and onions. He pronounced things for me and asked me to repeat. Another man demonstrated how he wanted everything cut, then I was left to work. Joren would come by and test me on words every few minutes, and I even started making three-word sentences that amused him and the other cooks.

The cook I was working next to thought he was being funny and started to give me incorrect words. I was too eager to learn and didn’t realize it till Joren shouted at him. Joren had been paying attention and stormed over, and with his only good arm, an upper cut cracked the jaw of the skinny cook. Chips of teeth rattled around the kitchen as his head snapped back and he dropped to the ground unconscious. The others only paused briefly before continuing their work, leaving the man where he fell.

I quickly learned the hierarchy in the Ludus—Joren was in charge. As the evening meal, meals were prepared, a large amount of hot food was set aside for the guards to eat first. After they came through, then came the experienced gladiators and lanistas. Finally came the new trainees, but often we were scraping the bottom of the barrel—literally. If there was not enough food, a mixed grain was quickly boiled to feed them.

I learned there was another kitchen in the main house that served Centurian Titus Cornelius Scaeva and his household. I only learned this when a young woman in a toga came in for some fresh ground flour. She was plain-looking, but didn’t have the musculature of the female gladiators or Varka. Her raven-black hair was pulled back and she had a sharp tongue.

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Joren told me to carry it, and he briefly argued with the woman. He essentially said she could do it herself. I picked up the sack, ignoring her protests, and motioned for her to lead the way. She scowled but turned away, and I followed. Her short frame moved quickly, and my abused body protested carrying the heavy sack, but I kept up as we crossed the yard and entered the estate kitchens.

It was almost a different world in here. It was cleaner, brighter, and the cooks were mostly women—I hadn’t realized there were so many women at the ludus. The woman slapped my shoulder to get my attention and pointed to where she wanted the sack. “Thomas,” I said, pointing at myself.

“Over there!” she growled impatiently and made to hold her nose to indicate she didn’t want my foulness to spoil her kitchens. She wasn’t in charge as a much older woman barked at her.

“Elara! Remove him from my kitchen!” the woman yelled at her. At least that was the gist of it from what few words I understood. Elara slapped me again to hurry, and I did, dropping the sack in a small puff of flour before retreating back to the common kitchens.

We worked late into the night, cleaning up and preparing tomorrow’s breakfast as well. Joren caught me sneaking food several times, but didn’t scold me, so I continued. My body needed the calories to repair the damage. The healer even visited me and treated all my wounds this time, as my value had clearly changed to the centurion. I had dried leaf patches all over my body.

When I was sent to the well after sunset to refill all the pots in the kitchens, I washed the crusty dirt and salt from my face and drank a few liters. I would be using that piss bucket in the room tonight, but I almost felt human again. It took seven trips to gather all the water and Joren finally motioned that it was time to sleep, and I followed him back to our shared room.

His body language had me slightly concerned, but when we reached the room, he just sat on his mat across from mine in the light of the oil lamp. “Repeat everything you learned today,” he said.

I then spent two hours recalling words, and he corrected me as needed, adding a few more words until he was satisfied with my progress. He quickly fell asleep, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. My exhaustion drove me into a deep sleep, and I barely woke when Joren woke to pee.

Joren woke me before sunrise, and I don’t think I ever took a longer piss in my life before. We were back in the kitchens preparing food again. The man who had tried to trick me yesterday was back, and his jaw was wrapped, so I assumed Joren had broken it with one punch.

Varka’s training group arrived last. The old man who had broken his ankle yesterday was walking normally today. Perhaps they had a better understanding of what a spell form was and how I was special, as they looked enviously at my temporary assignment. Varka seemed too eager to get her hands on me, but I blocked it out as I worked in the kitchens throughout the day.

With a little grasp of the language and some familiarity with the words, I spent a lot of my last day in the kitchens asking questions. After Joren’s show of displeasure yesterday, the half dozen men were more than willing to assist my learning. Once again, I was allowed to sample the food we were preparing with abandon. Joren even seemed somewhat amused by my appetite. I even found that I liked fried liver—at least my healing body did.

My full day in the kitchens went by too quickly, and every time my training group came in for a meal, they looked more and more miserable. Varka stared me down as they left after dinner, Joren said gruffly, “She won't kill you.”

“She will attempt to,” I said after getting a little help with the words I wanted. I realized my hand was shaking in anticipation.

Joren grunted. “The healer will heal you. But some things he cannot.” He indicated his missing arm. “Don’t lose an arm, and learn to fight.” He then ordered me to fill the pots with water from the well again tonight. It was a tough task, but it gave me a chance to take a quick cloth bath. I even peeled off the dry leaves to find my wounds now only closed, but angry scars had already formed.

After Joren reviewed my language progress in the evening, he nodded in satisfaction. “You learn fast. Perhaps you are too smart to be a gladiator. I hope you don’t die on the arena sands.” That was all the sympathy I got from the one-armed man.

“What is a spell form?” I asked before he lay down to sleep.

It was a struggle for him to explain, as he needed to add some new words to my vocabulary as he went. “It allows you to use magic inside your core,” he explained. “Varka said your spell form allows you to resist fatigue. It is good for Titus and Varka, but I do not know if that is a good thing for you.” It had taken him fifteen minutes to explain, and he indicated he was done with me for the night and lay down with his back to me.

I didn’t sleep for a long time, wondering if I had other magic and how I could get it and escape this hell.

Varka was banging on the door before Joren even woke up the next morning. Her harsh voice was eager, and I think understanding what she was saying made it worse. “Get out here. It is time to test your limits!” She shouted.

Joren barked at the door. “Varka shut your hole or I will stuff it with my cock!” I thought the two would come to blows, and I didn’t understand the hierarchy of the ludus. When I didn’t move, Joren barked at me, “Go! I still have time to sleep!” It was clear he was just angry at Varka for waking him, he wasn’t defending me.

I rushed to strap my sandals on in the dark and found Varka standing outside my door with a nasty grin. This was going to be a bad day.

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