DOGS IN A YARD

Joda was relaxing in a meditative position when the guard came to call him. He had found his nerves running wild as the day of the first tournament fight drew nearer and nearer. Nerves weren't anything new to him. It meant that he was taking whatever was causing it seriously, and God knew he was.

He didn't fear gladiating, he was well equipped for the job and believed he had a good chance of winning the thing, no matter how difficult. He followed the guard silently out of his room, past the servant quarters, and to the main hall where Orion and his son were waiting for him seated behind a large meeting table.

"My boy, take a seat." Orion welcomed his fighter with a warm smile that matched Bello's as Joda slipped into a chair across from the master of the house.

"How is your preparation for tomorrow's event going?" Bello asked the moment Joda sat.

The servant shrugged. "I'm a little nervous, but that's it."

"Hmm... This meeting is going to be short. I just want to address an important issue before you step into the arena tomorrow." Orion started.

"Gladiating is nothing new in our Kingdom. As far as I'm aware, the other kingdoms also have a similar system of entertainment." The royal trainer announced tentatively.

"The rules will be explained to you at the arena tomorrow so I won't delve into it. My issue is with your willingness to deal lethal damage." Orion confessed.

"What do you mean?" Joda inquired.

"You see, contrary to popular belief, gladiating isn't some lawless game. Not entirely. It has its own rules that fighters must adhere to. One such rule is the 'High Blood Command', where a fighter must seek the permission of the highest authoritative figure present to end another fighter's life." The man started.

"In case the figure isn't willing to rule on the fighter's life, he's at liberty to leave the decision to the spectating crowd. And even though accidents happen that cause fighters to lose their lives before the 'High Blood' takes effect, fighters are required to try their best to keep their opponents alive until then."

"My problem isn't with you keeping your opponents alive until the high blood command is issued. My fears are related to your inability or even unwillingness to do as you're commanded in the arena. I know you haven't killed anyone before, but it will do you good to kill when you're commanded to, and to pardon when ordered.

In the arena, it is a dog-eat-dog mentality that reigns. But even among dogs, there is the big-dog in whose yard the little ones play. The big dogs in the case of the tournament and the colosseum are the spectators and the highest authoritative figure present at the moment.

Never go against their orders, or you'll suffer, and I won't be able to help you. The spectators can stone you to death or even demand the release of a ferocious beast to tear you to shreds as punishment for disobeying them.

The highest figure on the other hand can reverse his decision if it is a kill order, and ask for the loser to kill the winner instead, for disrespecting his position. And the officiator will help to carry out his order too. So be careful. Do not cross the big dogs." Orion warned seriously.

"I understand. I will try to keep your advice in mind when I fight tomorrow." Joda answered simply and the royal trainer nodded in satisfaction.

"I have a question though. Does this rule apply to all gladiating fights? Even those that are not tournament fights?" The slave asked his superiors.

"Yes, it does. But it's not as strictly enforced as during the tournament." Orion answered and Joda nodded in understanding.

"Very well. You don't need to worry that much about me. I don't intend to die anytime soon so you can rest assured that I will make no mistakes that will cost me my life. I appreciate your effort to educate me on things." Joda thanked the two men who beamed at him warmly.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me before tomorrow?" The slave asked as he prepared to head back to his room and continue his meditation.

"Yes, there is." Bello, who had remained silent since the time his father started talking, responded and Joda arched a questioning brow at him.

"Give them hell tomorrow!" The young master ordered with vigor and the slave grinned evilly in acknowledgment.

#Thrall's House. A Day Before The Tournament.

Rollo had always admired the wild and bloody life of gladiators. He had even thought of fighting in the colosseum as a boy. And even though that idea had vanished a long time ago, he found himself considering it more and more with each passing day as his home life soured.

His father hadn't spoken to him since he had awoken from his days-long knockout by that filthy slave. The old man had been treating him like a disease. Grunts were the only answers he gave his son when he ever bothered to pay him any attention. And Rollo was honestly sick of it all.

He knew the old man blamed him for antagonizing the Royal trainer and costing him an important figure among his contacts. He was also certain he had heard the old man mention eviction a couple of times in passing.

And even though he had pretended all these didn't bother him, he was actually worried and had been searching for a way to reclaim his lost glory. The only answer that had come to him was the tournament. But try as he may, Rollo couldn't bring himself to enter the event as a fighter.

His muscles still ached from his recent battle and his crushing defeat at the hands of that slave was too fresh in his mind to ignore, so he had reconciled himself to the idea of just spectating the fights.

Even if he wasn't going to get the gold as a gladiator, he could still make a pretty penny from betting on the events. He could also entertain himself for a month at other people's expense.

That should be enough to help make his life bearable at home. Or so he thought, not knowing that his most hated person was going to participate in his life's dream. A revelation that was bound to destroy the tournament for him.