The standard-issue equipment of the Imperial Guard Corps was actually quite crude—a bronze helmet, a bronze vest-type chest plate, brown leather pauldrons, brown leather half-skirt, brown mid-calf leather boots, and brown leather bracers, six pieces in total. The bronze helmet was especially antiquated: a flat-topped cylinder cut to shoulder width, with a T-shaped slit in the front exposing the eyes, nose, and mouth.
It was said that the Haneabada Islands had only a single copper mine. After the pirates established their kingdom, they still hadn't found any iron deposits. Combined with the resource embargo that the coastal nations imposed on the Haneabada Kingdom, when the second king, Lud I, set about forming the Royal Imperial Guard Corps, there was simply no way to provide metal armor. In the end, someone came up with the idea of casting the helmets and chest plates from bronze, which at least gave the guardsmen a semblance of standard equipment.
Decades passed, and the Imperial Guard Corps never faced any real large-scale engagement—suppression of slave uprisings at most, or standing around looking ceremonial during festivals. So even though the current Haneabada Kingdom technically had the ability to upgrade the Guard's equipment, the cost was always deemed too high and the matter was dropped. After all, the design was old enough to serve as a fine tribute to the traditions left by their predecessors.
Stam led
Lorist carried a semi-circular bronze shield in his left hand and a long spear with a bronze spearhead in his right—standard-issue weapons for Imperial Guard Corps soldiers. Stam, for his part, wore no helmet and sported only his bronze chest plate, with a longsword at his side. He explained that as a veteran, he didn't need to be in full gear at all times, carrying a shield and spear around.
Two torches were jammed into the wall above the next passage opening, and beneath them stood two sentries holding spears and shields. When they spotted Stam and Lorist approaching, one of them looked puzzled: "Hey, Brother Stam, didn't you go back to rest? What are you doing back here again..."
Stam pointed irritably up at the ceiling: "That bastard said we're short-handed tonight and we need to be extra careful about security. He wants me to pull an extra shift and make another round..."
The two soldiers chuckled. The one who had spoken shook his head: "That squad leader of ours really has it in for you, Brother Stam. Why don't you transfer to another squad?"
Stam gave a vague reply: "We'll see. If I go to another squad, I'd have to start all over as a rank-and-file for another few years..."
They rounded a corner, and ahead stood two rows of iron bars with four more sentries posted between them. With Stam leading the way, they passed through without any trouble. Beyond the bars, Lorist could see that the passage ahead led to a stairway descending underground.
Down the stairs, they found another two rows of iron bars and four more sentries. Once again, Stam used the excuse of being forced to make extra rounds, and the two passed through. Before them opened a spacious underground area resembling a plaza. Stam whispered to Lorist that this was the first underground level—the slave servants and maids who worked for the gladiatorial arena, along with those female slaves awarded to gladiator champions, were housed here. Two more levels below was where the slave gladiators themselves were kept.
Lorist suddenly grabbed Stam, feigning alarm and barking: "What's going on? How did our young master end up locked down here? Wasn't he supposed to be under house arrest?"
Stam shrugged: "It's out of my hands. Your young master managed to offend Great Swordmaster Bernage. He was originally held on the upper level, but when people from your trading company came to inquire this evening, Great Swordmaster Bernage ordered him moved to the very bottom level to suffer a bit. I was the one who led the escort."
Past the first-level plaza, they encountered yet another two rows of iron bars and four sentries. Beyond lay the stairway to the second underground level—again flanked by two rows of bars and four guards. The second level was different from the first, however. Here, small rooms were partitioned off with green stone blocks, each fronted by a row of iron bars as thick as a fist. Some rooms were empty; in others, barely visible in the torchlight filtering in from the corridor walls, dark figures could be seen sitting or lying down. These were the slave gladiators.
A dozen or so fully armed sentries emerged from a corridor between the stone cells. Their leader spotted Stam, blinked in surprise, and walked over to ask the same question as before.
Stam pointed upward and grumbled a few complaints, just as he had done previously. The lead soldier burst out laughing, and the rest joined in, poking fun at Stam's misfortune.
Stam said: "All right, all right, I've had enough bad luck for one night. I just need to finish this round and I can go back to sleep. Why don't you all come along and patrol with me?"
The lead soldier shook his heads: "You two go on down. We just came up. Oh, and Great Swordmaster Bernage is down there too. Be careful not to cross him."
"Huh?" Stam was taken aback. "What's Great Swordmaster Bernage doing down here this late?"
"Apparently it's about that kid who's been practicing his swordplay. Word is someone came looking for him today, and Great Swordmaster Bernage is getting impatient—so he came down tonight to force the kid into accepting him as his master," the lead soldier said.
Stam glanced at Lorist. Lorist gave a slight nod. Stam said: "Fine, it's none of my business. I'll just finish my patrol and pretend I saw nothing."
When they reached the third underground level, Lorist found it was considerably smaller than the second. Stam explained: "The gladiators locked down on the third level are the most dangerous ones, or the most rebellious and uncontrollable. The space is small, but the security is the tightest. Brother, I didn't know Great Swordmaster Bernage would be coming down here tonight. If you get the chance, have your family's young master concede and submit—save his life first.
Of the two Great Swordmasters stationed at the arena, his temper is utterly bizarre. He's greedy, lecherous, extremely cruel, and petty to the extreme. Once, our former battalion commander had some dispute with him, and he went on a rampage, torturing and killing nearly a hundred slave gladiators in one go. Then he turned around and claimed the gladiators had been plotting a revolt, getting our former commander blamed for negligence and transferred to the city garrison.
So when you see Great Swordmaster Bernage, don't do anything rash. Otherwise, I might have gotten you in here alive, but I won't be getting you out. If something happens to your young master, keep your composure and get word back to your family. Have them send a few Great Swordmasters of their own, and then they can petition His Majesty the King to arrange a duel with Bernage. That's the real way to settle this. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Lorist nodded. Only then did Stam feel at ease enough to lead him forward.
By the light of the torches mounted along the stone corridor walls, Lorist caught sight of that same black hemp rope strung along the upper corner of the wall. He shifted the spear into his left hand, the one already holding the bronze shield, fell back a few paces, and with his right hand swept something from his waist—a three-edged spike dropped into his palm. Channeling his internal energy into the spike, he flicked his wrist lightly. The spike flew true and silently pinned the black hemp rope to the stone wall…
His right hand retrieved the spear, his feet quickened, and he caught up to Stam once more. Stam had noticed nothing of Lorist's little maneuver—it had all happened far too fast, completed in the span of two or three blinks.
This was the fifth three-edged spike driven into the black hemp rope. Lorist hadn't originally understood the rope's purpose. It wasn't until they passed through the first level and descended past the pair of iron bars below the stairway that he noticed it: a small copper alarm bell hung from the hemp rope near the top of the wall corner.
If anything happened on any level, the sentries manning the iron bars simply had to pull hard on a guide rope dangling below, and those small copper bells would ring, the sound traveling all the way up. The guards above would hear the alarm, raise the alert, and await reinforcements before descending to suppress whatever had occurred.
Stam was right—the third underground level truly was the most heavily guarded. Beyond the pair of iron bars and four sentries at the stairway landing, there was yet another set of bars and four more sentries at the corridor's corner bend. After passing through this checkpoint, the glow of torches and the faint murmur of voices could be seen and heard not far ahead…
The layout of the third level was markedly different from the second. At the very least, the central avenue between the two rows of green stone cells was quite wide, with several square columns interspersed along it. The light ahead came from two torches wedged into a column in the middle of the corridor. As they drew closer, a rough, booming voice could be heard mocking someone…
"Who goes there?" a shrill voice cut in, clearly having heard the footsteps of Stam and Lorist approaching.
"Respected Great Swordmaster Bernage, I am Stam. We are conducting a patrol on the squad leader's orders." Stam stopped and bowed respectfully toward the voice ahead. Lorist snapped to attention and followed suit.
"What is Pabola thinking? Is all this patrolling really necessary?" The shrill voice huffed with displeasure.
Pabola was the name of the squad leader Stam resented.
"Lord Bernage, I don't understand why the squad leader has us patrolling either, but he says the guard has to be tightened today because the main force has deployed and we only have two squads here, so everyone needs to stay alert…" Stam said.
"Fine, you two come over here. As it happens, I could use some help…" the shrill voice said.
Stam led Lorist over.
With each step Lorist took, his heart beat faster. By the light of the torches, he could see that most of the figures locked in the green stone cells on both sides were his own family's soldiers and guards—some whose names he couldn't recall, yet whose faces were all too familiar…
When they reached the brightest spot beneath the torches, Lorist saw not only El, but also
Fatty Shi was stripped to the waist, wearing nothing but a pair of tattered shorts. His once-chubby frame had been whittled down to something lean and hard, the torso crisscrossed with bloody, crusted whip marks. Iron cuffs and shackles bound his wrists and ankles, dark and heavy. He sat cross-legged before the massive iron-barred gate of his cell, his furious gaze fixed on a richly dressed old man standing in the middle of the corridor.
Jim's cell was right next to Fatty Shi's, though Jim was wrapped in grimy bandages and looked wan—clearly still recovering from his injuries. Further away were Tork, Clinbo, and the others…
El's cell was on the inner side, next to Fatty Shi's. But El still wore his clothes, and his wrists and ankles bore no cuffs or chains. He leaned casually against the green stone wall, utterly ignoring the richly dressed old man standing in the corridor.
Lorist looked at that old man—Great Swordmaster Bernage himself. In the flickering firelight, Bernage's face looked especially ghastly.
"Boy, I'll give you one more chance. Sign this agreement, press your thumbprint, and accept me as your master. I guarantee you'll advance to Gold rank within three years. Otherwise, you can forget about ever leaving this arena…" The shrill, piercing voice rang out.
El spat on the ground without even deigning to look at Bernage.
Laughter erupted from behind Bernage.
Hmm—Bernage with his beady little eyes did rather resemble a giant rat.
Lorist turned to look. Across the corridor, five or six slave gladiators stood before their row of cells, laughing and jeering at Bernage. The iron chains on their bodies were far thicker and heavier than the ones on Fatty Shi.
Bernage's face turned ashen, but he ignored the gladiators' taunts as though they didn't exist and kept talking to El: "Boy, you won't know what's good for you? Fine. I'll release a few of these friends of yours right now and flay them alive in front of your eyes. Then we'll see if you agree!"
Lorist's eyes narrowed—because Bernage's finger was pointing directly at the cells where Fatty Shi and Jim were held.
A voice from behind roared with fury: "Big Rat, you're a disgrace to the title of Great Swordmaster, picking fights only with Silver-rank and
Bernage spun around, livid: "What business is it of yours? You looking for a beating?"
The gladiators across the way roared with laughter: "That's right! We want a beating! Come in here and beat us, Big Rat!"
Bernage's face flushed red, then white, but he couldn't formulate a retort. He whirled back and took his frustration out on Stam and Lorist: "Didn't you two hear what I said? Go to the sentries and get me the keys to those cells, now!"
Stam grabbed Lorist and turned to leave immediately: "Yes, right away."
After they had gone some distance, Stam said: "We're in for it now. Bernage is going to torture and kill a few gladiators tonight to vent his anger, and then he'll have us clean up the mess. It'll be revolting."
Lorist asked out of curiosity: "Those ones who were mocking Bernage from behind—who are they? Why doesn't Bernage take his anger out on them?"
"Heh, the big rat wouldn't dare. Oh—I mean Great Swordmaster Bernage wouldn't dare. Those are all Gold-rank slave gladiators. The first one who spoke is a Great Swordmaster himself—Hughes. He's a legend in our arena. He entered as a slave gladiator at Silver rank and fought his way up to Great Swordmaster through seventeen years of life-and-death combat in the arena. The royal family once tried to recruit him, but he refused. He's still here because supposedly that royal triple-Great-Swordmaster is using him as a whetstone for advancing to Sword Saint…" Stam said.
"No, wait—aside from that Hughes, aren't the rest of them Gold-rank gladiators? So why doesn't Bernage dare to punish them?" Lorist asked.
Stam snorted disdainfully: "Heh. Dares? The first time Bernage tried to teach a Gold-rank gladiator a lesson, he ended up severely wounded himself. He was saved, sure, but he lost his right ear to that Gold-rank's teeth. In terms of pure swordsmanship, maybe Bernage has the edge, but in a real life-or-death fight, he's no match. So from then on, Bernage only dares to pick on Silver-rank and Black-rank gladiators…"
While they talked, the two had reached the pair of iron bars and sentries at the corridor entrance. Once Stam explained, the four guards handed over the keys with looks of sympathy, pretending they had to hold their post and couldn't possibly leave.
"Bah! They just don't want to be stuck with the cleanup later. What a show." Stam grumbled as he took the keys and led Lorist back. They quickly returned to the cells.
"Go on—unlock those three cells and drag those brats out for me." Bernage pointed at the cells of Fatty Shi, Jim, and Tork. Then he turned back to El: "Boy, let me show you once more how real sword training is done—it's not that feeble kiting you do. You'll soon understand what it means to strike a vital point and kill in a single blow. After my demonstration, you'll see clearly that accepting me as your master is the only path to true improvement in the sword."
"Ha! Learning swordsmanship from you? I'd learn more from watching rats dig burrows—that's your real specialty!" The gladiators' jeering came from behind once more.
Bernage took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressing the rage inside him, then turned to Stam and Lorist: "What are you waiting for? Do as I said!"
Stam flinched, then stammered, pointing toward Fatty Shi's cell: "Last time—the steward said these gladiators had unusual identities and that their backgrounds needed to be investigated first. Lord Bernage, is it really… appropriate to drag them out now?"
"Investigate my ass!" Bernage erupted: "They're going into the arena in a few days anyway—to die in His Majesty's War God Festival! What difference does a few days make? Now get moving!"
"Al—all right." Stam tugged on Lorist, and the two walked toward the cells.
…(To be continued.)