Ruth had been a slave her whole life. She was born into slavery, her parents were slaves since they revolted against the Imperial Family for the high taxes they were forced to pay. Both her parents had died shortly after her birth in The Palace. The Palace was an enormous centre of government. Its exterior had windows with carefully carved window frames that had intricate details and patterns. The Palace was whitewashed every 10 years, the process often being considered a religious act; slaves like her had never seen it. Once the whitewashing was done, the edges of The Palace were painted with a shining gold that shone even during the night. Next to The Palace was something equally majestic, The Arena. The Arena was an architectural beauty. It was a circular stadium and looked like a disc for the birds flying above. Warriors from all over came to The Arena to train themselves by combating with other warriors. All the seats were cushioned, even those for the peasants. To Ruth, The Arena and The Palace were her home.
After her parents’ death, the Royal Sergeant adopted her. Even though she had been adopted, Ruth’s social status remained as a slave. The Sergeant was a stoic veteran who had triumphed through thousands of wars and border skirmishes. He was well known for his strategic and physical capabilities on the battlefield. He had personally trained Ruth to be an elite soldier without pay. Whenever Ruth would ask him why he adopted her – something she asked quite frequently – he would always reply that she would be useful on the battlefield since spotting a woman warrior would make the male-only opponents hesitate from attacking her, giving her ample time to pierce her opponents through their chain mail.
Ruth was training herself when the Sergeant called her on the 11th evening of the 5th month of the 14th year of the century.
“Sergeant”, she said as she saluted him.
“Soldier”, the Sergeant replied with a nod, “you remember The Event, correct?”
Ruth racked her mostly empty mind hardly. Then she remembered. The Event was a combat tournament by the Imperial Family once every century to entertain their subjects. The entire population under the Imperial Family came to the Arena to watch one of two competitors lose their life and the other progress through the ranks of the tournament to hopefully win something of their choice.
“I do, Sergeant.”
“Good. The Imperial Family has decided to host it this summer solstice. I want you to enroll yourself. If you win, I command you to ask for freedom.”
Ruth was stunned. Of course, slaves could enter The Event since their lives were thought of as worthless and no one would care if they died. Forgetting the formalities, Ruth hugged the Sergeant.
“Thank you…” she whispered. The Sergeant smiled and a tear left his eyes.
“Make sure you win Ruth, train hard”, he said as he left her.
The Event had begun a year ago. Ruth had done her best to not get killed. She had fought millions of other participants of The Event and killed them all. She had made it to the final match. The Imperial Family was not exactly pleased to see a slave kill their best combatants and get to the final match however, the audience loved her and the seats were crowded during her matches. Ruth measured the giant character who stood 10 metres before her. He was Mattalion. Mattalion was well known for his giant body that seemed to be made up of rock. He had a famous trademark act of jumping on his opponent’s body – breaking every bone – once he defeated them. He wore heavy armour that did not appear to slow him down. In his hand, he rotated a double-sided scythe that sliced the wind menacingly. Everyone in The Arena knew that there was another figure dressed in black with a normal scythe hidden in the shadows. Ruth herself wore light armour that only prevented slashes and brandished a long spear. She was agile and heavy but effective armour prevented her from displaying her amazing dexterity.
Ruth made the first move. Her gender came useful in these situations: to see a woman with a spear coming for their heart made men hesitate out of surprise. Mattalion thwarted her thrust with a power-packed punch. He had not hesitated to attack. Ruth rubbed the part of her arm where Mattalion had punched at. She had underestimated her opponent. With a blood-curdling scream, Ruth launched herself at Mattalion again, this time aiming her spearhead at his under-chin. Ruth was dumbfounded to see Mattalion grab her spear and use it the other way around and hit her. Then he embarked on a flurry of attacks at her at remarkable speed for his size. Ruth barely managed to counter his forays in time. The audience watched Mattalion’s attacks press against Ruth’s weakening defence for another fifteen minutes sitting at the edge of their seats, almost not breathing. Then Mattalion did it. He broke through Ruth’s defence and gave her a nasty wound since his scythe infiltrated her light armour. She collapsed to the ground.
The audience rose from their seats and each and every single one of them gasped to see one of their favourite fighters drop like a ragdoll. Ruth was consumed by self-pity. She had worked so hard to reach her goal. Freedom. She had been so close but lost. She was about to die. It’s just another form of freedom. Ruth shook her head as if clearing her inner thoughts. She had to persevere. She simply must, till her dying breath! She got up in an instant and launched a long series of attacks on Mattalion until she breached his strong defences and propelled her spear into his stomach with all her energy. The Great Champion, Mattalion, fell. Cheers roared through The Arena as The Event came to an end with a successful victor. Ruth smiled. She had done it. She had gotten her heart’s desire. Freedom. She crumpled to the sand out of exhaustion.
Alearna raised an eyebrow at what her husband was suggesting.
“I’m in, Alec. But how would we start a rebellion out of the blue?” she inquired.
“Easy,” Alec responded, “we need loyal servants to diffuse into the public and spread rumours of a rebellion against the Imperial Family.”
“And how, may I ask, are we going to find these ‘loyal’ servants except Bertha – who I would trust with my life. We are supposedly ‘loyal’ to the Imperial Family as we have sworn fealty to them and yet we are planning a rebellion against them.”