Brigistopolis; more than a master

His eyes had followed the master, how he walked outside the king's room without a word. Jurgen turned around, not even greeting the king cause he knew he could get away with it. In the corridors it was already dark and torches softly glowed up golden in the dark. Hearing Vespasianus soft footsteps left from him, he turned that direction and caught up with his trainer. Vespasianus sensed the tall and muscular body of his gladiator and was happy the gladiator had understood his silent bid.

"Vespasianus, my master," the Murmillo begun after a while. Before the warrior could go on, the master raised his hand to silence him. "Jurgen, I've raised you as my best warrior. You are my best warrior at the moment. Tim is the champion, but he doesn't have the skills you have made your own. He will have them when he will be more experienced, but you, you are a born warrior," for the first time in the years he had known him, the old general looked tired. With all the fire the general had left in him, he trained his boys to adulthood. He once had lost a champion, he still thought about him almost every day. He could not bear the idea of losing the man he had enclosed in his heart when he was still a little boy.

"Vespasianus, I will defeat this abductor and free my bride. I will defend the name of our arena, of the gladiators you trained," he gave the old a man a reassuring hug. For a moment there was a small, warm smile on his lips when he looked down at the man, the only father he knew, the man who had replaced another man all but forgotten. Then he made a bow, deep and full of respect for the general who had raised him in the warrior he was now. The old Sharizian man wasn't sure Jurgen, even when he was his most skilled fighter, could beat the Fire Gladiator. Sadly he shook his head in the darkness, he was sure he would lose his beloved 'son'. But before he could say the last thing he wanted to say to him, Jurgen was gone.

Jurgen had lived in this arena all his life, he knew the secret passages outside. One of them led to a little pond in the middle of the woods. At this little pond where he had spend many time with the woman he loved, he sat down, remembering all words he had whispered to her, all dreams made. He took out his freshly sharpened sword and kissed the blade, promising his girl to take her back home to him. To where she belonged.

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