Last Man Standing

Chapter 20: Let's Get Started

After our Dominus and his wife departed from the balcony to move on with their day, the scruffy man gathered his training gladiators back into their lines to begin the morning exercises. No one spoke of Romulus, but I could tell that everyone was shaken by it.

Our Doctore briefly outlined the daily training schedule for the new recruits.

Wake up at sunup.

Breakfast.

Workout from 7am until 9am.

Hand to hand combat until noon.

Lunch.

Weapons training until 6pm.

Two hours to train in whatever way we saw fit.

Dinner.

Lights out at 9pm.

The only things that could possibly interrupt this ritualistic schedule would be an audience with the master or his wife, a challenge request, or a tournament at the coliseum. Even when the scruffy man was away from the training grounds to find new recruits, the gladiators continued their training exercises under the supervision of Quintus, who was our Doctore's right hand man.

As for training attire, I was lucky enough to convince our Doctore to allow me to keep my shirt on out of necessity. The typical attire for a training gladiator was nothing more than a wrap or leather skirt tied around the waist. It was usually too hot to wear anything on the chest, but I had no choice: I had to cover my bandages that were currently holding down my cleavage, so I made it seem like I needed my shirt as an extra layer to protect my wounds from infection. The scruffy man shook his head in annoyance when I told him, but he agreed to it.

After my endless night, my lack of sleep and missed breakfast, I was anything but prepared for three hours of weight training, running and stretching. Everyone laughed when I stumbled over my own feet as we did laps around the yard, and then scoffed at my inability to lift anything heavier than twenty pounds for an extended period of time. I was embarrassed; the reputation that I had briefly obtained from defeating Pontius was already fading.

I was just as bad at hand to hand combat. Even though I was partnered with Bash, the scruffy man made sure that he didn't go easy on me. I was able to pick up on some of the defensive positions, but my strikes were weak. The scruffy man made no effort to cover it up; he wasn't about to do me any favours.

By lunch, I was just about ready to collapse.

Bash grabbed us each a bowl of stew and brought it over to the bench by the scruffy man's chamber. I was sprawled across it trying to catch my breath. I shot up at the sight of food, grabbing the bowl out of Bash's hand to scarf it down as fast as my body was able.

Bash sat down beside me. "This more work than expected..."

I huffed, "You're telling me!"

"You no come to cages last night?"

"Our Doctore has me carving wooden weapons each night as punishment."

"What for?"

"Everything..."

I took another bite of my stew, not caring how tasteless and chunky it was; anything was appetizing at this point.

"Is your friend well?"

"I haven't seen him since last night."

He stood up to move towards the scruffy man's door. "Let's see him now-"

I grabbed him by the arm and quickly pulled him back beside me. "No, we can't. No one is allowed to enter the Doctore's chamber. It would look suspicious if we broke the rule in front of all these people. I'll have to check on Evander at nightfall."