The Lost Prince

Chapter 1: Eric

(Sorry for having a sucky prologue. This one will be better and longer, I promise)

Third person POV

     CLANG
     Eric lowers his shield after blocking a strike, immediately stepping forward and jabbing at his opponent's midsection. Sweat poured from under his helmet, which was a foreign feeling to Eric.
     Eric was dressed in full Roman armor. On his left arm was a steel shield, about as large as a car tire, and in his right hand was a golden gladius. He was in an arena like structure, which closely resembled a coliseum. The floor was stained red from all the blood that had been spilled, and the air was tense as their fight waged on.
     Standing before Eric was a teenager who seemed younger than him. He couldn't see much of the boy's features due to the helmet and armor, but the kid was big. Although Eric could see he was younger, the kid was a little bigger than he was. He was strong too. Usually, Eric dominates his opponents, but this one was different. He was skilled, but not in the way Eric was. His fighting style was much different than Eric's, who kept having to adjust to keep from being struck down as he learned the boy's moves.
     Eric examines the boy's sword. It was a strange sword, unlike what he had ever seen before. It was a strange type of bronze, and it was shaped differently than his golden gladius. Not only that, but it was longer. Eric grinned, formulating a plan.
     He shield bashes the boy, staggering him. He then takes his opportunity to get closer. The boy has no choice but to fall back, but Eric keeps pressing. Finally, as the boy nears the back wall, Eric knocks his sword to the side and kicks him in the chest, sending him into the wall and falling to the ground. He then looks to the other side of the room.
     Standing there was a man, encased in shadows. Eric had never seen this man before, and nor did he want to. Much like the Roman gladiators in ancient Rome, a man would give the signal if someone lives or dies in the arena. This particular man before Eric, loves seeing death. His hand comes out of the shadows and into the light, turning to a thumbs down, giving the kill order.
     Eric hated killing people. He never wanted to, but he learned his lesson quick. When he won the first battle and was given the order to kill, Eric refused. As soon as his sword hit the dirt and he let out a shaky "No", a blunt force hit him in the back of the knees, forcing him down before being hit in the back of the head. As he fell forward, losing consciousness, he watched a spear be plunged into his opponent.
    What followed was torture. Eric had been through countless tortures before and not once broken but these guys? They knew exactly how to break someone. Even the mightiest warriors would beg for mercy. After the first hour, Eric was screaming for help and begging for death.
     He shook off the memories with a shudder. He didn't want that to happen again. Eric looked upon his fallen enemy and murmurs a small prayer to the gods for the boy before lifting his sword and plunging it into his chest, wincing as the sound of tearing flesh and gurgling blood filled his ears.
     From across the room, the man clapped. "Well done, Eric. You are becoming a fine warrior, if I do say so myself"
     Eric kept his mouth shut. More like killer, he thought to himself.
     "You might end up being more resourceful to me than I had originally anticipated, my boy. Perhaps, I might end up assigning you a different task instead of just my entertainment" he chuckles.
     Eric growls slightly. "Like what, murder more people? Do your dirty work for you?"
     Although Eric didn't turn to see the man, although the darkness would of prevented that anyways, he could hear the coy smile on his lips, each word dripping venom. "Precisely. You're a skilled young man. You could probably do the job better than most of the brutes I currently have employed. And, if you do a good enough job, I might rethink releasing you from my... establishment."
     Eric grit his teeth. He had been imprisoned his entire life, bouncing between one owner to the other. He was a slave, but instead of having to work, he killed for entertainment. Freedom was exactly what he had been longing for, but what exactly would he be giving to achieve it?
    From the other side of the room, the door opened and guards came though, disarming Eric and putting him back in chains before removing his armor. His blond hair was drenched with sweat and his eyes were angry, and sad. As the guards dragged Eric to the door effortlessly, the man's voiced called to him again. "Consider it, my friend. Opportunities like this don't arise often."