Slave Unbound

Changes at House Firebridge

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Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

Killing Trinka had affected Leita less than she had expected. Like with Maslo, she found herself able to rationalize that her own life had depended on the finality of the act. While it still alarmed her a little just how easily she was able to brush off the fact that she'd taken a life, she knew that to be for the best. She was a gladiator and death was an ever-present specter in the arena. She needed to be able to kill, when needed, without hesitation. And without lingering guilt.

The trick would be hanging on to some semblance of honor and ethics, not losing sight of the ability to grant mercy when it was warranted. Foes like Maslo and Trinka were not, themselves, merciful, so there was no dishonor is granting them none. That did not mean she would always go for the kill, she told herself, just that she need not carry a heavy burden when she did.

In the end, killing Trinka had not only protected her in that moment, but protected her in the more abstract way of ensuring that her greater enemy, the Baroness Wilholm, continued to believe that she was already dead. A protection not just to her, but to the House itself, as Leita was certain that the vindictive noblewoman would lash out at Sabrina and House Firebridge for 'embarrassing her', despite the mistake being her own.

However, while her killing of the assassin woman had brought little change in Leita, there had been a very distinct change in her owner afterwards. Sabrina seemed to have decided to put a degree of distance between them. Where Leita had graced her bed regularly before, she had not been called upon for such activities during the week since the death-match.

Leita wasn't sure if this was because of how easily she'd killed Trinka, proving just how dangerous she really could be, or because Sabrina had realized just how close she'd grown to someone who was her slave, not her friend. Either way, it was likely better for her to return back to being only a gladiator of the House, not 'Mistress's favorite pet', which was what many of the stable were starting to refer to her as. It would be a lie to say that a part of her hadn't missed the luxury of her time spent in her owner's arms, but she'd never lost sight of the fact that Sabrina was the woman who held her leash, not her heart.

However, Sabrina's decree that Leita was off-limits to anyone else did appear to still be in place. This had been recently evidenced by a guard 'reprimanding', with the hard butt of his polearm, a new acquisition to the stable for making lewd advances towards her. It had not been an overly harsh rebuke, but one the young man would remember. However, it also suggested that some part of her Mistress still wasn't done with her.

Ironically, the poor young man, and his battered libido, now found himself under Leita's tutelage, being the newest gladiator for the House. Standing before her with Genmar and Vickler, he looked more than a little nervous to be seen too close to her.

"Let's see if you can learn quicker than your successor, Harsen." She said to him, suppressing a grin at his skittishness. He'd seemed pretty confident the day before, loudly spouting vulgar claims of his intentions to drag her off into a corner and have his way with her. Today, still sporting a number of bruises from the guard, he seemed far humbler. Of course, she'd also heard more than few others telling him that he'd have faced much worse from Leita herself, had he actually tried to grab a hold of her.

Vickler and Genmar had amused looks on their face, the former standing proudly in a hard earned suit of padded practice armor, knowing what was coming. Both of them were still under her tutelage, learning well enough, but Yulni had continued to cling to his arrogance, refusing to acknowledge that he had anything to learn from her. If his repeated beatings at her hands hadn't been enough to motivate his two fellow trainees to take her seriously, his death at the hands of a lot, during his first fight for the House earlier in the week, certainly had.

"The object is to manage to land a hit on me, before I can put you on the ground." Leita said to him, hearing the snickers of the other two as Harsen gave the expected look of incredulity at the idea of this unarmed girl, a full foot shorter than him, producing an actual threat. "Manage to, at the very least, impress me and you can start wearing practice armor for this exercise." She gave a gesture to Vickler.

"You're gonna need it." Genmar said with a chuckle. Having yet to actually earn it himself, he would certainly know.

"Don't you need a weapon?" Came the predictable question from Harsen. He looked a bit disturbed by the open laughter that produced from the other two.

"Not so far." Leita sighed soberly, shooting them a look that took away a bit of their mirth.

She did have to give the young man some credit, it actually took her over a full minute to have him lying in the grass with several more bruises. Taking a seat on his back, she looked at her other two trainees. "Learn anything?"

"Don't overextend on a two-handed thrust." Vickler said.

"Don't suggest that you need a 'good dicking from a strong guy'?" Genmar offered, earning a fresh snicker from Vickler.

Leita scowled at him, but inwardly laughed. "And how do you know that I don't, Genmar? Just because I'm off limits doesn't mean I don't have needs." She looked down at the man she was sitting on. "Though I've not yet seen a 'strong guy' today, so I guess that's moot."

Harsen gave a little grown of humiliation.

"Fair warning, boys." Came Kalder's voice from behind her. "That's a trap. The Mistress is likely to turn you into a eunuch if she catches you even showing it to her."

Leita leaned back, looking at him. "Might help some of them concentrate better without it in the way." She quipped impishly. All the bravado and sarcasm felt strange on her tongue, even after days of effecting the act. However, putting on the persona seemed to be effective, even if she didn't think she would ever feel sincere playing the gruff instructor. Regardless, there was some fun to playing the role of the sadistic trainer, seeing the respect that it seemed to engender in these men. It also seemed to amuse Kalder watching her pretend to be him.

"Genmar is going to be fighting tomorrow." Kalder said, ignoring her little comment. "Make sure he's ready."

She raised an eyebrow at the giant rock-man. "Tomorrow is when they have the execution fights. Why is the Mistress putting someone as unprepared as him in one of those? I'd think she'd want to give something like that to Yulmier, establish his being hers now." She gestured off towards where the burly northman was effortlessly holding off two other gladiators sparring with him.

There was a brief pause, Kalder glancing from Leita to Genmar, then back to her. "Because it's what she wants. It's not your place to question your owner's decisions. Even if you are her favorite toy." There was harshness to his eyes, a look meant to say that it was a subject that needed to be dropped.

"I'll have him as ready as I can make him." She said, feeling as though this were something she definitely didn't want to just drop. However, Kalder was not who she intended to push for answers. Though some of the tension between them had eased in the months since she'd first arrived, they were still nowhere close to being friends or confidants. She knew the look he gave her and it meant that he would be as much the stone wall as he outwardly appeared on the subject.

Colja, on the other hand, wouldn't be as hard to get answers from. For now, she would put her attention to doing as she was asked, getting her trainee ready. She would pull the aljin aside when she had the chance to. Rising up off of Harsen, she helped him to his feet and had him and Vickler pair up to begin sparing.

She spent the next couple of hours focusing on Genmar, trying her best to teach him as much as she could. In her head, she continued to question though. Not just why Sabrina was putting Genmar into a fight that would likely be beyond his skill, but also why she was still in charge of his preparation. Despite her natural talent, even she didn't consider herself the same caliber of gladiator or teacher as Kalder and Colja. Shouldn't Genmar have been pulled to train with them today, not remain with her?

Perhaps, the criminal he was meant to fight and kill wasn't particularly dangerous. Someone deemed as acceptable of a challenge for him and able do much to increase Genmar's reputation. Surely, not every criminal up for execution required a highly skilled gladiator to be put down. There was much prestige to be had from winning these fights, but she also knew that the House had lost five gladiators to execution matches in the just the time she'd been there.

Had some of those also been greener gladiators that had been given a chance and failed? As she understood it, the Arena's part in the justice system, pitting criminals sentenced to die against gladiators, was one of the biggest draws for spectators. So, it made the most sense for only fighters who a House wanted to give glory to be put in such fights, didn't it?

The problem was, Genmar was not a member of the stable who was ready for any kind of glory. He was still struggling with some of the most basic combat skills. She had a terrible feeling that she was not going to like what Colja told her about why he was being put into the arena tomorrow.

When she eventually managed to catch the aljin's attention, she found herself to be correct. Colja had been extremely hesitant to answer the question, first trying to, more gently than Kalder, dissuade her from wanting to know. When it was obvious that she could not be deterred, he'd sighed, pulling her further away from others.

"Surely, aiest'ja, you have long realized that the arena and its Houses are far less focused on honor and glory than on profit." He began, seeming wary and uncertain. "Execution fights are the highest billed regular entertainment of the arena. Part of this is because the crowds do enjoy seeing justice being done, but it is much more because those fights tend to be bloodier and more brutal. And they always result in the taking of a life."

The aljin paused, considering his next words carefully. "The arena pays a House for every gladiator they put into the arena, as you know. The House receives that money regardless of outcome, but in the case of Execution Matches, the Prime Council also adds a 'purse' to be collected by the House who makes the kill. That purse increases if the condemned kills the gladiator set against them. It is meant as a growing incentive for Houses to continue to schedule their fighters against particularly dangerous criminals."

Leita could already see where this was going and felt a growing ball of ice forming in her guts. She knew how ruthless the arena itself could be, the Houses usually matching that and exceeding it. And she wasn't blind to the fact that Sabrina was foremost among those leading the pack in how callous a HouseMaster could be.

"For this reason, the Houses will often do something referred to as 'purse-padding', pitting gladiators earmarked for 'pruning' against condemned whose purse isn't particularly high." Colja's words, confirming her suspicion, hit her like a physical blow. The look on the aljin's face showed he felt just as much contempt for the idea as Leita did. "Of course, the arena also has to approve any match-up, so for something as higher profile as an Execution Match, the fighter being sent must have some degree of reputation already. Thus a House can't send just any poor wretch lacking talent to their doom, so it is usually those of middling talent that show little promise to grow further that are offered up. Should they manage to succeed, the purse is still won, so it is considered a 'no-lose' decision."

He looked towards where Genmar was still practicing, now sparring with Vickler. As they watched, Vickler landed an almost effortless hit, before just as effortlessly disarming his partner. "Genmar is a rare case of a poor gladiator that has already managed to garner a good following." Colja said mournfully. "Good enough to gain approval for the condemned he is intended to fight, as the arena's governors believe him to be more skilled than he really is."

Leita felt the ball of ice in her stomach turn to burning acid. "Because of me." She breathed, her gaze snapping to the aljin. "Because of my helping him look more talented when he fought me as a lot. That's what you're meaning, isn't it?"

He looked at her, meaningfully and full of pity. "That is correct. The Houses are not fooled by your little shows, the arena governors either, for that matter, but the crowds believe only what they are shown. And it is what they see that matters. To them, they see a gladiator they believe to be competent die at the hands of a convicted killer and they become more invested in seeing that condemned die. The arena profits from spectators returning to see the convict fight again. The Prime Council profits in support of their judgement of execution for that particular criminal. The Houses profit from an improved purse when the execution is completed."

She thought she'd helped lots like Genmar, granting them better chances of finding places in Houses where they could be trained and properly equipped. She accepted that they might still die in the arena, but on fair terms. Now, however, it felt more like tying men such as Genmar down as a sacrifice. "They gain wealth and support, but Genmar only gets an unmarked grave." Leita said lowly, wincing against her own stupidity.

"We all do, little girl." Kalder's voice growled behind her. "There isn't a one of us that is anything but expendable fodder for the entertainment of the unwashed masses and the profit of the powerful. If it wasn't Genmar, it would be one of the others the Mistress considers unprofitable in the stable. Just think of it as an unspoken incentive not to fall behind in your ability."

She turned to look at him, his face as grim as her own. "It doesn't change the fact that I am the reason he has the false reputation. I'm the reason—"

Kalder stepped forward sharply, his voice low, but still effectively cutting across her. "Don't oversell yourself, Leita! If not here, this way, Genmar was never going to have a long life in the arena. Killed as lot or killed to boost profit, he was doomed the moment he was sent to the Grand Arena. He was just a house slave, keeping up the family gardens, donated to the arena for a discount on this seasons taxes."

In an uncharacteristic show of empathy, he put a hand, large and strong, on her shoulder. "If anything, you are the reason he gets to die on his feet and fighting, instead of afraid on his knees. Don't you start blubbering like some child about useless guilt and how unfair the world is or I'll take away your only chance to keep people like Genmar from being just lambs to the butcher. You've managed to prove yourself tougher than anyone takes you for, up until now. Suck it up and accept that we are all here to die. When we do is not always up to us."

Leita glanced towards Colja, seeing the expression on the aljin's face supported Kalder's take on the subject. If she were honest, she knew they were right. About all of it. Genmar's lack of real future on the sands and how useless it was to linger on ideas of fault or fairness. Though she had little confidence in the possibility, she had spent over a week teaching the slave as much as she could. He was no warrior, but he was no longer just some frightened gardener either.

"If he isn't meant to win anyways, why bother to have me put any extra effort into training him today?" She asked, the thought coming to her as she looked back to the slave being knocked to the earth by Vickler.

Kalder followed her gaze. "For one, because he doesn't need to know he's a sacrifice. Let him think he might have a chance to win some glory. Let him die thinking he is a gladiator." He looked back to Leita. "For another, who knows? No one would have expected you'd manage to kill a seasoned fighter, as some cleaning girl. Maybe he'll get lucky, maybe something you teach him today will sink in."

Leita sighed. "Or, at the very least, maybe I can teach him something where, even if he loses, he might survive to learn from the loss."

Kalder clapped her on the shoulder. "Now you're getting it. If you're ever going to make Element, these are the kinds of things you're going to have to get used to, Leita."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You think I'm going to end up an Element now?"

Retracting his hand, expression going back to the sour expression he typically wore with her, Kalder coughed. "Whether I like it or not." With that, he turned and walked away, barking insults at some nearby sparring gladiators.

"He isn't wrong." Colja said as the rock-like man stalked off. "Both about needing to get past this and about you having a future as a leader in the stable. Even he can't pretend you don't have talent and strength."

Leita looked towards her doomed charge again, feeling a pang in her gut. She wasn't sure she'd be able to look the man fully in the eye again. "Then let me go prepare the man to die well. It's the best any of us can hope for here."

Halfway to Genmar, however, she was stopped by one of the House guards. "You have been summoned by the Mistress to her quarters." He told her in a tone that invited no argument. Though she hesitated a moment, looking past the armed sentry to Genmar, wanting just a little more time to prepare him, she nodded obedience and offered her wrists to him to be chained.

As they began making their way into and through the estate house, Leita began considering the conspicuous timing of this summons, certain that it wasn't accidental. The thought began to generate a growing sense of anger in her. In the end, it was Sabrina who was making the decision to throw Genmar's life away, discarding him like an unwanted garment that she didn't like the wear of.

Leita had no delusions that Sabrina was somehow above such things, knowing the woman well enough to recognize that she would have little moral conflict with knowingly ordering one of her slaves to their death. In a way, every time she put one of her gladiators in the arena, she was potentially sending them to die. However, that did little to stifle the feelings of resentment growing in her gut.

She wasn't sure how she would manage to keep those feelings tamped down, to face her owner with a mask of passive obedience. As they ascended the stairs to the upper floors, Leita tried to master her emotions, forcing herself to breathe deeply and calm herself. There would be no point in letting her upset feelings make her do something rash. Sabrina might allow her some liberties, in some ways, but that didn't mean she would be allowed to disrespect her Mistress or to question her choices as an owner of a gladiatorial House.

However, if she could maintain her composure, put aside her resentments, and bring forth a little bit of the girl she used to be, so effortlessly passive and demure, there might be a way to discuss the issue. If her Mistress was calling upon her, finally, to come and see to her carnal needs, pleasuring her would lead to the point where Sabrina let her defenses down and allow Leita to talk to her without pretense. She would still have to keep her feelings placid, approach the subject with respect, but maybe she could convince her to rethink the decision.