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would sweep the ludus, no doubt leaving behind just a wreckage and the lifeless bodies of slaves.

"You may not like it," Yalfrigg continued, "but this is the life of a slave. And if we're ever to be anything more than that, we need to perform this deadly dance."

"I've done enough dancing, dwarf," Alexander said, almost too tired to keep repeating the same thing over and over again.

"We all have," the dwarf said, in a sympathetic tone that quickly darkened. "But nobody gives a fuck. You will dance like the rest of us. Now rest. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

The dwarf stood up and whistled as he walked away. Before long, a few men caught up to him and he ordered them to put more wood in the fire and bring back the others so they could rest. The slaves obeyed their doctore, and soon enough the familiar faces of an orc, an elf, an elephantaur, and two vampires walked by Alexander and took their place around the fire. Each of them had their own sleeping bag, and the way they rested their bodies indicated a lot about the group's dynamics.

Their backs were turned to one another which could only mean there was trust between them. And they were all facing outward, their weapons at the ready. Solidarity between slaves was one thing, but trusting that nobody would kill you in your sleep for your equipment or some food, was an entirely different matter. Exhaustion, physical pain, and malnutrition made for a dangerous combination in the mortal psyche.

Alexander, now feeling a bit drowsy after the two flasks of painkiller and more confident about his safety, soon fell to sleep. Being in such close proximity to the nine hells had a unique effect even on sleeping.

Whereas any sleep in the hells would be festered with terrible nightmares unless protected by powerful magic, mortals sleeping in the ludus had completely dreamless nights. The life of a slave was one of no choices, no aspirations, and definitely no dreams, be they the ones they'd have awake or sleeping.

So was Alexander's sleep, or rather half of it, since he woke up with his bladder aching. The potion's side effects hadn't seemed too bad when he drank it but he quickly realized that now he could barely stop his body from soiling itself.

There was no toilet in the ludus per se, just a tree some distance away from most of the campfires so that at least that particular stink would not reach them. Alexander walked there swiftly, keeping his new swords ready at the sides of his leather belt, on the off chance that anything jumped at him from the darkness.

The moment he undid his pants and began relieving himself, there was a soft rustling above the tree. Alexander turned to look for the sound's source but all he could see was a dark humanoid figure standing on amid the thickest branches, completely absent of any features.

"So you are the berserker..." A male voice echoed inside Alexander's head--a voice he recognized. But he couldn't tell if it was because he knew the person talking to him or because his mind associated the voice with something familiar.

"Who's asking?" he replied, continuing with his business as if nothing could threaten him.

"Why does it matter?" the voice asked again. "Will you be more inclined to listen to what I have to say if you know my identity?"

"My inclination to listen to what you have to say is irrelevant, since you're talking in my head."

"True enough," the man replied. "Then I guess you don't have a choice in the matter."

Alexander finished his business, did up his pants, and crossed his arms in anticipation of what was to follow. This man had been waiting for him there, and the doctore had made sure Alexander would need a bathroom break in the middle of the night. All that was left to be decided now was what the man would have him do.

"I understand that you have no reason to trust me, especially without revealing my identity, but I hope you will see the wisdom in what I have to share with you."

"You mean what you're going to command me to do for you?" Alexander retorted. "Yalfrigg told me--"

"It would be best for all of us if you didn't deal in names," the voice interrupted. "And I do not want to order you to do something. That is the fate of slaves, and it is a fate we are trying to change."

"Why are you here then?"

"I want to talk to you about the people of this ludus."

"What about them?" Alexander asked.

"The slaves of this camp come from all walks of life. Granted, there are a few bad apples in here. Even some rotten ones. But by now you must have seen enough to know that no matter what sins a mortal has committed, this is too dire a fate to force them to endure."

"And I suppose you have a way out for all of us poor bastards?" Alexander asked.

"There is no way out of this place, berserker, and you know that. The only way is in, and it's through the dominus."

"You'd have us take him down?"

"Is that not what you want? To see him dead?"

"Like I said, what I want is irrelevant in a place like this."

"The slaves of this ludus, Alexander Rage," the voice continued, "are blades of steel. They are ready to cut and end lives. But the dominus is a beast. You know better than most that no matter how many they are, small blades will not cut him."

Alexander didn't offer a response but simply stared at the unmoving figure at the tree.

"All this steel needs to be heated." The man resumed talking in Alexander's head. "It needs to be melted and reforged into a single greatsword. One large enough to cut his head clean off his shoulders and smash the ludus to smithereens."

"You want the slaves united against him," Alexander offered. "That's the easiest thing in

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