Barbarian Quest

Chapter 9

The Horus gladiators arrived at the city. The promoters roamed the city’s taverns to spread the word of a gladiatorial tournament. The sound of bloody entertainment quickly caught the attention of many people in the city.

Horus made an arrangement with another gladiator squad for a fight, and the rest of the scheduling was completed smoothly.

The gladiators, including Urich, were given some personal time. Urich was a bit short on money, so he took an advance of five hundred thousand cils from Horus so he could explore the city and see all the new sights.

‘This gladiator thing makes decent money.’

Urich watched the city bustle with the news of their arrival. Everywhere he went, he heard people talking about their tournament.

“What is this long, dark thing? It looks like a dick.”

The sausages at the street stalls caught Urich’s attention. The perfectly grilled and colored sausages smelled delicious.

“This is stir-fried pork intestines and meat. Would you like one? It’s only three thousand cils.”

“Ugh, that’s expensive,” Urich grumbled, but he bought one regardless and took a bite. His mouth was soon filled with the savory juice of the sausage.

“Delicious, so delicious. This is really good!” Urich exclaimed in awe with each bite. The cuisine in this city had a strong taste thanks to their heavy use of salt and other spices. The variety of cooking methods was also incomparable to what Urich had seen in his tribe.

“Damn, aren’t I glad I climbed over the mountains,” Urich said in his own language. As he wandered the streets, he was drawn to a familiar sound and smell.

Ting! Ting!

A blacksmith’s forge was busy with their hammering.

‘A blacksmith.’

Urich entered the forge. He nodded to the smiths as a greeting.

‘Blacksmiths are men worthy of my respect.’

These men were responsible for forging the lifeblood weapons of warriors. One good smith was worth dozens of warriors.

“Welcome,” the apprentice blacksmith said to Urich. His face was red from being scorched by the hot furnace all day long.

“Is that all the weapon you have?” Urich asked the apprentice as he looked at the weapons that were displayed on the shopfront. They didn’t seem to have the axes that Urich preferred.

“We can make you anything you want. Master, you have a new customer here!”

A middle-aged man walked out from inside the forge. He had a strong stench of sweat as if he had just been hammering away at the metal.

“Is there anything you want in particular?” The master asked Urich.

“I’m looking for a pair of axes.”

“Hmm, we have all sorts of axes on display here. You must be looking for something special?”

“Well, the ones over there are too heavy and I don’t like their weight distribution.”

“Ahh, you’re looking for something you can throw! That’s odd, not a lot of people ask for something like that,” the master smith said as he scratched his head at the unusual request. Urich described his ideal axes with hand gestures.

He described an axe that could carry a lot of momentum when thrown. This was Urich’s favorite weapon because of how great it felt in his hands and its ability to create unexpected variables in battles.

“Something like this. Can you do it?” Urich went through the motion of throwing his imaginary axe. There was no better axe thrower than Urich. He could pick a target and choose exactly where he wanted the blade and hilt to strike it.

“It’s a very complex order, but making it is no problem to me. What about the money?”

“I’ll pay you three hundred thousand cils in advance and the rest after I get the axes.”

“And one million after I’m done.”

Urich wasn’t sure if what the smith was asking for was a fair price. He scratched his head in hesitation for a bit but soon nodded in agreement.

“Very well, this is going to take me around three days, so come back for them around then.”

“Oh right, can you also sharpen this thing for me? It’s getting pretty dull,” Urich said as he pulled out Fordgal’s sword. He had been using it since the day he fought Fordgal in the mountains.

‘This is a good sword.’

Even Urich, who had never preferred swords, took a liking to this one.

“This is...” The master smith’s eyes lit up as Urich handed him the sword.

“Hey, I like that sword so be careful with it,” Urich sternly warned the smith.

“This sword was forged with imperial steel. The small engraving on the blade... It’s the marking of the Hiern forge. You have something special here.”

“Imperial steel?”

“It’s a type of metal that only the Empire royalties have access to—they have the monopoly. Its quality is far superior to any other ordinary metal, hence the name steel. Only a handful of forges authorized by the Emperor can use imperial steel to forge their weapons. These weapons are usually reserved for the Imperial knights, with a few occasionally making their way into the hands of civilians, but they are very hard to come across.”

Urich briefly closed his eyes to picture what he remembered of Fordgal, the warrior in strange armor.

‘He must’ve been one of those Imperial knights.’

Since his arrival, Urich had gotten a vague idea of how this side of the world worked. The world beyond the Sky Mountains was dominated by a powerful nation called the Empire.

“The imperial steel is stronger and sturdier so it can withstand much greater forces than the regular metal we often use. I didn’t think I’d get to see a weapon forged with it. What a day for my eyes,” the master smith remarked in admiration.

“So, you’re saying it’s a really good sword, right? Haha!” The smith’s comments only made Urich happier.

“You’ll never be out weaponed with this sword, that’s for sure. I have an idea of how you got your hands on it but that’s none of my business... One advice for you, a lot of people will try to come after this sword if they recognize its value,” the smith said to Urich as he honed the sword.

“Oh? How much is this thing worth?”

“I don’t know exactly, but at least twenty million cils? If you’re looking for a buyer, I’ll give you some extra on top of that as well.”

The master smith was being honest. Just seeing and holding a sword made of the rare imperial steel was enough to make him happy.

“It’s not for sale. I was just wondering,” Urich replied, unable to contain his grin.

‘Everyone’s going to die of envy when I return to the village with this sword.’

Urich took the finished sword. The well-oiled blade was shinier than ever.

“It’s on the house. In fact, I should be paying you for showing me such a fine sword.”

“I like you, master blacksmith man. Swing by the gladiator tournament later. I’ll be fighting.”

“You’re a gladiator? I wish you the best of luck.”

The blacksmith nodded in respect. Urich did the same in return and left the forge.

* * *

“All I get is eight hundred thousand cils for fighting for my life? That is so stingy.”

“If we all got paid for risking our lives, everyone and their dogs would be filthy rich. Hah!”

Horus sneered at Urich’s complaint. The arena was becoming a frenzy of bloodthirsty people waiting for the next fights to begin.

“Where’s your armor and shield?” The armory keeper asked Urich. In the corner, there were old armor and shields available to use for gladiators who didn’t have their personal armory. A few of them were trying on the ragged armor to find the ones that fit them best.

“Hah, wearing that heavy clobber only slows me down,” Urich answered as he cleaned his blade. He was sitting alone, away from the rest of the gladiators. They ignored Urich as if he didn’t exist.

Donovan, the man with whom Urich had clashed, was a veteran gladiator with great influence over many other gladiators within the Horus squad. No gladiator was willing to befriend a rookie who had gotten himself on Donovan’s bad side.

“You should at least wear a chest plate and a helmet, young man,” a slave gladiator who had just been released from his shackles said to Urich. His hair and beard were unkempt—showing the obvious lack of care—but his eyes were serene. He carried a large, two-handed battle axe.

“You must be the old man they paired me up with. Was it Sven?”

Urich sat down next to Sven. Sven was a slave gladiator who had been paired with Urich to compete in the tournament. Slave gladiators and free gladiators were seldom paired, but not a single free gladiator volunteered to become Urich’s partner.

“You have a fine sword.” Sven showed an interest in Urich’s sword.

“I was told it was forged with imperial steel. Look, you like it?” Urich said to Sven as he swung his sword around. A metallic sound cut through the air.

“Imperial steel? Is that true?”

Sven’s surprised words caught the attention of the other gladiators who were checking their weapons. They all looked up at Urich’s sword, even though they had no way of telling it apart from their regular swords.

“I’ve slashed it a few times, and it’s definitely different from the average sword. The blade stays sharp, even after cutting through people.”

“If that sword is really made from imperial steel...” The gladiators swallowed in jealousy. All of them had heard about the famous Imperial steel. Any warrior would kill to get their hands on a weapon forged with it.

“No way that’s an imperial steel sword. You were probably scammed by an idiot scammer. You think just anybody can carry something like that around?” Donovan mocked Urich as he tightened the straps on his leather armor.

‘No way a barbarian like him has a sword made of imperial steel. What a joke that would be.’

‘Hah, Donovan’s probably right. No way.’

The other gladiators all seemed to agree with Donovan’s words.

“That’s enough chit-chat, go out there and fight! Go make some money, like a gladiator!” Horus entered the preparation room and exclaimed to his gladiators. The gladiators simultaneously released a battle cry as they all raised their weapons.

The paired Urich and Sven stood in the doorway moving their limbs around to warm up along with the other gladiators.

“Where are you from? You don’t seem like you were born and raised within the Empire borders,” Sven asked quietly.

“You would freak out if I told you where I’m from.”

“You look like you’ve seen a fair share of fights, but don’t let your guard down.”

Creak—

The arena gates opened as the pulleys moved. The pair of gladiators slowly stepped into the sandy arena ground.

Waaaaah!

The scream of the crowd was deafening. They had already been riled up to the point of no return by the blood spilled in the last match.

“People of the Empire don’t get to see the wars with their own eyes. That’s why they go so crazy over these gladiatorial tournaments,” Sven murmured as he stared ahead. Their opposing pair had also entered the arena.

“Gramps, you take the one on the right.”

“I’m not old enough to have someone call me ‘gramps’ just yet.”

“Eh? Then trim your beard or something. What, you’re gonna take it with you when your head gets chopped off?” Urich cackled and swung his sword in a circle. Their opponents were a pair of gladiators with swords and shields.

“You came out here with just a sword? Cocky,” The gladiator said to Urich as he faced him. The battle naturally began as a one-on-one. The first gladiator to kill his opponent and help his partner would have a much better advantage in making it out of the arena alive.

“Hmm.” Urich ignored his opponent’s words and scanned him from his head to toe. He was wearing leather armor and carried a circular shield that covered half his body.

‘His defense is solid.’

Urich lightly hopped in place. His body bounced as his elastic muscles moved in harmony. His muscles were supreme in both flexibility and strength.

Step.

Urich rushed forward. The gladiator firmly raised his shield against him.

“Hmph!”

Urich leaped into the air and surpassed the height of the gladiator, easily jumping over his sword.

Shunk!

The airborne Urich stabbed the gladiator in between his collarbones. The sharp blade sliced through his lungs and pierced his heart in an instant.

“U-ugh.”

The gladiator collapsed as his blood poured out of his body.

“See, this is why you shouldn’t wear those heavy armors; they just slow you down. Your reaction was slow. So slow!” Urich said to his fallen opponent as he wiped his blood off the blade. The fight ended in a single blow, but the crowd erupted, going crazy over Urich.

“D-did you see that? His jump was higher than the other guy’s height!”

“Did they find this guy from a circus?”

Urich’s moves were flamboyant. No other gladiator in the tournament would even dare to emulate his athleticism.

“Hey, gramps, need some help?” Urich called out, looking at Sven who was in the middle of his fight. The other gladiator started to rush his attacks in fear of the imminent two-on-one battle.

“Hahahaha!” Sven laughed out loud as he puffed out his chest as if he were asking his opponent to stab him right in his heart. He seemed defenseless.

The gladiator aimed for Sven’s chest with his dagger. He figured that no matter how quick Sven was with his double-handed battle axe, it wouldn’t be as agile as his dagger.

‘Sounds about right.’

Urich was certain the next blow would decide the result of the exchange.

Crush!

The other gladiator had made a sound judgment, but Sven’s axe was out of the ordinary. It was much faster than the gladiator’s dagger. The heavy axe blade sliced through the helmet and the head inside it altogether. Sven lifted his blood and brain matter-covered axe to show to the ecstatic crowd.

Waaaaaaah!

The roar of the crowd raised the hair on Urich’s arms.

“I don’t think I need your help just yet, my little friend,” Sven said as he pushed past Urich. Urich let out a weak chuckle.

“Oh, so it’s ‘little friend’ now? I thought I was ‘young man.’ I’m definitely old enough to not be called either of those, old man!”

“Hah, that kind of bluffing only works on people around here. You look like you’re seventeen? Eighteen, at most. My son would be around your age—if he was still alive.”

Sven was spot on. Urich was only sixteen. Sven was a barbarian from the north. His eyes, unlike the people from the Empire, were able to see exactly how old Urich was.

“Anyway, I live to see another day. I suppose my time to head to the Field of Swords is still a long way off,” Sven snickered as he slung his axe across his back. He did not look or sound like a typical slave gladiator.

‘He has guts and the skills.’

Sven’s finishing move was ingrained into Urich’s memory. He opened his chest to draw in the opponent’s attack, then, with an even faster swing, he landed his blow straight down his opponent’s skull. This was only possible because he was absolutely certain that his double-handed battle axe could move quicker than the gladiator’s dagger.

‘A bold fighter like him is living as a slave?’

Urich spat on the ground as he walked back to the preparation room. The other gladiators murmured among themselves as they watched Urich enter the room.

‘He’s not an ordinary gladiator.’

‘No one jumps that high, not even without any armor weighing them down.’