Olympia: The Reed and the Flame
The boy sat in the dirt of the training yard, blood trickling from his split lip. His fingers traced the edge of a practice sword, its wooden blade splintered where it had connected with his opponent's shield. The Deathmatch Arena loomed above, casting long shadows across the yard as the sun began its descent. Other recruits moved around him, some nursing wounds, others celebrating victories, all of them ignoring the skinny youth who'd been thrown into their midst only a week ago. He stood slowly, brushing dust from his hands and wiping blood on his tunic, red stains disappearing into faded brown fabric. Wind whispered through the columns, carrying the distant roar of the crowd. "You're still breathing. Not bad," said Marius, the training master. His frame was imposing against the stone walls, made larger by the leather armor that covered his scarred torso. The whip at his belt swayed as he approached. "Yes," the boy said, hi...