Despite being blinded, I could feel the tension in the air after I had finally been freed. I knew by now that these people were not a trusting group, so I swallowed my pride and slowly moved my hands behind my back in submission, pausing only when I could hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed upon my movement.

“I’m glad to see you are still being cooperative.” One of the men spoke, his voice I recognised as the same one which had explained to me the ‘Gifts’ of this world earlier. Gloved hands lifted me to my feet and held me in place. I could feel a cold sensation on my neck, followed by a sharp click. My eyes widened in shock as I realised a collar had been place around my neck. I was beginning to regret my compliance.

The soldiers moved quietly as they positioned me in the middle of their group. A rope was tied around my wrists, binding them before I was shoved in the centre of my back causing me to stumble forward. I had watched this scene in movies before, but nothing could prepare me for the surreal fear that pierced my being as I was forced to move along with the soldiers out of the interrogation room.

I contemplated why they didn’t just put me to sleep like they had when moving me before and came to the conclusion that this was all theatrics to try and affirm to me their place as the ones in control. My assumption seemed to be confirmed by the fact that the moment I took a step even slightly in the wrong direction, the soldiers would roughly shove me back on track.

I tried to maintain some semblance of composure. We had been walking for what felt like several minutes. The sounds of activity around me combined with the smells of what I could only identify as more people led me to believe I was being paraded through a large encampment of sorts.

When the group finally stopped, I almost tripped. One of the soldiers leaned in close to my head and whispered harshly.

“This is far better than what you deserve, you fucking murderer.”

His words bounced around in my head, removing whatever pseudo-composure I had managed to build in my dire situation. A rough hand grabbed the top of my head, crushing my ears and causing me to involuntarily yelp like a dog whose tail was stepped on. The sack was pulled off of my head, momentarily blinding me from finally seeing light after so long in the darkness.

“So, this is her? You seriously expect me to believe this mongrel won’t just die on the first day?” A deep voice reverberated through the enclosed space we were in. My eyes started to focus, and I could make out two people, both behind a large, elevated desk, creating an imposing sight.

“That is correct, your grace. Her Curse allows her to heal herself so the usual upkeep should be significantly lower.” The person who spoke was a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, wrinkles on his brow from a perpetually stern expression excentuated his thick, grey eyebrows. Scars lined his face depicting a life of hardship and strife.

The other man towered above the rest of the room. A protruding gut caused his buttoned shirt to strain. He had a greasy face and unkempt hair. One could only assume he was a glutton with no shame over his indulgent habits.

“I see…” The giant trailed off in contemplation as I stood trying to piece together my fate based on their conversation thus far. The room shook as he moved from behind his desk. The soldiers who had led me to this room had either departed already or moved to make way for him. Each thud caused me to involuntarily flinch.

Once he had arrived in front of me, he reached his greasy hand up and grabbed at the collar around my neck, his sausage fingers pushing against my jaw.

“Do you know what this is?” He bellowed, pulling at the collar whilst addressing me. I did not want to upset him out of fear for what impossible strength his size may have provided him, so I tried to answer respectfully.

“It’s a collar… your grace?” I copied what the older man had called him despite how strange the words felt coming out of my mouth. I hadn’t realised I had done something wrong until his pudgy face scrunched in what I could only guess was fury.

A giant fist crashed into my stomach sending me to the floor, curled in a ball, retching. It had moved impossibly fast for a man of his stature.

“Don’t you dare speak with sarcasm in front of me, you filthy animal.” His tone was calm, the opposite of his expression just seconds ago. I lifted my head to face him with tears in my eyes – the pain from his punch amplified by my Curse. Even though I had tried not to irritate the man, my efforts were in vain as he interpreted my response in a way that suited what he said next.

“Your kind may have recently gained a little more leniency recently, but you are still just a small-time bandit who killed a soldier of his majesty the king. Do not act out of line.” He paused for a moment before regaining his train of thought. He waded over to my collapsed self, his already tall stature only excentuated by the fact I was on the floor. As he began to speak, he bent down over me and grabbed my collar yet again.

My body rose of the floor, my weight supported only by the metal ring around my neck. He lifted me with one arm at no evident strain to himself.

“That collar signifies you as property of the Aridian Colloseum. An establishment that I happen to own.” He seemed smug about the latter part. Meanwhile, my expression grew darker as it began to dawn upon me what my fate was going to be. He pulled me closer, his breath assaulting my nostrils as he spat his next words:

“You are going to please the crowd; I can feel it.”