Baersun was thirsty and sweating. Training below the scorching sun felt as if he had entered the fire pits of Loki in the underworld. It reminded him of the battles during the hot summers against the Roman empire, however, unlike home he wasn't covered in mud. The mud tended to keep him cool and while he was armed with nothing but a double-edged ax the Romans were at a serious disadvantage with their heavy armor. Their armor and shields offered them superior protection, but the metal burned on their skin and their profuse sweating in combat left them weakened after several hours of fighting the horde. Baersun had won more than one battle by wearing the enemy down until they could barely lift a sword or raise their shield.<br/><br/>During the winter their fighting tactics were just as unorthodox, wearing only furs at the coldest of days, but even then still preferring to fight naked. Their exercises kept them warm, and the biting cold was a strong motivator to kill the bloody Romans as quickly as possible, so they could return to their warms tents and houses, to wife and family.<br/><br/>Alas... That life was now over. Instead Baersun had to fight for a Lanista, while being nothing more but property. The fights to maintain his freedom were now a thing of the past. The struggle for survival against a superior enemy was over, and the day he entered Valhalla to join Woadan at his table, and see his wife and children again, couldn't come quickly enough.<br/><br/>the Doctore finally called for a break a good amount of time later, and ordered him and his fellow gladiators inside.<br/><br/>Baersun longed for cold refreshing wine, but he knew that he had to earn such a privilege. For now he would have to settle for water.<br/><br/><em>“At least the morning training sobered me up,”</em>Baersun thought, as he dropped the practice weapon at its designated place.<br/><br/>He inspected his ribs where Obix had hit him earlier. The bruised skin was already turning into an ugly purple, serving as a reminder that thoughts of wine could get him killed in the arena.<br/><br/><em>“Gah, it'll heal in a week... Sooner if I can acquire the right herbs and make an ointment. Father taught me well. I only wish he was here to teach me even more. I would have made a good druid once I'm too old to fight.”</em>The pang of sorrow at that thought hurt him more than the bruise.<br/><br/>The loss of his village, friends and family had been heavy on Baersun. It made his blood boil with rage. He wanted to kill every Roman in sight, but at the same time he realized he had to reserve his anger for the arena, or face heavy punishment, perhaps even dishonorable death. He had not survived this long to throw away his chances for entering Valhalla. No, for now he would retrain himself until he could take vengeance on his family in the arena once more, just like the last times.<br/><br/>As he was guided inside, the girl he had seen on the balcony drew his attention. She reminded him of a young version of his wife, even her face shared a certain resemblance.<br/><br/><em>“Curious,”</em>he thought, as he gave her a nod of acknowledgment.<br/><br/>He knew better than trying to strike up a conversation with all these people around them, but he wished they could spend time alone sometime soon.