“Ancolmorida means possible, and Dorvazhadian means fearless,” Todd muttered as he lay on the haystack in his cell, reciting the Northland language that Rachel had taught him.
A gladiator passed by the cell door, his eyes glancing in other directions, his legs moving like the wind, without pausing for a moment.
Todd glanced at the door before turning his attention back to it.
The biggest change that defeating the Skinner brought him was that everyone in the arena looked at him with fear.
Thinking of tomorrow's battle, Todd coldly sneered as he crushed the stone in his hand into powder.
It's truly a shame that those reckless fools could come up with such a terrible idea as ten against one.
Todd sat up, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Winning tomorrow's duel wouldn't be difficult, but concealing his true strength was the real headache.
Just as he was considering the intensity of his performance and his stage movements, a series of light footsteps came from outside the corridor, catching his attention.
These footsteps do not belong to a guard, nor do they resemble those of a soldier.
An arena staff member respectfully led a man in black to the cell door.
Todd frowned as he looked at the two people in the doorway, waiting for their next move.
The man in black pointed to the iron lock on the door and said something in a northern dialect to the staff.
To To Todd's surprise, it was a clear and melodious female voice that rang out.
The clerk shook his head frantically and muttered something in a low voice in protest.
The woman in black pounded on the cell door and repeated her words to the other person, only this time her voice was three fen louder.
The latter was so frightened that he quickly made a shushing gesture, and after looking around to make sure no one was there, he took out a key from his pocket and opened the cell door.
As the woman in black entered the cell and stood in front of him, Todd, who couldn't understand the Northern language and didn't know her identity, simply put on a stern face and adopted an indifferent expression.
The newcomer lifted his hood, revealing his true face.
Todd was startled and secretly praised her: What a beautiful woman.
It's hard to imagine that such a beautiful woman could exist in the harsh, cold north. Her features were like an oil painting, flawless, and her skin was like milk, delicate yet radiant.
The woman looked into Todd's eyes and said something urgently.
Completely bewildered, Todd remained silent, his expression as cold as ice.
The woman grasped the other's hand, tears welling in her eyes, her voice choked with sobs.
Todd's heart skipped a beat, and he wanted to break free from the other's grasp. But he knew that if he showed even the slightest inappropriate emotion at this moment, all his previous efforts would be in vain. The only way to get by was to feign indifference.
After talking for a while, the woman realized that the other person was completely unmoved, and tears streamed down her face as if a dam had been broken.
The voice gradually faded, and the woman tiptoed, gently kissed Todd's cheek, lowered her hood, and left the cell.
And so, Todd watched her come quietly, and watched her leave in silence. All that remained, besides the sweet scent in the air and the faint warmth on his cheek, was the person involved's deep doubt and utter bewilderment.
Watching gladiatorial combats was as important to the Ulsters as eating and sleeping.
These subjects of the northern kingdom, though claiming to be different from the tribes of the south, still had barbaric and warlike blood flowing in their veins.
Throughout the kingdom, people of all ages and genders have their favorite gladiators. Some famous warriors even have their own dedicated cheering squads and followers.
So when the news of the Skinner's defeat spread like a spring breeze across the riverbanks to every corner of the Kingdom of Ulster, people talked about the spectacular gladiatorial contest that day, exaggerating their praises and letting everyone see a rising star in gladiatorial combat.
However, this good fortune did not last long.
When Todd’s second gladiatorial notice was posted, any Ulster with a modicum of sense was filled with anger and shock.
Putting a gladiator against ten opponents is not a gladiator fight, it's murder!
Clever people quickly began to speculate about the king's role in the matter, and some approached the kingdom's nobles, hoping to put pressure on the royal family to curb this unjust gladiatorial arrangement.
But in reality, the King of Ulster was completely wrong about this; the idea of one against ten had nothing to do with him. On the contrary, Conchubert was very satisfied with Todd's performance in the first battle, even showing a hint of admiration.
Although the king wanted this traitor to pay with his life, he certainly wouldn't do it in such a foolish way.
Therefore, when the king saw the announcement of the second gladiatorial contest, his first reaction was disbelief, followed by a fit of rage.
Executing a traitor in public is a perfectly respectable act, but using a gang attack to strangle a warrior is a despicable method that completely violates the traditions of the Northern Kingdom. Moreover, it also damages the king's reputation to some extent.
However, what's done is done.
The gladiatorial notice has already been posted, and it's unrealistic to take it down now.
Given the growing protests within the kingdom, Conchubert ordered his trusted minister, Vulgar, to take a set of fine armor and a sword crafted by a master craftsman to the Red Circle Colosseum. He delivered the armor to Boyle and told him in person that if he could win the fight, his sentence would be reduced from death to enslavement.
In the Kingdom of Ulster, the severity of punishment varied according to the crime. The death penalty was the most serious, followed by slavery, then exile, then forced labor, and other punishments such as imprisonment in chains, whipping, and binding.
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