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The day had come; I was about to go into a gladiatorial fight, thraex vs. mirmillone. I stood in front of the large metal gate that would shortly be opened. My hands were trembling and the grip on my sica was strong. My galae was fitted comfortably on to my head yet I did not feel at all comfortable. My parmula was new, as my old one had been destroyed, it was very strong and durable unlike the last. I heard the lifting of the gates and my heart started to pound. I swallowed the lump in my throat and prepared a stance. The gate had lifted completely and I walked out into the arena, waving to the crowd and trying not to look as frightened as I was. I stopped as I reached the centre of the arena and observed my opponent, looking for his weak spot. A Thracian’s best tactic is to reach either over or around the shield to stab the opponent in the unprotected back with the sica. This was how I had to fight to win. The referee was ready and the crowd was silent...the battle had begun. My opponent made the first move, a swing to my chest; his gladius slammed against my parmula, creating sparks from the strong hit. I reacted quickly with a sudden swing at his head but he dodged it with ease, leaving me flying forward in a very vulnerable position. I felt a sudden stab of pain as he cut through a chunk of flesh on the back of my leg. I was dramatically unbalanced but I kept my confidence and spun around, reaching past his shield and ripping through his back. Blood was squirting in many directions, staining the ground a dark red. He stood there and watched me, unforgivingly. He dropped to his knees and as I was about to take him out he stuck his index finger in the air to signal his defeat. It was then up to the crowd to indicate whether they wanted him killed or spared. The people who wanted him spared kept their thumb pressed against their hand and those who wanted to see him killed waved their thumbs frantically in the air. The crowd acted as they usually did, they only wanted death. Only a few people in the crowd had voted for him to be spared. Although the crowd had made that choice the emperor and sponsor had the most influence on the decision. The sponsor leaned over toward the emperor and whispered into his ear. The emperor then made the decision… he was to be killed . The crowd roared as I stood in front of the kneeling gladiator, he was covered in blood and his helmet, shield and weapon were on the ground. A gladiator is told never to cry or flinch when facing death, if they did they would bring shame on their trainer and themselves. I lifted my sword and took a deep breath, clenched my teeth and brought my sword down across his neck, decapitating him and taking his life. I had won.
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