This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #895 - Spectators
It's set in my homebrew D&D world - enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
The arena was set against the snowy backdrop of the Zalavan Mountains, but it's architecture was solidly that of the Danislavan conquerors. The place was packed to capacity, the crowd bundled up in furs and woollen cloaks against the cold.
Standing on his podium, the Master of Ceremonies waves his ivory and golden rod for silence. Once the hum of chatter from the crowd had stilled a little, he announced the theme for the day.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Zalava, dignified patricians of Danislav, welcome to the two hundred and first Zalavan Games ! Tonight I give you a spectacle from history, a battle where there was no good side. I give you The Battle of Reldar, from the time before Danislav became a republic ! See the merciless armoured cavalry of Duke Tebidas the Oppressor battle against the brute savage barbarians of the Semilar Plains in a fight to the death !"
Meanwhile, as the crowd cheered the forthcoming bloodshed, the patricians in the VIP box lounged comfortably, a wall of braziers behind them, hanging cloths and underfloor heating making the temperature very pleasant.
One purple-robed man, middle aged and plump, turned to an aquiline colleague next to him dressed in similar robes. "Aren't those your chaps escorting the combatants in, Velus ?"
The slender, almost stringy, man peered through a pair of glasses theatrically before answering. "Why yes, yes they are. Men of the 25th 'Joyous Vengeance' Cohort, my very own soldiers. They picked up some genuine live barbarians for the occasion."
They were escorting a clearly dispirited crowd of fur clad so-called barbarians into the arena. The gladiators were unarmed, and other soldiers were setting up barrels of weapons for them to rush to grab when the fighting started.
At the other end of the arena, small groups of mounted gladiators were cantering back and forth, dressed in the anachronistic style of noble armoured cavalry from several hundred years previously. Everyone knew these fellows were slaves, promised freedom if they survived.
Velus watched the spectacle as it started to unfold, taking a glass of honeyed wine from a servant standing at his elbow.
"You know, Markuz," he said to his chubby friend, "I do believe the locals in that section of the area aren't cheering with enough enthusiasm."
"You're right, that will never do ! What do you suggest ?"
With an imperious wave if his hand, Velus waved over the Master of Ceremonies.
As the man arrived, he told him, "Those people over there, they are nowhere near enthusiastic enough. Perhaps they are not interested in your production. They need something to get them interested. Very personally interested."
The Master of Ceremonies bowed and returned to his podium. Waving his rod once more, he made another announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have an added attraction for the battle ! For failing to cheer loudly enough, the spectators in Blocks B and C will join the spectacle, taking the role of defenceless civilian victims of the marauding barbarians. Guards, take them and place then in the centre of the arena, right between the two battling sides !"
Sometimes, being a spectator is only one step from being a participant......
