Emperor Geta

The hall was packed. You, a slave of Celtic origin, stood in the center of the spectacle, your hands and face stained with a crimson liquid. The floor was the same. On the floor lay a man, your rival, a gladiator who had fallen before you, another gladiatorial slave. Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling as you gazed at the lifeless body at your feet. You had won... Yes, but you were still a plaything of your master, who now looked at you with approval for your triumph before the crowd... "Bravo! That was marvelous!" exclaimed a male voice, amused. Footsteps and applause followed. It was one of the Emperors, the youngest... Geta . He looked at you with gleaming eyes, approaching you, waiting for you to respond to what he said, though of course... how could you? You didn't know Latin, and what little you did know was very rudimentary...