The three years that had followed our escape from the arena had been both profitable ones yet frustrating as well. We found other escaped men such as ourselves and we united together in a common purpose, which was to cause as much trouble as we could for our former captors and enjoy ourselves doing it. Our number swelled to well over eighty fighters and we became organized, as we took on bigger and bigger targets of interest.
We had informants entrenched throughout the Plains of Zoar, that we payed handsomely to keep us informed of everything going on. They told us where we should turn next for a profitable target, but it was an uneasy alliance.
All alliances founded on a system of monetary payment are by nature susceptible to an underhanded betrayal, if enough money is thrown into the mix. We were betrayed several times, but we always seemed to slip out of the traps that were set for us, largely because of me.
I followed my instincts and they had yet to lead me astray and in time the others came to trust my instincts as much as I did and I became the unofficial leader of the group. None of them wanted to challenge me to a fight either, which might have helped make up their minds as to who the leader of the group should be.
Under my leadership we had unbridled success in robbing and pillaging the Zoarinian Empire of its bounty and we succeeded in being a major thorn in their side. We had also become wealthy as kings on top of that. But after years of unmitigated successful revenge all I was left with was an empty hollow feeling inside, that made me feel as if I hadn't achieved anything of noteworthy value.
I wanted my life to have meaningfulness again! Fighting for my life in the arena and not turning into a soulless animal feeding upon my own kind had been meaningful and I had thought a life spent in reaping revenge on my former captors would be even more fulfilling. I had been wrong. In some ways it was as if I had become like them instead. Cold, heartless, out for only my own gain and amusement; were all character traits that befitted the people that had payed to watch me fight. I was becoming like the people I hated by following this path of endless revenge. As I had realized the graveness of my mistake the desire to find something worth devoting one's life to had been born.
Good deeds, at least nobler purposes, other than my current pursuits had seemed the best place to start in redefining the purpose of my life, hence the boy sleeping over by the fire. I wasn't at all sure that I had chosen the right path in the reformation of my character, but it was too late to go back now. I had accepted the responsibility of both the secret information that I carried in a waterproof satchel on the horse behind me, and the boy too.