Situated in the center of Rome stood the miraculous Colosseum, Emperor Sebastian Monroe's favorite place due to the event taking place this very day: the gladiator games.
He could feel the excitement upon arriving as women flocked to him, throwing themselves near his feet and young children shouted with joy.
Taking his seat on the throne in the Imperial Box, he scanned the arena, taking in all of the faces before him.
Some who looked anxious, scared, nervous; some who looked excited, lively, energetic; and a select handful of them who looked disgusted. They couldn't have been too disgusted because alas, here they were, of their own free will partaking in what Emperor Monroe considered to be the greatest display of fighting there was. Not even in battle could one be this theatrical, though death was the risk for both.
Golden leaf crown surrounding his head, holding his dirty golden curls at bay, shimmered in the sunlight as he sat on the edge of his throne and waved to the people, evoking a rowdy cheer from them.
He waved as long as he could until the deep purple cloak fastened at the shoulder with a golden fibula, a clasp, became too hot. It didn't help the elaborately draped toga clung tighter to his body than the usual one, causing his body to produce more moisture.
Shielding himself from the sun, he leaned back in his chair, waiting for it to begin.
While he was never a fan of the procession part, he did enjoy looking his subjects' faces as they watched in pleasure.
He was just waiting for the gladiators to enter after having been told all about the impressive skills in this particular batch. Common to place bets on certain gladiators, he never partook in such acts, but if he were to do so, it would be on the one they called Achilles.
On the opposite side of the class rank, Charlie sat nervously fidgeting with her hands upon her lap, picking at the forming calluses until blood started to trickle down.
She had no idea why she was here, well, she knew why she was here, but facts didn't make it real.
Though it was not uncommon for wealthy Roman women to fight in the arena as female gladiators, it was however against the law for them to compete against male gladiators. Female gladiators were only brought in occasionally to give the crowd a different sort of entertainment offering a less bloody and vicious battle, while still enjoyable.
Fear of being caught motivated Charlie to conceal her identity as best as she could, winding her long luxurious locks up and securing them underneath the armored helmet perched on her head.
She made sure to be the armored one during the battle, while her opponent would have only minimal armor, which meant they were able to move more freely. Charlie would've rather fought in less constricting material, but her identity trumped comfort.
She could feel the straw from the subarmallis, extra layer of padding underneath the armor intended to prevent chaffing and rubbing, poking at her skin in some areas.
Around her waist a balteus hung low on her hips, holding a sword on her left side making it easily accessible by her dominant right hand.
On her left arm she carried her lightweight parmula made of metal and beautifully crafted by some of the people in her town. Originally supposed to be for decorative, Charlie figured shielding herself was more important than filling the house with useless trinkets, they had quite enough of those already.
Even through the thick breastplate on her chest she could feel the rhythmic beating of her head, thumping so loudly, she was sure everyone could hear it. Peering through the eyeholes of her kalkriese, the armor worn typically to protect the face and in Charlie's circumstance to conceal her gender, she glanced at the other forlorn faces around her. Apparently no one else could hear the incessant drumming of her heart.
Glancing off in between iron slats of the door below the Colosseum entry, Charlie attempted to control her breathing, inhaling slow and calming breaths. The processions outside, setting the scene for the games, filled with chanting and excitement from the people of the arena made that a difficult task.
These processions began with a religious ceremony and almost always ended with a sacrifice, a barbaric notion Charlie was not fond of.
This who thing was barbaric if you asked Charlie, but what the Emperor wanted, the Emperor got, and unfortunately for them they had a sadistic Emperor who reveled in the thrill of the fight…Emperor Sebastian Monroe.
Although Charlie never saw the man before for herself, she heard many stories about them, none of them attesting to the good nature of his character, which led her to believe he had no goodness in him.
The underground tunnel, leading to the Gate of Life was where Charlie was currently being detained until the end of the parade and the gladiators would join, making their entry into the arena.
She had never witnessed a parade before, but again, she was told of all the magnificent creatures on display for everyone to marvel at as acrobats and dancers paraded around in whimsical costumes, throwing flaming batons in the air as though this were a jovial event.
And for many, it was a buoyant experience because they weren't the ones having to participate, unwillingly at that. Only a select handful of people volunteered of their own free will. Everyone else, the oldest male of the house, was made to compete, and that's how Charlie ended up in the predicament she was in now.
The oldest male in her household would've meant her younger brother Danny, their father died in battle when they were both small, but Charlie wouldn't allow that. At the age of 15, Charlie deemed that too young to go off and die, especially since he had little training and was very sick.
Rousing her out of her mind, she was shoved forcefully, alerting her of the opening door. It was time to make their lap around the arena.
When she got outside, sunlight warmed her face, causing sweat to bead on her forehead as she looked at her surroundings. Thousands of cheering, bright faces met hers as she walked around, listening to the music coursing throughout the stadium.
Forming their ranks in front of the Imperial Box where the Emperor sat, the music cut off suddenly as the gladiators saluted him, "Ave imperato morituri te salutant," roughly translating to 'we who are about to die, salute you!' This signified the culmination of the demonstration and the beginning of the games.
As she stood, gazing up at the Imperial Box, she could just barely make out the face of the Emperor before he stood up straight, positioning himself right at the balcony ledge.
Immediately the breath left her lungs as she saw the most beautiful face on a man she had ever seen before in her life.
From all the horrid things she heard about him, she expected him to look rougher, older, and downright brutal. Instead he had a youthful, boyish look to him, large grin spreading across his face as he flashed his white teeth to the crowd. The scruff on his face aged him a bit, but Charlie only found it more enticing. And while he wasn't as tall as she predicted, he stood with a confident air making him appear 10 feet tall. He oozed sex appeal and confidence, everything she was not used to in an Emperor, especially not one of his reputation.
Tearing her gaze away from him, she looked at anything other than his physical body, trying to suppress any lingering thoughts she had about him.
There were many different types of gladiators. Some who fought on horseback, others fighting from chariots. Some whose specialty was fighting wild beasts like lions and tigers called Bestiarii, or Beast Fighters, and others who participated in wild animal hunts. Bows and arrows, along with lances and many other types of weaponry, required different forms of gladiator fights that would take place at different times throughout the day until only a few remained.
For Charlie it was straightforward, she was the heavily armored one fighting against a less armored opponent with a single sword and shield at her side. This type of gladiator fighting was for more advanced fighters who need not add flare to an already classic style. This meant that she would be one of the last to fight.
The tactic was simple enough, charge the opponent with the shield and stab them to death with the sword, of course it sounded a lot simpler than it actually was.
She kept the mantra in her head all the while watching her brethren getting slaughtered by more experienced and trained gladiators. She saw numerous good men fall during the fight, but no matter what, she refused to look away, making sure she could return to her village and tell the story in great detail so their families would know how valiantly they fought until the bitter end.
Stomping and clapping caused Charlie's eyes to follow where the man was standing in the middle of the arena, staring straight on as if looking at her. That's when she realized he was indeed leering at her. The time had come.
As per the rules, she had no idea who she was fighting until arriving there and even then she was only given his name.
During practice and the brief training allowed she could never focus her attention on his technique because she had to worry about her own. She only stopped long enough to get a feel for how he moved; half of fighting was being able to predict your opponent's next move.
As they circled one another Charlie tried to remember everything she could about this man who looked as though he could give a beating just as well as he could take one.
She was a lot smaller than he was, even with the added layers of protection, which could work to her advantage as long as she managed to stay one step ahead of him.
And so she did stay ahead for the first few minutes of the fight. Sidestepping every blow he delivered, she threw some of her own that he artfully dodged. It wasn't until she could feel herself growing tired that she started moving slower.
Doubled over at the waist, she had not expected such a force to barrel into her body; Spaniard was relentless, attempting to land another blow, this time aiming for her head.
Missing the punch, she swung the hilt of her sword out to connect with the exposed side of his neck. Violently coughing, he staggered backwards trying to evade Charlie's onslaught attack; she knew she couldn't give up now, not when he was at his weakest.
Bringing her knee up, it met his face full on, blood profusely flowing as she heard bones crack. He fell to his knees and Charlie unyieldingly drove her foot into the center of his chest, knocking him backwards.
Intending on plunging her sword into his chest, caught by surprise, she wobbled back a few pace when his feet came out in an effort to trip her up.
Putting as much distance between them as possible, she regained her balance, as did he, the only difference was he looked tired and weary. She couldn't start thinking about that, this was her opponent and the goal was to bring him down, whatever means necessary, there was no time for compassion.
Moving the shield up to cover her face, she pushed aggressively upwards at his arm when it made contact against the metal. Shoving him off, she was barely able to find her footing when he charged again, letting out an animalistic cry.
He was getting too angry, emotions were taking over and he wasn't in control. That was the other half of fighting, making sure you stayed in control at all times.
His footwork became sloppy, shoulder slumping forward as he grew tired, but he never ceased.
Knocking her sword to the ground, along with her body, he climbed on top of her, prepared to strangle her. Seeing black spots in her vision, Charlie took the hand holding the shield and rammed it at the side of his head repeatedly until she produced blood and he let up.
With one final jab with her shield to his jugular, he was hunched over, struggling to catch his breath until he fell over on the dirt beside her. Grasping for her sword to finish him off, she sighed in relief as her fingers touched warm metal.
Rolling away from his body, she took the sword tightly in her hand and brought it up over her head barreling down towards his body until she heard a commanding voice yell, "STOP!"
Breathing ragged, she stepped back and looked up at the voice, meeting the eyes of the Emperor himself who stood with a curious and furious look plastered across his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" His livid voice echoed, trampling over her like a herd of wild horses as everyone else remained silent, the only sound that could be hear was her own loud panting and beating heart.
Turning around to meet everyone's shocked and dismayed faces, Charlie had no idea what was going on. This is what's supposed to happen. People were supposed to die out here, why was she being stopped?
Realization made her snap her eyes back to the Imperial Box searching for his, but he was no longer there. Instead he was charging towards her at an alarming rate, guards all around him.
She reached up with one hand to confirm her fright…her helmet had been knocked off during the battle.