Assassin's Creed:

The Sword of Damocles

184 AD

At the heart of the capital of the Roman Empire, the greatest war machine to ever grace the ancient world, the Roman colosseum glowed in the light of the sun. Its flags, set proudly at the top of the arena, wove gently in the wind. But down below, the sounds of cheers and shrieks marred the beauty of the colosseum's architecture, bathing it in the blood of its victims which also stained the sand.

Common peasants, slaves, whores and senators came to witness the proceeding events that made the reign of Commodus the most dramatically fearsome in recent years. Men and women and beasts, pitted in the sands of the arena, fought desperately in battle to survive. But whether it be by blade, arrow or fang, the colosseum would have its payment in blood.

After a particularly ruthless battle that claimed the lives of four good fighters, two common men gladly accepted their winnings from the men they'd bet with and gleefully stuffed their newfound wealth into their purses, their fingers lingering on the heaviness each of their winnings offered.

The first man was the eldest brother of the two, and already had his fair hair receding from the front of his head, although it hadn't yet begun to grey. The younger brother still had several years before such a thing happened to him, but shadow had begun to crease the lines of his face. The brothers found their way back to their seats after making their final bets of the day, eager for more money to shove in their pockets.

The youngest patted his brother's shoulder, a grin revealing the yellowed teeth behind his lips. "So, who did you decide to bet on this time, brother?" he asked with a spot of excitement in his voice.

Slaves began clearing the bodies and shifting the sand below. The eldest had to squint over the head of a fellow whose baldness reflected the sun into his dark eyes. "The retiarius Ennius," he answered, scowling at the bald head.

His brother tutted his tongue, clearly disappointed with the choice made. In a brusque tone, the eldest asked, "And yourself? You think my choice so foolish I cannot wait to hear of yours."

Smirking, the second brother said, "The dimachaerus called Gladius Damocles."

The eldest couldn't hide his raucous laughter at his brother's perceived idiotic answer. Indeed, he had to wait several minutes before the laughter died down. "Then I'll enjoy the feel of your coin in my purse, brother!"

"You think me a fool for choosing a woman?"

"I do!"

"Then you are the fool, brother, for you have not witnessed the Sword of Damocles in combat."

Wiping tears away with the sleeve of his simple toga, the eldest shook his head. "And you have?"

"I came several weeks ago when you were working," explained the youngest. "She's a slight thing just barely able to bear children for a good man. I bet all my day's earnings on her opponent."

"And?"

"I lost it all." The younger brother's eyes became distant. "She cut down the secutor in ten minutes, but she spent the first while simply wounding him and slowing him down. She could have killed him before three whole minutes passed, yet she chose first to kill his pride."

"As any good showman would have done," agreed the eldest. He scratched his bearded chin. "Perhaps I've invested poorly."

The youngest grinned. "That's why I changed your bet when you left! You'll see soon enough that you'll earn your weight in coin!"

Just passing the brothers were two more men who spoke to one another casually as they made their way to their seats in the arena. They spoke of commonplace prices in the market and the politics of Rome, but when they found their positions a decent distance away from any eavesdroppers, they sat and scrutinized the sands below.

The first man was dark-skinned and dark-haired, much like his ancient ancestors from his homeland of Egypt. The second was pale and fair-haired, and had chosen to grow his locks out long to tie it back, and he kept his close-cropped beard a bit unruly. They were both well-built, though the dark-skinned man was clearly made for agility whereas the pale one had muscles surging from his skin from his use of heavy blades. Both wore gleaming white togas with gold and crimson designs, each unique to the man, and armour that was subtle enough to pass in a crowd without arousing suspicion.

The dark-skinned man pursed his large lips. "Her bout is next," he said absently. "The wagers have already been placed."

The pale man watched as the slaves dragged the last of the bodies towards the Gate of Death. "You're nervous to watch, Suchos."

"That I am." Suchos leaned forward and rested his chin atop his clenched hands. "I've known her to never be one to rush into violence. I fear what I have heard of her exploits." He turned to his friend. "Chlodovech, do you suppose she's no longer what the senator will need? Will we have to look for another?"

The large and burly Quadi man paused, but shook his head once he considered his friend's words. "No," he said matter-of-factly. "He would have given up on her once word of what Commodus did to her reached us. I think he truly believes that her... experiences can be harnessed."

"She's but a child..."

"A child who has survived two long years in this fiendish place." Chlodovech curled his lip. "Children are no longer such once they have taken a life."

"Yes, yes..." Suchos sighed, his shoulders sagging. "It's been so long... Why now?"

"Why continue your rambling?" was the Quadi man's gruff response.

But Suchos was quick to deliver his riposte, a frown tightening his face. "Because the senator is seriously considering taking her into our cause. We knew her for two years, and yet in these two years to hear she has changed like this... Do you not fear that we will abandon her? That she will die in this gods-forsaken place?"

Chlodovech's jaw clenched. "I believe her life would have been lost to these ever-consuming sands long before we were sent here. The senator would never have taken such a risk if we were to simply abandon her. Like I said before: he would have given up on her instead of waiting for two whole years." He leaned back in his seat, his brown eyes surveying the common folk who had begun to file into their seats nearby. Further above, labourers and slaves took their seats, and closer to the blood and the action were the senators and other nobility. And as much as Commodus enjoyed the spectacles of death, his box was empty.

Probably with his whores, Chlodovech thought with a snide grunt.

Suchos was entwining his fingers together to channel his nerves. He watched, uninterested, as the last of the bodies were cleared. The pillars that had been erected around the centre of the arena that day, four in total, were stained crimson from the earlier bouts. It was barely noon and already so many had died for entertainment... Suchos wondered if it would be her blood that would paint them next.

Chlodovech smacked the back of his hand against Suchos' breastplate, jarring him from his worrisome thoughts. "The match has been announced. It's a three man fight, from the sound of it."

"Three?!" Suchos exclaimed, his eyes bulging. "You mean to say she'll be fighting two men?!"

"I've heard she's had worse. But I doubt they both would target her so..." Chlodovech paused. "No. Actually, I believe they would. Her reputation has grown recently."

Suchos nestled his head in his hands and prayed.

"An arbelas... and a retiarius. She's a dimachaerus, so she's at a disadvantage..." Chlodovech's pause elicited a sudden shout from the crowd. Suchos lifted his head to investigate, and then noticed the Gate of Life had opened. "So it's begun..."

Suchos gulped. The first man to reveal himself was the arbelas called Gallus. His mail consisted of iron scales that draped down to the knee and was secured by a leather belt around the waist. Gallus' helmet had two visors and a smooth surface, reflecting the sun in its splendour, and a fin-like crest at the top of his head. His leg guards only covered as far as mid-shin, and on his right arm was a metal manica to defend the exposed surface. His weapons consisted of a sica blade, and a metal, tubular vambrace that defended his left arm, but it ended with a crescent-shaped blade that could cut through opponents like butter.

The second man was the retiarius Ennius. He wore no helmet or greaves, but did have a quilted manica guarding his left arm, and a galerus that was connected to it, dutifully protecting his left shoulder. A subligaculum was tied around his waist to guard his manhood, and on the belt that kept it at his waist was tied a dagger, but that was only his secondary weapon. The retiarius fought with a net and a spear, but in Ennius' case it was a trident, which was not uncommon amongst some gladiators. His appearance elicited roars of excitement from the crowd around the Quadi and the Egyptian man. Suchos frowned with disdain.

Finally, the last contestant made their debut: the dimachaerus known as Gladius Damocles, or the Sword of Damocles, but Suchos and Chlodovech knew her as Krhyseis Argyros, the Greek slave from Rhodes.

Dressed in mail like the arbelas, Khryseis was wielding two gladiis, one for either hand and no other secondary weapon. Her greaves were quilted and wrapped to under her knee, but she had a reinforcement of metal above the quilting, albeit short. Her manica was thin and only covered her left forearm. She, like the arbelas, also had a helm, but it had no crest, but it was broad-brimmed and close-fitted. Still, Chlodovech could only imagine it would be difficult to see in such a contraption. She, unlike the arbelas, wore open sandals rather than quilted her feet.

Chlodovech examined the three and decided that, as long as the two men didn't target Krhyseis, she would be well. But if they did, she may be doomed to fall in the sands of the colosseum. A one-on-one death match with the arbelas would have benefited her, for she and the arbelas appeared evenly matched, but Chlodovech chose not to voice his concerns with his friend.

"She'll be fine," he assured the Egyptian. "She's held her own before. I doubt she'll disappoint now."

Suchos sighed, his shoulders sagging as the anticipation and dread of the match began to wear on him. "I suppose you're right, Chlodovech," he said quietly, then added in a much softer tone, "I certainly pray you are."

Whether the Quadi had heard him or not, the roars of the crowd drowned out any sort of response. Swept up in the excitement of the crowd, Chlodovech smirked thinly and squinted down at the golden sands painted with blood, where the combatants were readying themselves for the match. To the death, as he understood. They were far more frequent in Commodus' rule than they had been in the time of his father, Marcus Aurelius.

Then again, Marcus had been on his conquests for most of his reign. He rarely returned to the capital to bask in the blood of gladiators.

As the announcer called each gladiator's name, they raised their right arm to salute the crowd. And then they found their positions on the field. Chlodovech guessed that they were eyeing each other, trying to find a weakness or a disability they could exploit, as well as communicating truces or targets. As he had anticipated, the two men were clearly teaming against Krhyseis, but to his surprise, she didn't seem all that concerned. That was when Chlodovech saw what Suchos had seen; Khryseis, as they'd known her, was not the same person. In fact, she seemed to have wished the men would join together.

And then, with a thunderous roar, the match began.

The arbelas hung back and began to circle behind Krhyseis, who simply altered her stance into a defensive position and gripped her gladii more tightly. Meanwhile, the retiarius marched forward, his trident squared at her chest. He shot forward like a bolt of Zeus' lightning and thrust the tri-pronged weapon for her just as the arbelas slashed with his crescent hand, but then Krhyseis reacted.

Moving her body like a professional, the slave-turned-gladiator stepped right, locked the trident under her arm and used the weapon to block the arbelas' incoming strike. Her foot shot out and struck the retiarius' knee with such force Chlodovech could hear it amplified above the roar of the crowd, accompanied by the retiarius' wail of agony through his helm. Krhyseis pushed forward and slashed one of her blades across the chest of the gladiator while avoiding the sica strike from the arbelas. The impressive display had immediately won over the crowd. She'd managed to utilize her disadvantage in a way that made even Suchos gasp with astonishment.

With only two gladiators remaining, Krhyseis put some distance between herself and the arbelas. With her helmet covering her face there was no way for the two men dressed in white to know what she was thinking, but their fighting experience immediately knew that she'd defeated the weaker of her two opponents, despite her disadvantage, in order to focus on the more experienced arbelas that confronted her. Chlodovech applauded the girl for that.

Gallus struck again, that time twisting the blade wielded with Krhyseis' left arm with his sica to open her left side to attack. His superior strength made it difficult for Krhyseis to deflect the blows, so she switched tactics and simply dodged. She continued to dodge until his arms appeared to tire, then she began her own assault. Too rashly, it appeared, when Gallus tackled her hard to the sand and levelled his crescent arm piece at her throat.

But the Greek was not to be done in easily. She shot her knee upward, caught the gladiator in the groin and then grabbed his arm to alter the trajectory of the weapon so Gallus buried it harmlessly in the sand. With only one arm each, they grappled until Krhyseis managed to twist his wrist to drop his sica. Then her knee came up again, and she rolled them both so she was on top. Krhyseis leapt up and dove for her gladii, which had flown out of her hands when Gallus tackled her, but fell short when Gallus grabbed her ankle and yanked it out from under her. She fell back into the sand, coughing and sputtering, then tried to drag herself to her closest weapon.

Gallus struggled to his feet and kicked Krhyseis in the head. The helmet struck her, inflicting wounds rather than protecting from them, and it was all Krhyseis could do to roll away and abandon her weapons. Chlodovech noticed how she got up shakily. The kick appeared to do a bit more internal damage than it seemed to, but she didn't waver.

Gallus grabbed his sica and immediately advanced on the Greek. She was defenceless without a weapon. Suchos leaned forward, his eyes bulging. The crowd jeered and shouted for death, and Gallus seemed obliged to do so.

But when he lunged for her, she spun away and around him, and like a force of nature she leapt up from the sand and rotated her body to return the kick Gallus had been so kind to gift her. His neck twisted hard and he stumbled, so as Krhyseis landed she grabbed his crescent-tipped arm, kicked his knee out from behind to have him kneel, pressed one foot against his back and twisted his arm as much as she could. He struggled and shouted, but the more she pulled the weaker his attempts became, until the entire crowd heard the sickening crunch of his arm breaking from the sheer force of Krhyseis' assault. As he screamed, Krhyseis planted a her foot against his backside and kicked him forward onto the dirt. He landed on his broken arm, which gave Krhyseis an opportunity to jump and land on his helm, pressing all her weight into caving his skull.

Blood pooled around his head, and he moved no more. He made no sound, but the crowd screamed.

Yet as Krhyseis picked up her weapons, Suchos and Chlodovech realized her battle hadn't finished yet.

Apparently, her strike to the retiarius called Ennius hadn't been as deep as she'd predicted. He was favouring his left leg, but he was up and armed. Ennius tossed his net at her just as she grabbed her second blade and he caught her feet in it. It twisted and had her fall again. She squirmed and hacked at the net, but Ennius was approaching too quickly. Raising her gladii, she blocked a thrust at her chest from the trident while her legs worked furiously to escape. Ennius placed all his weight onto his staff and continued to push until Krhyseis locked her blades onto the trident and managed to have it lock into the eyehole patterns in her helmet, but that was enough to send her helm flying away.

On one hand, now she was free of the difficult piece of armour. On the other, her head was now open to blows that would be mortal.

Chlodovech frowned when he saw a fine line of blood trailing down the side of her head and matting her nearly bronze hair. Her eyes, full of life as a slave, had taken on a darker and much more hollow tone to them. She was exclusively focused on the retiarius before her, and seemed to not even know the crowd was there watching her life-or-death battle with a foe she thought she'd already destroyed.

She brought both knees to her chest and fired her legs at Ennius' chest, and managed to strike the wound she'd inflicted. She rolled backwards overtop of her head and quickly worked the parts of the net she'd hacked at to rip, and then she was free. Ignoring the pounding in her head from the arbelas' kick, she advanced on the retiarius and began a whirlwind of attacks that had Ennius quickly making distance between them, until he tripped over the body of Gallus. Ennius' trident fell by his side, his hand too slick with blood and sweat to keep a better grip. She leapt, her gladii raised, and struck. One blade was buried through his eye and into his brain, the other passing through his raised arm and into his chest. For good measure, even though he was already dead, she twisted her blades before she stood.

Krhyseis picked up her helmet as she walked back through the Gate of Life, and didn't even acknowledge the crowd. Chlodovech and Suchos watched her go while money exchanged hands, and they were both struck with the same confirmation that had the senator so fixated on the former slave:

She would be the perfect weapon.

That had Suchos and Chlodovech leave the colosseum and pass through the western-most gates of Rome to deliver their findings while Krhyseis, the Sword of Damocles, remained trapped in the darkest pits of Commodus' will.

But she wouldn't remain that way forever.

She would be free.

And she hoped that, with every battle won, she would be able to show Commodus that she wouldn't fall as easily as he'd wished her too.