- - Pollice Verso - -
With a Turned Thumb
Vector stood at the top of a rocky hill, surveying the lines of his troops camped at its base, then allowing his gaze to sweep over them and fixate on the high walls of Therapne, painted orange by the setting sun. He planned to take the Parthian capital in the morning, but for now he had nothing to do and had climbed up here to think. There was a light breeze, and it felt warm on his skin, and, with a sigh, he flopped down to a sitting position, leaning back on his palms.
After half an hour or so, an idea came to him, and he closed his eyes. "Don Thousand…"
The hooded man appeared at his side, considerate enough to avoid ruining the peaceful atmosphere with a flashy entrance. "Yes, my prince?"
"For tomorrow's battle, I want you to make it so that none of my soldiers die, per usual, but also that none of them are injured," Vector instructed, gazing out over the windswept plain that lay between him and the city. "Ensure our total success."
Don Thousand bowed deeply, a rare gesture for the somewhat arrogant god. "It shall be done." He raised his head, gazing at Vector with softly-glowing red eyes. "May I make a suggestion?"
Vector raised an eyebrow, wary of the hooded man's advice; it would doubtless be a double-edged sword. "What is it?"
"You may do whatever you like with the Parthian king and nobles," Don Thousand began, sounding gravely serious. "But you must kill the prince."
"I must?" Vector repeated, eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Don Thousand sighed. "...Alright, perhaps 'must' was too strong a word… but I would highly suggest it."
Vector frowned. "Again, why?" Something wasn't right here, he could feel it. "You've never given me specific advice until now. Does the death of this prince mean so much to you?" His eyes widened slightly as he remembered the one thing that Don Thousand wanted above all else. "Will killing him help you free yourself?"
Don Thousand looked surprised for an instant, but the emotion was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, and he chuckled darkly. "You are even craftier than I gave you credit for. Yes, the tragic death of this prince is one of the keys to my release."
Vector leaned forward slightly. "Oh? Now it has to be tragic? Why is that?" When Don Thousand remained silent, he huffed, smirking. "Remember that little deal we made a couple of years ago? You know, the one where you do whatever I want until I die?"
Don Thousand sighed, folding his arms. "Fine, I shall explain. You see, I am a being of purest Chaos, the god of a world called Barian. When humans die with chaos in their hearts, they come to me." He scowled darkly. "I was sealed away by a being from the Astral world, long before this world even existed. The key to my seal lies in seven Mytherian Numbers, scattered across the globe, each with a human host." He smirked. "Assimilating those seven hosts into myself, absorbing their power, would break the seal and return me to my full strength, billions upon billions of times more powerful than this weak shadow that stands before you. Ensuring that the hosts become Barians is the easiest way to bring them within my grasp."
Vector felt a chill run down his spine; imagining the destruction a fully-liberated Don Thousand could wreak made him feel like a despicable fool for ever having agreed to help him. Still, what he'd just heard may have contained a sliver of hope. From what he'd said, Don Thousand needed the hosts of the Mytherian Numbers to die with chaos in their hearts. If, however, the opposite occurred, it would most likely become impossible for him to break the seal. Vector turned to face the hooded man, hoping that his sudden breakthrough would not show on his face. "So, I assume the prince of Parthia is one of these hosts?"
"Aye." Don Thousand sighed, looking bored. "Is that all? Have I satisfied your curiosity?"
Vector nodded curtly, waving his hand. "Yes, that's all I wanted to know. Now leave me alone, I need some time to prepare for tomorrow's battle."
Don Thousand poofed away without so much as a 'by your leave,' but Vector didn't mind. He felt a warm smile slowly spread across his face, and he leaned back, gazing at the sky, which was now fading slowly to a deep blue. His cursed fate might not be set in stone, after all. There was something he could do to avoid it, to make sure that Don Thousand would never win.
Tomorrow, he would go to Parthia, find the prince, and do everything he could to prevent his tragic death. How exactly he would go about doing that, he wasn't sure. But he'd gotten rather good at making things up as he went.
Arjuna looked around excitedly, eyes wide. "Wow, look at all these buildings! And the paved roads! And the aqueducts!" He made a sort of squealing noise. "Rome is amazing!"
Vector nodded, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling metropolis with equal wonder, though he was not so loud about it. "It certainly is flashy," he remarked, gently urging Sassan along with a light nudge. The horse, though perfectly calm in battle, seemed to be slightly spooked by the crowds that thronged around them, many hawking local delicacies and other goods. "Though Parsis is just as nice without being so crowded."
Arjuna laughed, flicking his chestnut's reins. "Of course you'd think Parsis is nice; it's your home town." He gazed longingly at a stand selling some kind of pastry. "As for me, though, I'll admit Delhi is a dump if it means I get to enjoy all this good-looking food."
Vector shook his head, smiling in amusement. "No patriotism to be had from you, huh?" He turned to Durbe, who seemed to be having a bit of difficulty maneuvering Mach through the crowd. "What about you? Do you prefer Ostfriesland or Rome?"
Durbe seemed to consider the question. "Well, Ostfriesland is beautiful in its own way, but it is not my home country, so I feel no particular affinity for it outside of my responsibilities as its lord." He smiled slightly. "I would like it better with paved roads and aqueducts, though."
Arjuna blinked. "Woah, back up! You mean your land isn't your hometown?! Where are you from, then?"
"Rittersberg; it's a small village about three days' ride from Dresden," Durbe replied, sounding slightly wistful. "I haven't been there since I was very young."
Vector could sense that Durbe didn't really want to elaborate further, but Arjuna plowed on ahead anyway. "So how did you end up in Ostfriesland in the first place?"
Durbe sighed quietly. "Saxony invaded Rittersberg during a campaign to extend their borders, and Mach and I attempted to single-handedly drive them back. I was, of course, unable to save my village, but King Frederik Wilhelm saw my potential and took me under his wing. He recently named me Count of Ostfriesland in recognition of my service."
Arjuna looked like he wanted to take the conversation even further into what was obviously painful territory, but a glare from Vector convinced him to respond with only a subdued "oh."
Vector turned to Darius, who rode next to him on his right side, separating him from the majority of the crowds. "I assume that arrangements have already been made as to where we are staying..."
Darius nodded, adjusting his right foot in the stirrup and accidentally kicking a nearby woman in the face. "Yes, Sire. I've sent all our supplies and servants on ahead to the Domus Flavia, which is where all of the distinguished guests are staying and where tonight's ball will be held."
Arjuna blinked. "What the heck is a Domus Flavia?"
"The Flavia is one of the many palaces on the Palatine Hill," Durbe explained. "It's well-known for its grandeur."
Arjuna's eyes practically sparkled. "Wow... I can't wait to see it! We should go right now!"
Vector rolled his eyes, smirking. "And here I thought you'd be excited to attend today's gladiator matches at the Colosseum..."
"Gladiator matches?!" Arjuna looked like he was about to explode with excitement. "Why didn't you say so?! Let's go!" He nudged his horse's sides and sped up, pulling ahead of the others. "Come on, slowpokes!"
Vector didn't bother trying to match Arjuna's pace; instead, he simply turned to Durbe. "You said the prince of Rome is hosting this event?"
Durbe shrugged. "Yes and no. From my understanding, the gathering was Prince Lucius Priscus' idea, and he has done much of the planning and will be acting in a host's capacity, but King Frederik Wilhelm has played a very large role in organizing things, as well." He leaned back slightly in his saddle. "Lucius will be in attendance at the Colosseum today; I've heard he is interested in meeting you."
Vector smirked. "Who isn't? I mean, I'm just so popular." When Durbe rolled his eyes, he chuckled. "Joking aside, though, I'm interested in meeting him, as well. It will be good for me to develop some connections with other rulers, wouldn't you agree?"
Durbe held up his hands, smiling slightly. "I'm afraid I'm not really one for politics..."
Vector smiled, amused. "I'm sure. You're a straightforward, honest man; scheming and simpering would be unbecoming of you."
Durbe laughed. "You're essentially telling me that I would make a terrible ruler, aren't you?" He nudged Mach's sides lightly with his heels; the faint roar of a cheering crowd could be heard from straight ahead, and the arches of the Colosseum were visible now over the tops of the houses. "That's fine with me; to be honest, your job is not one that I would envy."
Vector's smile dimmed. "Anyone who envies me must be touched in the head."
Trumpets sounded, their tinny blasts echoing harshly off the amphitheater's walls, and the crowd roared as Vector entered the royal box. He held up a hand in acknowledgement before Arjuna barreled past him and leaned over the stone railing. "This is SO AWESOME!" he gushed, turning back to face Vector. "These are like the best seats in the house!"
A soft chuckle arose from the front of the box. "I'm glad to see you're pleased. You can really feel the action from here." A young man with tousled yellow and orange hair dressed in light golden armor rose from his seat and walked towards them, arms spread. "I'm Prince Lucius Priscus; it's my pleasure to welcome you to Rome, Prince Vector."
Vector stepped forward, a polite smile on his face. "The pleasure is all mine."
Lucius gestured towards an empty seat between his own and a young man who was eyeing Vector with a mildly hostile expression. "Can I interest you in sitting next to me?" the prince asked, glancing briefly at Arjuna and Durbe. "I'm sorry that there's only room for one more in this row... we had a slight mixup. Sir Durbe and Lord Arjuna, I apologize, but you're welcome to the right side of the box."
Arjuna shrugged. "Hey, it's fine. Just as long as I get to see the awesome fighters!" He grinned. "Anybody I should be rooting for?"
Lucius smiled. "Whoever catches your eye." There was a hint of pride in his eyes. "As for me, I always cheer for Alito Leonus. He's the best of the best."
Arjuna hopped down to the first row on the right side of the box, followed closely by Durbe. "Sounds awesome! I can't wait to see him fight!"
Lucius sat back down, and Vector followed suit, plopping down next to him. He turned to the purple-haired royal on his left and smiled. "I don't believe we've met..."
Purple-hair glanced at him, looking bored. "I'm Nasch." His gold chain mail jingled as he shifted in his seat. "I'm the king of the United Lands of the Poseidon Ocean."
Vector had never heard of that kingdom, but in the interest of networking tried not to show it. "I see. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Nasch didn't even look at him. "Eh."
Vector, despite his attempt to be civil, couldn't keep the scowl off his face. He was about to say something impolite, when suddenly the woman sitting on Nasch's left punched him rather violently on the shoulder. "Nasch! Don't be rude!" She leaned forward and smiled at Vector. "Sorry about my brother... he's completely antisocial. It's embarrassing." She held out her hand. "I'm Princess Merag. It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Vector."
Vector smiled back at her and shook her hand. It wasn't often that one came across such a vocal woman... she reminded him a bit of Lady Ahura, though not nearly as scary. "Just Vector is fine."
"Alright, then just Merag is fine with me." She leaned over Nasch, curiosity shining in her eyes. "I heard you conquered Parthia with just one legion. Is that true?"
Nasch sighed, pushing his sister's blue hair out of his face. "Merag, do you want to switch seats?" he grumbled. "Because I'd like to see the matches, not you leaning over me to talk to Carrot-top."
Vector ran a hand through his orange hair self-consciously. Carrot-top?! Fine words coming from you, Octopus-head...
Before he could voice his opinion, however, Merag stood up and pushed Nasch over into her seat. "You are such a child!" She sat herself down next to Vector with a huff. "Honestly! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get him to be civil?!"
Vector chuckled. "It certainly seems like a struggle," he said, with a pointed glance at Nasch. "And in answer to your earlier question, yes. We took the capital without losing a single soldier."
Merag's red eyes practically sparkled. "That's amazing! You must have had some brilliant strategies to pull something like that off!"
Vector smiled sheepishly. Actually, I just had a lot of supernatural help. "I suppose you could say that..." He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he was blushing.
Suddenly, the trumpets blared, and the crowd flew into a frenzy. Merag peered over the rail, eyes widened slightly in anticipation. "They're coming out of the gates," she said, turning to Lucius. "Who's fighting in the first match?"
Lucius motioned towards the gladiator closest to the box, a big, lumbering man gripping a huge broadsword. "That's Scipio Demaratus," he said, almost immediately turning his gaze towards the other side of the stadium. "His opponent is Alito Leonus." He leaned back in his seat, a soft smile on his face. "This match is decided already."
Vector squinted, straining to see the other fighter. He was surprisingly small, both in build and stature. He made a brief show of studying a rack of weapons before pushing it aside, raising his fists, and the crowd roared.
Vector turned to Lucius, confused. "Isn't he going to choose a weapon?"
Lucius shook his head, smiling. "Alito fights with only his fists. I'm told it took a cut to his forearm that left his bone exposed for him to even consider the thick leather armor he wears now."
Vector turned his attention back to the fighter, who was casually making his way over to the box. "He's insane," he muttered, now able to see the slightly cocky look on Alito's face. "How can anyone that short possibly defeat that bear of a man without even a sword or a shield?"
Lucius simply crossed his legs and folded his hands, still smiling. "Oh, he's beaten bigger men than Scipio. This is just a warm-up; he's probably already slated for a second match later in the day."
The two gladiators stood before the box and held their fists over their hearts. "Nos morituri te salutamus," they shouted in unison, and Lucius stood, raising his hand and giving them a nod before sitting back down. The crowd cheered, and referees ushered the two fighters to opposite ends of the stadium. Alito waved cheerily at the crowd as he walked, soaking up the attention. He certainly wasn't the sort of gladiator Vector had been expecting.
Once the fighters had taken their places, the trumpets sounded one long blast, and the referees signaled the start of the match. As the crowd roared, Scipio raised his sword and charged forward with a yell. Alito merely held his ground, feet spread and fists raised, waiting for his opponent to come to him. Vector could hear Arjuna screaming excitedly from the right side of the box, and Merag leaned forward in her seat, focused completely on the arena. Even Nasch looked interested, though when he noticed Vector watching him, he scowled and turned away.
Scipio was nearly on top of Alito now, and he started to swing his sword. Suddenly, Alito ducked and stepped to the side, avoiding Scipio's blade with ease and slamming a fist into his gut as he moved. Scipio stumbled back, and Alito straightened and delivered a crushing hook to his jaw; Vector could hear a sharp 'crack' as the blow landed.
Without missing a beat, Alito flew into a flurry of punches, steadily driving Scipio back towards the box. He moved with a firm fluidity, throwing powerful hooks and uppercuts like it was the easiest thing in the world. The bigger man tried swinging his sword, but the blade simply glanced off of Alito's arm guards, never landing so much as a single strike. The crowd was in a frenzy now, screaming for blood, and Scipio stumbled, flailing his sword so wildly that it flew out of his hands. The loss of his weapon left him wide open and vulnerable.
Seizing his chance, Alito pulled back his right arm, planted his foot, and launched a powerful right hook, throwing all of his weight into the punch. It connected with Scipio's jaw with a sickening crunch, and the man's head flew back before he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, bloodied and bruised almost beyond recognition. He tried to struggle to his feet, but was ultimately unable to stand, sinking to his knees. Breathing heavily and trembling, he lifted a single finger in the air, and a referee rushed over, motioning for Alito to back off.
Suddenly, the crowd began to boo, hurling insults at Scipio, and they held out their hands with their thumbs turned down. Vector turned to Lucius, curious. "What's happening?"
"Scipio surrendered," Lucius explained, scanning the crowd. "It's common for a losing fighter to acknowledge his own defeat. But he did not fight well… the audience isn't happy. They've decided not to spare him." He stood up and approached the railing, holding out his own hand with his thumb turned to the side.
The entire Colosseum gradually became nearly silent as the crowd watched Lucius with rapt attention, waiting with bated breath for the verdict. After a moment or two, Lucius turned his thumb down, and the crowd roared, applauding and cheering wildly. Since there was no way for Alito to finish Scipio off quickly, a guard was called over, carrying a spear. The defeated gladiator, too badly beaten to even move, simply knelt on the ground, awaiting his own death.
The guard thrust the tip of his spear into Scipio's neck, and blood sprayed from the wound as the spectators shouted their approval. Servants carried the limp body off to the side, and Alito gave a brief salute to his fallen opponent before raising his fists in victory. He sauntered over to the box, grinning up at Lucius, who took a laurel crown from a servant and leaned over the railing to place it on Alito's head. "As a reward for your victory," Lucius said, sounding almost jokingly official, "you may attend my ball tonight, at the Domus Flavia. Just please, clean up a little."
Alito laughed, adjusting the wreath on his head. "I'll ask my lanista," he responded cheekily. "But you know, the guy's a slave driver." He raised an eyebrow. "By the way, I haven't seen your magnificent self down here in the ring for a while. You're not gonna bail on that rematch, are you?"
Lucius smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Of course not. I've got something… special planned."
The trumpets sounded, signaling the start of the second match, and Alito grinned. "I can't wait!" He started jogging towards one of the arches leading to the underground complex, waving. "See ya!" The crowd gave him one last thunderous round of applause as he left the arena, many still cheering for him well after his curly brown hair had disappeared from view.
Merag sighed, turning to Vector with a disappointed look on her face. "Well, that was a fine match, but it was over far too quickly." She frowned slightly. "And, to be honest, I don't approve of killing the losers…"
Nasch grunted, arms folded across his chest. "That's the rules of battle; you lose, you die." He turned to face Lucius. "Besides, aren't these gladiators all criminals or slaves?"
Lucius nodded as he settled back into his seat. "That's right; in fact, most gladiators are actually criminal slaves. They've been sentenced to the arena as punishment for their crimes."
Vector idly watched the next two fighters take their positions; for some reason, he simply couldn't picture Alito as either a criminal or a slave. The way he'd spoken so casually with the prince and the confidence with which he carried himself suggested that he wasn't just some street trash. "Are all gladiators sentenced?"
Lucius seemed to know what he was really asking, and something akin to sadness showed in his eyes. "Not all." He gazed out over the arena, watching a secutor thrust his spear towards his opponent's shield. "There are also the autocrati… volunteers."
Merag looked shocked. "Why would anyone volunteer for something like this?"
Vector gazed out over the arena, stroking his chin. Why indeed… The more he thought about Alito, the more he realized he'd felt something… strange about him, a faint tugging at his sixth sense. It was almost the same feeling that accompanied thoughts of his Number. Vector's eyes widened slightly. Could that gladiator be hosting a Mytherian Number? He watched the match in front of him distractedly, trying to figure out what he would do if that was, indeed, the case. This man could be invaluable in his efforts to subvert Don Thousand… and he was in constant danger of dying. Vector sighed quietly, leaning back in his seat. I suppose I'll just have to find out for sure at the ball tonight...
Author's Note: And now we have officially introduced every Barian Emperor (except Girag, who lives on an isolated island and will not be appearing) into the story! This is my first time actually writing Nasch, Merag, and Alito (they are mentioned in One Million Points, but that doesn't count), so I'm kinda really worried about my characterizations. Nasch and Merag will be playing bigger roles later, so I hope I got them right…
Now, I know that Alito's ruins are technically in "Spartan City," but COME ON. That place is OBVIOUSLY Rome. Besides, the Spartans were Greeks, and gladiators were definitely Romans. I can't let a glaring inconsistency like that slide. I just can't.
I don't think the *ahem* ROMAN prince has a name, so I called him Lucius. Why, you ask? Because I can. Oh, and most of the gladiator stuff comes directly from the all-knowing Wikipedia. Lanistas are basically like the owners/managers of a bunch of gladiators, in case you were wondering.
Also, in case you couldn't tell (which I'm really hoping you could), the very first scene is a flashback.
