Hello, brave readers! Today, Elizabeth and Asteria face their first match in the hostia of Aquilus, and Marius endures his own trial in the form of Mars Quirinus, Aspect of the Praetorians! Or, is it the other way around? As always, constructive criticism would be dearly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy...

The Oath Of Mars, Part 8: Colosseum

Elizabeth dived under the hurtling mass of killer flesh, throwing up a spray of sand as she rolled back up to her feet and spun to face the slavering lioness whos pounce she had just evaded. It paced around her, keeping it's distance, growling and huffing as it pawed at the ground. She was supposed to kill this thing? Where was she even supposed to start? It was twice her size, with something sharp on each major extremity. At least with the tiger she had those bamboo spike traps, but all this damned ring had to offer her was sand, rusty iron, and the leering stares of hundreds. Not to mention...

With a snarl, it's partner, the furry-neck, dived at her from behind, and she once again only barely evaded it. It was hard to come up with a plan with constant pressure like this.

But she had to try. Eyes scanning over the two beasts, she searched, desperately, for a weakness, a vulnerability, something she could use to get an edge.

They were being more aggressive than most predators she had seen. Looking at their ribs, poking through their fur, they must be desperate with hunger. They wouldn't let off her, not for one second.

"Whatever is the matter, Elizabeth? You are a veteran, grey in your hair and war in your muscles! Has your quick mind failed you? Surely, you have faced greater trials than this!"

As Gradivus' voice echoed from above, Elizabeth couldn't help but grit her teeth and shout a curse up to the stands where he sat, setting those close enough to hear laughing. She didn't know who was more bloodthirsty; the lions in front of her or the sadistic audience on high.

The two beasts charged at the same time in their fervor, almost bowling into one another. Jumping forward, she planted one boot right between the male's eyes, stepping off and running up along it's back to land behind it in a roll. The crowd roared at the flashy, acrobatic maneuver, but glory was hardly on her mind right now. Rising up to her feet, she whirled around to see the two cats almost collapse into one another onto the ground.

And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

Hunger had made them ferocious, but it had also made them impatient. They charged her like bulls, without finesse or coordination. She could exploit that.

She tosses her dagger to the ground.

"Oh my! What is this, my sons and daughters?! Elizabeth of the North discards a weapon! A mind rife with low cunning churns! What devious plan does she have, one wonders?"

She turns away from the lions and spreads her arms wide. She knew that a predator was most likely to strike at one's back, and Asteria did say they liked flanking. On cue, she could hear pounding paws on the sand, barreling for her. At the very last instant, she jumps to the side, crouching low and grabbing a fistful of sand with her now free hand. As the lioness that had just charged her turned tail to face her once more, she cast the grit into its eyes. The creature shakes it's head, howling in pain and frustration as it's partner approached her assailant from the rear.

Elizabeth glanced behind her, grinning at the sight of the sprinting lion. Breaking into a run for the lioness, she hurdles over the cat, just as the other would have overtaken her. The two beasts collide, spilling to the ground in a pile of struggling furred flesh. Lunging forward, Elizabeth takes her sword in two hands and plunges it down with all her strength. With a great roar, she hammers the blade into the head of the collapsed lioness, and throws herself back as the other lion swipes at her, tracing a thin red line across one leg with a lucky strike of the claw and forcing her to leave her weapon lodged in the lioness as she retreats. As she recovers her breath, only the male rises, with a bone-rattling roar of consternation. It was the loudest noise her ears had ever been assailed by... save the roiling screams of the crowd in reaction to her audacious strategy.

"Mars on Olympus! What skill! What gall! Truly, we are blessed to see such a warrior in this arena! Glory to you, Elizabeth! You are our very own Asteria's equal!"

Taking a moment to glance to the left, Elizabeth notes that he wasn't just talking about her bravery. Asteria had too taken care of one of her lions. It sat, still under the sun, her trident lodged in its neck. She had thrown it, and with a tug of a leather cord wound around her forearm, the short polearm the other end was lashed to was pulled from the lioness, and came to rest by her feet, where she kicked it up into her waiting hands. A clever trick.

...And a trick she'd do well to remember in the future, as she was now left with no weapons before the lion in front of her. The death of its companion seemed to knock some sense into it, as now it paced slowly around her, observing for weakness, searching for an opening just like she was. She had no weapon, of course, so she hardly posed a threat, but a blind charge would simply be dodged again. So, it waited, patiently, for a chance to strike. She looked past it, to the dead lioness. If she had any hope to fight back, she had to retrieve her sword, but how?

Asteria calmly held her ground against the growling lioness, eyes locked on its own through her helmet. Her hand gripped her trident in a reverse grip, beast blood running off the tines in thin red drips. It was the perfect weapon for the ever-changing arena, short enough to wield against an opponent in melee and long enough to menace a charging one. It's branching tines could also catch a weapon in flight, or stop a beast's lunge like the lugs on a hunting spear.

But a lion was too strong for that. All trying to stop its charge head-on would do is snap the shaft, or tear it from her hands. She needed to hit it from the side, but the big cat wouldn't just let her.

The important thing to remember when fighting an animal is that it's... well, just that, an animal. It had no higher schemes or devilish plans. It did what it looked like it was going to do, and expected opponents to do the same. That meant they were very easy to fake out. Rushing forward, she sprinted at the animal, and it did the same, expecting her to come right for it. Instead, she dug her heels into the ground just short of it, and leaned back, away from the claw swipe she had expected from the simpleminded beast. Bringing one foot back, she kicked up a spray of sand to blind it for a moment and jumped around to it's flank.

Taking her trident in two hands, the thin strap handle of her buckler allowing her to grip both it and the spear's shaft at the same time, she slams the head of the weapon into the side of the predator's neck. Roar wet with blood, the mortally wounded beast attempted to force itself to the side, to face its attacker and tear it to pieces, but from this angle, Asteria could put more force into her stab than the lion could match. With a grunt of exertion, she pushed the lioness into the ground with her weapon, and pressed down onto it until it the beast lied still. Wrenching the five-pointed weapon- four spikes in an X, with one in the center- from the slain creature, she turned to the unarmed Peacekeeper. Might as well get this over with.

"See you're having trouble."

"Well... not all of us have the presence of mind to lash their weapons to their personage, dear."

"Yeah."

Elizabeth sighs, eyes still fixed on the now cornered lion. The may outnumber it, but all it would take is the slightest lapse in concentration, and that could quickly and irrevocably be changed. Glancing over to Asteria, careful to keep the lion in her peripheral vision, she speaks, still panting from her earlier acrobatics.

"I-indeed. Have a plan?"

"Circle around it, come from both sides. If it goes for me, get your sword and take it out. If it goes for you, dodge and I'll get it."

"Simple enough, I suppose."

"Complicated, you start making mistakes. Make mistakes, you die."

"Don't worry, I know all about Occam's razor, dear."

"What?"

"J-just get around its side, would you?"

"Yeah."

Slowly, Asteria strafed around to the right, trident at the ready, and Elizabeth mirrored her, stalking around in the opposite direction and watching the maned beast carefully for any sign of intent. From above, right above, comes the boom of Gradivus' voice, his shaded box sitting just above them at the top of the wall.

"A fork in the road, a confluence of fates! See the beast's mind work, like gears in a timepiece! Will it strike at the feeble prey, eliminate it while it is still defenseless, or face the greatest threat first, lest it strike from the rear? Our champions have forced it to choose, and so it must!"

It pawed at the ground, froth at its mouth from a predator's ferocity and the prey's fear. Finally, as the tension reached its peak, and all was silent save for it's growling breath, it's muscles tensed...

...And it charged for Elizabeth.

"Ever the predator! As it does on the plains of Afer, it strikes for the weakest of the pack!"

Elizabeth waited, waited for the last moment, waited for the lunging pounce, the yawning maw of death to come flying at her. Waited for her moment. To step aside, to dodge, and give Asteria her shot at its flank.

But that moment never came. Maybe it was Asteria's boots coming down on the iron lattice that girded the very edge of the arena's breadth, or Gradivus' booming voice from above. Or maybe it was the instinctive flinch on Elizabeth's part as the lion charged for her, somehow making her seem more or less threatening in its simple brain. The why didn't really matter, and she'd never know for sure anyhow. All that matters is what it did.

All that matters is that, for once, Asteria's instincts were wrong. It was an animal, lacking in stratagem, but all the same, it didn't do what it looked like it was going to do.

Instead, it stopped, turned on its tail, and lunged for Asteria. Gradivus' bombastic demeanor dropped, just as the megaphone did from his mouth. But, close enough to his box as Elizabeth was, she could still hear what he said.

"What-?!"

She could hear someone else too, some other spectator there alongside him, silent until now. With how loud he was, she suspected the rest of the stands could hear too.

Rushing forward and putting his hands on the rails, Alexander screamed.

"ASTERIA!"

Cursing, the woman thrusts her trident forward at the lunging cat, but it's head went low, the trident's many points merely ripping away a length of skin. It's bloodied head slammed into her gut like a battering ram, and it was on top of her. Trident knocked from her grasp and much too long to maneuver under the lion's crushing bulk, Asteria shoved her buckler into it's yawning jaws to stop a lethal bite, and rained blow after blow onto it's head, but it was no use. Raking the lightly armored woman, the lion tore a deep gouge in her arm with one wild swing of it's paw, and at long last, the audience heard something other than steely silence from the Arena's Champion, as she cried out in pain.

Gradivus watched as Alexander leaned over the railings, half ready to hop the partition, climb down into the arena, and rip the lion off her himself.

"Alexander! What are you-?!"

The words died in his mouth, however, as yet another surprise graced the lucky audience of the Colosseum.

The lion was between her and the lioness' corpse. It was too far, there and back. If she went for her sword, Asteria would die. In truth, that probably shouldn't be as dire a prospect as it was to her, with how she's been treated by the gladiatrix, but all the same, she couldn't just leave her to be mauled to death by some damned cat.

But, looking at her feet, she saw that she didn't need too.

Of all the ways to go out. A fucking lion? She had killed god knows how many lions in her life, and faced off against much worse.

Was this all life is? Luck? Did she get where she was by making a bunch of glorified coin flips?

Damn it. All her life, she'd been waiting... for a chance. A chance to break free, to lash out. To take that fucker above her head down. But... she'll never get one. All her life would amount to is some fond memories for Gradivus and his bloodthirsty entourage.

Just like her father.

But, somehow, the weight pressing down on her grew lighter. With a howl of pain, the lion rose up, thrashing itself madly, like it was on fire.

Working on instinct, Asteria rolled out from under it, hissing in pain as sand filled the deep slash on her shoulder. Jumping up, she took her trident and prepared to stab at it, but as she turned and gripped the weapon in two hands, she found the lion already gone, bounding off across the sand like it was running from death itself, leaving a thick trail of blood behind it.

And perched atop it, like some insane jockey, was Elizabeth Morley, warrior of the north, one hand gripping its mane with all her strength, and the other plunging the dagger she had discarded in the sand earlier frantically into the back of its neck.

"Guh! Die, you fucking cat! I'll teach you to-! ...Urgh, GOD DAMN IT!"

Roaring, the lion jumps up and down, shaking violently, trying to throw off the assassin on it's back. Her hand was a blur of blood and steel, stab-stab-stabbing away until it collapsed onto its side with one last shudder, half-pinning her under it.

And then she kept stabbing. She wasn't sure how long, but it was long enough for the cheers to die out, and long enough for Asteria to stagger over to her and put a hand on her still steadily stabbing shoulder. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing, and it's been quite some time since she got such a large dose.

"I... uh, think you got it."

She stopped stabbing. One leg pinned under its bulk, she twisted her torso awkwardly to face her. Her whole front was sticky with blood. She could taste it in her mouth.

"...Oh. Yes, seems I did. I've... decided I rather don't like fighting lions."

Shaking her head, Asteria lifts the lion enough for the Peacekeeper to worm her way out from under it.

"You'll get used to it. Probably, anyway."

Looking around at the silent stands, she shakes her head, one hand over the wound on her shoulder, the other one holding her trident and buckler both.

"Well... let's present arms."

"Present arms?"

"Put your dagger up in the air. It's kinda like the signal that the fight is officially 'over'. I like to think of it as stabbing Mars."

"...Ah."

Sheepishly, she points her dagger to the sky, and Asteria does the same with her trident.

And, once more, the crowd explodes. Denarii fly like bullets, scarves and flowers flutter down from the heavens, minstrels break out into their impromptu first renditions of the songs they'll be writing about this fight. Even Gradivus is shaken, as he takes up the megaphone once more.

"W...W-Well! Mars on Olympus, even I am stymied! The all of us, the whole of Rome, are laid low with awe! Glory! Glory! Eternal glory upon the two of you! Never has Mars sent us a greater omen than this THRILLING display! And at the hostia's very commencement, at that! Rest now, my champions! Let wounds become scars! Let thought become memory! Let what our eyes see become what our hearts know, and let truth... become LEGEND!"

Grinning, Elizabeth claps Asteria on her unwounded shoulder.

"You may not have my back, but I've got yours, my dear."

Asteria turns to her, face hidden behind her helmet. Then, she steps past her, eyes on the opening gate, back into the pits.

"You shouldn't have done that. Now, you've got one more to deal with."

Looking down, shoulders sagging, she strides over to her sword, rips it out of the lion's head, and sighs.

"Probably should've expected something like that."

Mars Quirinus rushes for her spear and shield, tossing her gladius to Delilah to make up for the weapon pilfered by Anna. Turning around and coming to a stop, the great mass reveals itself to be a colossal warhorse, larger than she had ever seen.

Well, no, that wasn't quite right. She had seen it, only once before, alongside the man who rode it.

"You...!"

Stepping down from Lamri and sending her a safe distance away with a slap to the flank, Marius takes his Rose in two hands, silver plate gleaming in the fading sunlight. A hole had been punched into one pauldron, by the spear she had thrown all those days ago.

"Ashfeldian plate has taken far worse than a spear cast by hand, and so have I. Surrender."

"Commander! We had no idea what happened to you!"

Quirinus points her spear at the Warden.

"Silence, wastrel."

Raising her shield, she strides forward, unafraid of the ironclad man.

"You intrude upon our lands, strike at our heart unaided, and you dare to ask me to surrender? The three of you cannot hope to take Aquilus by yourself. Leave this place, and spare the world of unnecessary bloodshed."

Marius marches for her in turn, unwavering, halberd held steady.

"I cannot. To do so would be to turn my back on my soldiers, the men and women under my protection. To shirk every oath I've ever sworn. Even if it is with two soldiers at my side instead of two hundred, I will fight with all I have for their freedom."

Standing half a dozen paces apart now, weapons at the ready, Quirinus sighs. She looks to Delilah, standing still but cautiously on guard across from the woman invader. Then, she looks back to Marius.

"And it will be in vain. I will not let you pass."

Leveling his polearm, Marius nods solemnly.

"There is only one thing to do, then."

He lunged, spearpoint aimed for the gaps in her lorica segmentata. Quickly bringing her shield up to deflect the blow, Quirinus counterattacks with her pilum, aiming for the hole in his pauldron. Dodging to the side, Marius swings his weapon in a wide arc, only for her to catch it with her scutum and thrust once more, aiming for the slats of his visor. He just turns his armored temple to face the blow, and the point slides off the rounded surface of his helmet with a sickening screech, leaving little more than a scratch in the thin silver veneer coating the steel helmet. Shoving her with his polearm's haft, he cocks it back as if to swing it, but as she raises her shield, he brings up one great metallic boot and kicks the scutum as hard as he can, sending her staggering back into a tree.

"Hah! Get her, sir!"

"Focus on your own fight, Warden!"

Polearm already brought back, he swings it down in a crushing overhead arc, smaller axeblade down to focus more force onto the impact area. With that much momentum, it was liable to simply smash through her shield rather than be stopped by it, so instead she angles her scutum to the side, catching the axe with the long edge of her rectangular tower shield, deflecting the strike into the ground instead of stopping it outright, like he did with his helmet against her spear.

Throwing her weight forward, she shoves him away and brings her other arm back, as if to stab once more, but instead brings one corner of her weighty metal shield up, striking a blow to his chin that sends him staggering back, dazed. Leaping upon him once more, she thrusts again, and hits her mark, striking flesh past the hole in his pauldron. Shouting out, he draws the blade of a Salii from his hip -Mars only knows where he got it from- and slashes at her with his off hand, forcing her back. Stumbling away, bleeding from the shoulder, he shoves the blade back through his belt. She attempts to keep the pressure on him, thrusting at the wounded knight, but he parries the blow with the iron shaft of his axe and slams her in the face with the blunt end of the shaft. Stars in her eyes, she only barely raises her shield in time to catch the overhead blow that followed. Bringing the poleaxe back again, slinging the massive iron weapon around like it was made of wood, he brings it down once more, with even more power behind it.

"DEATH TO THE ENEMY!"

She catches the blow with the thick boss in the center of her shield, but even then, the shock travels down her arm, rendering her shoulder numb and throbbing from the sheer force of it, and with a great snap, a crack travels down the thick iron sheet that formed the main body of her scutum. Just how strong was he? She needed to get back on the offensive, or he'd just slam away at her till her shield fell to pieces around her arm... or until he knocked it out of its socket, whichever came first. He readies another crushing blow, but she doesn't sit meekly back for her shield to take it.

She brings her shield arm back, and as he strikes down, she throws an uppercut, the edge of her shield slipping under the beard of his axe and impacting where the head met the shaft. The clang of metal echoes through the forest, and her arm feels like it's about to fall off, but the counterstrike did its job; the halberd almost tears free of his hands, and she exploits the opening to launch another strike, smashing him right in the visor with the thin edge of her shield. Blood shoots out from between the thin metal slats, and she thrusts her spear forward, aiming to pierce through and strike his head.

Marius just barely turns his head to the side, pilum point tearing a slat free from his helmet, revealing one fierce blue eye to his enemy. He couldn't feel his face, and the feeling of blood running down his throat made him want to gag, but that didn't matter. He couldn't lose. His men needed him.

Knocking the next stab aside with his weapon's haft, he swings from the left with the Rose. She catches it, easily, but that's not the point. He pulls back, hooking the edge of her shield with the beard of his axe, and pulls it aside, forcing the shield away from her. Then, he thrusts forward, aiming for her face, unprotected by a helmet. She dodges to the side, point passing close enough by that the axe blade behind it just barely catches her forehead, slashing the skin wide open and sending blood running down the right side of her face, blinding one eye with the red stuff.

"Grr, futuo!"

Backing off, she grits her teeth and tries, unsuccessfully, to wipe the blood from her eye. Marius takes the moment to rest in turn, pain from the repeated blunt strikes and the wound on his shoulder catching up to him. Angrily, the Praetorian barks at him.

"What will you do?! Hm? Tell me that! Will you storm Aquilus, all on your lonesome? You will die! And you will kill young men, good men, in the act! Senseless death! I will not let you!"

Marius scoffs, spitting back at her from a bloodied mouth.

"You say that as if you are innocent, slaver! Why should I weep for the blood of young villains?! It is my holy mission to slay the wicked! The duty of all good men is to quell evil!"

Face twisting in anger, she screams in rage.

"We are not all Mars Gradivus, DOG!"

"...What?"

Gritting her teeth, she pants, looking to Legionnaire Delilah. She, too, had fought her opponent to a standstill. Looking back to Marius, she manages to speak just a touch more calmly, a growl instead of a roar.

"I... am Mars Quirinus, Aspect of the Praetorians of Rome! And the slaves taken here were seized unlawfully, in an unsanctioned conflict, against the explicit orders of our most revered emperor! Mars Gradivus, the man who led that raid, that captured your people, is a criminal, and a traitor to this country!"

Marius was quiet, staring at the Praetorian. Panting raggedly, he keeps his poleaxe leveled.

"So... you say that your people do not take slaves? I've scouted the perimeter of that compound, and I find that hard to believe."

Quirinus answers quickly. A woman so dedicated to the law as she would only naturally know them all by heart.

"Unlawful slaves. Gradivus captured your men in a skirmish within a foreign country, the invasion of which was neither ordered by the Emperor nor necessary to ensure the continued safety of Imperial civilians. As such, they are forfeit under Imperial law. It is my intention to return to the Capital and make him aware of the crimes committed here."

Marius' shoulders sag, still wary, but suddenly much less eager to continue the fight.

"...Damn it. Anna, stand down."

"...Sir?"

Sighing, he looks back to the Warden.

"We picked the wrong fight. She might just be our only real chance at getting our people home."

Turning to Anna, Quirinus relaxes somewhat, plunging the butt of her spear into the ground.

"I have no intention of allowing Mars Gradivus to keep his slaves. As soon as I return to the Capital, I will beseech our emperor to-"

Eyes suddenly widening, she assumes a combat stance once more, raising her shield. Panicked, Marius readies his polearm, assuming this whole conversation was some kind of bizarrely elaborate feint, only to see something metallic whiz past his head. The aspect only barely blocking it in time, it bounces off her shield with a clang, spiraling end after end until it lands, point first, in the grass.

A pugio.

"Damn. I was kind of hoping you'd kill each other off, but here you are, making friends."

Stepping out of the shadows was a familiar silhouette. Armored in lightweight leather scales, the man wore a black hood over his head and a cloak around his shoulders. He wore a brass mask in the shape of face, and in one hand he wielded an oddly curved blade. The same kind of blade he still had shoved through his belt. Quirinus narrows her eyes.

"So Ultor's finally realized I'm not drinking any of his special wine?"

"What? You've got it all wrong! We haven't been poisoning anything. Ultor wants you to bleed."

Silently, more Salii appear from the shadows, drawing their falcatta and pugiones.

"But, it was awfully kind of you to take yourself somewhere out of the way for us. And with these barbarians here, we even have a cover story! I'll be sure to hack your corpse up with that spear-axe of his, really sell it for the medici."

If the Salii was expecting any sort of response, he didn't get one. Instead, she turns to Marius.

"Suffice it to say, we're not fighting anymore?"

Hefting the Rose, he scowls.

"The 'Ultor' he speaks of works for this 'Gradivus' figure?"

"His favorite lackey."

"Ah."

Without another word, he levels his poleaxe and charges, running one of the black-robed assassins through. She couldn't think of a better answer to her question.

"Excuse me, my Aspect."

"Alexander, wai-"

He was already gone, squeezing past the thronging masses exiting the public stands and disappearing into the crowd.

Shit, that was close. She wasn't going to survive this damn tournament. And even if she did, what was she fated too? To languish in these pits till the next one comes? He didn't want to hurt anyone. His brothers weren't evil, he refused to believe that. Just... loyal to the wrong man. He didn't want to have to choose between them and the slaves, but what other choice did he have? He couldn't just smuggle the Arena's Champion out of Aquilus without anyone noticing, he doubts anyone could. If he has to choose...

He won't kill anyone. He is no traitor. But, in the end, his fellow soldiers signed up for this. Asteria could hardly say the same.

He needed to create a distraction. An opening. He could only hope she could do the rest. Tomorrow, Asteria of the Afri goes free.

"Ultor! Come before me!"

Some time later, Gradivus pounded on Mars Ultor's door with one thickly plated fist. He could hear clamoring in the chambers beyond it as the Aspect of the Salii scrambled to answer his call.

"My lord! What is it?!"

Opening, the door revealed his second, clad in a fine toga rather than his usual armor.

"Something bodes ill. I feel it in my blood. What of Mars Quirinus?"

He was pacing. Ultor was taken aback at the aggressive energy exuding from the Centurion, enough to set him stammering as he answered.

"W-well, I've sent my men after her. Only Mars knows if they will succeed in their holy duty. W-why?"

Suddenly, Gradivus turns, seizing the Salii by his shoulders.

"Something is wrong. The hostia... some threat hangs over it. I can feel it."

"D-did you see some poor omen in Asteria's fight?"

"No! No. She proved herself worthy as my champion, as she always has. Mars showed his favor for her, giving Elizabeth such bravery. But... Alexander Julius Capitolius. One of my Centurions. He acts strangely, as if he knows her. He almost jumped into the arena on her behalf."

"But... she's been your slave since she was a child. She was taught to fight in these very halls! How could he? Is he not younger than her?"

"I don't know, Ultor! Which is why I ask you to find out more about him, instead of silence him. Confirm my suspicions. Find out who he is. Where he hails from. Where his true loyalties lie."

Ultor looks anywhere but the agitated general, mouth open as he formulated a response. Then, his expression grows calmer. He looks up to the war-torn man, and says the only thing he can say.

"It shall be done, my lord."

"Good. Hail to Mars, Ultor."

"Hail to Mars, my lord."

Black cape flourishing behind him, Gradivus turns tail and leaves without another word. Ultor stares after him for a moment, then goes to fetch his armor, and set to the task which has been given unto him.

"You will regret coming to MY home! Butchering MY people! No one strikes at the Legions unpunished!"

Marius roars, lifting the impaled Salii aloft and hurling him back into the ground. Another swings, but he parries the blow, shoves his haft into the offenders face, and strikes him across the chest, sending him spinning away into the bushes from the force behind the blow. Yet another comes from behind, but he shoves the butt of his axe into his gut, forces him to the ground with a bone shattering kick to the leg, and knees him in the face as he tries to rise.

"Mars on Olympus! Get the bastard!"

The lead Salii charges, raising his falcatta over his head. He parries the blow easily, and swings the butt of the Rose the counter, but, unexpectedly, the nimble Salii ducks the lightning-quick blow, drawing another Pugio from his robes.

"You sure do love that trick, huh?"

He slips the dagger in between his cuirass and his cuisses, the wide blade biting deep into his hip. Letting go of his halberd with one hand, he swings the unoccupied fist down in an overhand blow, but the Salii dodges once more, around to his side now, and takes his larger blade in two hands, swinging for the back of his neck. He ducks just in time, blade sliding across the back of his helmet and along the blade-like metal crest atop it with a spray of sparks. Whirling around, Marius only barely brings his weapon to bear in time to intercept blow after blazing fast blow from the elite Salii's falcatta. He was too quick for him to get an attack in, forced onto the defensive by the flurry.

Finally, striking the swung blade near the handle with the haft of his own weapon, he sends him off-balance. He wings for the head, but the Salii ducks low and lays the flat of his blade across the back of his neck, angling it to catch the massive axe and redirect the momentum upwards along the blade, deflecting the blow so the only thing it cuts into his hood, leaving him with only his mask.

Sent off balance by the momentum of the whiffed blow, he only barely dodges the retaliatory thrust, blade splitting open the chainmail on the side of his neck, leaving flesh narrowly unharmed. The Salii dances back, twirling his blades almost playfully.

"You're a clumsy one, aren't you?"

Growling, he tears the pugio free from his hip and hurls it at the assassin. He simply stands there, arms spread, as the dagger strikes him in the chest. By the handle.

"...That's not the kind of thing you try without training, friend. Let me show you how I do it!"

Hooking the wide blade with his foot, he kicks it up into his hands and casts it with considerably more technique. Turning his helmet to the side to avoid the projectile, it screeches along the visor and off to the side, but not before it's weighty blade tore the hole in his faceplate wider. Ears ringing from the impact, he raises his polearm above his head to intercept another downward stroke, but it was a feint. As he neared the Lawbringer, the leader Salii ducks down, sweeping his legs out from under him with a low kick.

Landing flat on his back, Rose flying from his hand, Marius was helpless to stop the Salii as he leaped atop him, straddling his chest. Taking his falcatta in two hands, he thrusts down for the hole in his visor. Grabbing the blade with both gauntleted hands, he stops it, but only just. The point was already past his visor, and slipping through his hands steadily closer.

"I'll be next in line for Aspect after this! Thank you kindly, friend!"

Gritting his teeth, Marius turns his head to the side. The metal slats of his visor catching the point and turning it aside, Marius loosens his hands, and the blade shoots down, past his head, the steel blade trapped mere centimeters away, caught between his face and his faceplate, point plunging through the inside of the helmet and into the earth. Grabbing the Salii blade at his belt, he draws it and swings blindly.

Running the Salii through with her pilum, she shoves him off the point with her shield. One of the last of them shouts to his comrades, voice thick with fear.

"We are routed! Retreat!"

Watching as the remaining Salii -all four of them- sprinted away into the shadows of the forest, Quirinus leans against a tree and sighs.

"So, the die is cast. Victory or death for them now, Gradivus and Ultor both."

She looks up...

And saw Lord Commander Gaius Marius Flavius of the Rose Legion, lying on the ground, base of a falcatta lodged in the leftmost slit of his visor and point exiting through the rightmost, with a headless Salii lying atop him.

Casting the corpse off him, he sits up, still blind, the sword lodged through his helmet making an iron blindfold.

"God in heaven! Have we won?"

Quirinus grabs the sword and yanks it out of his helmet, much to his surprise if the shout is any indication.

"We have. Thank you, northerner. Legionnaire Delilah and I would not have triumphed without you.

Sitting back against a tree, her fellow Praetorian chuckles wearily, holding her bleeding side.

"Mars on Olympus, if that isn't a fact..."

The Aspect reaches a hand down for the Lawbringer.

"I feel some apologies are in order, and some explanations."

Marius takes it, groaning as he rises, battered and bloodied.

"On both our parts, Mars Quirinus."

Anna chuckles, stabbing the Gladius she had stolen into the ground.

"Well! I didn't expect to come through that cave to make any friends!"

On hearing her voice, Delilah started, and suddenly, she looked much less happy about the current state of affairs.

"Wait a minute! I took a dozen lashes because of you," She shouts, pointing across the clearing to the still unconscious Garth, "And that bastard over there, too!"

"Wha-! Well, you can hardly blame us, can you?!"

Quirinus looks to Marius.

"She won't be a problem. An apology would be nice, though."

"We could do with one as well, as I'm sure you're aware. But this isn't the time or place for that. There's a cave not far from here, where me and my mount have been hiding since we arrived. If we're to talk for any length, it shouldn't be out in the open like this."

The Aspect already has the insensate Conqueror over her shoulder.

"Very well. Point the way... Lord Commander."

Asteria of the Afri sat, back against Typhon's cage. Carefully, with a needle ran over flame and catgut twine, Lamarchus of New Hellas sutured the wound on her shoulder. She was looking at her hand, blankly. Voice numb, she speaks.

"It's happening again."

"Asteria? Are you alright?"

"You know what he called it, Lamarchus?"

He stared at her, not understanding. Just as he opens his mouth, she cuts him off.

"This fight... He called it the 'commencement of the hostia'. Do you know what that means, Lamarchus?"

"Asteria...?"

She looks down at her palm. Across it lay a half-dozen scars, all on top of each other to form a gnarled line of warped skin. A cut across the palm, an offering.

The blood of a champion.

"It means that every last gladiator in this arena is going to die. And I'm going to kill them."