Hello, brave readers! Today, we join Marius, Quirinus, and Elizabeth's respective parties as they heal their wounds, gather their bearings, and prepare for the raid on Aquilus. As always, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy...
The Oath Of Mars, Part 9: Commune
"Miles upon miles of black glass... like something from a man's nightmares. I'm glad Lawbringer provisions are fit for long voyages. Even if we did decide to go back, we'd be blind for most of it, my lantern's about dry."
"You would not survive the journey, not in the dark. We've lost men to the blackness before. Those caverns go down farther than you can imagine, down into the deep heart of the world. Without light, you would surely lose your way and starve."
"Me and Garth thought we were to meet the same fate, for a time. I'd hardly like to put myself in the same situation once more."
Quirinus, Marius, Anna, a slightly grumpy Delilah, and a very grumpy Garth sat around a campfire, in the mouth of one of the many caves dotting the side of Olympus. Night had fallen, and the air had grown cold, but with the ever present rush of hot air rising up from the depths of the mountain, they only needed the fire to see by.
"Bloody cave. How long were we cooped up in that damn cart? My arse felt half ready to fall off by the time we busted free!"
"It's a half-week's travel, one way. You are fortunate to have had a wagon to carry you. Most walk."
Quirinus looks to Marius, then outside, to the horse lashed to a nearby tree.
"Your steed must be quite the brave beast, to make such a trip. Many horses refuse to enter Mar's Path, especially on their lonesome. Such a lightless place was never meant to be tred by animals."
"Nor men. It's a scar on this world, a remnant of the Cataclysm. How did you even find it?"
"Or get it inte yer head to try and find out what's on the other side, if anything? Ye couldn't pay me to go down there!"
"The mountainside has been the hunting grounds of the Empire for generations. It was such a hunter that first brought knowledge of it to us. His fellows entered, but he feared it and fled. Rightly so, for they never returned. But what possessed Gradivus to send an expedition through...?"
She shrugs.
"We weren't sure if it even had an other side, or if it simply disappeared into the underworld, but he was certain that some land lied beyond, certain that it was not a mere cavern, but a passage. Many say that it came to him as a message from Mars, but I know that our god ill cares for sending such clear boons upon us. It must have been something else."
Anna leans forward.
"Something else, ma'am?"
"Well... it's just a rumor, but... I've heard talk of a woman, that Gradivus took as a slave for several years. The stories say that she simply appeared on the foothills of Olympus one day, and disappeared with a similar lack of ado. For years, he would spend every night up in his tower, there at Aquilus, talking with her. The soldiers say that it was Mars in mortal flesh, come to speak with his champion."
"Wot? But she was a lady, eh?"
"Gods have appeared as stranger things in our stories, foreigner. Bulls, flowers, or waves of golden light. They choose to appear as they wish to. But all the same, I doubt that woman was Mars. If the stories are true, and she did appear on Olympus, then perhaps Gradivus realized that Mar's Path was where she came from. What could have moved her to walk it on her lonesome will remain a mystery forever, I suspect."
Anna looked as if she had something to say for some time, and sensing a pause, she takes her chance.
"All this talk of Mars reminds me... well, I've already told you of the... old empire, Publius' journal?"
"Yes, you have, and I thank you dearly for it. After all this is done, you must let me have it, add it to our historical record."
"Of course! Well, if Elizabeth says it's alright. But, something doesn't quite match up."
"Oh?"
"Well... The book speaks of the Empire's gods, such as Neptune, Vulcan, and indeed, Mars. But all you seem to talk about is the lattermost. What became of the rest? And of the king of the gods, Jupiter?"
Delilah and Quirinus both look at her, confused. Finally, the Legionnaire speaks up.
"Jupiter? The god of the sky, king? Mars is the head of the pantheon. The others are there, Neptune for the sea, Vulcan for craft, sure, but Mars has always been the patron of Rome."
"Not according to the journal, m'am."
Quirinus speaks now, leaning into the cave wall.
"Well, you've changed since the old empire, too. Naturally, our beliefs and ideals would change as well, if to a lesser degree. This was a hard land when first our ancestors set to taming it. Perhaps they took more stock in strong steel than they did in fair weather."
"Hm. Maybe that same cultural mutation explains why 'Centurions' in this new empire are burly men with gladii who punch people very hard, not leaders of a century."
"Well, uh, we've got both, actually."
All the knights look at Delilah quizzically.
"...'ow d'ye tell them apart, then?"
"The leader centurions have those little, um... comb things."
Quirinus takes over for her.
"Every leader of a century bears a ridge of horse hair on their helmets to denote their rank."
"Well, how do you tell them apart in writing?"
Quirinus opens her mouth to answer, then stops. Several seconds pass.
She looks at the ground, brow furrowed.
"...Capitalization?"
Anna raises an eyebrow.
"So, you can have a century of Centurions, led by a Centurion centurion?"
"...Yes."
Another pause. Garth looks around, confused.
"...Well, what're ye callin' 'em Centurions for?!"
"They are supposed to be a match for a hundred men! And in the beginning, when our armies were smaller, they were rarer! Generally, the centurion 'leaders' and Centurion 'warriors' were one and the same. As we gained in number, the number of Centurions outgrew the number of centuries, and the name stuck nonetheless."
Quirinus leans forward and hastily changes the subject.
"D-does any of this truly matter? I am as curious about you as you are of me, but we should be planning our next move. We can ask as many questions as our minds can hold, once Gradivus and his coup have been brought to justice. We need to get to the capital, warn the Emperor."
Marius nods.
"Of course, but if I may be so bold... I think I have a better plan. This... hostia you spoke of, it will begin tomorrow?"
As Quirinus nods, he continues.
"And how long did you say this trip to your capital would take? Three weeks?
"Yes, on foot. Why?"
"Well, we can't afford to wait that long. Neither can Elizabeth. As a matter of fact..."
He sweeps his gaze over the assembled fugitives.
"I don't think we should go anywhere at all. Quirinus, how many soldiers are stationed at Aquilus right now?"
"Six centuries. Gradivus, Ultor, and my own personal honor guards, alongside the garrison."
"And how many do you suspect to be loyal?"
"All members of my honor guard have my personal approval. I picked them myself."
"She's real good to us, Lord Commander! We'd march into Tartarus for her, all of us!"
"...Yes. Anyway, aside from my century, I cannot say. Why?"
Marius declines to answer the question, carrying on his own tangent.
"And how many slaves?"
"Two hundred or so gladiators, and about the same number of servantry. Care to tell me what your thinking now, Marius?"
"Well, you know for a fact that Elizabeth is a slave in those halls, as we speak?"
"Yes."
"Hah..."
Marius leans back.
"Then by noon tomorrow, Elizabeth will have each and every one of those slaves up in arms. I may not like her, but I know the kind of person that she is, and what she's capable of. She'd never let herself get caught up in this charnel house show you say Gradivus is putting on. All we need to do is ensure that they win."
All Quirinus does at first is laugh.
"Are you serious? Two hundred gladiators against six hundred soldiers?! This is a waste of our time!"
"Four hundred, including the other slaves. Take your century off Gradivus' side and add it, and it's an even split."
"Even split?! Gradivus' soldiers are the elite of the elite! Armed and armored with the finest craft of the empire! Against a force almost half-composed of untrained, malnourished New Hellenes, they won't stand a chance!"
"A chance of routing them? Of course. A chance of escaping? Now that's a different story. Especially if you throw us into the mix."
"I hope your words are not fueled by hubris, Lord Commander."
"You misunderstand, Quirinus! I'm not talking about our skill or our ferocity, but our technology."
"...What?"
Turning to his subordinates, he grins.
"Anna, Garth! You still have your grenades, don't you?"
"Grenade? What's a grenade?"
Anna and Garth dug through their armor, producing one pair of black iron spheres each and piling them up well away from the fire. Marius, after a great deal of fishing around, comes up with a half dozen more.
"God above, how many of 'em d'they give you blokes, Marius?"
"As many as we need, Garth. As many as we need."
"This is amusing to watch, to be sure, but may I ask what these metal orbs are supposed to do? Do you cast them like missiles? I suppose they could punch through armor well enough if you had a strong arm behind it..."
"If you knew the true purpose of these weapons, you would surely have confiscated them. I'm glad you didn't. These aren't just balls of metal, Quirinus. They're bombs."
Suddenly, Legionnaire Delilah looked much less eager to be in this damned cave.
"Bombs?! You just give bombs to everyone?!"
Now it was the Ashfeldian's turn to answer sheepishly.
"Uh... well, yes, more or less. We have a great volcano in our territory, you see, and a peculiar yellow crystal forms in abundance on it's slopes. This crystal can be refined alongside other ingredients into a highly explosive powder. With how much it pumps out, we can kind of just... hand them around."
Quirinus looks incredulously at the pile of high explosives, much too close to the fire for her taste.
"Kind of just hand them around?"
Marius raises his hands, startled by the intensity in her voice.
"After proper training, of course! Right?"
"Of course, sir!"
"Still got all me fingers! Toes, too!"
Quirinus sighs, looking to the ground. It was the closest thing she was going to get to peace of mind.
"...How strong are they, then?"
"Strong enough to turn a line of shields into splinters. And unlike you, Gradivus' men won't know what's hitting them. If Alexander's display was any indication, half of them are liable to chalk it up to black hexes and flee."
"...Fine. If you think that this Elizabeth can turn the slaves against their masters, then I would be willing to lend my steel to their revolt."
"Good. Thank you, Mars Quirinus."
"Thank me after we survive, Lord Co-"
She stops. Frowns. Delilah's face grows worried.
"...M-my Aspect?"
Suddenly, Mars Quirinus looks back up.
"Who's Alexander?"
Someone was watching him. He knew it. He knew it in his blood.
Alexander's eyes dart around him, scanning empty hall. Fuck. He shouldn't have run out on Gradivus.
Mars Gradivus! Of all the people to stumble into! What were the chances of it? And what were the chances of being invited into his private booth for it?! And that damned lion! Was Mars against him? Surely he was.
But that didn't matter. He'd fight, all the same. He swore an oath. If that put him against the gods, he'd fight against them, too. The hallway branches, a stairway going down to his right. Down to the pits.
Elizabeth sat in one dark corner of the pits, just to the side of one of the many doors allowing egress of soldiers and slaves from the blighted place.
The attitude of the place had changed wholly between her arrival and her return from the arena. It wasn't exactly a carnival before, but the gladiators were at least talking with each other. Now, they stuck to their cells, skulked through the sandy halls without a sound, eyeing each other with what can only be paranoia. No one would talk to her, tell her what had happened.
So here she sat, in the dark, back to a solid wall so she wouldn't be stabbed in it.
Then, she spotted a familiar face, nervously meandering his way down the hall.
"Lamarchus! Thank Christ!"
He yelps as she removes herself from the shadows, almost keeling over.
"Ach! Elizabeth! What are you doing?!"
"Trying not to get shanked by all the twitchy psychopaths! What the hell's going on?!"
"You mean... you haven't heard?"
"No! I haven't! No one wants to talk to me!"
"...Well, you were in that fight with Asteria. Did you hear Gradivus?"
She scoffs.
"Hard not to, with that speaking horn of his."
Lamarchus did not appreciate the joke. Continuing without reaction, Lamarchus' voice was quiet.
"Well... he said that that fight was the start of the hostia."
A long pause.
"...What? Hostia? That's the word for an animal that's going to be sacrificed. At least, in old latin."
"Here, it means... something rather different. I'm new too, so I didn't know either, but... Asteria told me. She's been through six before. The hostia..."
Lamarchus sighs, looking down, and motions for her to sit, dropping to the sandy earth and leaning his back against the wall as he does.
"...The hostia is a tournament. A 'ritual', invented by Mars Gradivus to bless his campaigns. Every gladiator in Aquilus takes part. And every fight is to the death. From the winner is drained a goblet of blood from the hand, to be offered to Mars, and they are crowned the new champion of Aquilus."
Eyes widening, her gaze bores into the New Hellene.
"The winner? You mean..."
"The survivor. The sole survivor, Elizabeth. The gladiators look at each other like they are ghosts or ghouls because they are. They are dead men walking, all save one. As are you, Elizabeth."
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She looks like she's about to rise, storm away, do something, but... after a moment, she just leans back against the wall.
"...L-lamarchus..."
He rises to his feet.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I scarcely dare to walk these halls, for fear one of them might murder me in a rage. I am no gladiator. Just a clerk. I do not share your burden, and they despise me for it. I... I'm sorry."
He turns tail to quickly leave, but-
"Lamarchus!"
-her sudden shout stops him in his tracks. He hardly dares to turn around, to see the anger on her face. But he doesn't see any, in her body or her voice, as she speaks again.
"Lamarchus... I will stop this. I swear."
He looks back, for just a moment, and disappears down the hall. Wordlessly, she puts her head back against the rough stone wall, looking to the iron lattice above. To the stars.
"...Damn it all."
She was hoping to get a better lay of the land before she broke free, but it couldn't be helped. She rose from the ground and strode for the nearby door, hands slipping into the tear in her double-layered tabard, where once her lockpicks laid. They were gone, of course, but something else had taken its place; a key, lifted from one of the guards almost as soon as she woke up. With the desperate attitude in the pits, no guards were stationed inside the slave's quarters now, for fear a riot will break out around them, which gave her the perfect opportunity to try and-
As she stepped closer to the sturdy wooden door, the eye-level viewing slit in the door opened, putting her face to face with a Centurion.
"GUH! I...I-"
"Hold! Hold there, my friend!"
She stops backing frantically away from the door, panic replaced with confusion. The centurion on the other side of the door wore a helmet unlike all the rest, the faceplate hammered flat and dotted with many viewing holes, rather than bearing the semblance of a face like most others she had encountered. She had seen him before. Leaning over the railings, crying out for Asteria. Urgently whispering, the faceless centurion leaned close to the door.
"Are you Elizabeth Morley of the North? I saw you fight alongside Asteria. Look... I am a friend to you, and her."
Stepping closer, she whisper back across the thin slit.
"What's this about? You mean to tell me you want to help us out of here?"
"Yes! Yes, that's just it!"
Perhaps it wasn't wise to just trust him outright, but if this a ploy, it was a bizarre one. And besides, that panic when he saw the beast upon her... that was real. And it's not like she had any other way out of this blasted pit. For now, she'd put her faith in him.
"...Very well. What do you have in mind?"
"Look, I have a key for you! You can unlock the door and escape in the night!"
"...Ah. Well, I've got that part covered actually. And, looking at it now, it seems like there isn't actually a hole for a key on this side."
"...Oh. Damn. W-well, I'll just unlock it for yo-"
Shaking her head, she looks around for anyone on her side for a moment, before turning back to him. He wasn't just someone to open the door for her. He was an insider. She could use that.
"I'm staying right where I am for now. I have you now, someone who can avoid suspicion. I... I have a plan, one that'll save everyone here, not just me and her."
"In truth? Thank Mars. I'm no good at this stuff."
Relief quickly fading from his expression, he glances around nervously.
"Speak quickly though, in case someone comes."
"Of course, of course. Now, listen closely..."
Fishing around for another stashed trump card, she begins to explain her plan.
"Where's the armory for this place?"
"There are two. One for the weapons of soldiers, and the other for the gladiator's weapons of choice, like your sword or Asteria's trident. They are on the north and south tips of the amphitheater."
"Very good. When the first match begins, I want you to go to the soldier's armory and gather as many weapons as you can carry. Then I want you to plant this there, as close to the remaining arms as you can, and set alight this cord on the top here."
Dredging up an innocuous iron sphere from her robes, she passes it through the hole to him.
"W-what is this? A good luck charm?"
"A pleasant surprise, my dear, a pleasant surprise. Once you've lit it up -at the tip, mind you, not the base- leave with all due haste and bring your pilfered weapons here. Unlock the door, and hand the blades out. Tell them Elizabeth Morley sends her regards, and that she wishes them all the best of luck."
"A slave revolt? Do you truly think you can slip free of Aquilus' jaws in the broad daylight like that?"
"With that gift I just gave you, I think we can do a fair bit more than that. Now, I need you to do one more thing for me."
He nods, eyes solemn through his helmet.
"Of course, Elizabeth Morley. Anything."
"First off, it's just 'Elizabeth', and second, let's not be too hasty with the 'anythings'."
"H-huh?"
"Well... do you know how they'll decide the matchups? How this 'hostia' will proceed, the order of the fights, the opponents, et cetera?"
"Yes. There's a ledger in Mars Gradivus' office."
"Ah. In that case... I want you to change it. Change the first match."
"To what? To who?"
"I want you... to match me and Asteria against one another."
He reels back, barely able to keep his voice under control.
"Wh... What?! What are you saying?!"
"When you set the slaves loose into the compound, it'll cause one hell of a distraction. There aren't just soldiers here, there are civilians, noblemen and their servants. They'll be panicking. At that moment, me and Asteria will escape the ring, and strike down Mars Gradivus. He seems to fancy that booth, after all."
He was taken aback, barely able to stop himself from laughing.
"...What an audacious plan, Elizabeth. I suppose I should have expected as much, seeing how you dealt with those lions."
She grins.
"Well, fortune favors the brave, my dear."
"...Hah. It is as you say. Audentes Fortuna iuvat. Good luck, Elizabeth. Keep Asteria safe."
"I won't ask what she means to you, but... I promise. Just, get your part done. There's a ledger that needs some tidying up."
"Of course. And... if we meet again, you may call me Alexander."
Looking behind him, he sighs nervously, and without another word, slides the iron slat on his side closed, sealing the thin rectangular port.
As Alexander stepped away from the door, he could hear footsteps. In a panic, he almost put a hand to his Gladius, but his common sense forced him still.
Storming by was none other than Mars Ultor, who had just received word of his fellow Salii's ineptitude. He rushed by, stride just short of a run, muttering curses on his breath, and not the kind of 'curse' sailors belt out after they drop a box on their foot, but real ones, or as real as a curse can be, darkly muttered words to cast blight upon a man's health or misfortune on his kin. Salii always were the most superstitious of the Empire's forces, political assassins and divine avengers both.
Thank Mars. He really didn't want to explain what he was doing down in the pits. Glancing around the corner, he walks briskly away from the staircase, heading for his personal quarters. If he was going to sneak into Gradivus' office, he'd need to get this armor off.
"You mean to tell me that there's a traitor in Aquilus?"
"Going by those standards, you'd be a traitor, too."
"You know what I mean, Lord Commander! To think one of his own Centurions would turn on him..."
The Praetorian Aspect was on her feet now.
"What does he want? Do you know?"
"I do not. All he did was convince his brethren that I was a spirit rather than a man. That your spear had killed me."
"So that's where all the nonsense about 'lemures' came from!"
She runs a hand through sweaty black hair.
"Hm. Perhaps he can be of some assistance to us. He is the only covert agent we have."
"But how would we contact him? It's not exactly like we've got any messenger pigeons around."
Delilah leans forward, resting her elbows on the top rim of her scutum, bottom lodged in the ground.
"Pigeons? You use pigeons to send your messages? How?"
Quirinus turns to her, striding over to the legionnaire.
"That's a conversation for later. Right now, I have a plan. Legionnaire Delilah, are you ready to do your part for the Empire? Do your part for Mars?"
Delilah was suddenly very nervous.
"...Yes?"
"Very good. Delilah, I ask, as your Aspect, as your General, as your sister in arms... return to Aquilus."
"What?! I-"
"-Return to Aquilus, so that we might communicate our plan to this 'Alexander' before we act on it. Implore him, assist us in our Herculean task."
"But! But! Th-the Salii! They know my face!"
"So you will hide it from them. They will not expect you to return, and you are but a simple legionnaire, even if you are a Praetorian. You can slip among the masses, hide in uniformity. Especially..."
Reaching behind her, she produces their helmets, set aside before their ill-fated dinner and almost lost in the chaos.
"...With this covering your visage."
Delilah is... distraught, to say the least.
"And here I thought you taking notice of me was what saved me from a death sentence. Just traded it out for another, huh?"
Shoulders sagging in defeat for a moment, she swipes her helmet out of Quirinus' extended hand.
"...Ah, to hell with it. What's this damn plan, anyway? We haven't really got to that part, have we?"
"You are brave indeed, my sister. But yes, let us begin. Do you have any ideas, Marius? You know the power of these grenades, and the capabilities of your own troops. You should decide on our approach."
"Thank you. The first battle begins at noon tomorrow?"
"As I said, yes."
"Then Elizabeth will likely have enacted her plan by then, if not before. Tell me, where would they keep our arms? I have my Rose, but my fellows could use more familiar weapons than your shortswords."
"I miss me flail!"
"You'll likely find your weapons in the secondary armory, at the south tip of the amphitheater."
"Any cover? We cannot be seen until we are within the walls, preferably until Elizabeth breaks loose. Surprise is our greatest friend here."
Thinking for a moment, Quirinus sits back down.
"Hm... I cannot say. Aquilus sits upon a plain. At least a hundred yards of flatland in all directions."
"Maybe... tell me, do these woods extend to the east of the compound?"
"...What? I mean, yes, but why?"
As soon as the question left her mouth, she understood, comprehension replacing her confusion.
"Ah! Nevermind, I see. You mean to approach from the treeline at dawn, hide ourselves in the sunrise. It'd be a long wait to midday, but... I think we can manage it."
"Entrances?"
"One on each cardinal point, north, east, south, and west. The northern gate has been in disrepair for decades. Returning armies never approached from the north until these last few months, so no Emperor's ever bothered to have it maintained. We can slip in there."
Marius removes his helmet and leans back.
"That's all there is too it, then. The rest, we leave to Elizabeth."
Turning to the nervous legionnaire, he smiles, and slams a gauntlet-clad fist to his chest in a sign of respect.
"And you, my friend."
Quirinus puts a hand to her shoulder.
"Return now, my sister, and meet with this Alexander. We will rest here for the night, and come for you at noon. Good luck."
Shaking her head, she places the helmet given to her by the Aspect onto her head, and lets out a shaky breath.
"I'll need more than luck, but I'll take what I can get."
Sparing one last look to the sparse, fire lit party of outcasts, Delilah heads out into the cold night air.
Alexander removed the last of his armor, carefully placing his greaves at the foot of his personal quarter's armor stand. He was left in nothing but a tunic tied around the waist with a leather cord and a set of wool hosen. Though the Empire of old replicated the original worshipers of Mars in many ways, it seems their distaste for pants was not one of them.
He contemplates putting his Gladius through his belt, just in case, but that would be hard to explain away to anyone else wandering the halls. Even as unlikely as that would be, at this time of night, he couldn't risk it. He only had one shot at this. Instead, he tucks his sidearm, a broad-bladed pugio, under the tunic, and heads back out into the torch lit halls.
To strangers, the halls of this place seemed all the same, a maze of shadowy stone, but by this point, he was no stranger.
How long had he been planning for this? Half a decade, easily, but to him it seemed more like a matter of weeks. He had risen, slowly and hard-fought the whole way along, through the ranks of his army, and all for this moment. He was one of Gradivus' most trusted subordinates, one of the three centurions that managed his garrison. And, in a days time, that would all be over, cast away like dice, for better or worse. He couldn't help but think back to where it all began.
It was her last days. Everyone knew this, her most of all. But, right up until the end, she sounded... strong. She had always been strong, perhaps too strong, from his earliest memories. She was a hard woman, and at times, a cruel one.
But, all the same, these last few weeks, he couldn't help but think he was going to miss his mother.
It was guilt that tinged her voice, that day, the last time he saw her breathing, not weakness.
"Alexander?"
She looked around uselessly, eyes blind from the southern plague. But her voice was calm as she called for him.
"I am here, mother. You called for me. Did you need something?"
"No. ...No, my child, I just..."
She rests her head down on the goose-feather pillow below it, and sighs.
"I'm sorry, Alexander. For everything."
He was quiet, for a long, long time.
"I... am sorry too."
He didn't know what else to say.
"I know that I never treated you right. You... were such a strong boy, Alexander. You deserved better than me."
"You did the best that you could. You were all by yourself. Do you remember, when I first joined the legion? They wouldn't stop mocking me, about father. Now look at me. I command my own century, and in an Aspect's name. I think I'll settle down, soon, perhaps take a wife. You have nothing to regret."
Those last words seemed to pain her, perhaps more than the sickness did.
"Mother? What's wrong?"
"Alexander... It's time I told you something. Time I told you why your father left us."
She sighs, and looks away from where his voice last came.
"...Long past time."
He was there. Flanking the chamber's double doors were two night guardsmen. He couldn't talk his way past them, but perhaps he could get a lay of the land. Stepping out into the torchlight, he waved.
"Hail, brothers! Is Gradivus in? I passed by Ultor some time ago, and he looked like someone pissed in his wine. Muttering all sorts of things, none of them good. I thought he might want to know."
"I'm afraid not, my centurion. No one's seen hide nor hair of him since this morning, after that beast fight. He went to Ultor's quarters, and after that...? Hear he's locked up in his tower."
"I'll try him there, thanks! Hail to Mars!"
"Hail to Mars, sir."
He rounds the corner with intent, as if he had some place to be, continuing until he was out of earshot. Well, at least he wouldn't have to deal with Gradivus again. But what to do? Even if he tried to overpower the guards, the commotion would only call more. A soldier's barracks, one of many scattered throughout the fortress, lie just down the hall, so even if the soldiers were at rest, they could respond if their superiors were attacked by an infiltrator.
But at this time of night? After a showing like that in the arena? He could hear clamoring and merriment from the open doorway, firelight spilling out onto the stone.
He could work with this.
Stepping into the packed room, he just spreads his arms and laughs, to a similar response by the many drunk men within. Seems they had broken out something a fair bit stronger than wine. Ingratiating himself with the celebrating soldiers, he enacted his plan.
Reaching over to a nearby soldier watching an arm wrestling match, he lightly pats him on the lower pack, just above his rump, and quickly pulls the arm back and assumes a shocked and indignant expression, staring at the man to the soldier's side. Clumsily turning around, the inebriated man slurs at the seemingly distraught Alexander.
"Huh? Somethin' happen?"
Turning back to the drunkard with a start, he stammers for a moment, before nodding vigorously.
"Yes! Something did just happen! That whoreson on your right hand just tried to pick your pocket!"
"Wha?!"
He turns around to the oblivious man and shoves him.
"What're you playin' at?!"
The other was more confused than indignant, stumbling back a bit.
"...Huh?"
Alexander could fix that. Stepping in close, he practically snarled, 'backing up' his new 'friend'.
"I saw your hand in his pocket, you rat bastard! I'll smash your face in!"
"What?! I didn't steal anythin'! You take that back!"
"So you're a liar and a thief?! If this were my grandfather's empire, we'd have lashed you to a cross by now! But I guess being a low-born bastard like you, your tramp of a father didn't teach you anything about the old ways!"
If you want to make an Imperial man angry, insult his lineage. With a growl, he swings one clumsy fist for Alexander's face. Ducking the blow, he stepped back as momentum bid it carry on into his 'friend's' shoulder.
With a roar of drunken fury, the victim of the fictional theft dived upon the scapegoat. The victimized man's friends stepped in, prompting his 'friend's' actual companions to assist him, and so on. By the time Alexander slipped out the doorway and sprinted back down the hall to Gradivus' office, it had become a full-blown drunken brawl. The guards by the door were half about to leave their posts from the noise of it alone.
"Mars on Olympus!"
"Centurion Alexander! What is it?! What's that racket?!"
"They're beating each other bloody! Damn drunkards! I'll get some more men, you just keep them from killing each other in the meantime!"
"Sir yes sir!"
Without another word, the two guards charged down the hallway.
Well, that went better than he had planned.
Mars Ultor was not a happy Salii. He paced the halls aimlessly, thinking. Quirinus was out there. With those damned escapees. They're probably heading for the Capital right now!
What did this mean? What was Mars trying to tell him? He didn't know.
He didn't know! How?! All his life, he had been sure of his purpose, a holy blade of war which would cut away the filth and blasphemy beyond Rome's borders. As he opened throats and stilled hearts, ended wars before they even began, he felt it come naturally to him, like a babe's cry. It was right. Mars bade him move his hands, and so he did.
And when Gradivus came before him, he knew, from the first words he spoke, that he was the man that Mars had chosen to lead the Empire into a new golden age.
They had to complete the hostia. To interrupt a ritual halfway was begging wrath from his lord on Olympus. They had a head start, and a considerable one, even if they schedule multiple fights a day. But it would be some time to the Capital on foot. Could his men intercept them, delay them? Perhaps, perhaps. Give them the time they needed. After that, it would be up to Gradivus, and the Fates. He was a killer, not a general. But the Aspect of the Centurions moved armies like they were his own hands. If they struck fast, and hard, for the capital, they might...
...No. Not might. They will take it. For that was Mars' will.
Intercept them, slow them down. Kill them, if only he could. That's what he needed to do. His Salii hardly mattered in an urban battle like the one ahead, anyhow. He'd send his century out, every single one of them, if he had too. On horseback, they'd ride them down like dogs.
...He shakes his head at his momentary panic. Such faithlessness. Mars showed the path, as always. He came to a stop, in the darkness between two torches, cloak rendering him almost invisible. Calm down, Ultor. Quirinus will be dealt with in time. For now, he needed to heed Gradivus' commandments, see to Ale-
He hears the creak of a door, and he instinctively leans into the wall, hiding in the darkness further.
He nearly scoffs at his own actions. Such nerves would be the death of him one day.
But then he saw just who made that noise, and from where.
Sticking close, invisible, to the dark wall, he watched none other than the centurion in question step out from Mars Gradivus' office, looking, ever so furtively, for witnesses to his sneaking, and finding none with his dull eyes. Tromping away in what he probably thought to be 'silence', the fool disappeared from his sight.
Who he was? Well, Ultor had found that out, sure enough. A traitor. His actions at the amphitheater were the first nail, and this subterfuge now was the second.
And together, he would be staked to his cross by them. Quiet as a ghost, Ultor made for Gradivus' tower.