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4 Weeks Later
House Thal'kyr Ludus Gladiatorius
Angronius crouched low as Oenomaus raised his staff, threatening to strike should he test his reach. Adorned in nothing but a simple rough-spun tunic and armed with only a short knife, the boy was put through his first day of training in the gladiator school as a novici. Rissio was with him, and he fared better with their teacher than when they faced the gilded wardens some weeks before.
The man's reach was incredible, and his reflexes too sharp. The boys were given the chance to strike him down, but had yet to accomplish their goal. All of it, of course, was part of Oenomaus' demonstration to the other slaves. No one was allowed to talk during the lesson, as it was Oenomaus' intention that they learn every single detail of his instruction.
"In the arena, you will face all manner of enemies. Some of them are giants, some of them are dwarves. Sometimes, you'll face more than one." Oenomaus paused to deliver a sharp whack across Angronius' backside when he lunged for him and missed, eliciting a loud yelp of surprise from the boy. "Whatever you find yourself fighting against, never underestimate your opponent. And more importantly, never underestimate yourself."
Angronius spun around and snarled, gripping the knife a little tighter as he circled his teacher for another go.
"Someone once said to me these words. In battle, you don't think- you just fight." Oenomaus quoted, "Words of a brawler. In this ludus, I am not training you to be brawlers. I am training you to become gladiators, warriors of a creed elevated above the rest. A warrior thinks, thinks well but thinks quickly. Then, he acts."
He turned just in time to see Rissio rush at him, at the same time Angronius launched himself at Oenomaus' back. The old former gladiator sidestepped them both, causing the boys to crash into one another clumsily and once again ending up on the stadium dirt floor. A short titter escaped the lips of some of the slaves, which was quickly silenced when Oenomaus threw them a disapproving glare.
"Angronius, Rissio!" He barked, "Up!"
The boys obeyed and stood before him at attention.
"You have failed, now you are both dead." Oenomaus said, "A good attempt, all things considered. You both saw that your opponent was bigger and faster than you. So what did you do? You probed for an opening, then attacked at once. Therein lies a fatal flaw."
His staff thrusted forward against Angronius' chest, digging deep into his skin as if to drive the point in deeper. "You attacked before you even saw that opening."
Angronius stiffened and stood up straighter. In the short span of four weeks, the boy was almost as tall as a full grown man. Although, in comparison with Oenomaus, the teacher still dwarfed the lad by a few feet.
"Next lesson!" Oenomaus bellowed, "Patience is the virtue of the cunning! To succeed in your battles you must be brutal but cunning, but in some cases, cunning but brutal. Patience may at times seem your enemy, but more often than not proves to reward most generously when trusted. However, you must know when it is the time to wait and when it is time to act. Your enemy may well have gained victory long after you remain in your spot, scheming without end like a wily coyote."
"Yes, Oenomaus!" The slaves answered.
Angronius growled, again earning himself the attention of his irate teacher.
"You grunt and howl like a dog ever since they dragged you out of the transporters, Angronius. I have given you a name, one that befits a savage and fiery one such as yourself, but that does not give you the excuse to act like some rabid mongrel."
The rumble in Angronius' throat ceased, but his defiant glare remained.
"Echo my words, young one." Oenomaus commanded him, "Learn to speak, just as you are learning to swing that knife."
Angronius' lips twisted into a grimace as he glanced down at the blade in his hands. He returned his gaze to his teacher just as the man turned his heel to walk away. With the lessons done, it was time for the drills. The slaves would be left at the practice yard to train on Oenomaus' instructions, and master the skills of the gladiator.
In a voice barely audible for anyone to hear, he muttered to himself.
"I hate knives."
As the slaves practiced, their masters' ever-watchful eyes gazed down from the walls of the Palace Praxica. Bored out of her mind, Lady Poledra decided to see how her house's latest investments were faring. The troublesome pair that killed some of her guards, judging by what she could see, seemed to be acclimating just fine after Oenomaus got through to them.
She pulled up the errant skirt of her dress draping across her legs, then sat on the edge of the balcony wall with a goblet of wine in one hand. Two of her accompanying attendants, both young virgin girls she personally selected from Desh'elika's most respectable breeding centers, stepped up to fan their mistress to chase away the midday heat.
"More, Anisa." Poledra said, taking a sip from her wine. "You too, Raya. The battle against this heat has barely started, and you're already losing."
"Apologies, mistress." Anisa bowed her head and put more effort on fanning the matriarch. Her fate, like all slaves, teetered on a whim. At any moment she would displease her mistress, her life may be forfeit. Lady Poledra's good mood was paramount, and she endeavored to have her remain comfortable.
"Mistress." A servant approached her after a few incredibly dull moments passed. "Lady Polgara has returned."
Suddenly, Poledra's face lit up at the mention of her daughter's name. "Polgara? My little Eanna has returned?" She pushed herself from the wall and handed her goblet over for Raya to pick up. "Where is she now?"
"She's arriving presently at the gates." The servant replied, "We are currently moving her baggage indoors, but-"
"Out of my way, fool!" Lady Poledra abandoned all decency and rushed for the stairs, her attendants trotting along with her. Her flight through the palace ended at the front gate, where a small crowd of attending slaves unloaded the contents of a large heavy transporter.
Her keen eyes caught sight of a young woman dressed in deep azure blue flowing robes, who she instantly recognized as the daughter whom she had not seen in over ten years. She smiled proudly as she beheld Polgara, all grown up and back home after so long.
"Eanna, my daughter! Come give your mother a kiss!"
At the sound of her mother's voice, Polgara Eanna Thal'kyr turned gracefully as though she were a swan gliding through water. Her golden brown eyes gleamed with delight as she embraced Lady Poledra, then she pulled away to smother her with pecks all over her cheek as she did when she was little. Polgara inherited both her mother's dark brown hair and regal Desh'ean beauty. She inherited other things as well besides Lady Poledra's good looks, for Polgara early on had manifested a potential for the mystic arts.
When she had reached the age of ten, Lord Marcellus sent her away to study at the Temple of Lilith, which served as the academy of sorceresses in Desh'ea. It was also the same temple in which Lady Poledra studied divination as a young girl, before she entered politics and met her husband. Her daughter's return home could only mean that she had passed her studies as a novitiate. Although she could very well remain and improve upon her abilities, Polgara's decision to return was welcomed and none of the sisters of the temple thought less of her for it. There was always time for studying the mystic arts, as mastery of it all would take up the whole of eternity itself.
"You should have sent word you were coming." Lady Poledra said, "We would've prepared a feast."
"Oh Mama, I wanted it to be a surprise." Polgara replied, "Besides, you can always throw a party for me later."
"Welcome home, Mistress Polgara." Some of the slave boys and girls greeted the returning maiden. Most of them grew up with Polgara, and saw her as more than their domina.
"Sooner would be preferable." Lady Poledra insisted, turning to the slaves to issue a string of commands for the day. "Come, we must prepare! My daughter's homecoming deserves far better than some somber greeting!"
Polgara shook her head and walked towards the doors of the palace to retire for the afternoon. Her father would not return until later in the evening, as he was busy with handling the family's various affairs, both in business and politics. She would greet him with her own feast, and their family would be whole again.
The cacophony of grunts, yells and cheers from the ludus practice yards reached Polgara's ears. She stopped by the hanging gardens to peer over the edge and look at the men and women who would fight and die for the glory of her family in the arena.
The sight of them filled her heart with pride, for she had never seen so many blessed in form and skill. There were dozens of novicii, undoubtedly plucked from the many markets scattered across the province, who started training at the school. Separated from them, at an exclusive courtyard and enclosure, were the ascendente or ascended gladiators. These gladiators had graduated from the ludus and had been given their first taste of real combat in the arena, although House Thal'kyr had yet to select a champion from among them.
The last champion Polgara saw was from when she was just a child, barely emerging from her toddler years. His name was Flamma Retiarius, a master of the trident, and he achieved victory over 99 times in the Colosseum Magnus until his death in the hundredth battle which would have earned him his freedom. A tragic end, but at the same time a glorious one.
Her family had a bronze statue made in his honor, which stood in the Hall of Champions in the palace inner sanctum.
Polgara's wandering eyes flitted from one gladiator to another, admiring each for their impressive physique and martial prowess. They were giants, having ascended above the status of mere men through House Thal'kyr's genetic modification technologies. And they moved like titans, splintering iron and steel as though it were wood.
There were women gladiators too, apart from the men, and they trained at another separated enclosure called a sororia, with only a few star-metal bars to ward itself off from the male section, which was called the frateria. The barriers were designed not only to keep the males from wandering out of their compound, but to improve morale as it offered a good view of the half-naked fighters drilling in the sororia grounds.
In contrast to the towering and menacing forms of their male counterparts, the women of the arena were lithe in form and possessed a godlike agility that defied the laws of physics. Whereas the males were almost entirely devoted to mastering earth-shattering techniques, the gladiatrixes were taught to master the innate skills that they were naturally inclined towards. Finesse and guile could just as easily win their battles as strength and brutality.
In the arena, sometimes gladiators and gladiatrixes from both the sororias and fraterias would pair up against multiple opponents. So to encourage camaraderie among the gladiators, House Thal'kyr would regularly partner up a select few in the practice yards to prepare for the games. When the chosen performed admirably, they would be rewarded, particularly rewards that would stimulate a gladiators virility.
A gladiator with shriveled parts, after all, made for a poor fighter.
Her attention shifted to the novicii, who would one day ascend and join the gladiators to fight for her house's honor. If they lived to see graduation, they would undergo ascension through her family's skilled doctors and become gladiators. In a way, she had once been like them. Young, unskilled but brimming with potential. Even a slave could be admired for trying to rise above their current status, although rare was the moment they would ever attain ascension.
As she watched from atop the gardens, the novicii were called away from the practice yard for their afternoon meal. Rissio and Angronius were among the last to leave the yard, and they both looked up to watch the sun slowly descend over the horizon.
"Hey, Little Brother." Rissio said, "Look there, atop the gardens."
Angronius glanced in the direction where his friend was pointing, and squinted his eyes against the glare of the sun shining overhead. There was a maiden sitting on the edge of the wall that was covered in beautiful spring flowers. Her glossy skin gleamed like polished bronze, her brown hair flowed in the wind like the desert clouds on a stormy day, and with the sun at her back she looked like a goddess visiting the palace.
"That is Lilith, The First Woman and Wife of Mars." Rissio made a holy gesture with his hand, "Goddess of Women and of the Desert. A good omen."
Angronius gave his friend an incredulous look but said nothing, he gazed back at the woman and remained there until the sun had sunk halfway into the horizon. Their eyes met, and Polgara found herself smiling shyly at the penetrating stare of the errant slave.
He was definitely one of the new ones, as he did not know the basic rule of a slave in House Thal'kyr. To gaze into the eyes of one's master as an equal was a punishable offense, and if caught he would be flogged.
The encounter was left far in the back of her mind as she slipped away to her chambers, intent on taking a well deserved nap before the party began. She pushed through the doors and entered the room, sighing deeply as she took in the nostalgic feeling from the place where most of her childhood had been spent.
Her mother homeschooled her in that same room, and it was where she performed her very first spell. It was also the same room where she nearly burned the palace down when she set fire to the curtains. Thankfully, her mother was adept at spellcraft and put out her flames before it destroyed their home.
Memories, lovely ones.
Without even bothering to disrobe, Polgara slipped out of her sandals and dove into the sheets. Her mind wandered off until she finally fell asleep.
"So you can talk after all!"
Angronius rolled his eyes and pulled the string of his loincloth a little tighter over his hips. Rissio, in an attempt to distract himself from the grueling work they had to put up with as novicii, took every opportunity to speak with his friend. It was heartwarming, but if he was honest with himself, it was insufferably annoying.
"Yes, I can talk." He said, "What of it?"
The boys, together with the other slaves, were sent to the bathhouse to have themselves washed and prepared for the dominus' monthly inspection. There was to be a party that night in honor of the return of Lady Polgara, and the slaves would be put on display for the guests. While Lord Marcellus did this on occasion to show off his property to his friends and enemies in court, he sometimes did so to attract certain potential customers, more often than not to purchase their favor for improved relations.
"I'm just wondering why you continue to play the mute all this time." Rissio remarked.
"My voice is my own, I shall use it however I please." Angronius replied.
"A bold tongue may earn a man the admiration of his peers." Someone spoke up from among the gladiators in the far edge of the room. All eyes were on them now, and a towering ascendant strode forward to size the defiant boy down. "A slave will only end up having it cut off."
Rissio backed away, but Angronius stood his ground. No matter how tall the warrior was compared to him, he remained undaunted.
The man's name was Cannicus Dimachaerus, an aspiring gladiator determined to become House Thal'kyr's champion. He was named Dimachaerus to refer to his fighting style, which was the use of dual swords to forego a shield's defense for a fully offensive oriented style. His body, like Oenomaus, was covered in scars from a dozen battles in the arena. His skin had been tanned to light brown from living under the sun. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving a small top knot with a long braided tail that stretched down to the middle of his back. A large burn mark marred the right side of his face, which distorted his features until it left a perpetually tormented visage.
It was the face of a man who'd seen the untold horrors of the colosseum games and lived to tell the tale, "You disrespect Oenomaus behind his back and dishonor the name of House Thal'kyr. Curb your defiant spirit, whelp. Otherwise, you will not live to see another day."
Angronius did not take kindly to the man's threat, and he bared his teeth at him.
Cannicus guffawed, "Hah! Look here, the pup bares his teeth at me!"
The other gladiators broke out in a mixture of chortles, giggles and disdainful laughter. Cannicus shook his head and turned away, not in the least bit intimidated by the young slave's display. He did not thirst for the blood of the unworthy, so he saw him as someone not worth fighting against. It would have been a waste of time.
When the slaves were finished bathing, they were told to stand in two neat little rows outside the bathhouse. Some virgin slave girls were brought in to oil them down to be more presentable before their masters. The slaves appeared, dressed in nothing but white loincloths with their young breasts bared. Ceremonial glittering gold paint adorned their chests and abdomen, while their bare feet were adorned by shimmering anklets.
Holy oil, consecrated at the palace shrine, filled the jars held in their hands. Though all of Nuceria considered itself a relatively advanced society, both religion and superstition choked the minds of the common folk. Desh'ea was no different, but it only served to add some flavor to their culture as a whole.
The sweet scent of the oils assaulted Angronius' nostrils, and he gagged at the powerful smells that filled the courtyard. He flinched when a slave girl touched him with her oily hands, as though her touch burned him.
"Don't be afraid." The girl said with gentle understanding, "This won't hurt you."
Angronius grunted, reluctantly acquiescing to her work. He bore the discomfort of the hot liquid smearing his body in a thick second-skinlike sheet. Before long, he found himself rounded up for a trip out of the ludus. At last, he would finally see what lay beyond the walls of the gladiator school.
The last time he was outdoors, the entire province of Desh'ea was covered in snow. Now that spring had arrived, he saw for the first time the beauty of the land, even though it was for a fleeting moment. The open plains, the fields teeming with crops, the vast sky alight with the twinkling stars of the night. Angronius felt that ever-present longing to flee, to be free from his bonds of slavery.
The mirthful sounds of music and laughter broke the lad from his daydream, and at a brief glance he realized they had already entered the marble halls of the Palace Praxica.
It was the capital of darkness in Desh'ea, where the cries of agony mixed with the purest of songs. Here, within its walls of ivory and obsidian, gold and silver, the true decadence of the Nucerian people could be fully explored. Unbridled hedonism, the likes of which no chaste mind could ever fathom, was endulged with wild abandon.
Across cushions and luxurious scarlet couches, lords and ladies sat or reclined while servants saw to their every need and catered to their every whim. The most beautiful slave women were set to dance upon erected pedestals at every corner of the throneroom, each of them clad in scant silks and shimmering veils. Some burly slave men were also set to perform in bloody brawls in the center of the room, to sate the more savage needs of the spectating crowd.
The arrival of Lord Marcellus was received with a chorus of elated cries and a brisk shift in the tempo of the performing musicians. Another long day at work had come and gone, the patriarch was now in the mood for festivities, and he accepted their greeting with a ready smile on his face.
"Hail to you, friends and honored guests!" He announced, "I am thankful for your attendance in this momentous occasion. My beloved daughter, Polgara, has recently finished her courses as a novitiate in the Temple of Lilith. After ten years of devoted study in the mystic arts, she has returned to us as a sorceress!"
The announcement was received with a polite applause.
"Thank you, thank you." Marcellus nodded, "And now, let us give her a proper greeting as befits a daughter of House Thal'kyr."
Lady Polgara graced the throneroom with her presence not long after her father finished with his oration, and she waved at the guests with a charming smile as she walked over to her father.
"Oh Papa, you are so kind." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, "It's good to be back home."
"I almost did not recognize you when I saw you enter." Marcellus said, squeezing his little girl close to his chest. "By Mars, you look just like your mother!"
"Oh, before we forget, where are the gladiators?" Polgara whispered excitedly, "I saw a lot of new faces in the ludus this afternoon."
"Well you shall see them all again presently." The lord parted with his daughter so she could sit at her throne beside his, then turned back to address his guests. "In gratitude for your unwavering support and generous patronage to this house, I offer gifts of water!"
He gestured towards the twin doors on the opposite end of the throneroom. Through them entered a dozen slaves, both male and female, donning masks carved in the likeness of the pantheon of gods and goddesses of the Nucerian people. Their naked forms were all wrapped in glittering second skins of gold and white marble bodypaint. These slaves in particular were bred and raised to perform a singular task, which was to master the crafts of pleasure and sensuality. The sight of them aroused the lecherous souls looking on with hungry lips and wanting eyes.
"To quench you of the thirst of a long journey." Marcellus declared, "And let us not forget, gifts of blood!"
The gladiators entered, dressed in their full battle regalia. In tow were the novicii, who would spectate in the spring games same as the crowd. The sight of them both awed and terrified the guests, though the latter part they did their best to stifle.
"You are most generous, Lord Marcellus!" A patron raised his glass to honor his host, "Honor to House Thal'kyr!"
"And honor to you!" Marcellus returned the gesture, "Behold my titans, behold the gladiators who would battle in the Colosseum Magnus in naught but three weeks from now! I promised in winter past that I would raise another spectacle to please the gods and stave the hunger of the masses with the games, and here I stand with my promise kept. The other houses prepare their own tribute as we speak, I apologize for their absence as of late. Rest assured, you will all see what they have in store soon enough. For now, I urge you to indulge your every whim. Eat, drink, and partake of the sweet offerings of my body slaves."
With their host's words spoken, the guests resumed the festivities.
The gladiators and gladiatrixes, assembled around the throneroom like statues, were approached by many and were the subject of much admiration. Doctore Oenomaus was not present at the party, as he felt there was no need for his presence there. Being a free man, he had the choice to go wherever he pleased save for when it displeased his master.
This was the first time Angronius felt the searching eyes of the high-riders of Nuceria upon him, and he hated it. There was a certain air of pride within him, an innate knowledge that he was far better than anyone in that room. His strengths, while nascent at present, declared it so.
He was a god. It frustrated him to think that he was no more than a slave, a fettered soul to be used and disposed like chaff. The rage burning within him could be seen in his eyes, and no one in the room noticed it better than the sorceress.
Polgara recognized the slave from the ludus practice yards earlier. He was the defiant one who refused to avert his gaze when her eyes fell upon him. He refused to avert his gaze even now, and it both intrigued and irritated her.
"Slave." She addressed him, "Step forward."
When he would not, Rissio nudged him with a sharp hiss. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Go!"
Angronius growled, but obeyed for his own sake and his friend.
"You have a potent stare." Polgara observed, "Bold eyes are dangerous in this house."
"They spoke the same of my tongue."
He spoke out of turn, a gesture unheard of. Taken aback, Polgara drew her hand back and slapped him across the cheek. "Avert your eyes, rebellious dog!"
Angronius did not reel from the strike, and the lady winced as she felt the sting of her own slap upon her hand. The slave offered her an amused smirk and looked away. Her hand was soft, it felt like the brush of a feather to him.
"That's better." Polgara declared, "You are well cared for in this house, even as a novicii. You will not defy me again, do you understand?"
The slave sighed, "Yes...mistress."
"What's going on here?" Lord Marcellus arrived at the scene after seeing how his daughter struck one of his slaves.
"I was schooling this one on the rules of our house, Papa." Polgara replied, "But I'd like to advise you to watch him. He's a fiery one, and may prove troublesome."
"Oh, but he is troublesome, my dear." Marcellus said, pulling her aside to walk her back to the throne, where her mother awaited them. "That one's name is Angronius. Zaziq plucked him from the Proving Grounds to add to the ludus. He killed a dozen of our wardens on the way to the school."
"A dozen?!" Polgara gasped, "And he still lives?!"
"I could not bring myself to have him executed, not after seeing the strength he possesses." The lord explained, "There is a savagery about him, a storm bottled up in clay. I intend, not to tame him, but to unleash him into the arena."
"B-But..."
"Yes, I understand your concerns, my darling." Marcellus squeezed her shoulder affectionately, "But trust your father's judgement. Gladiator strengths come in different forms, this is his. He will serve us, after all, in the Colosseum Magnus and not as a house slave."
Polgara relented, but kept her scrutinizing gaze upon Angronius. Seeing him vexed her to no end, yet she couldn't help but feel a vague sense of admiration for the beast. He was like a caged lion, ever rebellious and savage. But he was beautiful, and she realized this when her anger faded away.
"He would serve us well." She said to her father as she sat down with him, "If he lives to see ascension."
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