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3 Days Later
House Thal'kyr Ludus Gladiatorius
After the celebrations ended, the gladiators resumed their daily routine of training. Slowly, the novicii built up their strengths upon the foundations laid by Oenomaus' instruction, and honed their skills based on their favored fighting styles. Would-be gladiators were given the freedom to choose their weapons, the tools in which they would place their fates, and if Fortuna was with them, they would reap a great tally of kills in the name of House Thal'kyr.
The day finally came when Angronius and the other novicii were given that freedom. On a particularly rainy morning, the slaves were brought to the ludus smithies, where the gladiator weapons and armor were forged. This part of the ludus was kept under heavy guard at all times, for it within its walls lay the numerous instruments of death that may assist a daring slave looking to purchase its freedom by violent means. The wardens there were not armed with electro-staves or agoniser whips. They were armed with guns, auto-cannons and power-weapons.
It would take more than a few bullets to kill an ascended gladiator. Slave revolts were uncommon, but not unheard of in Desh'ea. Lord Marcellus spared no expense to ensure that no slave of his would ever attempt a violent uprising.
"Stand before me!" Oenomaus declared, calling for the novicii to gather before him at the arming table.
A collection of House Thal'kyr's finest works lay neatly upon the table. Master-crafted swords, axes and mauls. Maces, whips, spears and swords. Shields of every size and make leaned upon the nearby wall, adorned in the livery of beasts, men and daemons. Helmets and bristling visages of iron and steel adorned the heads of wooden dummies. The blacksmiths were in the process of forging armguards, vambraces and greaves.
Armor was reserved for the ascended gladiators only, and if the novicii lived long enough to see their own ascension, they would be given their own.
"Feast your eyes." Oenomaus said, running a hand across one of the swords. "You are granted the honor of choosing the weapons that will serve you in your battles in the arena. As novicii, you will learn not only to use them but to master them. Know your weapon, and in so doing, you will come to know yourselves. You will discover new strengths to add to your own, they will serve you well when you take to the sands of the arena."
Beckoning each of the slaves to come forward and select their weapons, Oenomaus stepped back to let every one of the initiates take their time in choosing. They would only be permitted to select one of the many, no more and no less. Any decision they made would be final, so the giant instructed them to consider well their every choice.
"Rissio, your turn." He said to the curly haired slave, "Choose your weapon."
Rissio obeyed, coming forward to the arming table to view the varied selections. Having been schooled long enough to know what strengths he already possessed, so he decided to go for something that was familiar to him.
He picked up a leaf-shaped sword, a weapon known as a gladius graecus, and the small round shield, a parmula, that came with it.
"The weapons of a hoplomachus." Oenomaus remarked with a nod, "Yet it is not complete without a spear, Rissio. If you so choose this path, I will require you to master the spear as well."
Rissio pursed his lips, then gave his answer. "A spear has reach. I will master that too."
"Mastering the way of the sword, the shield and the spear will leave you heavily encumbered in training." Oenomaus warned, "The path of the hoplomachus is long and difficult, although it is a path of elevated esteem. I will not go easy on you."
"I understand, Doctore." Rissio replied, "I will be a hoplomachus, the greatest anyone in the arena has ever seen!"
"Good, the fires of ambition will carry you far through the battles in the Colosseum Magnus." Oenomaus declared, beckoning for the next slave to come forward. "Next! Angronius!"
Angronius heard his name called and pushed his way through the crowd of fellow novicii. He had already selected his weapons before he even got to the arming table, and went straight for the two master-crafted double-bladed axes hanging on one of the weapon stands behind the table.
"Bipennis. The weapons favored by Mars himself." Oenomaus remarked, "Excellent choice, Angronius."
When they had all selected, the teacher called for their attention once more before sending them to the practice yards to train with their new weapons. The would-be gladiatrixes would be next, and Oenomaus wanted all the boys gone before they got to the smithies.
"Listen well! These weapons will be a part of you from this day forward. You will train with them, grow with them and one day fight with them in the arena. Head to the yard, we will begin drills even in the rain. Go!"
Rissio sheathed his sword, donned his shield and grasped the shaft of the spear firmly in his hand. His friend, Angronius, tested the weight of his axes and moved quickly to try them out on the target dummy that up until then remained stubbornly fixed upon the earth.
"You've lost your spite for Doctore's instruction?" Rissio remarked. "I am relieved to see that you've heeded my words from that party."
"This is our lot." Angronius replied, confident that the patter of rain would mask their voices from prying ears. "For now. Do you not see that they've gifted us our tools for escape?"
"Ah, I see that the thought will forever remain within that thick skull of yours, Little Brother." Rissio chuckled nervously, "But take my advice once more. Do not speak of such things again. We are no longer within the kennels of the Proving Grounds or some slaver's pen. We are in the grounds of House Thal'kyr, and their walls are as inescapable as the reach of their wardens."
"We killed wardens before." Angronius pointed out, "Well, I did. And that was when I was but a scrawny little thing. Today, they shape us for battles that only gods would fight. How would the wardens fare then if we are both at the peak of our strengths?"
"You have not seen what those guns can do to a man, Angron." Rissio countered, "I have. And no matter how large they may be, or how powerful, with enough bullets in you, even at the peak of your strength, you will fall."
Angronius shrugged, taking position to strike the target. "Well, there are more ways than one to plot an escape."
"Most of them ill-conceived and doomed to fail." Rissio warned, "Why don't you set your sights on the arena instead? The odds are almost similar, but fair to the high-riders. You can gain your freedom, similar to Doctore Oenomaus. All you have to do is fight a hundred battles and win the crowd's favor. Best part about that plan is that it is lawful."
"At the expense of our blood spilled for the entertainment of the masses?" The child of the mountain chafed at the idea, "I thought you shared my hatred for that notion."
"At first, yes." Rissio thrusted his spear at his own dummy, "But I learn quickly, whereas you do not."
Angronius shook his head, unable to believe that his friend so willingly bowed before the will of the Nucerians. Gone were the meanings of his talk of freedom as the birthright of all men. "You disappoint me, Rissio."
"Hah, that feeling is mutual."
As much as there was disagreement between the two friends, Angronius knew that Rissio had some wisdom in his words. It was too dangerous to attempt to escape, at least at that particular time. But the child of the mountain had learned patience from Oenomaus' instruction, and he would be patient as well as bold in seizing any opportunity presented before him.
It would come, one day. He only needed to wait.
The weeks passed quickly, and the day came for the ceremonial opening of the spring games at the Colosseum Magnus. Hosted by House Thal'kyr, attended by innumerable thousands with millions more tuning in through the network broadcast. The novicii were transported to the kennels that lay beneath the spectator stands, that they might witness their betters battle against one another and learn from them to perform just as well in their own time.
As expected, the novicii were removed of all weapons upon leaving the ludus grounds, much to Angronius' disappointment. He had hoped his masters would've been foolish enough to let them keep them, as it would have made his plans for escape thus easier.
Still, as he waited for the much anticipated opportunity to present itself, the boy remained at ease and decided to watch the games just like the rest of his peers.
The Colosseum Magnus was a marvel of Nucerian architecture. A towering structure that combined the works of a thousand master artisans, a technological marvel over a millennia old yet strong as the day it was first constructed. Its baroque style evoked a sense of awe in all who entered its courts, like a stern god barely tolerating the mortals that entered its stands.
The architects of old forewent the use of artificial lighting and discarded the idea of using a dome to cover the oval structure. Instead, they mirrored an old design from mankind's storied past. An open roof, using the sun and the moons of Nuceria to grace its sands with their light. If the day proved too hot, a network of pulleys held scarlet curtains to shield the crowds while they spectated in the games.
The pulvinus, or 'royal box', was situated at an elevated spot in the formation of the stands. It served to hold the editor, sponsor, dignitaries, and important guests to sit to watch the games from an exclusive position far removed from the common folk. This was where the host of the games, the family of House Thal'kyr, would preside over the spectacles prepared for the masses.
The roar of the crowd greeted the momentous occasion, seconded by the heralding trumpets that signaled the arrival of Lord Marcellus and his family. Other nobles arrived as well, some readily welcomed by House Thal'kyr, and some others loathed in barely contained secrecy.
Lord Meslim of House Ashtura, a well known rival of House Thal'kyr both in the courts of Nuceria and on the battlefield, entered the royal box without proper introduction. Although he possessed the captivating features of a demigod, those who knew him well would sooner call him a demon in human flesh. A preening peacock of a man, Meslim was vain as he was cruel. His bloodthirst bordered on legendary as his taste for gladiators grew rather prominent the older he got.
Polgara squirmed in her seat as the man boldly strode out of the entrance and sat down on the opposite end of the pulvinus. He fancied the most flamboyant of robes, loud in color and lacking in both modesty and grace. As if to attest to his treacherous nature, Meslim was never without his favorite pet. A black mamba lay across his shoulders like a scarf. Bound to him by magic, the snake acted as more than just mere decoration. While most nobles possessed pets like the revered lions or war hounds, Meslim's mamba had enough venom to kill ten men, a fact that the man favored above all the animals in his care.
"Well well, who might you be?" His voice was disarmingly sweet. It caressed Polgara's ears, while at the same time grated at her mind like the claws of a cat. "A new face among us? Speak, darling. I won't bite."
"You speak to my daughter, Meslim." Lady Poledra said on her behalf.
"My my, little Polgara all grown up!" He exclaimed, "What a wonderful surprise! I haven't seen you since you were a toddler!"
"For good reason." Poledra replied, "Tread carefully, Lord of Ashtura, for you walk on thin ice."
"Oh but you mistake me, Lady Poledra." Meslim said innocently, "I but move to heap much deserved praise for your daughter. Surely, I have garnered enough goodwill for you to grant me the benefit of the doubt?"
"Not to me." The matriarch turned her gaze away.
Lord Marcellus called for silence with a raised hand, then quickly made his introductions as the morning grew late. "People of Desh'ea, and valued viewers from Mother Nuceria, welcome to the Spring Games of the Colosseum Magnus!" His words were met with thunderous applause, and Marcellus struggled to take control of the crowd before their excitement turned to ire. "The houses of Thal'kyr and Ashtura bring gifts of blood to bless the new year with much needed prosperity! Behold, Cannicus Dimachaerus!"
Cannicus entered the arena adorned in his dimachaerus armor and bearing his twin blades. He did not wear a helmet as his scarred visage proved to be menacing enough to win the crowd's admiration. His greeting howl was received with a deafening roar from the crowd, and he raised his weapons to salute his master.
"His opponent, courtesy of House Ashtura, behold Mara Retiarus!"
Mara, a gladiatrix of fierce renown, entered the arena through another gate opposite of Cannicus. The woman was an expert on both the trident and the razor-net, but was more famous for her exotic beauty. Taken from the desert wastelands beyond Desh'ea as a child, Mara had been sold from one ludus to another. Her refusal to be reduced to be a mere body slave had earned her the ire of her masters for many years, until at last she landed upon the doorstep of House Ashtura. Meslim gave her the chance to write her own story with the blood of her enemies, and she battled in his name in the arena since then.
Her skin was dark brown like baked clay, her braided hair knotted together by razor-wires. Her teeth had been filed down to fangs, to offer her more deadly tools in battle. She earned a name for herself as well, branded by the crowd with the moniker 'Dark Fury'.
"Till the death, shall this match be. No quarter given, no mercy shown." Marcellus declared, signaling the fighters at the same time uttering the words. "Begin!"
Angronius gripped the bars of the kennels tight as he watched the gladiator and his opponent clash in the middle of the arena. Their song of steel joined in with the crowd's frenzied cries, and he could feel the bloodlust as though it were thick like smog. It infected the minds of the other slaves, and they rattled at their cages like animals gone mad.
It was infecting his mind too, and it frightened him to think that he was enjoying it too. That thing within him, the base instinct that served as the only similarity between man and beast, it yearned to spring free from his mind.
He watched as Cannicus and Mara strike at one another until their weapons shattered, until they fought with their bare fists and teeth. The crowd cared little for how the battle quickly transformed into a brawl, they only cared that blood would be spilled and they savored every moment of it.
The woman was fast, sharp as the razors that adorned her hair and net, but she was no match for Cannicus' brutal savagery. Within minutes, he was already on top of her. His weight pinned her down against the sands, the gladiator's hands moved against her face. His thumbs gouged her eyes out of their sockets, and Mara's screams further spurred the excitement of the crowd.
"Kill!" They chanted, "Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Marcellus didn't even bother standing up to deliver the verdict. The woman was dead, her body was just too stubborn to notice.
With a horrid squelch, Cannicus crushed the gladiatrix's head like a rotten tomato, and with it he achieved victory. Mara's death was celebrated with another thunderous applause, and the victor stood up to claim his prize.
"This is honorable?" Angronius remarked, "Oenomaus speaks of holding ourselves to higher standards, and yet the house's aspirants act like simple pit fighters!"
"Oh, I suppose you will do anything different?" Rissio said sarcastically.
"Yes." Angronius declared, "Yes I will."
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