A/N
Sorry this took a while, had to draw some inspiration from a lot of gladiator themed movies and spend some time rewriting a few details in my plan to fit it better. I hope you like it :)

}!{

1 Week Later
House Thal'kyr Palace Praxica

Upon their return home, following the conclusion of the games commemorating the Festival of Sol, Lord Marcellus received word of the impending visit of Lord Fowl and another influential figure in the senate.

Proconsul Marsus Acraesius, general of Nuceria's famed 1st Legion and revered hero of the Nucerian-Stygian Wars, had just returned from yet another successful campaign against the republic's greatest and most hated foe- the hordes of Stygia. It was a campaign that lasted for eight long years. With his return, a great bounty of treasures and slaves was brought back to Nucerian shores, earning the conqueror even more fame and adoration from the clamoring masses.

As a devout follower of the Martian creed, Acraesius vowed to bring honor to the God of War by sacrificing a hundred slaves in the arena of the capital in a reenactment of the battles fought in his campaign, if he would return victorious. His visit to the province of Desh'ea was born out of necessity, as news of the glorious performance of the gladiators at the Festival of Sol caught his attention. He would only procure the finest of gladiators in the republic, to make a worthy spectacle for both the people and Mars himself.

Preparations for his arrival were made, the entire palace was decorated and readied as though a visiting prince from some far away land had arrived at Desh'ea. Great tables were filled with the best fruits and meat House Thal'kyr could provide as well as the finest wines from their cellars. The general would be accompanied by his retinue of captains, soldiers who'd been through the meat-grinder of war and without a doubt feeling starved of the comforts of city life. Marcellus endeavored to cater to their every whim, and every bit act as the magnanimous host that he was reputed to be.

Polgara received the news with barely contained excitement. Acraesius was not only a warrior of great distinction, he possessed a rare beauty and was said to have been blessed by Sol with the radiance of the sun itself. A face that seemed to be more suited for modeling in the scholae artem rather than on the battlefield, a body rumored to have never received a single wound or scar in the entire campaign, and a voice that could just as easily invoke zeal from the masses as rouse the fighting spirit of any army he addressed.

Acraesius was a celebrity, a man loved by the legions of Nuceria and loathed by the senate. He was also a man coveted by every woman from every family, patrician or plebeian, and bitterly envied by their husbands.

To the senate, he was a dangerous individual. His wars have made him ever more rich and popular. The nobility have grown fearful. Though of noble blood himself, Acraesius stood with the common people. A man like that, an aristocrat with soldiers, money and the love of the people could crown himself king.

"Well now, Eanna. Aren't you a bit overdressed for the day?" Poledra observed as she greeted her daughter, who responded with an affectionate peck on her cheek.

Polgara wore her favorite eye-catching scarlet robes, the kind that parted suggestively at the hips to display a generous hint of her thighs, partnered with thin gold chains that hung about her neck. A simple headpiece adorned her head like a crown, beaded with tiny pearls and intricate golden patterns that seemed to flow seamlessly with her hair.

Lord Marcellus paused in his readings of the day's invoices to sniff at the air. She chose to wear the best of her collection of perfumes as well, the one that smelled sweet like candied apple. "I like how you've dressed for the occasion. But, is there something you'd like to share with us, my dear?"

Polgara smiled but said nothing. She didn't need to, as it was easy for both her parents to deduce what was going on in their daughter's head. The prophecy of her marriage with a son of Mars, as they feared, was a notion not so easily dismissed. Although she was instructed to forget the words of the High Priest Lucania, Polgara still held to the promise of her destiny.

A destiny she felt she would soon share with Marsus Acraesius.

Just as their preparations were finished, a slave entered the room to announce the arrival of their expected company. Lord Fowl and Proconsul Acraesius awaited admission at the gates of the Palace Praxica. "Dominus, your honored guests have arrived."

"Punctual, those two." Marcellus remarked as he read the time on the clock, "Send them in."

The Proconsul and his entourage arrived by heavy armored transport, escorted by a squad of his trusted legionaries. A small crowd gathered at the gates to greet him and throw garlands at his path. Young maidens rushed out of the cheering throng to kiss his hands, while the men chanted his name. All the while, Acraesius received his accolades with a warm smile on his handsome face. He took his time grasping firmly to the outstretched hands of the common folk, and ruffled the hairs of the little boys ang girls sticking out of the crowd.

The massive reinforced steel gates swiveled open to let Marcellus' guests inside, then slammed shut to keep the rabble out. Their elated cries faded away from earshot as the noblemen met at the palace courtyard. When Marcellus met with them face to face, the smile on his lips faltered upon seeing Lord Meslim among the Proconsul's entourage.

Having allied himself with Lord Fowl, the patriarch of House Ashtura dared the anger of their host and chose to accompany the Proconsul to taunt the man even further.

Poledra shared his misgivings, as did Polgara. When the nobles and their entourage of veteran warriors were still further away, the lady hissed into the ear of her husband. "What is that snake doing here?"

"Not now." Marcellus whispered, "See to it that we maintain our decorum, for the sake of this meeting."

Poledra threw her daughter a quick glance and reached for her hand. The ladies stood together as one, which benefited Polgara greatly. Seeing the man responsible for the attempt on her life unnerved her, even more so when he seemed every bit the viper she thought him to be. Unrepentant and predatory eyes seemed to drink her in, like two whirlpools in a stormy sea.

The smile on his face grew wider at the sight of her, as if to mock her whole family. Her father was keenly aware of his reasons for being there, but the issues at hand were delicate and Marcellus was not the kind of man to let the feud between their houses disrupt the matters concerning the senate. Their shadow war against House Ashtura would remain as such, in shadow.

"Salutations, Proconsul." Marcellus greeted Acraesius, "On behalf of the people of the republic, I thank you for your service to Nuceria and welcome you Desh'ea."

"Salutations to you, Lord Marcellus." The general said in reply, nodding in acknowledgement of the ladies of the house, particularly in Polgara's direction. The way he winked at her was all it took to make the young sorceress swoon, a feeling that many women of the republic shared in the presence of the Proconsul.

"My daughter, Polgara." Poledra offered her daughter's hand, which Acraesius promptly brought up to his lips.

The gesture alone was a cultural sign of the beginnings of courtship, and Polgara felt her cheeks burn at this realization. "My lady, it's a pleasure to meet you."

There was a hint of displeasure in Meslim's eye, for in his madness the nobleman felt his claim on the sorceress was threatened by the general. It almost seemed as though the fact that he tried to kill her was lost on him. His ire found another source as he met the flensing stare of his adversary.

"Meslim, what an unexpected surprise."

The serpent from House Ashtura lifted his head haughtily and replied with thinly veiled disdain, "Surprise? Considering the gifts you so generously delivered to my doorstep, I thought it proper that I at the very least pay your noble house a visit."

The man referred to Marcellus' response to his attempt on Polgara's life. Every week's end for the past month, a box containing the remains of his assassins would appear at the threshold of his palace doors. Meslim could not bear to show his face at the Colosseum Magnus after that, but somehow found his spine when Lord Fowl introduced him to some very powerful allies in the senate. Allies, such as the Proconsul himself.

Hence, he grew bolder like a viper in warmer climes. "As much as I would like us both to prattle on, our reasons for this visit are strictly for business. I promise you, if you would have me, it will be beneficial for both of us."

"Is that so?" Marcellus said, feeling confident in playing the game with his rival. If Meslim dared to try anything besides acting the good guest, his wardens would be on him in seconds. "Very well, let's see to a swift conclusion to it, shall we?"

The men entered the palace and sat together at the table prepared for them. Polgara chose to sit as far away as possible from Meslim, but not too far from Acraesius. Even though the presence of her family's hated foe dampened the mood, she refused to let the opportunity of a lifetime pass. Fortunately for her, the Proconsul often gave her his attention in between casual exchanges with her father.

"Now, Proconsul, how can we be of service?" Marcellus broached the subject.

Acraesius smiled, grateful to have their discussion underway. "As you know, the Triumph commemorating our legions' victory over the Stygians is to be held within the next two weeks. I plan on providing more than mere spectacle to honor the legends that fought and died for the republic, I wish to hold games of reenactments, that our noble soldiers would be immortalized in the minds of our fellow citizens. This is why I've come to Desh'ea, to procure the best of the province's stock of gladiators."

"House Thal'kyr offers nothing but the best." Poledra boasted, throwing a snide glance at Meslim. It went without saying that House Ashtura would be providing their own stock besides House Thal'kyr for the Triumph games in the capital, but they took every chance to dispute each other's claim on who possessed the better gladiators.

"There are those that claim otherwise." Acraesius rolled a grape between his fingers before popping it into his mouth. "But I have no reason to doubt your words, as I've witnessed the games at the Festival of Sol myself."

Marcellus' brows shot up, "Oh? I apologize for not greeting you that day, I was not made aware you had arrived so early."

"I did not want to be noticed." The general shrugged, "And truly, your titans performed admirably. It was a display to shake the heavens! I wonder, would you be so kind as to offer the same on behalf of the memory of my legion's fallen?"

"We would be delighted to do so." Polgara volunteered ahead of her father, who threw her a swift and incredulous look.

"Er...yes, quite right." Marcellus said with a forced smile.

"Excellent!" Acraesius clapped his hands together.

"Would you like to see them before we conclude our business here?" Marcellus offered.

"Yes, I would like that very much." The Proconsul stood up and let his host lead the way.

He walked beside Polgara, who couldn't help but draw closer to Acraesius. The height of his station didn't seem to bother her too much, and she spoke with him as though he were a friend whom she hadn't seen in years. Her parents were astonished, as they've never seen her so giddy before. It wasn't that they didn't approve, it just came as a surprise.

A pleasant one, considering the man who was rather quickly taking a liking to her. "You emit a certain aura of strength, Lady Polgara. Are you, by any chance, a sorceress?"

"I am." Polgara nodded, "I have completed my training as a novitiate in the Temple of Lilith. How did you know?"

"I have been in the care of many healers throughout my campaign against the Stygians." Acraesius explained, "All magic emit this certain oddity in the air, but only those exposed to it could tell the difference."

"Healers?" Polgara inquired, "I thought you were never injured in battle. You were said to have never incurred a single scar from the war."

"Well, it's like this, see..." The Proconsul said, "I was struck the same as any one of my men, but it was through the magic of the healers that my body remains unscarred. I hold anyone gifted with the powers of the Empyrean with the highest esteem."

The nobles entered the hanging gardens and sat together under the comfortable shade provided by their attending slaves. From the heights of the gardens, they viewed the gladiators as they trained in the practice yards below.

Having served House Thal'kyr well in the games, the gladiators were rewarded with good food, wine and body slaves. Their revelry did not slow or hinder their performance for the following day. If anything, it served to add more kindling to the fire of their fighting spirit, and they practically left the target dummies in ruins. That fire remained strong, even until the day of the Proconsul's visit.

"Lady Polgara." Acraesius spoke up, "You wouldn't by any chance be present at the Triumph, would you?"

"I go wherever my parents go." The young lady replied, "Why do you ask, my lord?"

"If it pleases you, Lord Marcellus..." The Proconsul said, "I would like to invite your daughter to an official gathering, a conclave of the Imperial Magisters."

"The Magisters?" Lady Poledra breathed, hearing the formal title of the republic's most powerful sorcerers. To meet a Magister was a great honor among the practitioners of the mystic arts, and both mother and daughter shared the same ecstatic expression at the Proconsul's invitation.

"Mama? Can I?" Polgara beamed at her.

"I think it's a brilliant idea." Lord Fowl interjected.

"I trust that you would act as her chaperone?" Marcellus asked.

"Of course!" Acraesius replied, "I wouldn't dare leave her stranded before the scrutinizing gaze of the Magisters."

"That's settled then." The patriarch of House Thal'kyr said with a nod.

The nobles continued to watch the gladiators and engaged in more casual exchanges, until the Proconsul saw a certain imposing figure standing out of the many titans in the practice yard. While the others sparred with one another or battered at a stiff wooden dummy, the gladiator trained with a fierce war hound. They trained as one, fought as one, which surprised even Polgara as she thought the animal would remain savagely hostile against Angronius.

"That one, right there with the war hound, who is he?"

Polgara smiled, "That, my lord, is Angronius."

"Angronius. Child of the Mountain." Acraesius nodded, remembering his performance at the Festival games. "Good strong name, good strong warrior. I do hope you include him in the Triumph matches. Let the people see the strength of Desh'ea in the swing of his axes."

The young sorceress sighed, bracing herself for what was to come. She knew she would have to speak to Angronius about their impending journey towards the capital. As always, in spite of the magical hold she had over him, the slave would find some way to incur her wrath.

"That can be arranged."

"Etrusca."

The war hound's ears perked up at the sound of his master's voice. He turned his head and smelled the sweet scent of blood in the air.

Angronius held up a red bone and waved it about, "Come."

Etrusca's mouth watered, and he trotted over to the gladiator to receive his treat. He bit down on the bone and yanked it out of Angronius' hand, then bent down to gnaw at the thing.

Oenomaus paused in his drills and approached the pair, "No no no, that's not how you do it!"

Angronius ignored him and rubbed the dog behind his ears.

The doctore furled his whip around his hand and pointed to the war hound. "You reward him too quickly without instilling the meaning of your commands, and you hardly punish him when he disobeys. How is the mongrel supposed to understand you out there in the arena when you're too busy parrying your opponent's blows?"

The gladiator's fingers ran through the thick fur of Etrusca's neck, and the hound panted vigorously at his master's attention. "With all due respect, you know nothing of dogs, Doctore."

Annoyed with his response, Oenomaus crossed his arms and growled. "Oh? And you would know better?"

Angronius stood up and met his teacher's gaze, "You train gladiators well, but you expect to fare the same with animals. This 'mongrel' has the mind of a child. You cannot teach a child through the lash alone." He paused to smile at Etrusca, who put his head between his master's legs and whined affectionately. "There must be a measure of love in it, as well."

Oenomaus' lip twitched into a grimace, but he said nothing in return.

"Angronius!" Someone called his name, and the gladiator turned his head to see four wardens approach the star-metal fence. Their leader beckoned for him to come, "You are summoned by Lady Polgara."

Angronius nodded and commanded Etrusca to sit and wait for him at his cell. The gladiator allowed himself to be led into the Palace Praxica, he was brought into the room that served as Polgara's personal study. When he entered the room, the sorceress was busying herself with packing away the things she would bring with her on the trip to the capital.

She looked cross, but this did little to diminish how good she looked in her scarlet robes. Once again, Angronius dared his mistress' anger by drinking in the sight of her. With no one to tell him otherwise, the man admired her impressive figure for as long as he could. His actions were born out of defiance, rather than desire. He knew she wouldn't approve.

"Domina, you summoned me?" The gladiator inquired.

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Polgara chided her slave.

"Forgive me, my lady. Is that not how I should address you?"

"Perhaps." The sorceress said, "But the way you say it, I feel as though you're mocking me. Never mind that now, that's not why I brought you here."

Angronius bowed, "How can I serve?"

"You and a selected number of other gladiators would be brought to Reksia, the capital city." Polgara declared, "There, you will perform in the Colosseum Primus in honor of Proconsul Marsus Acraesius' Triumph, to commemorate the battles fought by our legions against the Stygian hordes."

The soul-binding spell put the words into his mouth, and Angronius felt compelled to speak them. He didn't resist, as he saw no point to it. He was going to the capital either way. "I shall do as commanded."

Polgara paused to scrutinize her slave's expression, then relaxed when she found no sign of defiance. "Good."

"Will that be all, my lady?"

"No, there's something I need to know." She said, "I understand that you've refused to partake of the rewards given the night of our return home. Oenomaus said that while the rest of the gladiators feasted and reveled in their triumph, you remained within your cell all week. No food, no wine, no women? Why is that?"

Angronius replied, "If the lady must know, I felt I had no need for them."

Polgara's brows shot up in astonishment, "No? You prefer something else then, like men?"

The slave chuckled, "No, it's not that."

His mistress sighed in exasperation, "Well? Out with it!"

The spell wormed its way into his mind, but Angronius felt there was reason enough to fight it. He wrestled and fought for his will, and spoke the words that he alone would have. He lied to her and kept a straight face while doing it, "Do you remember when I was up on that cross?"

"How could I not? You were there for a whole week, and I spent every night sneaking food and drink to keep you alive."

"Bread, wine and water. They are all I need, I hold any excess as unnecessary."

Somewhere, some dark god of excess was fuming.

In truth, Angronius hated the idea of accepting the reward. He said the same thing to Rissio when they were both still novicii, that it was as if they were tossing a bone their way, like they were no better than animals. As much as he admired Etrusca for his loyalty as a war hound, Angronius felt he was above all that.

He tasted freedom the day he was born. Though he possessed it for the briefest moments, he desired it above all things. No amount of food, wine or women could ever hope to satisfy the hole it left in his soul.

"A slave with principles." Polgara remarked, "Admirable. Have it your way. I shall have words with my father, and he will only give you what you wish to reward your victories. Bread, wine and water."

"Thank you, my lady."

The sorceress dismissed him and fell back into the softness of her own bed, feeling grateful that her business with her difficult slave was over.

}!{