by T. C. Edge
"Quick," said Dom, grabbing Kira and setting her gaze on the scene. "Can you hear what they're saying?"
Kira lifted a finger to silence him, and then shut her eyes. Dom held his breath in his lungs and turned rigidly still, unwilling to create a single utterance that might distract her.
She focused with all she had, discarding her growing weariness, and listened to the calm conversation going on below as Dom watched on. It lasted only moments before Claudius was turning and heading back for the villa. Kira opened her eyes and looked at the Prince.
"It's about you, Dom," she said. "Ares is here to escort you to the palace."
84
Kira quickly rattled off several options available to them. Top of the list was the prospect of following Merk and the others down the tunnel.
Dom shook his head to each.
"I have to go," he said.
"But what if this is a trap. If they catch you out now then we're all done for!"
"They won't, Kira. I had no knowledge of Rufus' assassination attempt. And I'm skilled enough to repel my mother if she tries to read too deeply into my mind."
"But you're tired. You look a wreck. She might get through."
"Yeah, well it's either that or run away. And I'm certainly too tired for that."
He left her with an order to get some sleep, though considered that unlikely until he returned safe. Claudius came knocking, informing them of the meeting that had just taken place. Dom was already moving down the corridor before the old aid told him of its purpose.
"Yeah, Claud, I'm being summoned to the palace. I know," he said, as he marched right past. "Tell Ares I'll be down in a moment. I just need to change."
He took those precious moments to centre his mind, and work to conceal any suspicious activity he'd been engaging in. His ability to alter, rework, and obscure his own memories for those who might come prying into his mind was a very unique skill to have. He'd have to make sure to do the same with those close to him now. To Claud and Kira, and anyone with knowledge of what he was up to. All tracks would need to be covered, and security set to any mind holding dangerous secrets.
Once dressed, he moved down to join Ares by the gate. He found the towering champion in usual form; eyes gritty and narrow, jaw fixed like granite. It was the usual state of affairs, though carried a heavier weight now. Ares was quite capable, like Kira, of listening to Dom's pulse, and sensing the electrical signals in his brain. He could tell, without any difficulty at all, whether someone was concealing something or lying. And while Dom could shield his thoughts from his mother, maintaining his calm exterior in the face of Ares was another matter entirely.
"Good morning, Prince Domitian," stated the head of the Imperial Guard, still obeying the official courtesies by bowing and using Dom's appropriate title. "I have been instructed to escort you to the palace. Your mother has been wishing to see you, after the terrible events of yesterday."
"Of course, Ares. I was wishing to see her too. I just thought it best to give her some time."
Ares nodded.
"Understandable, my Prince. Now come, she is waiting."
They journeyed to the palace in silence, Dom's personal escort of mounted guards following behind the carriage in order to escort him home straight after. Dom felt some solace having them along with him, albeit towards the rear. He counted on their loyalty, and knew that they'd fight for him if he was considered to be in peril.
He was always very careful in that regard, vetting his men, subtly securing their loyalty through various means. Higher pay was one; his rates were generally known to be quite generous. Another was the simple manner in which he held himself. He considered that being a pleasant patron was something people valued.
Most important of all, however, was Dom's use of his psychic abilities. Though he was loathe to interfering with anyone's free will, he made an exception when it came to his safety, and that of his household. He didn't go as far as his mother's firm forging of control upon the Imperial Guard, but certainly performed a bit of minor mental surgery to ensure all his guards would be there to support him, should he need them to.
Times being what they were, he considered upping the ante a little. Mostly, his telepathic powers were used when seeking out contenders from around the globe. In Neorome, and largely due to his mother's regulations, his use of such gifts were entirely limited. Now, perhaps, was the right time to begin setting them free.
When they reached the palace, Dom found it no more heavily guarded than usual. He had expected it to be more so, but then came the consideration of the growing trouble in the south. The Imperial Guard were already being drawn there, and this was clear evidence of that. He decided, as they worked up the steps, to seek information from Ares on the matter.
"I hear the problems in Southside are quickly mounting, Ares," he said. "I've heard reports of your men being drawn there."
"You are correct, Prince Domitian. The simmering has come to the boil. My men should quickly settle things down."
"Strike hard at the main perpetrators," said Dom heartily. "Take out the shepherd and the flock will disperse."
"Precisely. Your mother has ordered a swift resolution to the issue. She doesn't want her games to be too heavily interrupted."
"So they're set to resume?" asked Dom. "Surely it's best to halt them at a time like this?"
"It isn't up to me to decide, Prince Domitian. The games are sacred, and will go ahead I'm sure. But it's not my place to speak of such things. I'm sure your mother will update you momentarily."
They continued on through the central hall of the palace, and straight on towards the throne room. Dom had half expected his mother to be in her quarters resting, given her injuries. Then again, her grating insistence on consistently showing her strength would make that option unpalatable to her.
They entered into the grand hall and found Vesper perched in her sovereign seat. She was far from alone, surrounded by Imperial Guards and with a number of slaves attending her every need. Dressed in her flowing maroon robes, any hint of her shoulder wound was concealed. Her make-up was sufficient to cover any dark circles around her eyes, and bring some colour to her cheeks. Were you not to know she'd been stabbed only the previous day, her current appearance would give you no reason to question her health.
Within the hall, however, others had also gathered. Lucius was there, along with several of the other less illustrious lanistas. There were a number of schedulers and administrators in attendance too, as well as several important lords and ladies who gave their patronage to the games, and supported it financially.
Dom ventured forward as the eyes of the room discovered him. His stayed as resolutely on his mother as possible. He marched quickly forward and reached the steps leading up to her throne. As his right foot met with the first, several Imperial Guards swept forwards from her side, pointing spears right at the Prince.
Dom stopped in his tracks. The light murmuring in the room silenced.
"That's quite far enough, Prince Domitian," said Ares, walking by. He climbed the steps himself, and returned to Vesper's side. Dom withdrew his right foot and set it back in place beside his left, sinking a few paces away from the stage.
"Well, thank you all for gathering here," said Vesper, her tone perfectly balanced and bright. "You'll be delighted to hear that the scratch I suffered yesterday has all but healed already." She laughed, and the room followed like an echo. Yet Dom could see the slight wince and strain, the mobility on her right side impaired. "I have gathered you here to discuss the Imperial Games. Given the current discord in the south, and the continued delays we've had to suffer, I consider it appropriate to enter into a truncated format."
She let the news settle within the room. Her eyes worked to others, seeking any reaction she could call upon.
"Ah, Martinus, what do you think?"
Dom looked to the man, the chief scheduler for the games. He quivered a little as the spotlight fell on him.
"What do I t
hink..."
"Yes," snapped Vesper impatiently. "Is a shortened form possible?"
"Of...of course, my Empress. We can arrange whatever format you wish to see."
"Good. Thank you, Martinus." Her eyes moved to another. It was Lucius under her stare. "Master Lucius. What are your thoughts?"
Lucius nodded and smiled.
"An excellent idea, Empress Vesper," he said. "I'm happy for my gladiators to forgo the easier bouts and venture onto more difficult challenges. I'm sure the people will be delighted."
"Delighted, you say? To miss out on much of the action?"
"I...I didn't mean it like that, Empress. I just meant..."
"I know what you meant, Lucius," smiled Vesper. "I'm only teasing with you, my boy."
Lucius' eyes sank away, praying for the glare to leave him.
"Anyone else," called out Vesper after a pause. "I'm eager for your opinions on the matter."
One man took the floor. It was Lord Pontius, never shy of speaking his mind, especially when his thoughts were aligned with hers.
"I think it's a very sensible option, Empress," he called out, his voice so proud and unequivocally self-assured. "The issues in the south have come at an awkward time, to be sure. However, I think it's only right to hurry along to the most exciting period of the games, and trim the fat, so to speak. Might I ask, Empress, what structure you wish to employ?"
"Well, my Lord, I believe a standard seeding format is appropriate," said Vesper. "The people wish to see close encounters, so that's what I intend to give them. Master Lucius and Prince Domitian's gladiators will take top billing. We will arrange the bouts according to seedings, and enter into a classic tournament format. The other lanistas and their gladiators will provide the warm up acts. I think it's safe to say that their warriors have no chance of winning the race this year?"
She posed the question, though not to the lanistas themselves. Her head tilted in Ares' direction, and he took a half step forward to draw the eyes of the room upon him.
"Only the gladiators of Master Lucius and Prince Domitian have any chance." His voice enveloped the room, so clear and loud. "No other warriors will be able to compete."
"Though, that's not to deny them the chance," said Vesper, looking now to the more lowly lanistas within the room. "Your men will enter into group bouts, with the victors given the opportunity to fight among the top contenders. How does that suit you, gentlemen?"
The various lanistas bowed their approval with murmured words of assent.
"Excellent," went on Vesper. "Now, Lucius, I understand that most of your top seeds remain in operation?"
"Yes, Empress. Barring Redmane, Hurricane, and Irongrip, I have most of my top fighters remaining."
"Excellent. And you, Domitian?"
Dom's heart was hammering. He only had five left now, having just secretly released Gwyn and Finn. He hadn't expected this public forum to draw attention to his crime.
"I have five gladiators remaining, Empress," he said.
Whispers ensued. Those gathered here were intimate with the games. They knew full well he had more than that.
"Hmmmm, I agree with the sentiment of the room, Domitian," said Vesper. "I was under the impression that you had seven in your stock? That is, if you include the reinstatement of The Red Warrior."
"A fair assumption, Empress," said Dom. His manner needed to remain composed. He measured his words to the syllable before uttering them. "Regrettably, two of my number have absconded."
The murmuring in the hall grew louder.
"Absconded," huffed Vesper. "You mean...escaped? Which two are you speaking of?"
"Gwyn and Finn, Empress," said Dom swiftly. "It seems they got aid from Merk."
"Merk! Oh my my, Domitian. This man you took under your wing, who failed you in Southside, has now betrayed you too? You have always been too soft, my son. Letting such vermin live within your villa, giving him free rein to move about as he pleases. How exactly did he manage it? You should have all your guards flogged for letting them get away."
"Well, as yet we're not entirely sure," said Dom calmly. "The details are still being gathered. However, what I do know is that Merk summoned the two gladiators in question from the dungeons, and managed to get away somehow without being seen..."
"Not seen! And how is that possible! Your ludus is a small fortress. This is absurd, Domitian!"
"I don't disagree, Empress," said Dom. "I believe it was Finn. We've all seen the extent of his telekinetic power. If Merk guided them to the rooftop, I suspect Finn could have got them beyond the walls of the compound safely. It's all I can think of right now. But suffice to say, I'm now down to five gladiators."
He spoke with confidence, having considered this story beforehand. It was an unlikely picture, but framed by a hint of believability. And were Vesper to follow up on it and interrogate anyone on the matter, she'd find that Merk truly did summon Gwyn and Finn from the dungeons, and that no one else had seen them since. Dom was firmly aware that his mother was convinced he was lying. But he knew, too, that she had bigger fish to fry, and that this concern wouldn't last long into the day.
A few more queries came his way, and his story stayed watertight. Eventually, Vesper angrily shrugged it off with several more insulting comments aimed at her son's ineptitude. And then she was done.
"Fine. It is a terrible shame to lose Finn," she said. "He was popular among the people, and a talent to be sure. This Gwyn is no loss, however. The crowd will be unaware that she's even missing. I trust, Domitian, that you'll compile a more believable tale than 'they just disappeared'. I don't want the public concerned that there are two rogue gladiators running about among them. Better to tell them they perished in an escape attempt. Yes. That is what we'll say."
She looked around the room, and everyone nodded. It was ideal for Dom. Now, word would spread of the deaths of Gwyn and Finn and their subsequent withdrawal from the games, legitimising their absence.
"Now, Domitian and Lucius, you shall arrange your gladiators into their top eight seedings," said Vesper. "Lucius, I assume that will be sufficiently easy for you, despite your three losses. You do have eight gladiators remaining, don't you?"
"Yes, Empress. I do."
"Good. Domitian, you only have five now. And as I say, that includes The Red Warrior. Despite her terrible crimes against Lucius, she has continued to live on against the odds. It has become clear to me that this girl has fortune on her side, and perhaps something more divine. It may not be so wise to interfere with that. She will be reinstated in her previous position as third seed, Domitian." She smiled, and added. "The crowd will like that. It will help pacify them..."
It seemed a concession was being made, and a rare one. Yet while it was, all things considered, good news, it perhaps pointed to a larger problem. That Vesper, though mentally fragile, remained of sound enough mind to make crafty decisions, particularly when dealing with the masses. Her advisors, no doubt, were aiding her in that matter. Yet it was she who had the final call, and her mostly calm demeanour spoke of a woman who had a few marbles remaining in her possession.
"Right, thank you everyone for gathering here this morning at such short notice," Vesper concluded. "However, before you go, there is one final item to discuss. I was going to do this in private, but think you should bear witness..."
Her eyes swung to Dom, darkening.
"As you all know, Rufus was Domitian's head trainer, bodyguard, and advisor. I have been assured by Ares that my son was not complicit in the dastardly act against my life. This monster acted alone, and entirely of his own accord. He did so in order to seek revenge for certain slights he held against me, or so I'm led to believe."
She lifted herself from her throne for the first time, and stepped to the front of the stage. Her eyes worked across the room, and landed once more on her son.
"However," she said, her voice hardening. "When a servant acts in such a terrible fashion, some blame must lie at the feet of the master whom
he serves. I cannot be seen to allow Prince Domitian to be rid of this awful event without facing the appropriate punitive measures. Just because you are my son, Domitian, it doesn't mean you are above the law," she said, speaking directly to him.
Dom was standing rigid. He was unwilling to wither and wilt.
"It pains me to say this, truly it does. But tomorrow, Prince Domitian will suffer the lash. He will not march to the sand like a common gladiator. He will endure his punishment outside of the palace within the forum. It will be witnessed by the lords and ladies of Neorome in accordance with our laws. Ten lashes. And all will be forgotten, and forgiven."
Dom returned to the ludus surrounded by a cloud, but with a promise to himself that he'd be sure to keep.
He'd take his punishment like a man. He wouldn't cry out or whimper. He would bear the ten scars that would form on his flesh.
He'd wear them like a badge of honour.
85
"So I'm back in her good books? Or...out of her bad books?"
Kira posed the question having heard the update from Dom. They were in his library again, where Kira had spent the morning. She'd taken about a half hour of rest before continuing her search for clues of Polus' whereabouts. It was a mostly thankless task, but one that served to keep her mind away from other, more morbid, things.
"No books, good or bad," said Dom, slumped in a chair. "Whatever the case, you're back at third seed, and so will be fighting someone you should, technically, defeat."
"Yeah, should," said Kira. "Until she screws with me again. I'm not putting anything past her. But...I guess it's good news. Better than I expected."
Dom didn't seem so happy, though. Kira asked why.
"Nothing major. I'm gonna meet the lash," he said.
"Meet the lash? What does that mean?"
"I'm going to be whipped in public, to answer for Rufus' crimes. It wasn't totally unexpected, to be honest."