Ascendente

There were many ways to crucify a condemned criminal in Nuceria.

It depended upon the severity of the crime. Murderers and rapists were nailed to simple wooden beams, then hoisted high without a footrest to support themselves, thus ensuring a painful death. Runaway slaves, however, were either lashed or shackled to their crosses to prolong their suffering. It took less than two days for most criminals to die on the cross, but sometimes there were the few who refused to perish too quickly and lasted long into the week, enduring well through their sentences as a final act of defiance against their masters.

Angronius was to be held as an example for the others, and would not be nailed to his cross. His master would have him remain able to bear arms, if he survived his punishment. Before he was crucified, Marcellus had him flogged in front of the whole gladiator school. The hand that would hold the whip would be none other than Oenomaus.

The doctore, the teacher, was responsible for all lessons in the ludus. That day, he was to teach the harshest lesson of them all, so that the slaves of House Thal'kyr would know that betrayal would not be tolerated.

Held by reinforced chains of star-metal, and weakened by the poisons administered by the medicus beforehand, Angronius was hoisted up from the ground with his arms outstretched to bare his back to the whip. He eyed Oenomaus with the wary eyes of a caged wolf, and he bared his teeth to his teacher upon seeing the agoniser lash in his hands.

Rissio appeared within the crowd of gathered slaves, having just awoken from his slumber and morning preparation. He heard of a slave's punishment among the hushed whispers of his fellow initiates, but did not realize it was Angronius they were talking about until he saw him through the bars of the ludus enclosure.

Some of the ascendente beheld the sentence with amusement, seeing justice done upon an errant slave. Others beheld him with pity, among them was the gladiatrix Lucretia. She steeled her resolve and lent her support by watching the whole event, absent cry or tearful quiver.

"Why are they doing this?" Rissio demanded.

"The rebellious pup bit the hand that fed him, and so he must be flogged." Cannicus replied nonchalantly.

Oenomaus took no pleasure in meting out the punishment, though he knew it had to be done. He leaned forward to whisper to Angronius before taking position behind him, "Embrace the pain. It is the only way."

The slave lifted his gaze to the upper balcony, where Marcellus stood with his wife to see his commands carried out to the letter. His ears twitched upon hearing the howl of the whip unfurling its tail, teeth clenched together and hands balled into fists in preparation for the stinging bite of the lash. When the first landed upon his back, however, Angronius' brow arched in disbelief.

The lash was not as painful as he thought it would be. Confused, he turned his head as far back as his neck would allow to see if Oenomaus was putting in any effort to his punishment.

The cords of the agoniser whip did not pulsate with the energies of its handle, prompting Angronius to come to a single conclusion. His teacher, out of whatever kindness remained beneath his rough exterior, flogged him with a deactivated whip to lessen the agony of his sentence.

His eyes betrayed his gratitude, and he hung his head in faux shame to keep suspicion from them both.

More lashes descended, the harsh snaps of the whip reached even the ears of Lady Polgara within the Palace Praxica. She bolted from bed, startled in the realization that she had slept in that morning. It was close to midday, and the young woman knew that the noise could only be from the sentencing carried out upon her savior from last night.

"My robes, quickly!" She said, summoning a slave girl to attend her.

"Yes, domina." The slave hurried herself away, returning to her mistress with a bundle of red silks. With this, she dressed Polgara hastily and followed close to make her presentable while the lady rushed off into the corridors outside her mother's bedchambers.

She gained view of the ludus courtyard, where Angronius was shackled to bear the sting of Oenomaus' whip, from the vantage of another balcony beside the one where her parents stood. Polgara, growing up, had been spared of the sight of the punishment of her father's slaves. Witnessing it firsthand left her as shaken as she had been the other night.

"Our daughter bears witness." Lady Poledra said to her husband.

"Good." Marcellus replied, "Let her watch, that she might become steel in place of brittle clay."

More lashes fell, reaching to the hundredth. Only then did Marcellus command Oenomaus to cease. He ordered his wardens to prepare the iron cross fashioned just for Angronius, built with metals blessed with the powers of the Empyrean by Lady Poledra. Not even his godlike strength would hope to bend the cross, or secure his means for a second attempt at escape.

"Let it be known to all that betraying the name of the House of Thal'kyr would suffer just punishment." The lord declared, "Oenomaus, resume training."

"All of you, to the practice yards!" The doctore barked.

Angronius let out a gasp as the wardens hoisted him up to the wall, using a set of pulleys to drag his cross to the hanging gardens wall, the same spot where he secured his climb the night before. It was difficult to breathe, with his feet denied the support of the ground, but he would not allow himself to die by asphyxiation.

And there, for the rest of the day, he hung for all to see. To suffer the bristling heat of the sun and the chilling cold of night, to endure the twisting knot of hunger and the parch of creeping thirst. All of it, Angronius bore with a resolute smile.

"Look at him." Cannicus observed as he trained with Lucretia. "The pup grins in the face of his death."

"That 'pup' holds more stamina than you." The gladiatrix retorted, parrying his strike with her spear. "You wouldn't last an hour with our dominus' body slaves, even less upon the cross."

"Oho, I see he's found a protective bitch to match him!" Cannicus swung his sword, cleaving the spear shaft in two. "A pity that you won't-"

Lucretia silenced the mouthy gladiator by sliding down across the sands and delivering a savage kick to his groin. Even though he stood as an ascended, Cannicus was still a man, and a blow to the balls would send even the strongest of titans to his knees.

It was a dishonorable move, but very effective.

"Won't what?" Lucretia dusted her hands with a proud grin.

"Fucking cunt!" Cannicus groaned, clutching both his aching cock and wounded pride.

"Lucretia, Lucretia." Oenomaus chided gently with a shake of his head, too amused by the unexpected conclusion of their match to disapprove. "Yet again you set your compassion for those undeserving of it."

"Who?" The gladiatrix feigned ignorance. "For this poor wretch rolling about in the sands beneath my feet? I do believe he deserves compassion."

"I speak of Angronius." Her teacher warned, "Lord Marcellus directs lesson through my hands, I do not wish for you to ignore it."

"I did not ignore it, doctore." Lucretia assured him, "And neither will I ignore the fact that it was also Angronius who saved our domina. That is the only reason why I hold respect for the condemned."

"See that it remains so." Oenomaus declared, "Now, go fetch a replacement for your spear and return to training."

"Yes, Oenomaus."

The hours passed, Angronius twisted the shackles holding him against the cross until they pulled him taut against the beam. He kept his breaths steady and strained against the construct that would see him perish from lack of air. The view, at the very least, offered distraction as he attained an unobstructed sight of the whole courtyard with his fellow slaves in them.

When they paused for afternoon meal, he found his mouth watering with want. He knew he would be denied both food and water for the whole span of a week, so he endeavored to keep his thoughts away from them. Long was the day, too long, but he endured through it nonetheless. Through constant struggle against the press of his body upon his lungs, the hunger and the thirst, as well as the struggle against the poisons lingering within his veins.

Polgara stole a glance towards her window, finding her mind too heavy with thought to study her spellbooks that night.

She could not rid herself of the nagging feeling of regret for the fate of that slave, that insufferable man branded with such an offensive name. She had plenty of time to consider the events that happened that night, and it was easy to deduce what brought Angronius to her bath chambers in the first place. It was he who laid hands on her, not her faithful slave Sethus- a deadly offense in itself.

And yet, it was he who saved her life. If she were anyone else, she would think of it as mere happenstance that Angronius was present to fend off her assailants. Polgara believed it divine providence, and felt horrified at the thought that the slave was rewarded with the whip and cross for his actions.

Her wine and bread remained untouched upon her table since Sethus brought it there for her. It gifted her with an inspiring thought, an idea in which she could both rest her troubled mind and give deserving thanks to her savior.

At the stroke of midnight, when all others have gone to bed, Polgara left her room. She exited the palace quietly, although she could not move about without being seen. Her father doubled the guard since the attempt on her life, with a pair of wardens to accompany her wherever she went. With secrecy out of the question, Polgara steeled herself for the coming morn, and the news that would reach her father's ears for her defiance of his command.

"If either of my mother or father asks of what I did this night." She said to her wardens, seeing no point in having to hide the truth when it came to light. "Hide nothing from them. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my lady." The wardens acknowledged.

The three of them approached the wall where Angronius was hung from. Polgara instructed her men to bring a ladder and prop it near the crucified slave. Carefully, she balanced herself on each step as she ascended with bread and wine in hand. Upon reaching the peak, she nearly lost her balance as she recoiled in surprise at the glimmering golden orbs peering at her through the dim light of the flickering braziers overhead.

Angronius was watching her.

Determined to see the deed done, Polgara placed the plate in the crook of her arm and tore a piece from the bread, offering it to the wary slave to let him know of her intentions. Hungrily, he snatched the crust from her fingers with his teeth and devoured it whole. Little by little, piece by piece she fed him, until the whole loaf was gone. With that done, she offered up the bottle of wine and removed its lid. Angronius finished it with two gulps, and gave a hoarse whisper of thanks.

Her act of kindness did not extend to him for that night alone, but for every night of the seven days of his sentence. She would return, bringing food and drink to keep both thirst and starvation at bay. Over time, he came to begrudgingly accept her, even hold a measure of respect for her.

Polgara's actions did not go unnoticed, however, and she was called to answer for them before her parents.

"I set example for the other slaves, Eanna!" Marcellus said sternly as he slammed the door of his study shut behind them. "And you diminish my authority by placing favor for that fucking animal!"

Polgara flinched as though struck, feeling the sting of her father's reprimand. She prepared for this day, long before it had come. It was difficult to give voice to her carefully practiced answer, but she gave it nonetheless. "I am sorry, Papa. Challenging you was not my intent-"

"Then what moved you to commit such an underhanded act?" The patriarch leaned forward over the desk with his fists pressed down upon its face, "Go on, speak!"

"Papa, I merely sought to address a growing problem with Angronius. You and I both know that he is an animal, a beast within man's flesh. Knowing that, I thought to show a sliver of mercy to temper his justly deserved punishment. To show kindness to an animal that he might return it with loyalty, rather than show him only the lash and have him bare his teeth at us."

Slowly, the redness in the lord's face faded as reason dawned upon him. He considered his daughter's words well and sat down to think upon them. He had his doubts, but could not deny the wisdom in them. "Are you certain that this was the only reason why, or was it because you stand so moved when he saved your life?"

"It is part of the reason." Polgara admitted, "But only to serve as ample inspiration for a higher purpose."

"And you really think that Angronius would submit to us, following your act of kindness?"

"I would not be so bold as to claim that he would submit to House Thal'kyr." The sorceress said with a shake of her head, "But he just might submit to me."

"You would take responsibility over that errant slave?" Marcellus inquired in disbelief.

"I would." Polgara replied confidently, "I shall claim the beast as my own. He will serve our family...through me."

"And how exactly would you tame the beast?"

Her mind fell to the memory of her spell tomes, and their numerous rituals of soul-binding. "Papa, you forget, I am a sorceress. Not all slaves need collars or shackles of star-metal to bind them to their master's will. I have my methods, and I shall see it done. That is, if you will let me."

Marcellus hesitated, clearly not approving the prospect of having such a dangerous and rebellious slave so close to his daughter. Then he realized that if Polgara proved successful in taming Angronius, it would also erase the problem concerning her safety. His enemies were still out there, plotting and were likely to attempt another attack upon his family.

"These methods of yours..." He asked, "...what will you require of me to see them fulfilled?"

"I only need Angronius." Polgara replied, "And your trust."

1 Day Later

House Thal'kyr Palace Praxica,

Shrine of the Gods

Having recovered from his injuries, and rather quickly, Angronius was summoned into the palace of his masters. Escorted by the wardens, he was led into the deepest parts of the Palace Praxica, within the hallowed halls of House Thal'kyr's shrine to the Gods of Nuceria. Here, the ascendente were sworn into the brotherhood of gladiators, to fight and die for the glory of their dominus.

For those who knew no life outside the walls of the ludus, of the life of a freeborn, it was a great honor to become a gladiator.

For those who knew of freedom, like Angronius, the thought of giving his life for the entertainment of the crowds was incomprehensible to him and an abomination. And the thought of having to swear allegiance to the man who condemned him to a week of humiliation and discomfort, it was an insult that burned painfully upon his pride.

Thoughts of murdering his dominus surfaced within his mind, and Angronius found himself entertaining them.

They were quick to fade, however, when the wardens pushed him into the shrine and left soon after. Angronius stood alone in the chamber filled with the beautiful statues of Nuceria's pantheon of divines. They stood so lifelike among the marble pillars and offertory altars.

Augustus and Augusta, the twin aspects of masculine and feminine perfection, sat beneath the feet of their mother Lilith, The First Woman and Wife of Mars. Dolos, God of Deceit and Trickery, pondered deeply of his fate upon a rock. Vulcan stood with his hammer raised to strike at his latest work upon the anvil, Orcus crouched with his mouth open to swallow the world into the abyss of his belly, Diana with her bow, Sol with the sun upon his back.

And Mars himself, Father of All and God of War, stood and towered above them.

A ritual circle had been prepared in the center of the chamber, alight with freshly lit candles and incense sticks.

The young man heard the gentle tap of bare feet upon the floor, and turned to see the doors open to let Lady Polgara join him in the unknown ritual. She was dressed again in her regal blue robes, whereas Angronius stood with a simple red cloth wrapped around his waist. With her came four other maidens, fellow sorceresses from the Temple of Lilith, who wore the titillating white robes of the Sisterhood. Some of them stole a glance or two in his direction, and they marveled at the finely sculpted perfection of the gladiator.

"Why am I here?" Angronius demanded.

Polgara motioned for the others to begin ahead of them, and drew close to the slave. "Calm yourself, Angronius. Your life is not in danger. I brought you here to repay the life you saved in full."

He relaxed, somewhat. "I don't understand. What does all this have to do with any of that?"

Polgara hated having to explain herself to the slave, but felt that she owed him that much to offer a bit of honesty. "My father, your dominus, remains in doubt of your loyalties. The only reason why he has allowed you to rise as gladiator in spite of your attempt to escape...well, it's because of me. If you did not protect me as you did that night, I would have left your fate to him."

"And yet, I did."

"Yes." Polgara nodded, "I've grown rather fond of you, as unbelievable as that sounds, and I would prefer that you survive till you've taken to the sands of the arena...and beyond."

"I have no such ambitions!" Angronius declared.

"I know. You desire your freedom in place of glory, a reward that can only be won as Champion of the Colosseum Magnus."

"One hundred lives, for my own." The slave bristled, "One hundred gladiators, their deaths for the adoration of the crowds. What kind of a price is that?"

"Do their souls hold that much significance to you?"

Angronius paused, then answered. "I suppose not."

"What I offer is this, Angronius..." Polgara said, gesturing towards the circle. "Undergo the ritual of soul-binding. Hold me as your domina, serve me and reap the glories in my name. The bond that we shall have will tip the odds in your favor. Survive the hundred battles, and when it is done, I will set you free."

Freedom, and the price was his submission and the lives of one hundred foes. There wasn't much choice there, not at all.

Angronius uttered a low growl of frustration.

"Are we in agreement?"

He grunted in reply, allowing himself to be led like a lamb to the slaughter. The slave underwent the ritual and allowed the sorceress to fix her magical collar around his throat, making him the docile dog. At the very least, his mistress was not prone to using the whip, so Angronius counted it to his benefit.

Though shackled through arcane means, his thoughts of escape remained.

He did not trust Polgara to keep her word, not entirely, but their arrangement that day would sweep aside any suspicions towards his loyalty. He would regain his freedom, one way or another.

If his domina betrayed him, not even her magics would keep his hands from her throat.