King With A Thorned Crown

5 Days Later

City of Reksia

Colosseum Primus Undercity Dungeon

"Whatever comes now, know that I am proud to have been your teacher."

Angronius stared into empty space unseeing as his tortured mind did its best to recollect the fragmented memories of the most recent past. He remembered being angry, the kind of anger strong enough to drive a man into a murderous frenzy. He remembered the strain of his swings, the uncontrolled bellows that rendered his throat raw, and the deafening roar of the elated mob.

"Merciful Lilith, what have they done to you?"

The Nails buzzed, bringing with them another wave of agony to drive the gladiator into another rage. But since he was alone in his cell, he chose unleash the growing flood in his soul against the shackles that bound him. It was almost like he was trying to escape the horrid memories of the terrible deed he committed, and like his previous attempts to escape, he simply couldn't. The enchanted star-metal chains pulled taut against his arms, keeping him in place.

"Angron..."

When the fires of rage died out, they gave way to despair. And with it came a moment of clarity in the eye of the storm. As he clenched his fists, Angronius felt the dried blood caking his fingers.

Oenomaus' blood.

The shocked and disbelieving expression frozen upon his dead face after Gorefather and Gorechild severed his head from his body.

Angronius remembered enough, and the sorrow that came after became too much to bear. The storm in his mind drove him to kill his father and teacher. He had become a mere vessel for the arena's bestial nature. How long he remained in the cell after his horrifying transformation, he couldn't know for certain. All he knew was that he couldn't live as the animal Acraesius intended.

When his grief faded, Angronius once again brought his indomitable will to bear. The storm sought to blind him and goad him to slay all those who stood in his way, but he would treat it as he treated any shackle the Nucerians placed on him. The Nails, terrible as they were, would not enslave him.

Slowly, as the hours of each day spent in that damp chamber passed, Angronius fought a different battle- one that every man must face.

The shackles were long enough to let him reach for his head. With trembling hands, Angronius grabbed onto the coils that the Emperor's lackeys hammered into him. He steadied himself for a moment, then pulled with all his might.

He could've snapped them out, he wanted to even if it meant tearing out whatever was left of his brain, if it weren't for the blinding pain that came with the act.

"ACRAESIUS!" The enraged and suffering gladiator roared, blood trickling down his nose and out of his ears. "I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR GUTS AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!"

The pain didn't go away, so Angronius got on all fours and proceeded to beat his forehead against the floor. The stone cracked under the demigod's assault, and the magical glyphs that were built into them were shattered upon the destruction of their physical anchor. Angronius reared his head and continued the agonizing process of tearing out the Nails.

"GAH! RIP YOU APART!"

For such an advanced bit of archeotech, the Nails were somewhat delicate where it mattered. In his blind attempt to free himself from them, Angronius managed to damage them by snapping several coils in half.

"TEAR! TEAR! TEAR!"

It felt like he was reaching into his head with his fingers and digging around for the matter within. One by one, the coils split under Angronius' relentless onslaught. Any lesser man would've died in the attempt, but not him. The coils relented, leaving only their barbed ends deeply burrowed into his head, and the sockets that sprouted from his skin like vile tumors. With the Nails damaged, their hold on his mind weakened but didn't relinquish their influence entirely. The storm diminished from a thunderous downpour into an annoying drizzle.

The anger, the terrible rage, was still there.

Bloodied and shaking as though he'd just fought the worst fight in his life, Angronius crawled closer to the nearby wall and collapsed against it. His near-inexhaustible strength waned, and he struggled to keep himself from passing out.

In the time he spent in the cell, no one came to feed him. They were too terrified to approach the door, and no warden was grave enough to escort them in. He was meant to fight in the arena from one battle to another, day in and day out, until he died.

"I will not die a slave..." Angronius repeated his vow.

"That..." A figure emerged from the darkness, "... is a vow most difficult to keep."

The gladiator stirred, smelling the heaviness of magic in the air. He thought he saw the man before, somewhere among his former master's guests, or... in the company of Marsus Acraesius. With that thought, Angronius bristled like a cornered wolf. He rose up as if his injuries never existed and approached his visitor with murderous intent.

The chains held him back, and the stranger smiled. "Be still, Angronius."

"WHO ARE YOU!?" The gladiator thundered.

"I am known by many names across the civilizations that dot the night sky." The man replied, extending his hand to touch the giant with the taloned ring on his finger. The mere prick of the talon made the raging god of war as docile as a pup, and he stared in awe as an unseen force brought him to his knees. "But men on this world call me Sevran Fowl."

Angronius felt his head bow on its own accord, "What... what are you doing?"

"I want you to listen." Lord Fowl said, placing an assuring hand on Angronius' taut muscular shoulder. "And hear the words of the Architect of Fate."

The urge to bite the hand was strong, but his curiosity was stronger. The gladiator glared up at the mysterious nobleman in silence, goading him to continue with his cryptic monologue.

"The pieces on the board are in place. An empire has risen from the ashes of the republic. But you..." Lord Fowl paused, "... you will be the end of it."

Angronius felt vigor surge into his body as he contemplated on the meaning of the man's words, "Are you going to set me free?"

Fowl traced the surface of the chains with his talon, "That depends entirely on your disposition. The Emperor has dealt a grievous harm upon you, and he plans on inflicting an even greater one on the woman who holds your heart- the woman who spurned him for a slave."

"What? Eanna?" Angronius' rage returned, clashing with the sorcerer's magic as he strained against the chains. "What has he done?!" TELL ME!"

"You hate him, don't you?" Fowl asked, ignoring his demands. His manipulation of the beast was almost too easy, and he enjoyed every second of it. "And you love that woman more than your precious freedom. What will you do to keep her safe?"

Angronius' mind was a mess of priorities, "I WILL DROWN THOSE WHO SEEK TO HARM HER IN OCEANS OF BLOOD!"

"That is good." Fowl nodded, willing the chains to fade into ash where he touched them. "I am glad to see you are clear to your purpose."

The gladiator stared in awe as he was practically handed his freedom on a silver platter.

"Come, follow me." The nobleman beckoned as though he was bored with his reaction and eager to depart.

He led Angronius through the maze of the undercity which spanned the whole sub-complex of the Colosseum Primus. Here, thousands of other imprisoned gladiators and beasts were kept for future games. They were fighters without patrons or masters, save for the Emperor himself. They were champions of the arena like Angronius who, in one way or another, earned freedom only in death.

As the pair passed the cells, Angronius couldn't help but gaze into the lonely and suffering faces of the gladiators languishing behind star-metal bars. Just a few meters away, he spied a small patrol of undercity watchers making their rounds.

Realizing he had no weapon, the cunning champion went for the next best thing and grabbed the release levers controlling the cell doors of a dozen cells. He unleashed the gladiators within, crying out in a loud voice to fan the embers of their hate with his own. Fowl watched them with amusement and stepped aside to let the brutes feast on blood and death.

"Gladiators! Your freedom lies beyond these halls!" He heard Angronius roar, "Only your jailers stand in your way, a wall of feeble flesh and bone! Make corpses of them, I pray! CHARGE!"

The gladiators, all bearing deep resentment for their masters, much like the nail-headed one who set them free, fell upon the screaming watchers and tore them limb from limb. They then made for the rest of the release levers and unleashed even more caged fighters, thereby opening hell's mouth to carry with them its fiery embers to set fire to the Colosseum Primus.

Together, they broke out of the undercity and ascended into the light of day. Seizing the weapons of their jailers, they wreaked havoc all across the arena, killing anyone and anything in their path. Angronius led some to break into the armory and retrieve his weapons from their resting places. Reunited with Gorefather and Gorechild, he brandished the chainaxes together to rally the escaped gladiators to himself and led the assault against the gathering watchers at the main gate.

Heavy stubbers, lasguns and arc-throwers held most of the roaring tide at bay, slaying hundreds of gladiators when they attempted to reach the gate, but the wall of arena guardsmen soon faltered at Angronius' fearless charge.

His strength and bestial ferocity, doubled monstrously by the Nails, sent him crashing into them with the force of a meteor. The terrible roar of his chainaxes cut a fearful wound into their psyche, inspiring dread into the hearts of all men who heard them. He shattered their resolve completely, allowing the rest of the gladiators to slaughter the remaining men and leaving a gaping wound in the defensive line. Not wishing to end up like their massacred fellows, the watchers fled the arena.

Most of the gladiators, overcome with murderous glee at their victory and seized with an irresistible urge to unleash years of suffering upon the mob that condemned them to purgatory, spilled into Reksia to wreak further havoc upon its helpless citizens.

Some, who remained at Angronius' side throughout the battle, refused to leave him. They've seen the gladiator do the impossible, and would see him perform more bloody miracles before their eventual death.

"Fowl!" Angronius called for the sorcerer, "What now?"

Sevran Fowl stood amidst the blur of rushing butchers and beasts, smiling in satisfaction at the carnage around them. "Now? Now you play the Game, little pawn."

"Pawn?" The warrior bristled, fighting the urge to cut the man down where he stood. "I am no one's pawn!"

"All men are pawns, Angronius. Some are just better at their role than others."

A powerful explosion somewhere rocked the whole city district, distracting Angronius enough to turn his head for a moment. When he turned again to look for Lord Fowl, he was nowhere to be seen. All that remained of him were a handful of bright blue feathers fluttering in the wind that resembled the ones that covered his robes.

2 Days Later

Province of Desh'ea

Acraesius knew that it was only a matter of time before House Thal'kyr gathered its courage to betray him. Moving well beyond the pace of his soon-to-be-enemies, the Emperor kept close watch over Marcellus' family and his businesses. What he found only confirmed his suspicions, as Marcellus started conspiring with the rest of the surviving senators to enact a complex plan for his supposed assassination.

His network of spies revealed that Marcellus began contacting organizations based in far-off city-states such as Hyrkan and the newly erected port-city in the distant shores of Stygia. Using the wealth granted to him through a long life of holding games in his family arena, as well as the wealth shared from the demise of the previous republic's supporters, Marcellus was creating a slave army of gladiators to resist Acraesius and overthrow the tyrant from his false throne.

Acraesius' enemies were quick to join in on the conspiracy, and their combined strength proved dangerously on par with the relatively young empire. The Emperor knew that there was only one path to fully realizing his dream of a united Nuceria, and it was to cut off the head of the snake that poisoned its roots.

To test his own snake's loyalty, the Emperor contacted Lord Meslim of House Ashtura and commanded him to gather his forces and march upon the Palace Praxica. He would receive no help from the legions, but Meslim didn't care. The command was received with much joy, for the young prince hated his rival so much that to be responsible for the ruination of House Thal'kyr was the greatest gift Emperor Acraesius could ever hope to give him.

Meslim was left free to do whatever he wished to Marcellus and his wife. He was, however, ordered not to harm Polgara Thal'kyr, as the Emperor still wished to have her family line remain through her.

With wicked glee, the Lord of House Ashtura gathered his men and made for the Palace Praxica under the cover of night.

It took a few hours for such a large force of mercenaries, wardens and assassins to go through the main streets of the province, but they arrived nonetheless. Without even announcing their reasons for being there, House Asthura attacked. With their hired cutthroats, they dispatched the gilded wardens who watched the gate and opened the barriers to let the small army through.

House Thal'kyr had doubled its guard, and they proved to be a nuisance as they put up a good fight. The sounds of their blades and the roar of their guns filled the night, while the screams of dying men woke up the whole family sleeping within the confines of the palace.

Polgara, still dressed in her outgoing robes, raced out of her room to meet her father in his study. She found him gathering up documents of great import and a leather pouch of gold coins. A pair of wardens waited on him with drawn weapons, ready for the first sign of trouble. "Papa, what's going on?"

"Can't you tell?" Marcellus snapped, "We're under attack! The tyrant's dogs have sniffed us out and are now loosed upon our house! Quickly, we must move!"

"Where's Mama?" Polgara asked, squeaking in surprise when Lady Poledra grabbed her arm.

"I am here, Eanna!" Her mother replied, turning to her husband. "Marcellus, the rear courtyard is clear. We can slip away through there."

Together, the family of House Thal'kyr fled the palace and made for the empty courtyard with their faithful wardens in tow. The lanista no longer cared for his possessions, his ancestral home which housed generations upon generations of Thal'kyr nobles, or the gladiators who still remained in the ludus gladiatorius. He only cared for his family's safety, and he would see them live.

Alas, had they moved sooner they would've escaped. The courtyard proved not to be as empty as they thought it would be.

All around the palace grounds, the bodies of servants and wardens littered the ground, turning the marble and stone floors into a swamp of blood and gore. Meslim's men stood over the corpses with their bloodied weapons, moving as one when they caught sight of their master's hated foe.

Marcellus picked up a fallen warden's sword and shouted for his family to run, "Go!"

Making haste, they separated from their warden guardians, who stayed behind to give them time to escape. They raced out of the open door leading into the streets of Desh'ea and found themselves surrounded by Meslim's assassins. Marcellus Thal'kyr was no skilled man in the art of combat, but he was a husband and a father. He had plenty of reason to fight back, and so he did.

The assassins didn't kill him immediately, but cut him at the shoulders to impair his arms and hamstrung his legs to cripple him.

It was Lady Poledra who proved to be the greater threat, for she was a learned sorceress. As she cleared a path for her and her daughter to slip through, her invocation of the Empyrean's darker influence warped reality itself, giving them enough berth to cross over. It took a considerable amount of her strength to leave her husband behind for the assassins to finish off, and even greater strength to see herself and Polgara free from the danger of Meslim's assault.

Neither was enough, for Meslim anticipated their avenue for escape and drove after them.

An Ashturan reaver's jetbike swooped in from among the mercenaries and snatched up Polgara from her arms. When Poledra moved to save her with a spell, another reaver drove by and smashed a mace into her skull, knocking her to the ground in a heap.

With their prize in hand, the mercenaries returned to Meslim, who settled himself comfortably in the Palace Praxica medicus chamber. There, a bloodied Marcellus and his unconscious wife were strung up in chains so they could be made subject to the horrible atrocities Meslim had in mind.

The gloating young prince had a chair brought to him, and sat down to wait for husband and wife to rouse themselves from their agonized stupor. He played with the snake writhing around his shoulders, while Marcellus gazed in horror at the mercenaries hoisting Polgara up by the shackles holding her hands together. A single length of coiled industrial wire for each of them held their arms high above their heads, leaving the rest of their bodies vulnerable for the vipers of House Ashtura to do with as they pleased.

Secilia entered the chamber, her taloned fingers outstretched and her cybernetic spider appendages flexed, ready to carve up another masterpiece for her lover. Meslim said nothing to his rival, for he felt that nothing else could equal the pleasure of him listening to the anguished cries he would utter throughout the night.

First, he ordered his men to strip their captives naked, then motioned for Secilia to start with Lady Poledra.

The dazed and damaged Poledra, already half-dead from the gaping wound in her skull, faded away long before Secilia began flaying the skin from her body. The spider-woman hadn't even finished taking an inch of flesh from her when Meslim gave up and had her still-warm corpse given over to his men.

"No, I'm bored with this one." He said, "Boys, there's still life in her and the night is still young. Enjoy."

The mercenaries accepted his reward and hauled off Lady Poledra, disappearing into the courtyard with the noblewoman's body and leaving Marcellus mad with grief.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" The raging noble roared, "I'll kill you!"

Polgara watched with tears streaming down her cheeks as Secilia cut out her father's eyes. Even then, Marcellus hurled insult and curse at his tormentors, promising vengeance from the afterlife a thousandfold. Slowly, the spider-woman cut and peeled his skin away in drapes until the red layers beneath it all were all that could be seen. Unable to bear the depravity of it all, the woman closed her eyes and prayed hard for Mars, Lilith or anyone of her gods for deliverance.

But as expected, the gods answered her tearful pleas with only silence.

"Now, what to do with you?" Meslim turned his attention to the grieving Polgara, having enjoyed the demise of his rival thoroughly. Secilia was still fresh and ready for another masterpiece, and he knew she would be eager to make a unique work out of Polgara's beautiful canvas of a body.

He drank the sight of her in with lecherous predatory eyes, and sighed dreamily as he knew no work of Secilia's could ever compare with the natural exquisiteness of Polgara Thal'kyr. Still, she was the daughter of his hated rival, and she needed to be ruined.

Meslim got up and moved closer to her, basking in the heated glow of her hateful glare for a moment before reaching out to touch the soft flesh of her cheek. Polgara was quick to bite on his hand, and she bit him hard and deep. The young prince withdrew with a curse, giving her a hard slap that bloodied her lips.

"Such a feisty little kitten, aren't you?" He chuckled evilly, grasping the body of his snake to guide the black mamba to purpose. His bloodied hand bade the snake to take his pick, then bite back in return.

The mamba stuck out its tongue, smelling her skin, before lunging forward to sink its fangs into her right breast.

Polgara cried out and stared in horror at the twin little holes from which two little trickles of blood flowed out of. Already, the serpent's venom was burning its way into her body, and Polgara felt herself grow limp as the poison did its cruel work on her. Her mind, made dim through the venom, was vaguely aware of Meslim's next command.

He called for some of his mercenaries to watch over her, saying that he was bound for other pleasures following their victory.

"Do with her what you will, but don't kill her." Meslim said, "Let the venom do that for you. I won't have the Emperor find House Ashtura responsible for her death."

"Of course, sir." One of the mercenaries replied with a menacing smirk as he started to loosen his belt. He started to touch the naked and vulnerable Polgara, muttering to himself as he breathed in the soft fragrance of her hair. It wasn't every day a pleb like him would be able to get that close to a lady of the patricians, and he would take his sweet time with her. "Such a fine piece of ass... I love this job."

Outside, Meslim and Secilia prepared to leave by heavy transport. His mercenaries, ordered by him to remain on site until his return, stood on guard. Overcome with the euphoria of such a highly coveted victory over his rival, Meslim was all too eager to celebrate, and dreamily thought of the indulgences he and Secilia would drown themselves in when they returned to Imryyr.

They discovered, too late, that fate had a nasty knack for turning against careless folk in the moment when it was less likely to do so.

Spurred by passion and rage, Angronius and his band of gladiators stole some imperial transporters and made for Desh'ea. He didn't stop for even a single day to rest, opting to stop only when the transporter cores burned out or the empire's legions barred his way- but even then he would tear his way across Nuceria to find Polgara.

Seeing the mercenaries of House Ashtura outside of the Palace Praxica, and fearing the worst, Angronius pushed his transporter to full throttle. He gave the gladiators with him a simple command, to prepare to jump and do battle once they landed.

Landing would be a poor term to describe what he did with the transporter, but with the way it crashed hard against Meslim's personal ship and still skidded to a halt upright, some might say it was as good a landing as any.

"RIP!" Angronius bellowed, his chainaxes growling in agreement. "AND TEAR!"

The gladiators obeyed, spilling out of their transporters and falling upon the mercenaries with blinding speed. Meslim's men were prepared to take on the mortal wardens of House Thal'kyr, but not cybernetically augmented warriors of the arena who fought and lived through thousands of battles- especially when there were hundreds of them!

They blazed through the vast lands of Nuceria so quickly that the local authorities weren't able to track them nor mount up a sufficient defense. With Reksia and all the towns around it nearly drowning in the chaos of the servile uprising, the confusion proved to be an unexpected boon for Angronius' escape.

But total freedom would have to wait. Angronius needed to reclaim something from Meslim's clutches.

He dug through the wreckage of the transporter and pulled a bloodied and broken Meslim Ashtura from the burning vehicle. His gladiator brethren kept the mercenaries busy, allowing them plenty of time to get acquainted.

"P-Please...don't..." Meslim whimpered at the sight of Gorefather's snarling teeth.

"What did you do?" The gladiator king growled.

"I-I..." Meslim was quick to find some excuse, a weak one that even the giant could see through. "I-It was Acraesius! He sent me here to take Marcellus and his family, h-he wanted to kill them! But I didn't! I swear by Mars-"

It took all Angronius' willpower not to rip the man in two with his bare hands. "Where is Polgara?!"

"I-Inside of the medicus chambers with one of my men!" Meslim cried out, turning his head to see Secilia haul herself out of the wreck. "Secilia! Help me!"

Angronius didn't even need to move to defend himself, for one of the gladiators saw her movement out of the corner of his eye and snatched her away. With his massive, mechanical arms, he ripped her into pieces. It was a foretelling of Meslim's fate, and the cowardly serpent pissed himself as he desperately searched for his pet snake to at least defend him from the giant.

The snake was nowhere to be seen, and he found himself dragged back into Praxica.

In the main courtyard, at the foot of the massive hanging gardens he had come to know so well, Angronius spied a group of mercenaries his men butchered, strangely all in a state of undress. He spied the abused corpse of Lady Poledra, laid out on the ground with the foul odor of piss and essence about her.

Fearing the worst, he stomped into the medicus chambers. What he saw turned his blood into hot lead.

A man was slowly undressing himself as he touched and kissed Polgara, who hung by her shackled arms. A flayed corpse hung opposite from her, which Angronius could only guess was his former master Marcellus. For a moment, he forgot the architect of this whole sordid ordeal.

All he saw was the poor fool, who moved to molest his beloved, about to be turned into red paste.

The Nails, damaged but still functional to a degree, buzzed faintly in the back of his mind. For once, he let them guide his hand to the man's head, which easily fit within his open hand. One squeeze was all it took to crush it into pulp, and the headless corpse dropped down.

The redness in his gaze cleared, and Angronius quickly inspected Polgara for any injury. His keen eyes saw her breast, which bore the mark of Meslim's black mamba. Hearing the coward's whimpers as he slithered away to hide from Angronius' wrath, the giant broke Polgara's chain and carried her off on his shoulder.

The gladiators, working quickly, defeated the mercenaries and freed the other gladiators trapped in the ludus. Everyone gathered at the courtyard to witness Angronius deliver swift judgement on the man who brought upon the ruin of House Thal'kyr and the death of their masters.

No words fell from Angronius' lips at that moment, for his rage was so great that it overrode any rational thought. He grabbed Meslim by the head and ripped away his spine from his back, giving him that brief but incredibly agonizing moment before death. The gladiators liberated from the Colosseum Primus cheered at the snake's demise, but none of those from House Thal'kyr celebrated that night.

In fact, they stepped away from Angronius as though he never stood as one of them. Rather, to them, he was a thing of ill fortune.

They hadn't forgotten what he did to Old Oenomaus.

Angronius, aware of their reluctance, chose to address it there and then before giving them the most obvious ultimatum. "You all know me as Angronius the Betrayer, the Beast of the Arena and the slayer of Oenomaus. I want you to know that my hands were not my own that day, but were spurred on by the machinations of Marsus Acraesius- the same man who moved Meslim of House Ashtura to see this house you so served faithfully to ruin."

His revelation didn't come that much of a shock, for even among the gladiators some were smart enough to make their own conclusions.

"You have a choice now, brothers and sisters of the arena. Nothing remains of House Thal'kyr this night, for Acraesius has condemned its name and all its properties with it. You can stay here and remain in shackles, sold to another lanista who would mine gold from your blood and flesh until your death."

Angronius motioned to the hundreds who stood with him at the Reksian revolt. "Or join us, and live free."

At first, no one gave voice to their support, until Etrusca slipped out from between the legs of the gladiators to greet his long lost master. The loyalty shown by the hound, regardless of the gladiator king's flaws, touched the hearts of many. One by one, those who doubted him, raised their hands to hail him as their champion.

Others, like Cannicus, turned away in despair. For them, Angronius mourned the most, for it was clear that some shackles could never be broken.

With the hundreds who joined his quest for freedom, Angronius headed towards the coastlands of Nuceria, where he could seek help for Polgara's affliction and at last gain access to the lands beyond the Sodian Sea.