Death of the Republic

In the days that followed his return to House Thal'kyr, Angronius made good use of his time and trained harder than ever before. Whatever skills Oenomaus taught him, he improved upon. And when he honed them to fine edge, he taught others.

Under his tutelage, the gladiators of House Thal'kyr became even more powerful than before. Those that were willing to be schooled under him, that is.

He favored Gorefather and Gorechild, but this didn't mean he was tied to them alone. He mastered the spear, the trident, the gladius and the mace. The quick mind resting within his skull gifted him with an understanding of each tool of destruction, and an even greater understanding of himself.

His body was flesh and bone, it had its limits.

His blood, however, was of divine origin and knew no such limits. With it, flesh and bone could become steel.

A hundred legionnaires subdued him in the past, Angronius was determined to never let that happen again.

Angronius didn't plan on waiting for the hundred battles to come to him. If all it took to win the crowd and gain his freedom was to provide a spectacle, he decided to do just that- to provide a spectacle. Oenomaus told him stories of his battles in the Colosseum Magnus, of single matches and obstacle courses. Rare were the times of pure bloody fracases, but whenever they occurred it seemed that the crowd enjoyed them the most out of any battle.

A hundred or so gladiators fighting simultaneously in the sands of the arena, until only one team remained standing.

They called these matches Blood Bowls. A crude name for a crude sport.

With most of the republic situated far beyond the reaches of the wars their legions fought for them, it was a rare thing for the crowd to actually witness the chaos and bloodshed of true warfare. Gladiator combat provided only a taste of it, a sampling of the whole. The Blood Bowls were an entirely larger helping, a self-indulgent mockery of war to sate the bottomless appetite of the mob.

Angronius would see them choke on their fill if it gained him what he wanted.

At times, however, he stopped to think what would happen after he achieved liberty. He couldn't see himself live within Nuceria, not after everything he's been through. Oenomaus might have the patience of a saint, or the foolishness of a child, to forget his suffering as a gladiator and live as one of the people of the republic- but not Angronius. He would have Polgara, but he couldn't stay. It was quite the dilemma, to persuade a soft city-born woman to leave the comforts of so-called civilization for a free but hard life with him.

A dilemma to worry about later, for he had enough to handle at the moment.

He planned on making his proposed idea to Polgara when he felt the time was right. She didn't receive him for a while since they've returned to the Palace Praxica, only summoning for him when two months had already passed. By then, much had transpired that signaled the end of an era and the beginnings of a new one.

Proconsul Marsus Acraesius, following a failed assassination attempt by his enemies, disappeared from the public eye. In the months that followed, reports started to point out the mysterious mass mobilization of Nuceria's 1st, 2nd and 3rd Legions. These legions served under Acraesius' command in the Nucerian-Stygian Wars, and it was no coincidence that their mobilization meant that the Proconsul was preparing a severe form of retaliation against the senate, which everyone could assume at present was responsible for the attempt at his life.

Cutthroat politics were a part of Nucerian culture, but to mount such a sloppy and cowardly attack against one of the people spelled disaster for the republic. A large public outcry spurred the mob to rally at the senate house doorstep, demanding justice for Marsus Acraesius, seemingly unaware of the Proconsul's own plans for the future of Nuceria.

A march on Reksia was inevitable and imminent. Without even bothering to quell the increasing civil unrest within their own cities, the senate dispatched their own legions to put a stop to Acraesius' rebellion. A great disadvantage doomed their armies to fail from the start, for they faced the might of three veteran legions, who knew the ways of war far better than their virgin legions.

Even as the threat of civil war loomed over Nuceria, life went on as it always did. The people of the province of Desh'ea, especially, gave themselves over to distraction. This worked well for Angronius' planned exhibition, seeing a turn in events he could exploit.

It was on a beautiful summer afternoon, after he'd finished training with his team of gladiators in the ludus, that Angronius answered Polgara's summons and visited her room in the upper floors of the Palace Praxica. The wardens posted at her door didn't bother him when he approached, so he entered unhindered.

Polgara was busy trying on a number of new dresses when he found her, aided by Sethus and her other attending slaves. The robe she wore was of thin white gossamer, made of the smoothest silks in the republic that offered a generous hint of her flawless form wherever the light touched them. Golden ornaments and lovely little accoutrements adorned her head like a crown, with lengthy shimmering linklets wrapped around her bare arms and shoulders like coiling serpents.

The robe was no mere dress, but a ceremonial attire dedicated for certain special occasions. Although the sight mesmerized Angronius, Polgara hated having to wear it.

An uncomfortable grimace on her face told it all, and she threw her hands up in exasperation when she saw Angronius watching from the threshold of her door. "I know, I know. It looks silly."

The gladiator smiled, "Only you could make a silly thing look beautiful."

Her discomfort faded as she took his words to heart. Polgara dismissed her slaves and bade Angronius to come and hold her. She slipped her arms around his neck as his strong hands grabbed her waist, "How is it that you, a slave, could praise me better than the most ostentatious minstrel?"

"Perhaps it's because I abstain from empty flattery and speak from my own heart?"

"You have such a way with words, Angronius." Polgara tapped the tip of his nose with her finger playfully, then moved away to remove her collection of baubles so she could walk free from them. "Now, what troubles the fierce gladiator that he requires to see me?"

"We've been training for months now, the men are growing restless." The gladiator said as he casually leaned against the wall, "They fear that Lord Marcellus is punishing them because of me by depriving them of their matches."

"He was." Polgara took a seat by the window beside him, "Took a bit of convincing on my part, but you'll get your match soon."

Angronius' brow arched like a stretching cat, "You did? Thank you, Polgara. I won't forget this."

The woman reached for his hand and guided him inward. He drew closer and placed his hands on her shoulders, just like that night when he first laid hands on her in the tub down the hall. "Have you been playing nice with Oenomaus?"

"Well...no. I haven't spoken to him in a while now, since the day he rebuked me for trying to escape."

"You should count yourself lucky that was all he did. The loyalty he has for my family is strong, and anyone who's brought dishonor upon the name of Thal'kyr will be subject to his wrath as much as my father." Polgara let out a sharp exhale and shivered as Angronius' thumb rubbed at a tense spot above her right collarbone.

"Hmm." Angronius' voice was a low rumble as he pondered on her words, "I wonder why he made an exception for me."

"I think he likes you."

"Oenomaus doesn't like anyone."

Polgara reached up to caress his hand, "Maybe so, but you have this certain effect on people who hate you. Why not use that to your advantage? Having Oenomaus in your team would be greatly beneficial."

"I... see the wisdom in that."

"Good. Papa will make the arrangements as soon as he returns from the capital, and you'll be able to fight again soon. I suggest you do your best to keep your edge on."

Angronius leaned over and kissed her left temple as he gently caressed her throat, "I will return to the ludus, but I'm in no hurry. Are you needed somewhere?"

Polgara felt a little weak in the knees at his touch. She tilted her head back and let out a timid moan, "No. Close the door."

After doing as she asked, Angronius picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. This time, Polgara didn't protest when he carelessly ripped the dress away to get to her. Regard for the difference in their stations was discarded willingly, for both had gone without the touch of the other for far too long.

Within the hour, Polgara's elated moans filled the air and echoed down the halls of the upper palace floor. Her wardens, who stood unmoving at her door, turned to look at one another in disbelief. Each minute dragged on, with the noise growing louder and louder as they passed. Then, as suddenly as it began, there was only silence.

Angronius emerged from Polgara's room wearing a pleased smile on his face. The wardens gazed, astonished, as he strode out of the hall and out of sight.

Reksia, Volunca Hill

Curia Lumeria Senate House

Upon the sacred hill that held the Nucerian seat of power, a senatorial meeting was resumed after a brief recession. Although customarily the meetings would only last for the morning sessions, several matters of state warranted an extended session and so required an afternoon hearing.

Lord Marcellus Thal'kyr took a seat alongside the senators that represented the patricians, separate from the other half which represented the plebeians in the senate house tribune. There were three hundred senators, divided equally for each half, and carried considerable power in the republic. They were only second to the two elected magistrates, the Consuls, who operated heavily upon unanimous or popular votes of each side of the tribune.

It was a complicated process of governing, but was the closest to a perfect system. It was far too ancient to the point of tradition that none ever dared to question its validity.

None brave enough, save for the Proconsul. It was Acraesius' case that the senate was hoping to come to a conclusion of.

In his time of service to the Consuls, as both their finest general and right hand, Acraesius made many friends in seemingly all the right places. Most of them were among the plebeians, and some patricians who held great sway over their peers. He had also made many enemies, fellow senators who've grown jealous of his rise in popularity and dramatic increase in riches following his victory over the Stygians.

There were some, like Marcellus, who hadn't formed an opinion yet.

"Conscript fathers!" One of the senators from the patrician side stood up, "I propose a formal motion."

The casual noise of the senate house died down to hear him speak.

"Unless Marsus Acraesius immediately lays down his command, disbands his legions and returns to Reksia for trial, this sacred assembly will declare him a public enemy of the Senate and People of Nuceria!"

At once, the Proconsul's supporters started shouting in protest over the senator's words.

"After which time, it will be the duty and the obligation of every Nucerian to do him harm, or to kill him if they are able!"

The entire senate house erupted in a cacophony of barbed taunts, screams, animalistic howls and decrying pleas for the motion to be retracted. Nevertheless, the motion had been proposed. The Consuls needed a vote to proceed with a verdict.

But before they could make any headway with the proceedings, the doors of the senate house opened. In came Lord Meslim of House Ashtura, all breathless and accompanied by his guards.

"Fathers, brothers! Hear me!" He cried, immediately catching the attention of all who were present at the senatorial meeting. "I have brought news! News of Proconsul Marsus Acraesius!"

One of the Consuls bade him to speak, "Well? Out with it, man! Where is Marsus Acraesius?"

A smile found its way into Meslim's face, "He's here. Right here in Reksia."

As if on cue, the sound of legionnaire boots marching up the steps of the senate house reached the ears of the concerned senators. In walked the Proconsul, dressed in his signature bright golden armor, soaked in the blood of the Voluncan Guard who tried to stop him. His legionnaires surrounded the seated tribune, covering all exits and blocking all avenues of escape should the senators attempt to flee before their leader had finished his planned speech.

Marsus Acraesius approached the Consuls upon their thrones. His presence terrified the old men, and they leapt from their seats to stand among the senators.

"H-How did you come here?" The words tumbled out of their trembling lips.

"You treacherous old snakes, you." He grinned menacingly, "When assassins failed to do the job, you sent good and honest legionnaires to do your dirty work for you? What did you think would happen when you forced brother upon brother, to meet one another in the fields of Nuceria for a war of your own making? After decades of sending legions to their deaths on some faraway land, is it a wonder they've turned away from your rotten banners to embrace a nobler cause?"

"What have you done, Acraesius?" Marcellus spoke up.

"I have done nothing, good Marcellus!" Acraesius replied honestly, "When the legions met mine on the fields outside Reksia, I did not strike against them. Their hearts were not in the fight, and although they were war virgins, they recognized an unjustly condemned man when they saw him! I've come to sacred Volunca Hill to tear down this rotten and diseased senate house, to end a thousand year era of corruption and begin a new one that would herald the return of Nuceria's glory!"

"Glory, at the tip of your sword!" One of the senators from the patricians cried out.

"Is there no path more righteous?" He said as he drew his sword and pointed it at him, "Is it so different from how this senate conducts its sacred duties? By venomous word or hidden dagger, you've served under the guise of goodwill and holiness. Mars damn you all, and Lilith forsake you!"

Meslim saw his chance and offered the same promise Acraesius gave him when he asked for his help, "Senators, the time for a decision is upon you! Join Marsus Acraesius in the new world order, swear fealty to his name as I did! Not only will your lives be spared, but you will remain with a voice in the coming empire!"

Power and riches, their very lives. These were the things Acraesius offered them. Many who once stood as his enemies considered his proposition carefully and were inclined to accept, while others stubbornly held to the old ways and openly rejected his offer.

Loyal sons of the republic, they would rather die than see Nuceria be raped by the aspiring tyrant.

Brandishing blunt ceremonial daggers and serrated knives, senators and tribunes all, they rushed out of their seats and fell upon the legionnaires screaming bloody murder. Their attempts were laughably feeble at best, and scores of senators lost their lives that day.

Senators supporting Acraesius weren't saved from the massacre either. The resisting senators, seeing that there was no way out, chose to take down the people they perceived as traitors with them. The entire senate house saw blood shed upon its sacred marble floors, pillars and walls. It was almost like a grim human sacrifice to the Nucerian pantheon of gods, whose statues glared down from the ceiling above.

Only Marcellus and three other senators of the patrician tribune were left alive after the slaughter, against a dozen or so plebeian defectors. The legionnaires, who witnessed the carnage unscathed, received the display of violence with mocking applause.

Their leader brutally beheaded the corpses of the Consuls who betrayed him and sat down on one of the thrones. As soon as he sat down, he felt a glorious feeling of triumph surge through his veins, the likes of which he had only experienced once when he loomed over the broken and blinded Warmother of the Horde.

"You can sit on a throne, that doesn't make you a ruler." Marcellus, drenched with the blood of his countrymen, glared at Acraesius. "It only means you have an ass."

Meslim shot a quick glance towards Acraesius, eagerly expecting him to have his rival executed then and there. The general, however, was in too good a mood to kill the father of his lost and coveted paramour. As a gesture of goodwill, and as a warning, he bade Marcellus Thal'kyr to return home to his family and bring news of his victory to the province of Desh'ea.

"Go, good Marcellus." He said, standing close to him and grabbing his shoulders as he would a friend. "You and your family have nothing to fear from me. The enemies of Nuceria now lie dead on the floor of this senate house. There will be no era of bloodshed after this day, only a time of great prosperity and peace. Under my reign, she will be more powerful and more glorious than ever before."

Marcellus was greatly tempted to spit in the traitor's face. But as much as he wished to die a loyal son of the republic, as his fallen peers, he cared more about his family than his pride. His duty to the republic, or the memory of it, would have to wait.

"I will take my leave now." He said.

True to his word, Acraesius allowed him to depart alongside the other senators who gave up old loyalties and swore allegiance to him- Princeps and the first Emperor of Nuceria.

Another lofty title, but one that Acraesius was determined to wear proudly.

Reksia was in turmoil, for the people were gripped by uncertainty and fear. The flames of their unrest were fanned to white heat by the arrival of his legions, but would be cooled when he finally made the announcement. After cleaning himself up to be rid of the blood and soot, Acraesius stood before the people of Nuceria, his face broadcasted across the entire land.

In the same way he moved the legions to desert the senate and march alongside him, he effortlessly convinced an entire nation to back him in his quest for peace.

When he was done, his name was declared on every palace and street, hailed in every den and tavern.

"Long live Marsus Acraesius! First Citizen and Emperor of Nuceria!"