A Grave Error

Angronius turned the gold piece over and over in between his fingers, just to see the finely minted image of the republican eagle on its head and the Consul's face on its tail. It astonished him to think that something so small, a mere piece of purified and polished stone, could equate the life of a slave. These same pieces were used to purchase his freedom, damning him into the life of a gladiator. They would serve purpose, if only to get him across the sea towards the shores where his former master wouldn't dare look for him.

The only problem he faced at the moment was looking for a ship that would accept his humble payment and carry him to his destination. He knew that if he wasn't careful, someone was bound to recognize him and turn him in. Lord Marcellus was a rich man, and although he wished to have him executed on a whim, he invested too much in Angronius to lose him as a runaway. He would've, without a doubt, promised a hefty sum as reward for the return of his prized possession.

To have him killed personally, if not to repossess him.

But Angronius meant what he said to Polgara. He would not die a slave.

Discreetly, the man spoke with select dockhands and sailors until he was directed to a particularly shady crew operating in the wharves of ill-repute, some ways down the ports of Hyrkan. There, he waited for the captain so he could make a deal and get underway. The choice was born out of necessity, for to charter a vessel that operated within lawful circles would draw attention to him and set the Nucerian dogs at his heels.

To seek the aid of unscrupulous men was equally risky. It all depended on his ability to keep himself anonymous, but Angronius had no idea how his skills fared concerning the art of subterfuge. He would have to gamble with his life, yet again.

The captain of the crew went by the name of Emilius Scipius, a man said to be a reliable ferryman. The name didn't fool Angronius, he knew it was just another way to say he was a smuggler.

He made his way across the city to meet the man, but was delayed when he came across a heavily crowded district. Thousands of coastlanders flocked to the streets to witness the arrival of Proconsul Acraesius, who came to visit the city so he could reconnect with some old friends from the Nucerian Navy. Rumors were circulating all over the republic of Acraesius' intent to garner support from the republic's armed forces, following a heated face-off with the senate earlier in the month. Rumors spoke of his impending revocation of his status as Proconsul, on charges of illegal warfare, bribery and treason.

Such charges were usually baseless and hastily pinned upon him by jealous rivals within the court, but when more than half of the senate ruled in favor of the accusations, no matter how baseless, they were considered as fact.

The people of Nuceria didn't care for the squabbles of politicians, their only concern was for Acraesius, whom they saw as the veritable man of the people. To show their support, they hailed him as a conquering king wherever he went. In Hyrkan, it was no different.

Angronius, annoyed with the setback presented by the parade but unwilling to cause a scene by boldly crossing the street, waited until the Proconsul was well past before striding to the opposite side. He took the necessary turns leading into the Shadow Wharves, and rejoiced when he found the streets sparsely populated.

The place where he was told to meet Scipius was an old and dilapidated warehouse that overlooked the harbor where the ship, The Scorned Mistress, was moored. The smell of fish, human urine and animal scat hung in the air like a thick blanket. Angronius had to fight the urge to hurl the contents of his stomach before setting foot within the disgusting hideout.

A pair of armored watchmen stopped him at the door, demanding that he explain himself or be cut down by their weapons. Both of them wore metal ballistic vests and carried simple stubber guns.

Angronius calmly revealed that he wished to avail of the captain's services, and that if his words weren't enough to convince them, he would be forced to pursue other more direct means to gain what he wanted. His stature alone was enough to unnerve the watchmen, so they quickly informed their leader of the potential customer's visit before ushering Angronius in.

When he finally entered, his nose was assaulted by the sweet blend of incense and tobacco. It was as if the vile odor of the outer grounds served as a deterrent, masking the more civil nature of the warehouse indoors.

Men enhanced by cybernetic augmentations hauled crates three times their size from one corner of the building to the other, while ship officers barked orders and marked tallies of their cargo. Others lounged casually on makeshift wooden chairs, smoking cigars or playing cards. There was no sign of Scipius anywhere, so Angronius assumed he was handling more pressing matters before attending to his needs.

The captain's office was located one floor above them, made accessible by an open metal staircase guarded by a squad of heavily armed smuggler watchmen.

"Hold here!" One them growled at the giant, "Cap'n will be with you shortly."

Angronius kept his guard up and studied his surroundings, preparing himself should the worst occur. He watched the smugglers move the crates through an old forklift machine and load them up into storage. Some of them contained spices, refrigerated meats and fruits. Others contained weapons, ammunition and other items that were well beyond the boundaries of the law.

A queue line of smugglers leading into a cubicle in the far corner caught Angronius' attention. Every fifteen minutes, a man would exit the stall and another would take his place. His keen ears heard the telltale grunts of exertion, followed by the gasps of ecstasy that could only mean someone was rutting behind the thin curtain that served as the cubicle door.

Then, the first mate stepped in to haul off whoever it was the men were taking turns with. When he emerged, Angronius felt his jaw slacken at the sight of the thing that followed him out.

It wasn't a woman, although it was obviously shaped like one. The simulacran flesh, with all the odd gyros and metallic joints, made the truth of its nature self-evident. The thing was an android, a doll to simulate the warmth and touch of a woman, made to serve the needs of the men without the shortcomings of the flesh.

Though soiled with essence and spit, the android was undeniably a marvel of engineering and meticulous artistry. A pale shadow of life, but then again, the same could be said of paintings and sculptures.

The men of the warehouse had strange tastes, and Angronius turned his gaze away in disgust. At the very least, they were using a machine, not a slave, to sate their lust.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." One of the watchmen laughed.

Angronius shook his head as an answer to the man's jest. He had no intention of trying anything of the sort.

Soon, the captain finally emerged from his office. Emilius Scipius was dressed in a large leather overcoat, unbuttoned to show his bare chest that was covered in shimmering golden tattoos. His dark skin was like black star-metal, the first Angronius had ever seen in his life. One of Scipius' hands had been outfitted with a cybernetic replacement, after some injury at sea. Clutched between those metallic fingers was a worn ledger, containing names and transcripts recording his many businesses.

"Greetings." Scipius said as he descended the staircase, "I was told you'd like to do business with me, of matters concerning a good ship and a safe passage far from the shores of Nuceria?"

"You've been told correctly." Angronius replied, warily glancing at Scipius' men. He kept his face hidden behind his cowl, so that the smugglers wouldn't know of his previous affiliation.

"Then look no further! You've come to the right place." The captain said, "Now, who is it that I have the pleasure of making an acquaintance?"

"You will never know." The gladiator answered, "I sought you out for your capability of being discreet. My coin is all you ever need to be acquainted with. Press me to have it otherwise, and it is my axes you shall get acquainted with."

The watchmen got a little twitchy, trigger-finger-wise, but Scipius forbade them from killing a potential client. To do so would tarnish his reputation and strangle his business as a smuggler, something he did not wish to happen after working so hard to stay relevant in the black market.

"A fair warning, one that I shall return in kind." The captain crossed his arms, "My services require a fair wage to be purchased. If you've come short-handed, my men will have to throw you out for wasting my time."

"How much is a fair wage?"

"A hundred gold pieces, in exchange for a one-way trip to whatever port in the Sodian you wish to go. However, that would be double if you plan on bringing some extra cargo with you."

Angronius held the bag of coins he stole from Old Autelus earlier that day, "That shouldn't be a problem, then. This hundred pieces, I shall offer, if you take me to the Freelands of Stygia."

"Stygia, eh?" Scipius stroked his chin, "I think we can work with that. You should know, we won't be casting off until nightfall arrives."

Angronius frowned, but didn't object. "Nightfall, then."

He tucked the pouch behind his belt and started for the door. Scipius' men moved to bar his way, and the giant started to reach for Gorefather. Scipius' voice called out to him regarding his payment.

"Ah-ah, aren't you forgetting something?"

Angronius glared at the smuggler, "You'll get your money when you get me to Stygia. A fair wage requires fair work."

"Or we could just take it off your corpse." The first mate said, brandishing a large stubber at his head. "We could always do that."

Gorefather roared to life, as did Gorechild. Angronius shrugged off his cloak, allowing the smugglers to witness him in all his glory. The sight of the demigod ready to rip and tear caused many a man to falter, and the smugglers started to back down as soon as they laid eyes upon the snarling visage of Angronius.

"I could also commandeer your ship and leave your corpses here to rot." Angronius rumbled, "Would any of you wish to try your luck?"

Scipius's eyes were wide, not out of awe or fear, but because he recognized the giant standing in the middle of his warehouse. The sly smuggler quickly hatched a plan and attempted to calm the storm brewing before him.

"Hold it!" He declared, "As much as I'm tempted to have this dance, I've just had this place fixed from a previous...disagreement with a client. I have no wish to spend another fortune putting it back together."

Gorefather and Gorechild's teeth were stilled, but Angronius refused to sheathe them. "Then tell your men to let me pass."

Scipius relented, and the giant went his way. When he was sure that he was out of earshot, the captain called for a meeting with his lieutenants. Angronius didn't know about it yet, but he made a grave mistake of revealing his face to the wily smugglers.

A hundred gold in exchange for discretion paled in comparison to the reward money they could gain from reporting Angronius to the authorities. While Captain Scipius rarely dealt with the righteous side of the law, he still had some contacts within the Hyrkan constabulary and he was quick to catch their ears.

The reward for Angronius' capture amounted to ten thousand gold pieces. For men with little honor, it was easy to shift their priorities in favor for more promising opportunity.

Nightfall

City of Hyrkan, The Shadow Wharves

Angronius waited impatiently for darkness to come, choosing a secluded area above the wharves so he would be a short distance away from crossing the sea.

A day in his world amounted to thirty hours, with each second stretched to accommodate the slow spin of the planet upon its axis. But alas, it felt like the minutes stretched into eternity and the damned sun would never set. When the moon finally took its place high in the night sky, Angronius made his move and leapt from the ledge to drop down into the wharf.

He approached the same warehouse and prepared to leave Hyrkan for good, but stopped short when he felt that vague feeling of doom creep up across his skin. Under the dim light of old and flickering lamps, he could see that Scipius' guards where nowhere to be seen. The awful smell was gone too, as though the smugglers flipped a switch and decided it was time they no longer needed to hide.

It was a trap, and his presence was the only thing needed to spring it.

As soon as the floodlights drove away the darkness in an attempt to blind him, Angronius brandished his weapons and faced his pursuers.

Nucerian soldiers surrounded the wharf and blocked all exits, supported by heavy-weapons teams and cyber-warriors that brandished power-weapons potent enough to match the escaped gladiator's strength.

He knew then that Scipius betrayed him, and Angronius cursed his foolishness for ever attempting to reason with a jackal like him.

"Lay down your arms, slave!" The officer-in-charge bellowed, "This is your only warning!"

"Where is my betrayer?" Angronius asked, his fingers pulling taut around Gorefather and Gorechild. His hateful eyes scanned the many faces, masked by polarized faceplates and tough plasteel armor.

"Looking for me?" Proud and foolish Scipius said as he strode out of the protection of the vanguard. The sly dog grinned as he puffed up his chest and placed his hands on his hips, "I apologize, friend. But I took it personally that you've been holding out such a fine bounty from us."

"There you are!" Angronius growled, launching himself forward against the smuggler with blinding speed. For the first time, Gorefather and Gorechild ripped into the flesh of men outside the arena. Although, in Scipius' case, they slaughtered a squealing pig.

Angronius was no whirlwind of steel, he was the epitome of the eye of relative calm amidst the storm. His blows were not born of wild contempt, but calculated murder. Every swing, every smash, he delivers with utmost efficiency. For even as he waded into the thick of battle, Angronius knew he was still vulnerable to the biting wrath of Nucerian guns.

It wasn't long before he felt their sting upon his flesh, and Angronius fought to tear himself out of the killzone before he got himself shot to death.

Stubber rounds hit his arms, legs and back. His superhuman tenacity, honed to near-godlike strength from his time in Oenomaus' school, prevented them from shredding his vital organs. However, when they burrowed deep into his flesh, they still hurt.

And they hurt like hell.

Angronius' cries of furious agony thundered in tandem with the burst of their rifles, and when their stubbers proved ineffective, the cyber-warriors joined in to bring the giant down low. They saw he was trying to flee, to disappear into the night, and they prepared well in advance for such an attempt.

The heavy-weapons teams carried with them each a special harpoon launcher, tools better suited to kill and reel in the leviathan creatures that frequented the deepest recesses of the Sodian Sea. When it was discovered that they could be used for things other than fishing or monster-hunting, like bringing down errant enhanced gladiators, the harpoons were mass produced in favor of slave-hunter crews.

And these harsh implements of pain were turned and used on Angronius.

Their effectiveness were witnessed almost immediately when the harpoons pierced and hooked onto his flesh. The barbed tips went right through his calves and forearms, which were suddenly jerked back by the powerful reeling chains that came with the launcher. But Angronius was no mere beast to be easily brought down by a couple of hooks and chains, and he showed the crews how difficult he would make their night by pulling as hard as he could against the chains.

The purpose of the harpoons was clear, he knew they were trying to take him alive. Lord Marcellus probably offered to pay more if they did so, rather than kill him. Even so, Angronius would rather die than go back to becoming a gladiator.

The cyber-warriors helped in reeling him in, and succeeded in prying Gorefather and Gorechild from the demigod's powerful hands. Their officers then approached the fugitive as he was forced to kneel before them, bloodied and raging. In their hands, they held the electro-staves that Angronius loathed since childhood.

His frustrated bellows rang clear through the entire city, and he screamed for hours until his grievous wounds finally robbed him of his consciousness. When the slave-hunters were finished with him, they surveyed the damage done in the name of his capture.

The Shadow Wharves were in ruins. Scores of dead men littered the streets from the warehouse till the quays.

The officer, the only one left alive from the brutal skirmish, removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. "That ten thousand better be fucking worth it."

"Excuse you." One of Scipius' men growled, "That's our money you're talking about."

"Not anymore." The officer replied, "The reward was promised to your captain, who now lies among the dead. This fugitive caused the death of more men than such a promise is worth. He's 1st Legion property now."

"You're gonna fucking cheat us..." The smuggler began to draw his weapon, "...right in our own territory?"

The officer didn't have to say anything to give the order. He had enough men to outnumber the smugglers, and they made short work of them. Within a few short moments, and a few short bursts from their stubbers, the smugglers joined their captain in death.

Left without opposition, the officer ordered his soldiers to haul off their prize towards the Palace Amphitiria, where Proconsul Acraesius was staying for the night. They knew that House Thal'kyr's prized gladiator, in the hands of the Proconsul, would benefit him greatly as a bargaining chip.

City of Hyrkan, Palace Amphitiria

Polgara climbed out of the transporter with her eyes still fixated on the beautiful marble towers of the Hyrkan palace. They loomed over her like the sentinel statues of the Colosseum Primus, and shone with the colors of the sea as the moonlight reflected over its waters.

After being ignored for so long by Acraesius, Polgara finally received word from him in the form of an invitation to come to a formal dinner at the Palace Amphitiria, in far off Hyrkan.

She knew it was his way of apologizing to her, and she accepted the invitation gracefully. In truth, she was in desperate need to be far from her house, as tensions between her parents were yet present long after Angronius had escaped. Although her father's treatment of her put a strain in their relationship, she still loved her parents and even gave them the courtesy of knowing where she was headed for the weekend.

And what a marvelous weekend it was!

Acraesius provided her with all the best comforts a Proconsul's purse could afford, allowing her to tour the most exotic spots of the coastland from the safety of an airborne dais. She saw the forest glades where the stone mountains were carved in the likeness of the gods, listened to the songs of the Hyrkan siren performers, and basked in the scents of the dreamy sleep-inducing drugs that could only be found in Hyrkan's markets.

The sights and sounds charmed Polgara to the point that she easily forgot her troubles and brought joy back into her life.

When the time came for her to attend the dinner party, she greeted Acraesius with an affectionate peck on the cheek.

Acraesius, after a long day of blackmailing old rivals into submission and bargaining with old friends for their support, was grateful for the distraction and returned the greeting in kind.

"Welcome to Hyrkan, Polgara." He said, bringing her hand up to his lips.

"Please, call me Eanna." The maiden replied, trying her best not to swoon from under the Proconsul's piercing gaze.

Together, they entered the antiquated halls of the Palace Amphitiria and met with the many nobles that called the city home. They dined, drank and laughed together as the hours ticked on. But this was no ordinary night for the Proconsul. Business had long been concluded, now Acraesius was hellbent on seizing the pleasures of the night.

He had just purchased a number of women slaves from Hyrkan's best connoisseurs of the flesh, and had half a mind to taste them as soon as he retired to his room. But seeing Polgara, a woman of noble birth who was above any slave girl, standing so close to him as they wandered the balconies of the palace...

He knew he had to seize the moment.

Acraesius led her to a spot where an unobstructed view of the Sodian Sea could be gained. The moon was just in the right spot, and the night was as beautiful as Polgara Thal'kyr. She was well aware of his hungry eyes upon her, and blushed when he stood for the longest time, admiring her from behind.

She wore the dress he bought for her, a glimmering regal robe of bright gold that clung tightly to her waist and ample breasts, while leaving a salacious divide over her right thigh. How she managed to look good in everything, he would never know, but she was the perfect prize for him.

A living metaphor of his highly coveted ambitions, she was Nuceria in the flesh.

"Eanna..."

Polgara turned around to see Acraesius draw closer to her, "Yes?"

"I apologize for having been absent as of late. I confess, it's not that I hadn't the time... but it was because I was afraid of you."

"Afraid?"

Acraesius nodded, "The day I met you in the palace courtyard, I came to meet your family strictly for my own purposes. But when I saw you, it was like my heart leapt out of my chest. I knew I was in love the moment I met you..."

It was a lie, all of it. Acraesius' dealings, his business with the senate and all manner of underhanded ventures, were in preparation of a great change in Nucerian history. House Thal'kyr was one of many families the Proconsul wished to bring under his banner, it just so happened that Polgara proved to be a worthy pawn for his game. The silver-tongued devil knew her value, and her influence.

She was simply useful to him.

"I just...I thought I wasn't worthy of you, for I am a man of war. It took all my strength to fight through such foolish thoughts, I see that now."

Acraesius reached up to cup her chin, "Forgive me."

Polgara smiled and let herself be drawn to him. She closed her eyes as she felt the man's hot breath on her lips, and moaned when he kissed her.

It should have been pleasant, this was something Polgara dreamed she would do from the moment she met Acraesius. And yet, the kiss somehow felt hollow, no better than a friendly tap on a shoulder or a hug from an acquaintance. There was no love in it, no desire nor warmth...

Polgara frowned as Acraesius pushed her against the balcony edge, then started to fidget when his hand reached down to part her skirt and caress her naked thigh.

"My lord..." She gasped, feeling his lips travel clumsily across her neck. "Stop."

Acraesius would hear none of it. He brought a hand to her nape to keep her in place while he moved to undress her. Polgara's weak protests stoked the fires of lust in the general's soul, and his hands moved ever quicker to make her his.

But just as he was about to sully her honor, an officer of the 1st Legion arrived to announce something of great import to the Proconsul. "Proconsul!"

Only then did Acraesius relent and move away from the flustered maiden. His face was of stone, and the officer knew he was in for a lot of trouble later. "Speak!"

"We've found the fugitive and brought him to the courtyard, just as you asked."

Acraesius' brow arched, and he fixed himself up before turning to Polgara. He faltered a bit when he saw uncertainty in her gaze, but donned a mask of indifference for the sake of his own honor.

"I shall take my leave for now, my lady. I bid you good night."

Polgara watched him turn from her and felt relieved where once she thought she would only feel longing for his absence. Distraught, she put her hands on the balcony edge and breathed deeply of the cold sea breeze.

She knew she made a mistake coming there.

}!{

A/N

What? Angronius' escape was never gonna be that easy, dear readers. He can't leave for the Freelands just yet, without the one thing he's known for.

It's nails, lots of them.