The Offerings

1 Month Later

The Colosseum Magnus

The roar of the crowd echoed within the waiting cells, reaching the ears of the newly ascended gladiators.

Rissio marveled at his own reflection upon the polished surface of his helmet. From the day he emerged from the physician's chambers, he was no longer of the novicii, but a bio-engineered transhuman with the strength of ten men and the physique of a titan, an ascendente. He and a clutch of initiates performed well in the demonstrations before their dominus, and were deemed ready for ascension. With the coming of the year's first solstice, celebrated by the Festival of Sol, the gates of the Colosseum Magnus opened for another batch of blood offerings, which presented their first opportunity to enter the sands of the arena.

Four of them would fight in the coming games as a team, led by Cannicus Dimachaerus, against other teams representing the rival houses of House Thal'kyr. Castor Retiarius, another gladiator armed with the razor-net and trident, would be assisting them as well as Fastus Murmillo, a gladiator specializing in slow but steady combat in his heavy armor. The veteran gladiator whose team survived till the end of the day would be granted the title of Champion of Sol, a reward that would further elevate their master's house and gain the favor of the masses. It was a title that Cannicus coveted most, though surprisingly, he spoke with the intent to encourage the newly ascended gladiators.

"Give ear and listen well." The titan entered the waiting cell, "You are all virgins upon the sands of this arena, as I once stood. Oenomaus gave lessons, it is up to you to act upon them. Perform well this day, and work as one."

He turned his attention to the man sitting on his own in the far corner, "That goes for you too, Angronius."

"I hear you, Cannicus." The gladiator replied, pulling the straps on his greaves a little tighter.

Like everyone else in the room, he was dressed with a simple battleskirt, a metal shoulder-piece with the livery of House Thal'kyr etched upon it, a pair of vambraces and plumed helmet shaped with the bristling face of a lion. He picked up his axes and followed the others out of the cell to await their introduction at the main gate.

Among all the other gladiators, Angronius was the only one who did not undergo the process of genetic ascension. It became clear to Dr. Vyassa that his body had long transcended the threshold of mortality, although the fact of it was received with much skepticism by Lord Marcellus. The patriarch firmly believed that he was nothing more than a mutant, a fortunate one to have landed within his gladiator school.

Rissio nudged him with his elbow, "It's good to see you return to form after coming down from the cross, Little Brother! When you were summoned into the palace and did not return, I feared the worst."

"You needn't be concerned for me. Polgara, my domina..." Angronius paused, finding the lofty title distasteful to the tongue. He avoided having to talk about the many rituals she had him partake in. Numerous, due to his unusual spiritual nature. "She set me to purpose, had me train under her patronage away from the ludus."

"Ohh... so you call her domina now, eh?" Rissio said with a grin. "What kind of 'training' did she have for you exactly?"

"Nothing so different from what Oenomaus taught me." Angronius replied, hinting a smirk at his friend's remark. "And what about you? I see the medicus' promise of ascension's working well for you."

"Impressive, is it not?" Rissio proudly showed off, flexing his arms dramatically. "Now, I stand your equal in both size and prowess!"

"There's only one way to find out." Angronius replied, doing his best to stifle the growing bud of doubt for the gladiator's boast. His eyes adjusted to the light streaming in through the bars of the main gate leading into the arena. "And the test lies before us presently."

The dull heartbeat of drums joined in with the noise of the eager crowd, followed by the blare of trumpets at the arrival of the noble families entering their stands. Lord Marcellus, his house joined by his closest friends in the senate, ascended the pulvinus and greeted the masses. His introduction was received well with thunderous applause, as what would follow would be the start of the games.

"Good people of Desh'ea! Honorable citizens of Nuceria!" He declared, "I bid you welcome! As befits the Festival, a grand feast must be prepared in honor of Sol, from whom all of mankind's fortunes blossom! A feast of merriment, and of blood! Behold, my offerings!"

The gates opened, and through them entered the gladiators of House Thal'kyr. Cannicus led his team out of the darkness and into the light of the arena, saluting the spectators screaming overhead with his swords.

The rest of the gladiators did the same, save for Angronius. The people were cheering for Lord Marcellus Thal'kyr, not his gladiators. The slave would salute them, only after he heard them cheering his name. The glories of the arena were his, and his alone. House Thal'kyr be damned.

His gaze fell upon Polgara's face, shaded by the roof of the royal box and fanned by her favorite slave Sethus. Their eyes met, and she offered him a smile of encouragement, although it evoked nothing within him save for ire. She may hold his leash for the moment, but that was as far as his loyalty went.

"Behold, the offerings of House Lamea!"

Another gate, the one on their left opened, and through it walked the Serpentor gladiators of Lady Galia Lamea. Former criminals reformed and reshaped in the gene pools beneath her mountain home, abhumans melded together with snakes. They stood more as lizard than men, but kept both of their best traits and almost none of the worst.

"Behold, the offerings of House Tarsus!"

The third gate on their right swung free, and out lumbered five cybernetically augmented warriors similar to the gladiators of House Thal'kyr. These titans, apart from being almost entirely made of steel in place of flesh, had each an array of strange metallic coils stuck into their heads. They all were shackled in star-metal, and were trembling with a barely contained rage that seemed to pour right out of their bloodshot eyes.

"By the gods." Cannicus muttered, "We face the Nailed Ones."

"Nailed Ones?" Rissio asked. "Who are they?"

"Gladiators augmented with the Butcher's Nails." The veteran explained with what little time they had left. "Designed to bleach them of all reason, and to want nothing save for blood, be it friend or foe."

"I think we can take them." Castor said confidently.

"Doubtful." Cannicus growled, "Ready yourselves, you're about to have one hell of a baptism. Rissio, pair up with Fastus. Castor, use your net to make an opening for us. Angronius, you're with me. Don't fuck this up, or we're all for the afterlife."

"Begin!" Marcellus gave the signal, and the gladiators rushed upon one another, weapons raised and teeth bared.

The shackles fell off from the Nailed Ones of House Tarsus, and they came at everyone in their path, absent tact or strategy. As random as the storm, with bolt and rain striking from all sides, yet nonetheless brutal and dangerous, the savage gladiators tore through the Serpentors. They howled like beasts, but howled also as though in agony.

With every blow struck, with every life ripped away from the sands, their agony seemed to fade for the shortest moments, only to resume not long after. They were damned, their suffering lived through every breath and could only be ended with the forfeiting of it.

Angronius felt their pain, smelled it like the intoxicating scent of burning incense, and it angered him to no end. The crowds beheld it in a manner in contrast with his own, and they roared with approval at the spilling of their blood.

Cannicus saw their fortunes rise with each Serpentor slain, for the Nailed Ones seemed to deal with them on their behalf just fine. While they busied themselves with tearing the mutants limb from limb, he and the other gladiators circled around them and waited until they were in the throes of sating their bloodlust before striking.

However, their timing was not right, and the beasts turned their wrath upon them next.

Fastus was the first to fall among the gladiators of House Thal'kyr, although he made a spectacular display before his end. The Nailed Ones overwhelmed him and Rissio when they attempted to catch one alone. Two of them shrugged off the blows from their weapons as though they were made of sticks, answering with brandished claws writhing with negation fields that ignored flesh and armor alike. One shred through Fastus' shield while the other grasped his leg and bit down hard on his ankle, hamstringing the poor gladiator and crippling him.

He cried out, but struck back with his gladius, lopping off the head of one and opening up the belly of another, before getting his own head ripped from his shoulders. Rissio, realizing he could not save Fastus, went on the defensive and lithely danced around the Nailed Ones, much to the amusement of the crowd.

The third and forth fought against Castor and Cannicus, their leader dueling alone with Angronius as though drawn to the gladiator like a moth to the flame.

He was a nasty looking thing, even more so than his condemned brethren. His teeth were cracked with the constant clenching of his jaws, and foam spilled out of his mouth like freshly poured beer. His eyes twitched as every moment passed with excruciating pain, the coils drove deep into his brain like the goading lash of a whip against a bull.

Whatever semblance of thought remained in his addled mind, he used it to form words. "K-Kill me!"

The plea surprised Angronius, somewhat, giving the Nailed One ample time to lunge at him with claws extended.

His axes collided with the berserker's arms. The force of the impact was enough to level the strongest barriers of the city, but Angronius bore the brunt of it without giving an inch. Another elated cry from the crowd shook the walls of the arena. The Nailed One tried to bite his face off, an attempt Angronius repaid with a solid butt of the head.

From the pulvinus, Lord Marcellus remarked on the performance of the new gladiators, commending Polgara especially for successfully binding Angronius to her will. "Your man fights well! How exactly did you manage to collar the dog?"

Polgara smiled, offering only a modest answer instead of the whole truth. "I but set the spark to his ambitions, then fanned the flames as best I could."

The sound of a blade cleaving flesh reached their ears as Angronius' axe buried itself into the Nailed One's chest, his roar ignited the crowd and they applauded his actions. The nobles found it curious that the slave did not give the glory to his masters, as most gladiators were wont to do. The glory of his kills, he seemed to claim for himself.

Angronius showed the berserker his highly coveted mercy and severed his head from his shoulders.

"And now it rages as an inferno." Lady Poledra joined in, "Well done, Eanna."

Emerging victorious over their first match, the gladiators of House Thal'kyr stood before the royal box and saluted the nobility once more. And yet again, Angronius did not raise his arms in pledge towards his dominus. Instead, he bowed his head in deference to Polgara, the only one he would suffer the humiliation of kowtowing to.

"A shame that House Ashtura would not be joining us in this celebration." Polgara noted of Lord Meslim's absence.

"Meslim's suffered ample reward for his insolence." Poledra replied, "He needn't show up to save face, for there is none left to save."

"He has not suffered enough." Lord Marcellus muttered. Husband and wife locked their gazes upon one another at the remark, for they both knew Marcellus' meaning. Although they had many enemies who would seek to ruin their house, only Meslim had the inclination to do something so rash, even out of a whim. The patriarch of House Thal'kyr wouldn't say much about his intentions, but he would undoubtedly have his revenge somehow.

The next match was up, and their gladiators once again faced each other upon the sands. This time, the titans of House Thal'kyr would be facing the exotic beasts plucked from the shores of the furthest reaches of Nuceria. Lions and bears, rhinos and elephants, even the occasional captured xeno.

"Ready for another go, Little Brother?" Rissio asked as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Angronius.

"Yes." The child of the mountain replied, "Let's go."

The arena took shape of a distant battlefield, of scattered ruins and piled rubble, a city sacked and burning. The crowd beheld the change of scenery with wicked glee, and they roared their approval upon seeing the gladiators engage the beasts among the ruins. Castor paired up with Cannicus, while Rissio paired up with Angronius. They took, and struck down their foes until the corpses formed a mountain of blood and gore stacked on top of the rubble.

Lord Marcellus motioned for more wine and fruits to be delivered to the pulvinus, so that he and the other families could dine in comfort while they watched the gladiators fight.

The day wore on, and House Thal'kyr once again proved to Desh'ea that they had the best gladiators in the province. Cannicus and the newly ascended warriors stood victorious over dozens of foes. The aspiring gladiator claimed the laurel wreath as Champion of Sol and basked in the praises heaped at his feet. Rissio and Castor celebrated their first taste of the arena with a congratulatory grasp of the forearms, while Angronius stood far away from the group to examine the corpses of his foes.

There was one among the beasts that got his attention. A half-dead war hound, his right side opened up and torn like a ripped purse, lay beside the corpse of another dog.

Angronius knew he was not responsible for dealing the wound that was slowly robbing the hound of life. It may have been Cannicus or Castor who cut him down, he couldn't know for certain. What was certain, however, is that the animal would not live long without medical attention.

The war hound raised his head and growled at the gladiator looming over him. He knew his end was near, but he would not go out with a whimper. There was a similarity between them, a certain stubbornness that could only be found in the heart of a true warrior.

Angronius knelt before the hound and moved to pick him up. For his efforts, the animal bit him on the hand. The dog was a fighter, through and through.

Angronius smiled as the hound's bite, though weakened from his wounds, managed to break the skin. The gladiator ignored the pain flaring up his hand and pulled the hound up to his chest. Even then, the animal would not release his hold.

"Where are you going with that thing?" Cannicus inquired upon seeing the young gladiator hoist the dog over his shoulder.

"I'm taking him home with me." Angronius declared.

"Not without the permission of the dominus." The champion replied, "You are a slave, you can't own anything without the word of your masters."

The reminder stung, but Angronius did not flinch from it. The veteran's words were simple fact, not intended as an insult, so he took it as a warning. "I answer to Lady Polgara. It is her word I will seek, not Lord Marcellus'."

"As you wish." Cannicus said, crossing his arms. "As long as you remember your place here."

Angronius smiled humorlessly, "How can I forget, when I have you to remind me?"

He returned to the waiting cells and made do with whatever he could find to bind the war hound's wounds. There, he waited for his mistress to summon for him if needed. And while he waited, he took the time to gain the trust of the wounded animal. As he worked on bandaging his wounds, the war hound snapped and snarled at him, but made no move to sink his teeth in him.

It mirrored his first days in the ludus, when he was yet the wild and untamable spirit. Ever defiant and rebellious, as the hound was with him presently.

"A fine showing, Angronius."

The gladiator stood up to greet his mistress, "Domina."

Polgara entered the cell, leaving her wardens at the door so she could speak with her slave alone. He was without his helmet, and stood before her still soaked with the blood of his foes. Even though he was yet to become a champion on his own, Angronius stood as though he were a god of the arena. The sight both awed and terrified her, but she held her ground and kept her composure.

She opened her mouth to congratulate him on his performance, then stopped short upon seeing the bloodied hound sitting on the bench beside her slave. The war hound was almost as big as her, half the size of Polgara's titan. "What is the meaning of this?"

"He was wounded in the fight. I wish to take him back to the ludus with me."

"You will do no such thing!" Polgara exclaimed, "I am trying to uplift you from your animalistic tendencies, and to have this mongrel with you in the gladiator school- why, it defies all decency!"

"Forgive me, domina." Angronius said, "But try as you might, you will never 'uplift' me. What's one more dog to share a cell with another?"

"Why must you vex me so, Angronius?"

"It is not my intention, domina." Every time he said the word, Polgara could hear only mockery in the title. "I merely state the facts. This war hound may serve House Thal'kyr in the arena, and provide a certain spectacle apart from the norm. Wouldn't that present opportunity?"

Polgara growled in frustration, annoyed with the knowledge that the gladiator was learning a lot about shrewd maneuverings as easily as the sharpest businessman. He was indeed far from the normal slave, a cut above the rest.

"I will train him myself." Angronius reached out to the dog, ignoring his bristling display of teeth as he stroked his head.

The sorceress thought on the suggestion for a moment, then made her decision. "He will feed from your plate, and he will drink from your cup. If you so wish to be in the company of dogs, so be it."

"Thank you, domina."

"Do not call me that!" Polgara snapped.

Angronius risked her wrath by smiling innocently, "My lady?"

"Try my patience further, slave!" She shouted, "And I will have you back on that cross!"

Angronius bowed his head as the woman stormed off with her wardens in tow. He got what he wanted, he could care less of what she thought of him now. The war hound was his to keep.