The two gladiators circled each other in the arena, the screams of the cheering crowd going unheard; not even the sweat trailing from their foreheads into their eyes managed to break their iron concentration.
The taller of the two gladiators, a Nubian giant equipped with trident and net, instinctively tensed himself. His opponent was a secutor, unarmored and naked save for a heavy iron helmet, a small oval shield and a loincloth- and he was planning something. The Nubian just knew it. He may have had the advantage of a longer reach, but if the secutor closed-
The Nubian leaped backwards as his opponent lunged forwards, his blade whispering through the air as he plunged his sword in a dagger-like fashion downwards. At first, the Nubian did not understand- his opponent began his attack too soon, his blade could not hope to catch him-
The sound of something ripping soon revealed what the secutor’s plan was. In a split second, the Nubian warrior was left with a badly torn net in one hand, his other gripping his trident tighter. Even though his opponent was wearing a helmet that covered his entire face, the Nubian could nevertheless see the arrogant smirk his Roman opponent would be wearing at the thought of imminent victory.
Those thoughts must have been shared by the audience as well, their screams and cheers growing louder and louder, their own bloodlust echoing throughout the arena. The Nubian heard none of it, though- all his senses were concentrated on the Roman in front of him, watching his every move-
Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you, the Nubian thought wryly as the Roman tried his same move again, plunging his blade downward- but this was the gladiatorial arena, not a barfight, and the Nubian was certainly no drunken souse swinging a broken chair.
He simply ducked to one side in a quick motion, and let the Roman thrust past him. The Roman, realizing his mistake a moment too late, tried to turn around to the Nubian, but in doing so lost his balance and fell to the ground.
A fraction of a second later, a shadow fell over him, and he saw the Nubian standing above him, the points of the trident right above his neck, and the Roman knew that at this moment, his fate would be decided by the screaming crowd- or rather, the sponsor of this match, General Dracus Primus Maximus.
The blue-skinned Roman stood up, and surveyed the roaring masses. His eyes passed over them, and as they did so, the cruel smirk he had been wearing since the beginning of the battle grew wider and wider. After a few seconds, he looked down at the pair of gladiators. He held out his hand, its thumb on its side, and he held that pose for a few suspenseful moments.
Then instead of turning it upwards, he brought his thumb backward, pointing with it to his chest.
“Nothing personal,” the Roman heard his opponent say, right before the world went black.
(scene change)
Kiminax gasped as she drew back from the gates in horror. She collapsed, shuddering uncontrollably at what she had just witnessed. She had seen people killed before; being the daughter of a Gaul village’s only healers often meant that she would sit at the side of the dead and dying, the causes of their deaths all to obvious from their many wounds.
But in her homeland, men only killed when they had to; when their honour was at stake, when they had to protect their village… but here in Rome, they killed for no purpose, they killed for fun.
“I can’t do this, Ron,” she whispered, Ron hearing her words even over the exultant cheers of the Roman crowd. “I can’t do this.”
“You’re saying like as if you had a choice, Kiminax,” Master Barcus said, his shadow suddenly falling over the Britannian as he towered over her.
“Come on, Coach,” Ronnicus burst out, much to Master Barcus’s (and to a greater extent, his own) surprise. “I, uh- I mean, can’t you cut her some slack? She’s barely been at the school for a few days, and now you wanna put her into the arena?”
“And now you’re saying that like I had a choice, Ronnicus,” Barcus said coolly. “In case you’ve forgotten, Oh Great Unstoppable One, I wasn’t the one giving the order to have your friend taken here, nor was I the one responsible for her being here.”
“Huh?” Ron asked. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, they ain’t,” Barcus whispered dangerously as he pushed his face just a few inches from Ron’s. “Ain’t that right, Miss Parsival?” he said, fixing Kiminax with a stern look.
“Yes, Master Barcus sir,” Kiminax replied gloomily, remembering the glee with which Bonita had first denounced her in front of the entire school, and then ordered Kiminax into the ring.
“But-” Ronnicus started.
“No buts, Ronnicus,” Barcus said. “We can count ourselves lucky that I got Kiminax the night shift. If Bonita had her way, Kiminax would have herself a lunchtime slot. At least, this way, she’ll be one of the main attractions- and that’ll give her a better chance of survival,” he said, pointing a thumb outside. (1)
“…But Master Barcus, nobody at our school’s ever got prime time,” Ronnicus said, after a moment’s thought.
“Oh, I wonder why?” Barcus grumbled under his breath. “Now come on, we got to get you suited up.”
Had Kiminax been listening, she might have felt insulted. As it was, seeing the sheer unthinking cruelty of what just happened made her realize not just how alien Roman culture was to her own, but also just how badly she would fit in; even if the arena didn’t kill her, the homesickness would. It was trite, she knew- but it was also true.
“Yeah, Kim, me neither.”
“Monik?” Kiminax asked, turning around.
“Yeah, me,” Monik said, before leaning forward. “You should really stop talking to yourself, Kim.”
“I can’t help it,” Kiminax sighed. “It’s just… I just miss home so much.”
“Tell me about it, Kim,” Monik sighed. “Don’t worry, sooner or later we all get it. Normally it’s better if it’s ‘sooner’, but I guess that doesn’t apply here, huh?” Monik said ruefully.
“Yeah, it doesn’t,” Kiminax replied in the same tone. Then her brow furrowed. “Say, Monik, what are you doing here anyway?”
“Oh come on, Kim, arena gladiators need food too! Sure, I ain’t no Al-Wadjet, but I can cook almost as good as he can, and I can get it to these lumberin’ oafs faster than he ever could!”
“Who you calling a lumbering oaf?” a hulking man said, as he lumbered over to the dark-skinned girl.
“Unless I’m mistaken, it’s you! Now unless you wanna eat the scraps off the dog’s bowl, I suggest you get back and don’t touch me, ‘cos I’m the cook, y’hear?”
“You cook?” the gladiator asked with sudden respect. “Uh, sorry, I no mean make you mad,” he said as he walked backwards, bowing the whole time.
“That’s the great thing about being a gladiator’s cook,” Monik said with an air of satisfaction. “You get almost as much respect from these guys as a healer does- hey, Kim, I think I have a cure for your homesickness.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, sure! I hear the arena’s just got a doctor a few days ago, and guess what? She’s a Britannian too!”
“Thanks Monik, but I-”
But it was too late. Monik had bounded out of her seat and started yelling down a dark passageway for the doctor. “What’s the emergency?” the doctor asked from down the passageway, gently but sternly.
“Oh, nothing much,” Monik said. “Just a fellow Britannian like you feeling homesick.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the doctor said as she walked up to Monik. “But I’m far better at healing physical wounds than those of the mind.”
“Oh come on, Doc, I’m sure you could- Doc?” Monik asked as the doctor stopped in her tracks.
But the doctor wasn’t paying attention to Monik. “My Gods… is it- is it really you?” she asked hoarsely, her eyes elsewhere.
“Mom!” Kiminax exclaimed joyfully, as she ran to her mother, who caught the young Gaul in a tight embrace.
“Bics, are you crying?” one gladiator asked another, as the whole room turned to stare at the two Britannians.
“No, I’m not, Vedge, so shut up and stop asking,” Bics sniffled.
“Er, aren’t they the same thing?”
“Shut sniff up, Vedge.”
Monik stared at the scene before her for a moment, then smiled. “I’ll just leave you two alone, ‘kay?”
(scene change)
At that same moment, another Roman was also close to tears thanks to the actions of a woman.
“Oh come on, Shiko!” Dracus pleaded as he knelt before Shiko’s door. Like all servants, her quarters were located in her master’s plaza.
The terms ‘servant’ and ‘master’ here, of course, being fairly subjective.
“For the last time, blue boy, I’m not doing it!” Shiko yelled back, her voice muffled by the thick wood.
“Please? Pretty please? With honey on top?” (2)
“Hey, blue boy, I said no!”
“Whay no-ooo-ot?”
Suddenly the door swung open, and Dracus was knocked to the side. “Because, Dracus-” Shiko said, looking around. Seeing the dazed Roman general by her door, and not missing a beat, she continued, “I think it’s degrading! Yeah, I know it’s a big word, but I’m sure even you know what ‘degrading’ means, don’t you?”
“Of course I know what ‘degrading’ means, Shiko!” Dracus said. “I went to the Academy, you know.”
“Yeah, well, know what? Doesn’t show,” Shiko said, slamming her door behind her.
“But Shiko, I need people behind me for my plan to succeed! I need Senators, the people, the army- I need a good show!” (3)
He scratched his head, wondering what else he could say to persuade Shiko. Then a thought hit him, and he almost doubled over in pain.
“Um, Shiko,” he said, squeezing each word through his grimace. “I’ll pay you?”
The door creaked open. “Paid? I thought I couldn’t get paid. Slave, remember?”
“Yes, and I wish you’d remember that more oft- oof!”
“Oh, master, I’m sorry,” Shiko said with gleeful mock repentance. “I must have opened the door a little too hard. What was it you wanted to say?”
“Erk… I said… I said I’ll pay you, if you help me.” He thought for a moment. “But don’t tell anyone… please?”
“Oh, don’t worry Dracus, I won’t tell anyone- it wouldn’t be our dirty little secret if anyone else knew, wouldn’t it?” Shiko said with a wicked grin. It was what she had been holding out for in the first place; she didn’t really mind fighting for Roman entertainment.
After all, it was only a matter of time before she would make the Romans pay…
(scene change)
“…and that’s basically how I got here,” Kiminax told her mother, as firelight flickered outside, darkness having fallen upon the arena. At first, her mother did not answer, and Kiminax grew worried. “Mom?”
“What? Oh sorry, Kim,” her mother replied tiredly, before looking at Kiminax with a gentle look in her eyes. “I suppose I should thank that Master Barcus for getting you the night slot, shouldn’t I?”
“To tell the truth Mom, I’d rather not be here at all.” Kiminax fell silent, wondering about how to ask the question she had been trying to avoid-
“Your father’s fine,” her mother said. Seeing the astonished look on Kiminax’s face, her mother smiled. “He’s working as some rich Roman’s personal herbalist.”
“Thanks, Mom- I needed to know that,” Kiminax replied, when Ronnicus cleared up his throat behind her, and Kiminax blushed. She had been so caught up in talking to her mother, she had not noticed Ronnicus walk up behind her, a slightly scrawny man beside him.
“Uh, Kim,” he said, uncertainly. “This is Brianus Colinus, you know, the arena announcer? He wants to know if you’ve got an arena name.” (4)
“Arena name?” Kiminax asked.
“It’s an alternate name you use while you’re in the arena,” Braen explained. “For some renowned gladiators- and not so renowned gladiators,” he said, giving a sideways glance at Ron, “their real names are more than enough, but since you’re a foreigner, I’ll suggest something a bit more snazzy than Kiminax, know what I mean?”
“What’s wrong with Kiminax?”
“Like I said- it’s too foreign. You need a good Roman name, and soon.”
“Soon?” Kiminax and her mother said in unison.
“Um, yeah- that’s what I wanted to tell you,” Ronnicus said. “You see, um, some big Roman general’s sponsoring the prime time show- and the female gladiators are the first up.”
“WHAT?”
(scene change)
In his seat, Dracus fidgeted nervously. Nearly his entire fortune (or lack of it) had sunk in the arena, and it did not help matters that-
“These shows you have put on, they do not seem very popular with the Senators who have come here to watch,” Caesar Nero said. “However, I have noticed that the common folk like it very much, though,” he added, with the gentle ease of an oiled knife sliding out of its scabbard.
“Oh, yes, um… well, what can I say, great Caesar, it’s all for the glory of Rome, righ, eh?” Dracus replied, his sweat glistening in the moonlight.
“Oh, but of course, Dracus, but of course,” Nero replied, giving Dracus a soothing smile. “After all, we are all Rome’s servants, aren’t we? From the lowest gladiator or slave, up to- oh, up to even me, your Caesar, we must all be prepared to give our lives for the betterment of Rome, shouldn’t we?”
“Ah, yes, that’s right-”
“After all, didn’t my namesake, the great Julius Caesar, make that same sacrifice, albeit unknowingly? He did all he could for Rome and its people, but all he got for his trouble, his only reward for making himself the best loved man among the people of Rome was to be assassinated by the people he thought his equals and friends, the other Senators.” The emperor sighed. “There’s a lesson to be learned there, don’t you agree, Dracus?”
Dracus gulped, and tried to reply.
No reply.
He gulped again. “I agree fully, great Caesar.”
“I thought you might, my dear general. Oh, and one more thing, Dracus,” Nero said as he leaned back in his seat.
“Yes, great Caesar?”
“I would suggest some honey for that throat of yours- you’re squeaking, like a little girl, Dracus.” Again, he gave Dracus a gentle smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Or a little mouse before a cat.”
“Y-yes, as you wish, great Caesar.”
“Good. Now, I believe you have one more event sponsored? The female gladiators?”
Dracus nodded, unable to speak.
“Well then,” Nero said, his chins wobbling as he clapped his hands together. “We should hope this proves to be your greatest success for tonight, shouldn’t we?”
(scene change)
“You don’t have to do this, Kim,” Monik said, as Kiminax fastened the heavy leather armour around her. “I could put on your helmet, and I could go out there and, well, pretend to be you, I guess.”
“I don’t men to sound selfish, Kiminax,” Kiminax’s mother said pleadingly, “but I have to agree with your friend-”
“Have you ever fought before, Monik?” Kiminax asked suddenly, her voice flat and cold.
“Uhm, well, no-”
“Then that is my answer,” Kiminax said.
“Yeah? Well, I do,” Ronnicus said, with a look that he probably thought was determined, but instead gave the impression of acute constipation.
“Having a naked rodent run all over you while you pretend to try and kill it isn’t exactly my idea of ‘fighting’, Ron.”
“Whoa, sounds dirty,” Rufus chattered.
She stood up and fastened your full-face helmet (5). “Look, I know how to fight, and you don’t. Simple. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Mom,” Kiminax said, seeing the look on her mother’s face. “Helping Dad find herbs back home was actually a lot more dangerous than you would think.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it when you come back,” her mother said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I will, Mom, I will,” Kiminax said, hugging her mother tightly.
And then, all too soon, she was in the arena, the baying Roman crowd calling out for blood all around her, and Kiminax steeled herself, willing herself to be strong enough to kill.
After all, isn’t that what the Romans would consider-
“A good show, ladies and gentlemen, this I promise you! This Rome promises you, as is your right!” the announcer yelled. “And what show could be better than to see two beautiful ladies fight it out in our arena? Women, who have long been renowned for giving life, are going to fight tonight to take it for your pleasure!”
“And now,” he continued, pointing to Kiminax, “allow me to introduce you to our first contender, brave Amazon!”
Amazon? Kiminax thought, her fears temporarily replaced by disbelief. That’s the best name they can come up with?
But all thought immediately shut down, at least for a moment, when she saw who was being introduced next.
“And in the other side of the arena, the courageous Achillia!” (6)
Shiko took in the crowd’s adulation. Sure, they were all Roman, but hey, she’d take them while they lasted. Unlike Kiminax, who had been outfitted in a leather replica of a legionnaire’s armour, Shiko’s garb was a combination of form-fitting leather armour over her vulnerable areas, and green cloth elsewhere.
And in keeping with her unorthodox attire, was an equally unusual armament. Instead of a conventional weapon, Shiko wielded what appeared to be two torches, one in each hand, and sharpened at the ends. Twirling them around in front of the crowd, Shiko touched them to an already burning torch- where they each flared into life with a green flame.
Kiminax looked down at her only weapon, a sword. “This is so not good,” she whispered to herself, before going into a fighting stance.
So not good indeed.
Historical notes:
(1) The Roman version of a ‘primetime slot’, as mentioned here, was during the night, as not many people would want to sit in the open-air arena during the hot Roman afternoons.
(2) In the days before widespread sugar use, honey was the main sweetener, and was very popular. I’m not too sure about whether cherries were known in the Roman Empire though.
(3) Sponsoring events in the arena was a great (albeit expensive) shortcut for Roman social and/or political climbers to get ahead in Roman society- although one had to be careful that one did not just lose one’s money in the attempt.
(4) Boom goes the dynamite!
(5) This ensemble sound familiar?
(6) Do a Google search for ‘female gladiators’, and you’ll see why these two names are so significant.
Addendum:
Sorry this took so long; blame author Chendzeea Li and her 100-chapter long FF8 fic Frozen (Quistis/Fujin). The grammar might not be up to everyone’s standard, but the story itself makes me pale in comparison. Highly recommended.