Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Titus Cornelius Scaeva sat behind his desk, going through all his bills once again, and cursed Fortuna for his fate. He had once been one of the most influential Centurions in the Empire. He played the First Citizen’s games and wormed himself into a position of power. He spent two decades commanding the Garrison of Milites Conscriptae, turning out some of the deadliest legionnaires in the Legion. Mage Commanders and barons implored him for the top conscripts he trained every rotation. This was usually accompanied by a substantial “donation” in recognition of his efforts.

Then he made a mistake in spurning the Count of the city of Sierra. Count Flavian Xeres Cornet was young and descended not from the Emperor’s loins, so he didn’t see the need to pamper the man’s whims. Titus made the error quartering his worst legionnaires in Sierra’s Legionnaire barracks. Legionnaires who were so poor that he didn’t trust them to serve in a mage company for fear they would turn on the mage. Those men caused the count a headache in administering his city, but since they were assigned to an Imperial garrison, there was nothing Count Flavian could do, as counts were only responsible for a city’s administration and counts reported to the duke of their province.

Titus and his supporters among the First Citizens thought it was amusing to watch the young Flavian struggle with the disruptive legionnaires. What he didn’t foresee was Count Flavian’s swift rise in the favor of the Emperor Maximus Augustus Severus. The count had secretly cultivated two master artificers, twin brothers, and offered their services to the Emperor.

The Emperor quickly swept up both artificers and secured them in the Imperial Palace. In return, Count Flavian was raised to Duke, and his administration expanded from a single city to five cities, with five counts and over thirty barons under his rule. He quickly went on a vengeance tour, and Titus found himself ousted from the Garrison of Milites Conscriptae since it fell under Duke Flavian’s influence.

Rather than be reassigned to administering a backwater garrison of aging legionnaires, Titus took his pension and his considerable accumulated wealth and sought to expand his fortune in the savage lands of the Western Empire. He bought an old castle from a forgotten empire and invested his fortune in renovating and establishing a ludus. He quickly saw his coffers drained, and maintaining the ludus —twenty servants, fifteen guards, and seven lanistas—became an overwhelming financial burden.

The only bright spot was Baron Spurius Cassius Vecellinus, whose domain his ludus fell under. The baron kept his taxes low in exchange for free representation at the Emperor’s Games in the capital. The two largest games were held on the solstices: the shortest and longest days of the year. That was when every important First Citizen and noble migrated to Telha to pay homage to the Emperor’s greatness.

Most First Citizens couldn’t afford to support a gladiator on their own, so they hired a freelancer or chartered a gladiator from a ludus just so the First Citizen could say they had blood in the games. How that gladiator did on the sands gave prestige to the First Citizen they represented. Titus was not a First Citizen, so he was not allowed to sponsor his own gladiators at the Emperor’s games.

Titus believed training gladiators was identical to training legionnaires. He was mistaken. His first class was auctioned off to First Citizens, who attended his ludus’ exhibition. Most were slaughtered on the sands of the Imperial Coliseum for the entertainment of the First Citizens, and his reputation took a major hit. It hadn’t helped that a spiteful Duke Flavian made sure his gladiators were matched against superior opponents and monstrous creatures.

His successive classes performed better, but there was always a cost. A First Citizen paying fifty gold to rent a gladiator didn’t help his accounting when that gladiator perished and all his training was lost, and he couldn’t be rented for future games.

This forced him to take on independents at his ludus, men who sought their own glory in the Colosseum but whom Titus did not control. Some of these men paid up front for training, while others were contracted for a share of their winnings or the rental fees. But these men always sought fame and lacked a gladiator’s instinct for survival. They rarely did well and barely covered the investment Titus put into their training. Newest update provıded by novel•fire.net

The next auction was just two months away, which would give him time to transport his gladiators to the capital for the Solstitium Games, celebrating the longest day of the year and the largest festival in the capital. There would be nine straight days of contests on the sands.

He frowned at how few invitations had been returned for his exhibition. Only seven barons and nineteen First Citizens had confirmed attendance—not a single count. With so few, there was unlikely to be much of a bidding war for his top gladiators. His finances wouldn’t last six months to make it to the next major games in the capital, so he would have to risk entering other games and risk his gladiators for lesser rewards.

He drank a bottle of warm goat’s milk and honey to calm his ulcers. A knock at the door had him look up from his desk. He adjusted the bronze eye patch back in place as a young servant entered. Maybe he could take out his frustrations this evening on some of his servants. His libido had flagged with his accumulating debt, but he did receive a rack of virility potions recently.

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“A novicius was told to see you,” the young woman said.

“Send him in, and I want you and Elara in my chambers tonight,” Titus said. The woman flinched, but she had no choice. He bought her debt three years ago, and she still had three years remaining before she fulfilled her nexum contract and was free.

Titus examined the disc on the shelf he had borrowed from the retired mage commander in a friendly baron’s town. It was a simple affinity disc. The steel plate had three circles, one inside the other. Each circle held seven gemstones, each representing a different magic affinity. It was a quick and straightforward way for a mage to assess their affinities once they had imprinted their first spell form.

The young foreigner entered his office space, fidgeting nervously. Titus connected to the young man’s mind using his spell form so they could understand each other. “I have learned the Telhian language well enough,” the novicius replied confidently.

Titus grunted and stood, reached for the disc on the shelf. “Not well enough. I don’t like to have to repeat myself, so I will leave it in place.” He walked around his desk, knocking over a stack of bills to be paid to fill the larders, and left them where they fell. Feeding so many mouths was expensive with the recent increase in Bartiradian skirmishes in the east.

“What am I being tested on?” the man said, clearing having gained some spine in the weeks he had been training. His body had clearly responded well to Varka’s administrations, but Titus had seen thousands of men be molded into physical specimens, yet not all could fight. This one was special, though; he had a spell form that allowed him to stave off fatigue, making his growth impressive.

“We are going to examine your core and see if there’s anything else you can do to stay alive in the arena,” Titus said, pushing the disc into the man’s hand. “Circulate your aether into the device, if you can’t do that, activate your spell form.”

The man studied the disc, turning it over, but before Titus grew impatient, the stones glowed— and not just two or three like he expected, but ten! The novicus was too busy staring at the disc to notice Titus’s elated surprise. Six of the stones in the central circle glowed, four modestly, indicating affinities likely in the 40 to 60 range. Titus realized he didn’t know which stone was associated with which rare affinity, not that it mattered, as this boy had six of the seven rare magics.

Only one stone in the center had a faint light in the middle ring, and it was a blood-red gem. Titus recognized that as the abyssal essence. The outer ring represented common magics, and this little demon spawn had three glowing stones. Although the healing affinity was weak, the fire and energy affinities were strong.

Titus was confused, as one of the stones was flashing, indicating that a spell form was imprinted and in the inner ring—one of the rare magics. He snatched the disc from the boy. “You have some potential, but don’t share the results of this test with Varka or anyone who would tell her. She will beat you until you manifest a new spell form.” That threat should keep him quiet.

“What does it mean?” he asked, noticeably pale.

“Thomas, right?” he boy nodded, confused at Titus using his actual name.

“Each stone is a potential spell form. The flashing stone is the spell form you already inscribed on your aether core. You didn't lie to me, as you only have inscribed a single spell form,” Titus informed him, watching his eyes.

Confusion played across the young man’s face. “How? What? Can I inscribe more magic then?”

“Perhaps,” Titus said, hiding a smile. “Let me research what will help you most in the arena to preserve your life. I may need to consult a mage on the best way to proceed. Rest tonight and tell Joren you have access to the kitchens after meals.” Thomas looked a little shocked at the sudden generosity, and Titus just gave him a curt nod and motioned him out.

As soon as he left, Titus went to his shelves and found a reference book about affinities and their stones. He confirmed that the common affinities were fire, energy, and a weak healing. The uncommon affinity was abyssal, an aura magic that negatively affected the people around you. Of the rare magics, the boy had a weak space affinity, along with modest time and convergence affinities, as indicated by the glow of the stones. The flashing stone represented the materialism affinity — how it supplied him with wells of endurance was a mystery to Titus.

Thomas’s two strongest affinities were worlds and displacement. Titus understood what this plethora of rare spell forms signified. Thomas was not from the Heptarchy, the Nausis Kingdom, or any other nation in the south or on Desia. He was not from this world; he was an otherworlder. A rare figure in the Empire, but legends always spoke of the power they possessed through potent spell forms. As a centurion, he knew the reward for turning in these travelers to the Imperial Hounds was a hundred gold. The question was whether the boy could earn him more as a gladiator.

He considered his options carefully, as with the proper spell forms, Thomas could be outstanding in the coliseum. He pulled a book of common spell forms from the shelf and flipped through it. He started by looking over the simple fire spell forms, stopped on one, and grinned, imagining the spectacle his newest gladiator would create in the arena.

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