They walked past the gate of the inner sanctum without incident; the guards didn’t even bother to unmask or check them once they saw the seals on the invitations as well as their praetorian escort. Inside the inner sanctum there were several buildings as well as the castle which sat in the middle; in one building the senate met, another held all the major magistrate offices, and in another was were the various citizen assemblies gathered to vote every year. But tonight was just for celebration so they passed another gate and a moat on the way to the castle. Outside the castle was a lush garden, full of all kinds of plants, statues, and decorations. This must be where Tori reads and takes walks. The castle itself was four stories high and had four towers as well, with windows symmetrically placed throughout, and kind of looked like an enormous multi-storied Roman villa.
Inside the castle they walked passed several long corridors, finally handing their invitations to another praetorian dressed in purple who led them to the central ballroom. The ballroom was enormous: decorated by statues, flowers, and paintings, and was already full of people drinking and eating, and enjoying the festivities. Obran figured there were probably over a hundred guests if not more. But they were not sitting at tables, instead everyone was laying on couches that filled the whole hall. At the front—on a dais—was one long table where over a dozen people sat. Obran saw Tori there and guessed the rest was the royal family or close associates. Most wore simple eye coverings and fancy togas or stola dresses, not the large masks and costumes Obran and his friends wore. Mara was the only one who really fit in with everyone despite being a two foot tall fairy and Obran imagined the five of them must have looked quite silly.
The elderly King sat in the middle of the long table; his two sons by his side along with several senators and politicians. Some dark elves and dwarves were there too, but no one in either of those two groups wore any kind of costume. Most everyone else in the hall appeared to be rich looking patricians, who hardly gave them all more than a surprised glance from under their masquerade masks.
Obran, Erkin, Tomas, Zico and Mara were led to a large couch where they all reclined and tried to get comfortable. So this is a real Roman party, Obran thought. He had celebrated military victories with other gremlins, even with human legionnaires, but they were mostly excuses to get drunk and rowdy. He wasn’t used to lying down on his side to eat and drink and it looked like Erkin, Tomas, Zico and Mara were not used to it either. Once they were settled a young maid brought them appetizers of wine, figs, olives, nuts, and cheese along with a delicious wine. Obran had to admit it was all rather tasty and very fancy.
“So this is what it's like to live like a patrician noble,” Tomas said.
"I'm sure there are some rich commoners here too," Zico said.
“We’ve been to some posh parties before,” Mara said. “There were very important people there too.”
“My family could have never hosted a party this fancy,” Zico said.
“Obran, there are some gremlins there near the king,” Erkin said.
Erkin was right, Obran could see their large ears sticking out from beneath their masks as they reclined on a couch near the king. There were four gremlins, two males and two fifis—female gremlins—and the two male gremlins wore senatorial colors. From what he’d learned in the last few days, at the university and from public announcements, the senate was being expanded to include a number of gremlins, gnomes, and dwarven citizens.
“Should we go say hi?” Erkin asked him.
“You both should go say hi,” Zico said. “It never hurts to make contacts and new friends and I’m sure they would like to meet a war hero and the only gremlin student in the university.”
“Maybe later. Let them enjoy the party first,” Obran said.
“Zico you should try to make contacts too and not just gnomes okay,” Mara said.
“Okay but you gotta help; you look enchanting,” Zico said. “And talk to those fairies too.”
“What? Where?” Mara said.
Zico pointed to a group of fae near the king who all sat in a small, chaise lounge chair but Mara suddenly looked a bit tense and unsure.
“...Uhm we’ll see,” she said.
The party continued and they ate and drank and enjoyed the music. There were acrobats and even a short comedic play; it was a Roman favorite about Troy, their founder city, burning a group of Greek warriors and spies inside a wooden horse. After the show they served the main dishes of suckling pig, venison, along with oysters, mackerel, and duck. As everyone drank, groups started to grow raucous. Mara and Zico began flirting; she stroked his nose while Zico stroked her wings, making Mara shed a conspicuous amount of fairy dust. Erkin and Tomas started to doodle designs on napkins after Tomas said something about catapults being inefficient. Obran started to feel like the fifth wheel of a wagon. He tried not to stare at Tori, who chatted pleasantly with everyone who came up to her, but was at least she was not holding hands with Gaius. Obran had taken his mask off to eat and drink but Tori had yet to make any eye contact.
Soon a brawny, drunken dwarf stumbled over to their couch. He had a black and gray beard and was nearly as tall as a human.
“Gnome, what’s your name?” the muscular dwarf said.
The dwarf didn’t wear a mask but had painted half his face blue in war paint—Obran had seen Celts in northern Italia do the same before combat.
“Me? Oh, my name is Zico, sir; Zico Kender,” Zico said.
Zico pulled down his fake beard a bit, letting the dwarf see his young gnome face.
“Ah, you’re a northerner, good, good. Cute outfit you have there. Some of my men were offended but I told them not to toss you around,” the dwarf said.
“Uhm, thank you...I didn’t mean any offense,” Zico said.
“Never mind that, the name is Armenus. I really wanted to ask about your fairy. She’s quite a beauty. You wouldn’t be looking to part with her,” Armenus said.
“I’m his wife, dwarf,” Mara said, glaring at Armenus.
Mara had been relaxing, eating an olive but now she stood up, her wings unfurled.
“You’re wife?” the dwarf said to Zico. “Crazy what they allow here in the Roma.”
“Yes, she’s my wife, under the law and under God,” Zico said.
“Slavery is illegal now, good sir, I should know. I was a slave once,” Erkin said.
Erkin had also taken off his mask in order to eat and drink as well.
“But it won’t be in our halls once we take them back. Still if she’s really just a servant I could buy out her contract at a good price,” Armenus said and gave Mara a sly smile.
“No, sorry, that’s not the case, good sir,” Zico said.
“Why would I ever want to live in a mine with a bunch of dwarves,” Mara said. “I’d rather kiss an orc.”
“Sweetie,” Zico said.
Obran chuckled.
“Quite a spitfire you got there gnome, that will be punishment enough,” Armenus said and laughed a deep guttural laugh. “Gremlin, you were a soldier, I hear many of your kind are hesitant to help us clear out the mountains up north. You aren’t afraid of a few orcs and goblins are you?”
Obran had heard of the new campaign to clear out the northern alps that bordered Italia. If victorious, dwarves were to gain autonomy in the halls under the mountains, which were now full of orcs, goblins, trolls and who knows what else.
“We only fight to defend Roma not to expand it; that was our pact,” Obran said.
“Haha, excuses, once your Roma expands—and believe me it will—it will need an army to defend and control its new lands and from what I hear of your race's exploits we could use your kind in this fight, and there will be lots of riches in those mountains,” Armenus said.
Obran didn't like dwarves but felt some pity for them. Fighting savage orcs and trolls in dark caves and dungeons would not be easy and all their previous attempts to retake their halls had failed. Even with the Roman legions he didn’t feel too confident about their chances.
“The gremlin cohorts have been disbanded but I wish you much luck and success,” Obran said.
Obran was going to say that gremlins didn’t fight for riches but didn’t want to offend the large, drunken dwarf.
“Very well, gremlin. I got the same response from your senators; maybe your kind is not made for combat,” Armenus said before leaving.
“Did you all know who that was?” Tomas said after Armenus left.
Obran, Erkin, and Zico all muttered...no.
“An ugly dwarf,” Mara said.
“Dear be nice...who was it, Tomas?” Zico said.
“That’s Armenus, King under the mountain, or some title like that. He’s the one who's leading the dwarves' attempt to take back the Northern Mountains,” Tomas said.
“Well the creepy dwarf wanted something else too,” Mara said.
“Honey, that will never happen,” Zico said.
“He said slavery would legal there, in their new kingdom. He better not enslave any gremlins in those mountains,” Obran said.
“Jeez, I hope not,” Erkin said.
Obran tried to forget the dwarf. The party continued as Obran glanced periodically at Tori, who smiled while talking with others guests: politicians, generals, and ambassadors, but mostly she now seemed taken by Gaius. The young prince held her ear, as they shared food and conversation.
“More dark ale,” Obran yelled, feeling the same wave of jealousy he had that morning during the parade. If he had to see them together he would at least get as drunk as possible and he even enjoyed the dark dwarven ale more than the Roman wine.
“Take it easy, bro,” Erkin said.
"Yeah, yeah," Obran said.
Near the stage one of the King’s consuls, Collatinus, called everyone to attention. This is the consul who’s helping us? Collatinus was a middle aged man who Obran heard was related to the King as was his young, dark haired wife who sat next to him. His term, along with the King’s second consul, ended this month. Another thing he’d learned in his crash course in Roman civics.
“My fellow Romans and to all our honored guests. I would like to extend my thanks, and I’m sure all of you would too, to our great King and the saviour of Roma, the great Tarquin Aurelius.”
The crowd loudly cheered and then raised their glasses.
“Our King has outdone himself again with such a fabulous celebration. I also wanted to especially thank our foreign dignitaries for making a trip in such difficult times. A toast to the honorable Hellenic delegation from Mycenae, and to our Minoan friends from Knossos, as well to our friends from distant Nineveh and Babylon, and of course our honored guests from Egypt. To all our friends from the east, a warm welcome to Roma.”
There were more subdued cheers as Collatinus continued.
“A further toast to our dear allies, General Armenus of the soon to be established Dwarven Kingdom under the mountain, and General Borrabus from the new colony on the island of Sardinia. I hope you are enjoying the wine there as much as I have,” Collatinus said.
The crowd chuckled but the elves did not betray any emotion—general Borrabus merely nodded.
“A toast as well to the princess of Carthagio, Elissa Victoria Barca, may the peace between our kingdoms last forever. And a grand welcome to all our foreign dignitaries and guests. A toast as well to all the senators and magistrates present and to the many honorable houses represented here, patrician and plebeian alike. Lastly a final toast to all our new Roman citizens. I see many gnomes, dwarves, fae, and gremlins here. Welcome and most importantly remember me and my fellow consul—young Lucius—when you vote next week. Remember who fought for your vote. So vote early and often: one more year, one more year, one more year,” Collatinus chanted.
The crowd laughed harder this time.
“I know many were hoping to see gladiatorial games at these celebrations. The King regrets having to disappoint any of you but we do hope you understand the need to end such public practices as we enter a more civilized era. However, we will now present you all some non-lethal duels,” the consul said.
The room erupted in a cheer as a group of armed praetorians quickly walked to the edges of the stage. They spaced themselves, guarding the dais where the preeminent citizens and royal family sat. Another group of soldiers walked in and Obran saw they represented the main units of the roman army: legionnaires and equestrians.
“Each legion here has chosen two champions and will fight for their honor along with a prize,” the consul said. “But to make things more interesting several former gladiators have agreed to participate.”
The doors opened again and over half a dozen men emerged dressed in gladiatorial armor. However they only carried wooden weapons. The revelers all cheered as the gladiators began to prepare for the tournament, practicing some moves to intimidate the soldiers. The soldiers stared at the gladiators with contempt, a few sneering and booing. But even among the soldiers Obran noticed a quick division between legions, especially those coming from the north and those of the south. No one likes each other, he thought.
The tournament began. Eight soldiers versus eight gladiators fighting one at a time, until a final winner emerged. The soldiers were introduced by legion and family of birth. The gladiators from where they were from and what major tournaments they’d won—a few of them were from overseas. Everyone saluted the King, but before it started a court officer had walked among the guests collecting and writing out bets.
“Zico, bet on the Macedonian gladiator. He looks the toughest,” Mara said.
It would be a three strike duel, all with wooden weapons, and whoever hit an opponent three times in the torso, thigh, or head would be the winner.
“You want to bet bro?” Erkin said.
“I think I’ll pass,” Obran said.
“Erkin, I’ve seen that Iberian fight before,” Tomas said. “I’m going to wager on him. You should too.”
“Okay,” Erkin said.
“I’d wager on one of the centurions,” Obran said.
Obran had never been to a gladiatorial contest before that day, even though they had started in the northern Etruscan kingdom, near his homeland, when it was still independent from Roma but still guessed a Roman soldier would best any gladiator.
They placed their bets but unfortunately the fights were anticlimactic and a few guests booed and hissed. The soldiers and the gladiators fought for the hit, counter striking only when they finally found an opening. Two gladiators quickly dispatched the two legionnaires they faced. The centurion and knight did slightly better, one hit a gladiator hard on the head. But this seemed to anger the gladiator who then scored two successful strikes with a wooden trident—the last hit knocked the centurion down and he broke a rib. A few soldiers took offense, almost charging, but their tribune quickly shouted them down. So in the end the Iberian gladiator faced off against the young Macedonian gladiator, trident versus sword and shield. It was a close match and when the Macedonian won the crowd cheered; Mara flew in a twirl, doing several loops, before landing on Zico’s lap.
“Never bet against a fae,” she teased Erkin and Tomas. “We’re going shopping tomorrow honey, be prepared.”
But Zico only smiled, the way he always did when Mara was happy. The cheering quickly subsided when the King stood up, holding his hand up to calm the crowd.
“Thank you my dear guests,” he said. "Thank you."
The elder King had a grouf but commanding voice. He had long gray hair and stubble on his face. His stiff handsome features shown despite his age.
“I’m glad to have enjoyed that great demonstration. We must honor our foreign victor, though surely for my birthday you think he would let one of my own officers win.”
The crowd laughed as the young Macedonian gladiator approached the King and knelt.
“You already have your freedom, nothing greater can be had, but you will be given some riches as a back pay for your services entertaining us all these years, and citizenship if you so desire,” the King said.
“Thank you, your highness,” the young Macedonian said.
“Your name, young man?” the King said.
“Philip, your highness, of Macedonia.”
“You give credit to the gods,” the King said. “Now all of you enjoy the festivities and please young Philip stay as my guest.”
“Yes, your highness,” said Philip, bowing as he sat on a nearby couch after being beckoned by some patrician women.
“If the best gladiator fights, why not the best from each legion, father?” Drusus, his eldest son and heir said.
“My son, your legion picked its own champion as did the others,” the King said.
“Not any of the tribunes or generals,” Drusus, his other said.
Both were clearly upset by the loss of the legions to a gladiator.
“It would not be the proper role for an officer but you have a point. I have been rude.” The King stood up. “Would any of our foreign delegations like to offer a champion?”
There was a marked mumble in the crowd, with various delegations staring at each other unsure what the King wanted or expected.
“Only if young Philip agrees to fight again of course,” the King said.
“I am here to serve, your highness,” Philip said.
“Splendid, of course it would be strictly for honor. Young Philip would keep his well earned reward. But surely honor should be incentive enough,” the King said to the crowd.
The King looked at the dwarves, dark elves, and gnomes as well.
“General Borrabus, surely one of your elves would love to show off his skill,” the King said.
“Your highness, I fear my brethren would not hold back. They are not trained to spar but to kill and I would not want anything to ruin this celebration,” Borrtabus said.
Borrabus spoke with a hiss that reminded Obran of a snake just as the other dark elf in the forest. The rest of the elves sat silently not betraying any emotion. Did he try to kidnap Tori? Obran always trusted his instincts but elves were so hard to read.
“How about you Armenus? Any of your comrades interested?” the King said.
“No dwarf would let his men accept a challenge for him,” Armenus said.
Armenus got up and grabbed a large hammer from one of his fellow dwarves.
“Bring the boy back,” Armenus said.
But Armenus nearly tripped, swooning back and forth, already drunk on the countless ales he had drank. The guests in the hall all chuckled.
“No, no, please sit general Armenus,” the King said. “Let’s bring back the musicians and bring out this special cake I heard chef Apicius made.”
“I’ll fight the gladiator, father,” Gaius said, standing up proudly.
“No my dear boy. That is not the proper behavior of a tribune,” the King said. “We’ll save it for next year. All of you, elf, dwarf, gnome, gremlin bring a champion and any foreign delegation as well. Humor an old King in his last years.”
“How about now...anyone...a fight, soldier to soldier.” Gaius said as he stood up and stared at the crowd.
He sounded a bit drunk too and was clearly trying to show off but no one answered.
“My son, I fear there will be plenty of time in your future to fight and we wouldn’t want to worry the young princess,” the King said.
Tori grabbed Gaius hand, trying to get him to sit down.
“I’ll fight,” Obran yelled, standing proudly.244Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtqgn5Y3fkC
