[Rome] Let the Games Begin

[Vigilante]

"Marcus..." Gaia pouted prettily in the afternoon sun, "Aren't they going to start?"

Marcus Flavius Aquila squinted down at the sand covered Colliseum floor. "All in good time, sweet sister." He looked over her shoulder, and added, "You've gathered a few admirers already, Gaia."

She peeked demurely over her shoulder at a man in a light green tunic covered with tan colored toga. He was looking at her rather boldly, and she quickly returned her gaze to the front. Marcus laughed, and she flushed angrily. "He shouldn't take such liberties, he is obviously of low birth."

Demitrius, the Greecian slave they had brought with them to the Colliseum, poured them both wine, and Gaia busied herself with her cup. Marcus was drawn into conversation with his good friend Quintus Cassius Caepio, and Gaia found herself perusing the crowd again. This was not her first time to the Games, but it was her first time watching a gladiator match. She was positive that watching gladiators would be much more thrilling than chariot races. The Games would begin with some races and other nonsense, and the gladiators would come out last. She could hardly wait.

Marcus had been against bringing her, but she argued that if she was old enough to be married she was certainly old enough to attend the Games. All of them. Porcia and Octavia were supposed to be here today as well. They would be very surprised to see her - and she would not have to put up with their stories of the gladiators they had seen. They were sisters, and they were jealous of the fact that Gaia lived so close to the ludus, though she'd never been, of course. That would be unseemly.

She adjusted her lavendar peplos, and sat up straight, craning her neck to see if there was anyone else she knew in attendance.

[Lucius Valerius Lupus]

The Lupus sisters arrived with a flourish, an entourage of no less than four servants in their wake. It appeared they were bickering about something, as the sisters were wont to do, and their voices carried shrilly above the hubbub of the arena. Octavia, the older of the two, ushered Portia ahead of her, apparently trying to quell her excitement. When Portia spotted Gaia, she gave a squeal and moved quickly on ahead. “Dear sister, calm yourself,” Octavia sighed.

“Gaia, what are you doing here? Oh, nevermind! When you hear where we have come from, you shall be so jealous. Our dear brother took us on a visit to the cages, where the gladiators are kept, and introduced us to a Samnite!” Portia boasted, her face alight. “Octavia is furious that he thought me the prettier sister, aren't you?”

The elder girl rolled her eyes and took a seat beside Gaia, casting a curious if somewhat haughty glance to those she was sat amongst. “He thought no such thing, little sister. You shouldn't lavish such affection on the gladiators. They are slaves trained to kill, and nothing more.”

Portia gave a sudden sparkling laugh, briefly catching the attention of Marcus and Quintus, as she sat down with the others. “Octavia is such a bore. Don't you agree, Gaia? I think the gladiators are simply fascinating!”

[Vigilante]

Gaia hugged Porcia tightly, "I'm so glad you came, Marcus is hardly paying attention to me with Quintus here." She released the younger sister and greeted the elder.

Octavia recieved her embrace lightly, and raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you are not waiting for our brother to arrive?"

She endured the teasing graciously, diverting at least Porcia's attention back to the samnite she had met underneath the Colliseum. "Perhaps one day we will be able to attend the feasts they hold the night before." There was a flush in her cheeks from Octavia's shrewd comment, but Gaia hoped they thought it was the thought of meeting gladiators that put it there.

[Titus Aelius Malleolus]

Titus was biding his time. He may be a citizen again in Italy, but when Caesar called, he would march under the standard for his Triumph. His men in the Seventh Cohort of the Ninth Legion took to the Eternal City like barbarians, enjoying both wine and woman alike. With nine months of march and battle in Pannonia, it was a welcome reward for them. Many lived within the city, and those returned with spoils to heap upon their families. Treasure and slaves augmented a soldier's pay in good times.

Himself, he was far removed from Rome. Syracusian by birth, he'd cut his teeth in the legion in Helvetia, finding the high elevation and temperament to be to his liking, until the legions pushed on to further conquest. It was long enough for him to catch the eye of a local Helvetian woman named Wilsya. She had strange and foreign ways, but it was not uncommon for soldiers to take such women for their own. Perhaps one day, he'd take his war spoils back to Helvetia as dowry for Wilsya.

For now, he was in Rome. A hero by heroic association, or so some people treated him. He had only paid for half of his drink since crossing the Rubicon, and he'd been fed well everywhere the army had camped along the way.

Smiling at a pair of prostitutes lingering in the doorway of the Venereal Temple, Malleolus adjusted the hem of his smartly-cut tunic on his way to the ludus. The arena itself was impessive by comparison to anything he'd seen. It was a rotund wooden structure with six tiers of seats. The expanse in the middle was spacious, which allowed for games of perhaps as many as a dozen combatants at once. He'd attended games before in Ostia and in Hispania, but Rome seemed to command an unspoken one-upsmanship to all of her provinces. Even in the arena, it showed.

Walking among the plebs, who entered the arena in a different door than the landed patricians, a man in a yellow toga took him by the arm.

"You serve among the legion. Come with me. I won't have you sitting with the rabble."

It was a kindness, but Malleolus' brow furrowed. He was no Patrician, and such association would have otherwise been unseemly.

"Citizen, I don't understand..." Malleolus glanced at the fellow, obviously a Greek.

"Caesar and his legions are to be blessed today. The honor is yours."

Malleolus lacked words. He bowed in gratitude.

"You do me a kindness, Citizen. Lead the way."

[Lucius Valerius Lupus]

“Not if mother has anything to say about it,” Portia sulked. Octavia opened her mouth to chide the young girl again, but thought better of it. Somehow, scolding her only made her will stronger. Portia then gasped, her pout vanishing. Truly a girl of simple things, she smiled with glee. “Brother says that the retiarii may fight first. They're my favorite. You must be so excited, to see your very first combat!”

While the younger sister began to count off a list of all of the things they expected to see, Octavia smiled at the sight of her brother approaching. He strode with purpose towards Marcus, clapping him on the back with a friendly hand. The pair exchanged warm greetings, embracing one another. Portia had scarcely noticed his arrival, being so engrossed in the talk of gladiators.

“Lucius is here, sister. Behave yourself.”

[Vigilante]

Gaia was excited to see her first gladiators, and had been begging Marcus for months to be allowed to attend. He'd refused at first, saying it was hardly proper for her to feast her eyes on death and that their father would never have allowed her. She'd artfully pointed out that he went all the time, and it was only fair that she be allowed to go as well.

Porcia and Octavia's brother strode up, and was quickly drawn into a discussion with Marcus and Quintus. Gaia leaned towards Porcia, reaching out towards her necklace. "What a beautiful stone!"

"Oh this thing?" Porcia pulled the thin chain over her head, dangling the rose colored crystal from her fingers. "There was a seller in the marketplace, he had an entire table of these. This one has healing properties. Here, try it on." She helped Gaia fasten it around her neck, and the stone hung down between her breasts.

"It is foolish to trust to crystals, Porcia," chided Octavia, but her heart wasn't in it. The Emperor himself was attending today's games, and he was sure to arrive at any moment and signal the beginning of the contests.

[Marcus Julius Atellus]

"Does this armor favor me?"

Atellus posed in front of a smoky mirror held aloft by slaves who walked alongside his lectica, an ornate covered dais held aloft by a half dozen slaves. Livius Corvus, wearing an ornate toga, regarded his Emperor.

"Hercules and Theseus would hide their faces in envy."

Atellus smiled at Corvus' compliment.

"You flatter me so effortlessly, Corvus. I must do no less at the games, and bring the people a taste of our great victory over Pannonia."

The lectica was lowered at an exclusive entrance to the Ludi arena, and Caesar departed, with Corvus and an entourage in tow. As he stepped into the skybox, he raised his right hand outward in stoic salutation to the crowd of patricians, plebs, and slaves. The Roman sun glinted off of his gilded laurel crown, as he smiled to all who attended.

[Lucius Valerius Lupus]

“What word from Titus, good friend?” asked Marcus, as he withdrew his embrace from Lucius.

“No word at all, for some time now. Father fears for his safety.”

“Nonsense,” Marcus scoffed, again clapping his young companion on the back.

“He has the strength of Mars with him. A thousand barbarians could not fell your brother.”

Lucius sighed somewhat, clearly vexed. Marcus continued: “We must not dwell on such things. Come, let us make merry in the name of Rome.”

At this, he perked up somewhat and looked longingly out across the Colosseum. The floor was being prepared for the chariot races. His reverie was interrupted by Portia. She sighed in exasperation. “Brother... brother! You keep the necklace, Gaia dear. Lucius!! Hand me your purse.”

Lucius frowned, though bit his tongue and tossed a small bag of money into the lap of his sister, who smiled toothily in thanks.