Severus took a second to wipe the sweat from his brow before he lifted his arms in victory. He looked up at the sky and offered a silent prayer for his opponent, who lay dead before him in the arena. As always, he felt a twinge of guilt that he'd killed another man, but every gladiator knew each fight could be their last.
In Severus's case, each fight was not merely a battle of life or death, but another step towards freedom. He and his mother had been part of a Germanic tribe and captured when he was too young to remember most of it; he'd grown up as a slave. He had been sold at twenty-one to a cruel and ruthless master named Justinian, who put him to work as a gladiator with the understanding that in twenty-five battles he would earn his freedom: five battles a year over five years, with the rest of the time spent training and for Justinian's occasional pleasure. Most gladiators didn't survive five battles, let alone twenty-five.
This was his twenty-fifth battle. His final battle. Severus had given his all, and now he was going to take life by the horns and live as a free man. Sweat and tears mingled, running down his face, feeling the flood of relief.
Severus made his way out the back of the arena, where Justinian was having a discussion with several other nobiles, including the local praetor, who was there to observe his manumission. Usually Severus would wait until Justinian was done and ask if they could step aside, but he no longer felt that necessary. Severus approached and cleared his throat.
He and Justinian were the same age, and matched in build and strength - Justinian believed in fitness as a Roman virtue and often exercised alongside his gladiators - but their similarities ended there. Severus had dark curls to his shoulders, a short dark beard that framed full, lush lips, and brown eyes - he had been told he had a sultry or brooding look. Severus wore the black leather and mesh costume of a gladiator, while Justinian wore robes in rich scarlet and saffron yellow to show off his wealth. Justinian kept his blond hair short, and his features were more delicate than handsome, a "pretty boy" with a dimpled chin. His light grey-blue eyes were cold like ice. Those ice eyes regarded him now, with a condescending flare of his nostrils as if he'd smelled something foul. "What?" Justinian spat.
"My freedom," Severus said. "Twenty-five battles. You agreed." Severus held out his right hand, waiting for the praetor to touch him with the rod.
Instead, Justinian laughed and backhanded Severus. Severus's first impulse was to fight back, but he knew he would be punished for doing so. "The rules changed," Justinian said. "Five more battles."
Severus's jaw dropped. He turned to the praetor, hoping the praetor would charge Justinian with violation of the law, but the praetor turned his head and went back to talking to one of the other nobiles. "A promise was a promise!" Severus yelled, indignant. "You lied -"
Justinian backhanded him again, this time with his other hand. Severus's heart was hammering in his ears, his blood boiling - it was taking him every fiber of his being not to hit him, knowing it would be worse for him. But as his face stung, his pride stung even more. He had gotten himself through the last year telling himself one more year, five more battles. He could not endure another -
Suddenly, a man was marching towards them. An older man, perhaps in his fifties, with short silver hair and beard, a tanned complexion, heavy-lidded dark eyes, high cheekbones, patrician nose, handsome in a stern way. Very tall. From his Tyrian purple tunic, he too looked to be part of the nobilis.
"How much did you pay for him?" the older man said. He had a deep, resonant baritone with an accent Severus couldn't immediately place, and his beard also was the custom of a foreigner - perhaps a Greek.
"Five hundred denarii," Justinian said.
The older man swore under his breath and reached for the coin purse at his belt. He handed it to Justinian. "There is seven hundred denarii in there. Take it, and this one comes with me."
Justinian sneered at Severus. "I'll miss your pretty arse -"
"You will not say another word to him, or I will send Quaestor Antonius to pay you a visit," the older man said, his voice menacingly quiet - only the look in his eyes betrayed his emotion, which Severus read as anger.
Justinian swallowed hard and reflexively took a step back.
"Come with me," Severus's new master said with a small smile.
Severus didn't know what to make of all of this - why the man had bought him from Justinian, and if he should be afraid or not. The situation was unusual - most nobiles didn't care if a slave got smacked around by their master, but this one seemed angry about it.
Severus's new master had a litter waiting outside the coliseum, pulled by a pair of lovely horses, one black, one white. Severus had always liked horses - of the few memories he had of his life before slavery, he remembered helping his father groom and feed horses - and he felt another touch of relief at seeing it was horses pulling the litter and not other slaves. Severus got in beside the older man and for the first few moments they rode in silence - Severus's new master seemed to understand he needed to relax after the storm of battle, and the unpleasant encounter with Justinian.
But as they approached the villa, the older man cleared his throat. "I suppose you have questions."
Severus gave a short nod. "Who are you, and what do you want from me?"
"They call me Tyrannus. I am originally of Gaul. I am a merchant. I received my name because I very much dislike injustice - I am a tyrant unto tyrants. Which ties in to what I want from you. You will see in just a moment here." The litter slowed to a halt, and Tyrannus gestured for Severus to climb out.
Once they were out, Severus saw a man waiting for them - older than he was, but younger than Tyrannus, perhaps in his thirties or very early forties. Clean-shaven face per Roman custom, boyishly handsome with short black hair just starting to show threads of silver, and kind green eyes. Tall and lean-muscled, showing his past as a soldier. He wore a crimson paludamentum fastened at one shoulder, over a white tunic and breeches.
Tyrannus walked Severus towards the man in the paludamentum and Severus watched them embrace - a little too long, which suggested familiarity. Tyrannus cleared his throat again. "Antonius, I have bought Severus from a certain Justinian."
Antonius's nose wrinkled with disgust. "Justinian."
"Indeed." Tyrannus nodded. "And now, I would like you to manumit him."
Severus's eyebrows shot up and he realized this was the quaestor Tyrannus mentioned. A frisson went down his spine - he was going to get his freedom after all.
Antonius took a deep breath, pulled out the rod from his belt, and lightly tapped Severus's head. "You are a free man." He smiled.
Severus held back his tears - that was for later, in private. He resisted the impulse to embrace his new comrades. "Thank you." He turned to Tyrannus. "Thank you." He bowed his head reverently. "I would like to serve your household, to show my gratitude." He meant it, deeply touched.
"Yes," Tyrannus said. "Consider yourself welcome."
Tyrannus and Antonius exchanged a knowing look, and Severus once again wondered what the nature of their relationship was, if they were perhaps related or... something. But for now...
"First, you should have a bath, a meal, and get some rest. As you know, you were worked very hard today. We can discuss your new life and career path in the morning?" Tyrannus asked.
Severus thanked them again, and one of the servants showed him to his new quarters.
His new home.
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