A squall had moved in off the coast of the Nevan Empire. Gracchus’ ship moved along the shore. He looked forward to reaching the dock. Seeing an ominous wall of dark, scudding clouds on the horizon is any sailor’s worst nightmare. It was fortunate for Gracchus that the violent sea had exhausted its ferocity before showering the ship with rain from the edge of the storm.

Gracchus had decided not to return to Disipica. He instead opted to detour southeast to the town of Raugus, just shy of a thousand miles from Disipica, east-southeast along the Nevan coast.

It had been four days since they left that accursed island, and from when he last checked his charts, they would arrive at Raugus dock soon. After noting this, he was about to shout the name Vannur out of habit before he caught himself. Instead, he called out, “Mennedus!”

His newly promoted mate came thumping along the deck and responded in a deep voice, “Aye, sir?”

He was a thick-set, thuggish-looking brute with close-cropped dark hair, and deep-set, piggish-looking dark eyes. His long nose kinked towards the right, where someone had broken it some time ago. The man’s head appeared to join straight into the centre of his shoulders.

“Order the men to furl sail and get those stinky pricks on the oars to earn their bread.”

“Aye, sir. furl sail!...man oars!”

“Do me a favour next time, will you?” asked Gracchus, in a soft voice.

“Sir?”

“Piss off over there before you do that! I don’t need my eardrums blasted!”

“Aye sir, sorry, sir.”

Gracchus was despondent. On taking stock, he had lost almost half of the landing party, including Vannur. To make matters worse, he couldn’t account for some of them. So, he didn’t know whether the men were dead or captured. If the Haldermen captured them, then it was likely that they would learn that it wasn’t the Nevan Imperial Legion raiding them.

While they had captured six Haldermen, including that giant of a man, they did not capture any women. He had personal experience regarding the martial prowess of Haldermen. However, he never imagined a small, backwoods village could put up such a fight. Discipline had broken down, with some of his men chasing village women, instead of focusing on taking captives. They were lucky to have captured any, considering how it went wrong. Still, no slave could match the loss of Vannur - he had been with him for half his life.

He shook his head as if to shake out those gloomy thoughts. But his mind kept tracing back to them. Wondering what it was all about pressed his mind. Why the uniforms? Why raid a country that the Imperial government had a treaty with? And then the realisation came to him.

Gracchus was sly and crafty. He knew how to manipulate uneducated men using their basest desires, but he was not what one would call ‘scholarly’. However, he sure had his moments, and this was one of those.

And so, he began realising that his ‘mysterious benefactor’ was a member of the Senate - hence the Senate Guardsmen in the tavern that night. The reason they were to raid in Legion garb was because that senator wanted to start a war between the Halder nations and the Empire.

For what purpose the senator was trying to spark this conflict, he knew not. Gracchus had decided it wasn’t important. What was important was the fact he was neck-deep in something he wanted to be as far from as possible. Maybe he would sail far to the west and seek refuge in the Henas Union before things got bad.

Suddenly roused from his internal machinations by the first mate’s deep booming voice, Gracchus heard him shout, “Stand to, ready the docking lines!”

The ship was approaching the dock, and soon he could offload the last of the evidence of what he had been involved in. The uniforms were already at the bottom of the sea. All he needed to do was to offload the captives, collect his gold, and then he would disappear for a good long while.

Once the crew tied off the lines, and they extended the gangplanks, Gracchus left Mennedus in charge. He ordered him to feed and water the slaves and get started on cleaning and refurbishing the ship. They needed to be ready for the run along the coast to Disipica. He left him ten gold coins to purchase food stores and said to him, “Do not visit the tavern. Take two or three good men to carry the supplies back with you.”

He went ashore and made a beeline for the outskirts of town, to where the arena slave holding pens were, so he could talk with the Pit Master. On his way, he cast his eyes around him. He had a bad feeling nagging at him, and he couldn’t shake it. His instincts were not indicating imminent danger, but he had an undeniable sense of foreboding.

He dismissed those ominous thoughts as he arrived at a large iron-barred gate. It was the entrance to a walled-off compound. The guard lazily eyed him over and said, “State ya business.”

Gracchus, peevish from his pervasive feeling of doom, responded sharply, “Mind your tone, cock-snot, or I’ll remove your vocal cords.”

“Really, and just who…” a soft, effeminate male voice cut him off from inside the compound. The fresh voice lisped “I’d listen to him, darling. The man’s a viper.”

Gracchus smiled as he recognised the voice. “Flavius, you old bum-boy. How have you been?”

“Fabulous, as always, darling. Surrounded by gorgeous, sweaty, manly men. Life is….” he stopped talking as he inhaled deeply through his nose, and as he exhaled said, “... go-od.” and then giggled girlishly.

The only possible description for the man approaching the gate would be…pretty. He dressed in a white tunic, belted at the waist, with a gold-coloured silk cape off the left shoulder that he had draped over the crook of his left arm. On his head was a laurel wreath, interspersed with pink daisies around a head of meticulously curled dark brown hair. His dark eyes stood out because of the eyeliner, creating a contrast between his skin and the whites of his eyes.

Flavius had been dealing with Gracchus for many years. Over that time, although he wouldn’t consider him a ‘friend’, he had developed a mutual respect and a fondness for the man.

“And how are you, you naughty thing?”

“Been better. Can we talk? I’ve got something you might be interested in.”

“My word, yes, yes, of course, darling.” He addressed the guard, saying, “Well? Don’t just stand there like a wooden dick at an orgy! Let him in, darling. Good heavens above. So hard to get good help these days.”

A half-hour later, Gracchus had convinced Flavius to bring his lion cage carriage to the wharf where his ship had docked. He explained the need for it was for one of the man he had captured.

Flavius tried to press him for details, but Gracchus just kept telling him, “Trust me, when you see, you’ll see. Words can’t do it justice.” In the end, Flavius, thoroughly intrigued by the mystery, threw up his hands in exasperation and agreed.

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Thus Gracchus arrived back at the docks, riding with Flavius in his chariot, the horse-drawn lion cage following. Surrounding the cage were six guards armed with steel-tipped spears.

Flavius accompanied Gracchus onto the ship, and down into the hold. Flavius, as one who hasn’t acclimated to the smells onboard a slave galley, held a perfumed kerchief over his nose. As Flavius’ eyes adjusted to the dimly lit, windowless space, they almost bulged out of their sockets.

For tied to the wall was the largest man he had ever seen. A man who stared right back at him in a manner that nearly caused him to lose control of his bladder.

“Ah... Gracchus darling…” Flavius said in a shaky voice, “…what exactly am I looking at here?”

“Him, and the five others in the cage over there, are Haldermen we captured during a raid.”

Flavius let out a soft, nervous tittering laugh as he said, “I have questions… oh, so many questions, but I don’t think I will like the answers. So I will ask the most important one – how much?”

“I was thinking one hundred gold for the lot.”

Flavius snapped his eyes onto Gracchus with an injured expression and responded with, “Oh, please, do be serious, darling. I’m not buying your ship. Let’s say I give you twenty-five for the giant fellow, and ten for the other five… mph, I have such plans for this dangerous-looking fellow!”

“Sheesh, Flavius, are you not going to buy me dinner before you bend me over? Eighty, best I can do.”

“Thirty for the big man, and fifteen for the rest.” Gracchus was about to retort, before Flavius cut him off, saying “Be serious, Gracchus darling. You’ll want to get these men out of your ah, ahem, hair.” He smiled cheekily as he looked at Gracchus’ balding pate. “Believe me, you won’t get a better offer.” The look in his eyes was one of sincere sympathy. He genuinely believed what he was telling him.

Gracchus thought about it a few moments and said, “All right, screw it. Forty-five for the lot, then.” As they shook hands on it.

Flavius held Gracchus’s hand a moment longer and slipped his hand away as his attention drifted back to the enormous figure tied to the bulkhead. He cautiously edged closer to the giant man secured to the wall. Leaning in, he tried getting a closer look at his face when the giant man shifted his weight.

This sudden movement caused Flavius to let out a short, high-pitched “Ooh!” as he leapt back in fright. He then giggled uneasily and headed back up on deck, tripping slightly as he kept looking back at Vylder in admiration of his latest acquisition.

It took six powerful men to get Vylder into the lion cage carriage. Gracchus was taking no chances with him, as he had no leverage to ensure compliance. They moved him hog-tied, by laying him face down on a sheet of canvas, then with four men at the head, and two at the feet, carried him off the ship, straight into the cage. All six men heaved and yanked the canvas out from under him.

The other five men had their wrists shackled behind their backs, with metal collars placed on them. A chain linked them as they were forced to march along behind the carriage. After his acquisitions were secure, Flavius counted out the coins and handed them over to Gracchus, who stowed the coins. With a barely hidden, troubled expression, Gracchus held his hand out to shake Flavius’s.

A crowd started gathering around the slaves. Light-coloured hair was a rarity in this nation, and blue-coloured eyes were rarer still. Of particular interest was the figure in the cage. Although lying prone and trussed up, it was still quite obvious this man was massive. The guards surrounding the slaves held their spears across their chests as a barrier to prevent any lolly gaggers from getting too close.

“Until next time, precious.” Said Flavius, ignoring the hand, and opting instead to embrace Gracchus, pressing his cheek next to his and air kissing once on each side. He then said, “Naw, don’t fret, dear.” as he squeezed his shoulders gently in a conciliatory gesture. “You’re a resourceful man. Whatever’s troubling you, I’m sure you’ll find your way through it. Until next time, Ta ta.”

And with that, Flavius twirled, and half walked, half skipped down the gangplank. He then hopped up nimbly onto his chariot and, with an exaggerated hand gesture, signalled his men to move on, and led his procession back to the training pits.

Gracchus stared after him from the deck of his ship, as he disappeared from view, and shook it off. He called out to Mennedus, who promptly appeared with an “Aye, sir?”

“Mennedus, cast off, we’re leaving. It’ll be about a week along the coast, and we’re not stopping ‘til we get there. We’ve gold to collect, and the sooner we do, the sooner we can make ourselves scarce.”

“Aye, sir. Leave it with me.”

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

Vylder crouched at the far end of the cage. His meal was untouched, on a wooden plate near the cage entrance. Flavius approached and paused while a guard whispered something in his ear. He then simpered as he walked seductively to the cage. Vylder barely moved as he eyed the man bending toward him seductively, with his back arched, and his rear poking out. He said something in Nevan. He then tried another language. At last, he tried Ohlsbachi, and a flash of recognition crossed Vylder’s eyes. “Why do you not cooperate?”

He responded, “Why would I? I am here against my will.”

With cat-like grace, Flavius stood up and folded his arms, now that they could communicate. “But you are where you are. This is your life now. You may as well get used to it.”

“I will leave. One way or another, you will let me leave. Or many of your people will die, maybe even you. You choose.”

Flavius nonchalantly checked his fingernails. “Maybe. Or maybe you will die.”

He looked up at Vylder. “Look, I paid for you. That is reality. To me, it matters not how you came here…” In a sudden move, Vylder launched forward with frightening speed and shot his arm through the bars.

Flavius flinched back, Vylder’s fingertips stopping a mere hair’s breadth from his face. The bars prevented him from reaching further. Then Vylder calmy withdrew his arm and sat down. This shocked the guards. He moved so quickly that the guards had no time to react.

Flavius, his heart pounding, took a few breaths to calm himself. “Feel better, now that you got that out of your system?”

Vylder simply shrugged. “Sooner or later…”

A look of frustration crossed Flavius’ face, and he sighed as he closed his eyes, touching his fingertips to his forehead. “You cost me a lot of coin, and I intend on making it back and then some. Let us make a deal.”

Vylder looked at him but said nothing.

“If you cooperate, and at least make for me double what I paid for you, then I will sign a writ of release from servitude. How does that sound?”

“And if I refuse?”

“Well, I will sell you on, and you become someone else’s problem. But believe me when I tell you this, handsome. Your best chance is to stick with me. I will make you a god! All you have to do is fight. You can fight, can’t you?”

“I have a family. I need to get back to them.”

“You are in my country now. There is nowhere to go. You cannot speak the language, and you will be hunted down, alone, with no coin, no friends, no hope. It would not end well for you.”

Vylder sat in silence as Flavius continued. Here, slaves are trained to fight in the arena. People pay to see, and people gamble. That is how I make money. You help me make money, and I help you by giving you your freedom… when I have made enough, of course.”

Vylder mulled it over in his mind as Flavius then said, “Now, I want to get that leg of yours treated. It looks nasty. Can I have your word you won’t be silly?”

Vylder stood up to his full imposing height, as he looked Flavius in the eye and said, “I swear by the Gods, I will not hurt them unless they attack me. If I am attacked, I shall break them. Otherwise, it is agreed, I will fight. But only fight. I will do nothing else.”

A brief disappointed frown creased Flavius’ face, as he thought about the giant man’s implication.

Vylder then asked, “What of the others?”

“Hm?”

“The five others from my village.”

“Ah, yes. What of them?”

“They do not fight. I will fight, they will not, clear?”

“That is not part of our arrangement.”

“I do not care, it is a condition. I will fight, they will not. They can do reasonable work to earn their keep, and I will make enough for their freedom too. Agreed?”

Flavius frowned again as he considered. He clapped and smiled as he said, “Lovely, darling, lovely! We have a deal. I’m Flavius. You should call me master, by rights, but I am reasonably sure you won’t.” He giggled effeminately. “And what shall I call you?”

“I am Vylder Avdlak.”

“Ooh, that’s an ugly mouthful, ah, no offence, of course. We need something simpler for the plebes to cry out.”

“I had a nickname. I never liked it, but it should be easy to pronounce. ‘Black Bear’.”

“Ah yes, yes! That is perfect!” Flavius gushed and said dramatically, “The Black Be-ear!” as he turned to leave. He stopped a moment and added, “Please behave Vylder, darling. I will send the healer.”

Outside the area of the cell, Flavius turned to the trainer and, speaking in Nevan, said “He will cooperate now. But do not make any aggressive moves. I am certain that you would regret it.”

The trainer responded, “But he is a slave. We should break him.”

“Oh, good heavens no, darling!” Flavius said as he gently caressed the trainer’s cheek. “He is a star! Besides, you trap more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Now, do be a dear and fetch the healer, and give our new talent a proper meal.” He then sauntered away once more, crying, “The Black BEAR!” as he giggled inanely.

The trainer shuddered slightly in revulsion at his touch, but knew better than to disobey. For all the sashaying and simpering, Flavius could be utterly ruthless when the occasion required.