In the pitch blackness, Gaius Gracchus could smell the wet rock smell, and hear the drip-drip-dripping of a slow trickle of water. He could feel that his blindfold had been removed, but the gag was still in place. From the smell and the sound of the occasional droplet of moisture hitting a small puddle, he was certain he was in a cavern.

The dry, cotton mouth feeling, and the grogginess he felt from being drugged, was wearing off, though the headache from being concussed had not. As he tried to sit up, he realised that he was shackled both hand and foot, spread-eagled to a hard bench that only supported his upper body. His legs hung over the ends.

Panic started setting in now. His heart raced, and he broke out in a cold sweat as his futile struggles against his bonds began rubbing his skin. The cuffs began digging into his wrists. He could feel warm and sticky blood seeping from the grazes to coat the inside of the cuffs. He also realised that he was cold, as he had no clothing on.

Then he saw it. At first, he thought he imagined it, but sure enough, he could see a faint glow becoming brighter. By the positioning of where the light was coming from, he could see a small window with bars on it.

He heard a click, a crank and protesting hinges as the door swung inwards. He had to squint, while his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. A hairy, squat, muscular man with a black cowl that masked his face entered, carrying a torch. His eyes sparkled maliciously from the eyeholes cut into it.

Then a second figure entered, dressed in a velvet purple robe, face concealed by a hood, much like the man from the tavern in Disipica. The beginning of his woes. He approached the table where Gracchus lay. The black cowled man moved the torch closer to Gracchus. As the robed man pulled back his hood, he revealed a rat-like face. Large ears on an odd-shaped head, with short, scraggly grey-brown hair framing a weak chinned face with a protruding nose between deep-set dark eyes.

Gracchus had seen this man before. He remembered him. As Gracchus stared at him with loathing, he started mumbling to the rat-faced man. However, the gag prevented anything coherent from leaving his mouth. Rat-face gestured to the jailor to pull down the cloth tied tightly around Gracchus’ mouth.

As soon as the gag was off, Gracchus launched into a diatribe, “You! You rat-faced little pig humper! Where is that whoreson who sent me on this bullshit raid, huh? Where the hell...m-mnghgng!” The jailor forced the gag back into place.

Shaking his head at Gracchus, in a sibilant effeminate voice, the man said, “My word, such horrors that assault my delicate sensibilities! Is that any way to speak to your betters? A patron? A member of the imperial senate, no less? Now, we can have a civil conversation, or you can stay gagged and I will talk. It matters not to me.” He gestured to the jailor again, and he obliged, pulling the gag back down.

“It wasn’t you in the tavern. I know that much, but I remember you. Yes, I never forget a rat. You send thirty ships to take on a country. You sent us to die, you piece of shit, you and all those makeup-wearing pretty boys.”

“It isn’t our fault you lot were not up to the task. The way I hear it, it was six of their ships that mauled thirty of ours. That level of incompetence is why we haven’t expanded the empire in over twenty-five years.”

“You weren’t there! How would you know? You have never had to fight them in battle! They ain’t like us! You sent us to our deaths, you rat-faced little prick!.”

“Where is this coming from? I was hoping we could be civil to one another, possibly even become good friends, you and me. You see, I can help you. That is, if you can help me.”

“Who was the man in the tavern?”

In a sing-song voice, he answered, “Now, that is something you can never know. But I will tell you, he is not happy, uh-uh, not happy at all. You botched it.”

“The whole thing was doomed from the beginning. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to take the job.”

“But you were. As a matter of fact, we were counting on it. Ugly, stupid, greedy, you.” The rat-faced man smiled as he nodded to the jailor, who lined up and delivered a punishing blow into Gracchus’ ribs. He coughed so hard he started retching. Rat-face went on, “You allowed one of your men to be captured alive, and you went to Raugus instead of returning to Disipica.”

Gracchus groaned, “What do you want from me? I did what I was supposed to. I raided, I left behind evidence, I made it big enough to draw attention.”

“My compatriots wanted the captives. Five are out of our reach, and the remaining one is becoming so famous as to be nigh untouchable. Not to mention, we have not-got-our-war!” He screamed the last into Gracchus’ face.

“What the hell are you on about? You shits were never gonna pay me. Just go ahead and do it, you little pissant. Go on! Yer wrist too limp to hold the dagger?”

“See, what you did was supposed to trigger a declaration of war by Holvela against the empire, and when one of those barbarian countries goes to war, the rest would follow. The patrician class would piss their pants, and there’d be a vote of no confidence in Censor Marius Vinnicum, and then we would be able to take this empire in the direction it needs to go. But there is no blockade, there is no siege, there are no retaliatory raids – nothing!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You were supposed to start a war for us, Gracchus, you silly man. But you failed. Sadly, I don’t think you can fix it.”

“Clearly! I can’t even scratch my balls right now, and you call me stupid? You’re no doubt a genius of epic proportions!” Gracchus spat as he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

Rat-face leaned on Gracchus’ chest, and caressingly traced a finger down his cheek, making him cringe away in disgust. He continued tracing his finger down his body as he said, “My name is Senator Corrus Agular. Remember it, because I want you to say it over and over.” Then he looked at the jailor and said, “Turn him over, Bruno,” as he pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes.

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The man in the black hood, Bruno, cast a look of abject contempt at the senator as he adjusted the chains and flipped Gracchus onto his stomach. Gracchus struggled, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. As Bruno was re-hooking the chains, he didn’t seem to notice one was loose.

The black-cowled man chuckled and walked out of the room. Gracchus was trying to look over his shoulder, and spat curses, “I swear by the Gods I’ll kill you for this, I will tear that rat head of yours off…” as Corrus moved behind him.

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

At the entrance to the cavern where the private cells were at the back of Censor Scipio Calguri’s villa, Bruno removed his hood and sucked in the beautiful sea air. A brutish-looking man, squat, and hairy with piggish eyes beneath a prominent unibrow. However, his head was bald. He looked out over the cliff edge, across the cove towards the Nevan capital, Paqurineva. The white stone buildings seemed to glisten and shimmer in the sunshine, a beautiful mirage hiding the corruption within.

An aged, thin man in his late fifties with short grey hair, wearing his ornate gold trimmed toga with a purple cape displaying his status as a Censor approached and asked him, “Did Corrus glean anything from him?” It was Scipio Calguri.

“Corrus is busy amusing himself, your worship. I don’t mind a bit of torture, but some things I don’t want to see.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. His appetites are… unconventional. Did you set it up as planned?”

“Well, I did the bare minimum. He is a crafty turd, so I’m sure he’ll figure it out. If he doesn’t? Well, it just means he’s a useless crafty turd, and he goes over with the rest of ‘em,” he said with a wide grin, as he pointed with his chin toward the cliff’s edge.

“Corrus has his uses, but we can’t have his habits tainting us. His proclivities, and his largess, have been attracting far too much attention. I’m just glad he allowed those appetites to save us from needing to be more creative with his impending retirement.” Both men laughed. He then thought to himself ‘There is nothing wrong with wanting men, but he only wants to give it to those who don’t want it from him. And his insistence on identifying himself before he does it.’

He shook his head as he roused himself out of his musing. “I have since learned that there is a small detachment of Haldermen in Raugus. They are tracking one of the captives. I don’t understand it. He has ties to the royals, but they haven’t made a sound. No threats, no demands, no declaration of war. Just a small group, being covert. This is not the typical Halder reaction to being affronted. I was expecting fires and raids up and down the coast, and the great Paqurineva put to the torch. This non-reaction is disturbing, to say the least. It is not like them at all.”

“Should I put some of my boys on it, worship? Send ‘em east and try to intercept the group what’s chasing? Spread enough coin about, they’ll be waylaid and disposed of, or displayed in a manner most foul. That might prod the Halders into doing sommen drastic.”

Scipio laughed heartily. “You are a gem. Oh Bruno, if only I could make you a senator Instead of that… ugh,” he said with disgust.

Bruno beamed at Scipio and responded, “I live but to serve your worship. I must say, them Halder, barbarians they may be, stupid they are not.”

“Nor are you. Go into my drawer and take what you need. Flood the roads with every brigand, cutthroat and mercenary you can lay a coin into.”

“It shall be done.”

“Oh, and before you do that, pull the rest of the guards out of the cell.”

“You don’t want me to flush the little turd once he’s squashed the rat, your worship?”

“No. Let him go. Him telling anyone what he knows would actually help us.”

Bruno nodded and headed back into the cavern entrance, while Scipio strolled towards the villa. As he walked, he thought ‘Either the rat plays with the mouse, and we continue to break him into saying whatever we want him to, or the mouse breaks the rat and exposes him as the culprit. Either way, we continue our plan while the senate is distracted investigating.’ Scipio smiled a wistful smile and thought more happy thoughts.

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

Gracchus railed against what was happening. As he struggled, one of his arms came loose. Upon realising this, he wrapped it around Corrus’ neck, and choked the life out of him. He knew on a deeper level that Corrus was dead. But he couldn’t stop squeezing.

He had felt the panic in Corrus as Gracchus’ meaty forearm crushed his trachea and heard the crack as Corrus’ vertebrae separated. Yet still, he squeezed. His face was red with rage as tears of anger and shame streamed down his cheeks. Yet still, he squeezed.

His breathing slowed and finally, reason began reasserting itself over his consciousness. ‘I have to get out of here,’ he thought. Now he had to figure out how to unlock the other three chains and escape before anyone came back. He shoved the corpse onto the floor and shimmied himself over to the corner of the bench. It dug into his abdomen painfully, but he knew he had to endure. He was almost there, then suddenly he was on the floor of the cell, and he had some slack on the chains.

Despite his recent indignities, he felt a moment of elation. He was going to make it, and he was going to figure out who else needed some killing. With some exertion, he detached the other three chains from their hooks. He stripped the robe off of Corrus’ body and pulled it over his head.

Once he had donned the purple robe, he looked at the small-framed, limp body of the dead senator. He hawked from the back of his throat, spat on him, and kicked the corpse across the room. He started breathing heavily, as the rage he felt had returned, but he calmed himself and moved over to the open cell door. The chains attached to his wrists and ankles chinked softly. Although to Gracchus, in the silence, the noise was almost deafening.

He peered carefully out into the corridor. It was as he suspected. He was in a cavern of some sort that someone had converted into a dungeon. He followed the line of cell doors, and then there was a right turn, and he could see a space ahead, lit by a wall sconce.

In the middle of the space was a wooden table, some simple stools arranged around it. He saw some plates of half-eaten food. He scanned to see if there was anybody there and moved to the table.

If he were in his right mind, he would be suspicious. But his mind was still recovering from the Gods only knew how many doses of poppy milk, and he felt enraged. He could be forgiven for not thinking straight at that moment, if for nothing else.

He moved to the plate and started wolfing down the scraps, as he realised he was ravenously hungry. Once he felt sated, and slaked his thirst from the jug of wine in the centre of the table, he glanced down and spied something that glinted in the flickering firelight - Keys!

It was getting dark outside as he peered out of the entrance. Gracchus knew not where he was, what day it was, only that it was late evening. He saw what appeared to be a large building, dimly lit by lanterns surrounding it. The cool evening breeze cleared his clouded mind somewhat. After taking some deep breaths, he moved to get as far away from there as he could.

Before long, he came to a wall. He snaked along until he saw some creeper vines and a couple of trees. He used those to scale the wall and made his way towards a road.

As he was moving, his thoughts went back over the conversation. ’You allowed one of your men to be captured alive...’ That sentence played in a loop in his brain, as he thought about what it meant. And as realisation dawned, ‘Luca Vannur, you stupid little shit! You’re alive!'

He was equal parts elated and annoyed. He was glad Vannur was alive. Well, as far as he knew, anyway. But he was furious because Vannur’s capture had sent this undertaking spinning out of control.

He pulled the hood up and shuffled along, looking back to see if his mysterious captors had followed him. Between the occasional glances over his shoulder, he scanned for the marking stone. Nevans placed Milestones marked with the nearest city name and the distance from it along all Nevan roads. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for. It was getting darker, but it was still just light enough for him to see –

Paqurineva 2 mi ahead