Chapter 106. Intrigue (2)
The gladiatorial games celebrating the new emperor's ascension were usually prepared within a month. It was essential to show the citizens the emperor's face and secure their support to ensure a smooth reign.
I escorted the emperor into the Colosseum, the empire's largest arena. Capable of seating 50,000 spectators at once, it symbolized the empire's civilization and prosperity.
As we entered, the Praetorian Guards sounded their trumpets to announce the emperor's arrival.
"His Imperial Majesty the Emperor enters! Greet him with thunderous applause!"
"Long live Emperor Alexius!"
At the announcer's words, the citizens rose to their feet, clapping wildly. Event staff tossed bread and coins toward the sections cheering the loudest, spurring even greater roars.
The emperor, somewhat cowed by the noise, clutched his sisters' hands.
"Escort His Majesty and his family to the VIP box."
"Yes, sir."
As Riktus led the imperial party ahead, I summoned Rikius and ordered him to position Praetorian Guards around the arena's perimeter.
Given the "riot" that had erupted during a minor chariot race before, we had to prepare meticulously for any incidents. If something happened at the emperor's first public event, his authority would plummet.
I followed behind the emperor without relaxing my vigilance. Riktus moved faster than expected, and by the time I arrived, the imperial family was already seated in the VIP box.
I noted the emperor's sisters chattering as they nibbled grapes and halted beside the box.
"Excellency. The Senate asks if they may signal the start of the games."
"Tell them to proceed."
"Yes, sir."
Sword at my side, I gazed down two levels to the balcony.
Soon, a senator emerged, handkerchief in hand, and addressed the crowd.
"Today's games are sponsored in the name of our merciful, just, and dignified Emperor Alexius. Citizens, give thanks for His Majesty's grace and enjoy the spectacle. Glory to the emperor, pleasure to the capital's people!"
The senator bowed toward the emperor, then dropped the handkerchief toward the arena floor—a traditional signal to begin.
As it fluttered down, the announcer in his ridiculous wig spoke up.
"The match we present today pits His Excellency Ain, commander of the Imperial Guard, against the fearsome barbarians! Savage plunderers who cross our borders, torching cities and villages, dragging women and children into slavery—the Sartia and Goti tribes!"
"Boooo!"
Amid the citizens' jeers, gladiators dressed as barbarians on horseback poured out from one gate. I turned to Riktus.
"Why this of all scenarios for today's show?"
He gave a wry smile at my question.
"We left the content to the announcer's discretion. I requested a tale to help the empire's citizens forget recent worries and regain their strength—looks like this is what he came up with."
"This is a problem."
I smacked my lips in distaste.
It had turned into a heroic biopic touting me to the masses. We'd come to boost the emperor's popularity—promoting me instead was pointless. Bitter taste lingered.
But it was too late to change the program.
The barbarian-clad gladiators circled the arena to boos. The announcer waited for them to halt, then pointed to the opposite side.
"And now, entering to repel the barbarians and defend the empire's borders—the Northern Legion under General Ain!"
"Yesss!"
"Kill the barbarians!"
The citizens roared savagely.
From the opposite gate, amid fervent cheers, came fully armored gladiators dressed as legionaries. I crossed my arms, watching.
"Pity our border legions didn't have gear that good. Still, the staging looks decent."
"Feels like a clown show to me."
Riktus smiled wryly at my displeasure.
Soon, gladiators from both sides lined up facing the emperor's VIP box.
I glanced at the emperor, but the boyish ruler showed no desire to face the crowd.
No choice—I stepped forward.
"Before His Imperial Majesty. Fight with honor and claim your freedom."
"We swear to fight honorably in the face of death. Respect to His Imperial Majesty!"
The gladiators responded; I raised my hand in acknowledgment and stepped back, not forgetting to murmur to the emperor.
"This event is for you, Your Majesty."
Chastened, Alexius bowed his head.
"But all those eyes on me... it's overwhelming."
"As ruler of the empire, you must grow accustomed to the gaze."
"Give His Majesty a moment."
One of the emperor's sisters interjected as I opened my mouth again.
Princess Euresia. The sixteen-year-old beauty and sharp mind who had enjoyed Marius's favor.
Perhaps because of it, she was bold and assertive. Even the emperor hesitated to contradict her—and she spoke to me bluntly.
I bit my lip briefly, then bowed.
"I meant no pressure on Your Majesty. Forgive my rudeness."
I withdrew to the rear of the VIP box.
Truuuump!
With my greeting in the emperor's stead, the Praetorians blew their trumpets. At the signal, the gladiators spread out. Cavalry kicked their horses' bellies; infantry formed a tight square in the center.
As I watched, I said to Riktus,
"Still worried about mishaps in the staging. What do you think?"
"You mean the legion losing?"
"Yes. Cavalry outnumbers them—they might put up a fight."
Lowering his voice, Riktus replied,
"No need for concern. Gladiator matches are rigged."
"What do you mean?"
"Drain the horses' blood beforehand, give them blunt swords and arrows—even cavalry can't beat infantry that way."
"That's not right."
He nodded.
"As you say, Excellency, it's not honorable. But gladiatorial combat is a show, not real war. Entertainment for the masses—nothing more."
I couldn't refute him.
While we spoke, the cavalry wheeled in circles, loosing arrows. Fierce momentum, but the shafts couldn't pierce the legionaries' shields.
And then.
The horses have been weakened.
I spotted it: the mounts were slower than they should be. Only battle-hardened veterans like us would notice. Unable to reach full speed, the cavalry couldn't shine.
After ten minutes of dull standoff, a legionary gladiator hurled his spear.
A rider screamed and tumbled. At the cue, the infantry broke formation and charged.
Exhausted warhorses in a confined space left the cavalry hamstrung. Infantry used captured mounts and corpses as barricades, further restricting them.
Soon, riders fell one by one; the bout ended decisively.
The announcer declared victory.
"Thus, our empire triumphs! Honor to General Ain and the Northern Legion, who annihilated tens of thousands of barbarians in the north!"
"Ain! Ain! Ain!"
The citizens chanted my name.
Contrary to intent, I felt awkward hearing it echo.
The young emperor, listening to the cheers, rose and clapped. This timid wielder of power, afraid of eyes upon him, found the death-match thrilling.
He asked me,
"General Ain commanded that battle? Did you win like that?"
"Something like it, Your Majesty."
Too complex to explain, I glossed over it.
He nodded, continuing to clap.
Surviving legionaries dragged a few riders before the VIP box and forced them to kneel.
Citizens shouted at the sight.
"Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!"
Feeling their fervent hatred, I turned to the emperor.
"What is your will?"
"What would you do, General?"
Considering his popularity, I gave the optimal answer.
"I'd kill them."
"Then order it."
The boy spoke without flinching. Timid overall, yet toward entertainment, he showed a child's innate cruelty.
Like kids plucking a bedbug's wings without remorse, he felt no qualms.
I bowed to the emperor, then stepped forward.
"The Praetorian Prefect conveys His Majesty's will."
The announcer's cry silenced the crowd. Tens of thousands of eyes fixed on my hand.
I looked down at the unlucky gladiators, summoned for this farce and doomed to die.
If I were just a soldier, I'd have ordered mercy.
But I was the empire's power behind the throne, representing the emperor. I had to protect and manage his position. My decision served his popularity, not my thoughts.
My thumb pointed mercilessly downward.
"By His Imperial Majesty's command. Kill them!"
"Yaaaaah!"
Citizens roared in ecstasy.
Legionary gladiators bowed to me, then swung without hesitation. Heads rolled with each spurt of blood.
I watched the deaths in silence.
Gladiators who'd shared life-and-death bonds now slaying comrades evoked memories of sending my own legionaries to die—why I despised these games.
Afterward, the announcer climbed to the VIP box.
"Did the games please you today?"
He eyed me warily.
The emperor nodded.
"Quite fun. Good to learn General Ain commanded such a splendid fight."
"An honor, Your Majesty."
He bowed.
I waited for his imperial greeting to end, then beckoned.
"You called, sir?"
"Did you plan today's program?"
"Yes. I took special care to suit your tastes, Excellency."
As I thought.
No other explanation for this staging. It should have highlighted Marius's achievements tied to the current regime.
Stern-faced, I spoke sharply.
"'Suited my tastes'? What nonsense is that?"
"Excellency?"
"This event is solely for His Majesty. A festival dedicated to Emperor Alexius's reign. Whose idea was it to tailor it to my palate?"
Uncomfortable, he bowed low.
"F-Forgive me. I overstepped."
"Seek pardon from His Majesty, not me. I'll remember today's error. Repeat it, and I'll hold you accountable. Understood?"
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
I sent the terrified man away.
Riktus, witnessing it, asked,
"Was that too harsh?"
"Intentional."
"Pardon?"
"He claims it was for me, but no underling plans this alone. Someone's pulling strings."
I clenched my fist.
Fortifying the emperor's position was burden enough; these games irked me. Never felt this on the frontier, severing barbarian heads.
I tasked Riktus with cleanup and left the VIP box.
(To be continued in the next chapter)