01x03 - Unworthy

[bunniefuu]

[Korris roars]

[Achillia grunts]

[Ashur] The House of Ashur
would carve its own path

and f*ck into oblivion
all who stands in its way.

[both grunt]

You have not earned
position in this f*ck' house.

They will never welcome a woman

as one of their own.

[Celadus] She's not absent skill.

[Creticus] And when were you
last upon the sands, old man?

[Ashur] Gabinius? He hosts the
game of the Ludi Apollinares.

I see a man possessed
of serpent-tongued wife.

[Cossutia] Perhaps the House of Opiter

shall present surprising challenge.

[Messia] You worry over him
beyond reason.

Yet who worries over you?

[Achillia] Apedemak.
God of w*r and conquest.

[Hilara] Then why work his image?

[Achillia] As a reminder what was lost.

[Tarchon] She took the life of a brother,

yet you let her live.

[Korris] She drew blood.

And any man who lays
undesired hand upon her

shall feel my own at f*cking throat.

[blades ring, blood splatters]

[dark, eerie music]

[Ashur] You risked life
of valued acquisition

by pressing grievance
with f*cking steel?!

[Korris] And what of
the life of Creticus?

Was it not a thing of equal worth?

No one would produce coin

to see sh*t walking upright
upon the sands of the arena.

We do not overflow with men of skill

that the passing of one
should be met with indifference.

Does voice sound f*ck' indifferent?

The man stood but crudely formed brick!

Achillia stands as f*cking foundation.

Her entrance to the games
of the Ludi Apollinares

will secure the ascent of this house

that you're always moaning on about!

You have swayed Gabinius to our cause?

[Ashur sighs]

Prize was within grasp
when we broke meal,

until unfortunate turn of humors.

Your words have been
known to carry such effect.

[Ashur] He pressed for honesty,
you towering f*ck,

and, when presented with such,

took offence and commanded me
to fall from f*ck' sight.

So... we remain beggars,

knees upon ground, mouth open

to pleasure any c*ck that rises to favor.

You need concern yourself with the duties

I paid you for in coin,

most pressing of which

seeing Achillia ready to
face the Brothers Ferox,

not taking actions absent authority.

I gauged the woman
to be wild and untamed,

yet you did not heed warning.

I stand f*cking Dominus.

And I f*cking Doctore.

Upon the sands, my word is law.

You would place yourself above me?

I place my experience
in such matters beyond any man.

Then why does Achillia yet draw breath

if you find her such an affront
to delicate sensibilities?

Because she proved herself worthy,

at least of further consideration.

Ah...

You speak of worth and the proving of it.

I will set you upon task
to mirror the same.

Hm. And what vaunted
purpose moves my hand?

Whatever f*cking purpose I require

towards satisfaction of loyalty.

[tense percussive music]

[gladiators grunt, yell]

[Achillia grunts]

[Achillia screams]

[gladiators grunt, yell]

We stand dishonored,

lacking Dominus with f*cking
c*ck to reclaim lost glory

from the days of Gannicus and Crixus.

True f*ck' champions.

Far eclipsing the sh*t Syrian!

[Celadus] Break words more wisely...

or see own questionable manhood
parted from body

in unfortunate manner of Creticus.

[Erato] His pet Nubian
claims life of a brother

absent consequence, a jest to
all who greeted him as friend.

A thing uncontested,

yet I bow to the will of our Dominus,

as all of us must.

For now.

Hmm.

[gladiators grunt]

Erato's words hold truth.

They could hold the world and still prove

of little use.

Does the honor of the house

not stand above all else?

It should.

Then our f*cking Dominus has tainted it

by positioning woman towards the arena.

- [gladiators grunt]
- [Korris] Attend!

I am set to task beyond these walls.

In my absence, Celadus shall
stand Doctore until my return.

[gentle music]

Gratitude.

It is a heavy honor.

The honor is mine to
have old friend assume my place.

[gate rattles]

See the men to purpose.

[whip cracks]

Resume training.

Tarchon, Erato, take position

and fall... Brace!

[both grunt]

Youthful fury pales against
the master of f*cking sword.

[both grunt]

Aargh!

Inform me when such a master
presents himself...

and I will serve same meal
that fills f*cking mouth.

[Celadus] Tarchon!

Had you faced an opponent
of the slightest worth,

wild attack would have seen you
upon the ground of the arena

with addled brain
spilled from f*cking head.

Retake position

and fall to proper form.

[percussive music]

Doctore.

[roars]

[gladiators shout, grunt]

[both grunt, shout]

[Ashur] She fights as one
yet burdened by chains.

Perhaps she is shackled by thing
of more crushing weight.

Expand upon thought.

I noted a shadow within eye,

as of lingering specter.

When did you find
yourself so close to her

to observe this?

I had occasion to break words
when you ventured upon Appian...

You summoned her into the villa
absent my presence?

No, Dominus. I went to the Nubian's cell,

accompanied by guards...

You are forbidden in the ludus.

It is unsafe for one so soft,
even with presence of escort.

I am no mouse, nor shall cower as such.

Apologies, Dominus.

And did you divine
the cause of this shadow

you f*cking noted?

- No.
- No.

[Hilara] Yet...

mood grew ever more somber

when eye fell upon scars
marking the back of her hand.

Whatever weights soul may be tethered

to how she came by them.

[suspenseful music]

[Achillia grunts]

[Ashur] Hold.

[Achillia breathes heavily]

[low, tense music]

Return to your labors...

as we fall to our own.

I am to train with you?

I am to gauge first hand your progress.

Yes, Dominus.

Is this the style favored when
you drew blood from Doctore?

That of murmillo?

No, Dominus.

Sword and torch,
absent weight of f*cking shield.

Akin to that of dimachaerus.

[shouts] A style favored by
Spartacus himself.

Sword.

Let us divine if you
stand his equal in promise.

[shield clatters]

Am I to be punished if I draw blood?

Such a feat will be met with reward.

Begin.

[tense music]

[Ashur yells]

[percussive music]

[crowd chatter]

Offerings to offend eye,
and all... [sniffs]

- related senses.
- [Horatia chuckles]

Fault lies with Cilician cutthroats

preying upon ships bearing goods
of more earnest quality.

- Words well spoken.
- [Modesta] An enduring bane

which must be handled
with greatest urgency

by those imbued with the power to act.

I can assure you,
my husband is maneuvering

toward such an end.

I shall pray to the
gods the attempt is not mired

in pompous rhetoric, as often
turns within the Senate.

An encumbrance thankfully not
suffered by your husband,

who remains well-satisfied
in the unrivalled monotony

of tax collection.

[Lafrenia] Horatia!

Clouds form upon horizon.

What unexpected joy to fall upon you.

Mwah. Mwah.

Had I known-

mwah, mwah-you were venturing about,

I would have gladly set aside
more urgent concerns...

[kisses]

...and joined you.

A decision conjured upon the moment.

A thing too slight to mention.

Horatia, I must implore you
to break words with Uvidus

to open new grain routes.

We were not so burdened
by scarcity under watchful eye

of previous aedile,

a man much deserving of honored position.

My husband sits in esteemed
counsel this very moment,

attempting to bring relief
to the good citizens of Capua.

My husband was not informed
of stated gathering.

Such meetings
are confined to men of note.

Gratitude for clarifying
such matters of import.

And I would be remiss
if I did not inquire

after the welfare of beloved daughter.

Has she yet left villa since
her husband's untimely demise

at the hands of Spartacus
and his rebel horde?

Viridia shows no inclination
to end mourning.

I stand deeply concerned
for her well-being.

[Lafrenia] Of course.

I but hope to see grief balmed
by that of new-sprung love.

As would we all.

My youngest son, Manilius,

has come of age and seeks wife
of proper breeding. Perhaps...

A name worthy of consideration.

Yet I crave more equitable
pairing for deserving child.

The wife of noble Gabinius

- knows best in all regards.
- [both chuckle politely]

Please convey thoughts of better
days to your poor daughter.

[Horatia] It is a wonder,
is it not, to behold a sow

bedecked in silk and jewels?

- [wood crashing]
- [merchant] sh*t! f*ck!

The gods curse me!
Lend hand if you are able!

[clamour, chatter]

[donkey brays]

You stand the Syrian's man, do you not?

A thing well-known.

Yes, well-known indeed.

- Horatia, the aedile's wife.
- Modesta, wife of...

- who does it f*cking matter?
- [Modesta and Horatia chuckle]

I trust you were not
too grievously wounded

by the loss of your man
to the Brothers Ferox.

Scarcely thought upon.

Yes, I suppose you must have grown

accustomed with failure,

given the quality of your offerings.

Apologies, but I'm pressed upon
urgent business.

For your Dominus?

You mistake me. I am a free man.

Oh, apologies for the error.

It is a truth presenting
challenge to recall.

May your day be blessed
as richly deserved.

Years have advanced,
yet he is still of a form.

[Modesta] I have heard tales of his sword

impaling the most brutish of opponents

in advance of winning freedom.

Mm. Would that his own weapon

- be put to more intimate use.
- [both chuckle]

You lower yourselves,

and towards one who favors c*ck
to moister offerings.

Let us to midday meal, and the
hope of more elevated discourse.

[muffled shouting]

[grunting, roaring]

[shouting continues]

[thud]

[crowd roars]

[fighter shouts indistinctly]

[crowd exclaims, clamors]

[Fides] Do eyes f*cking deceive?

The gods grant favor to cross
our paths, brother.

Fides. You wander far astray
from your man Proculus.

The f*cking c**t parts with coin

as readily as he would arm or c*ck.

I lay wager in the pits
to repay debt owed

to shriveled noble absent
reason or mercy.

The old f*ck would see me to the mines

if the ledger is not balanced.

I shall leave you to it, then.

Place from f*cking mind,
brother. [chuckles]

What moves you to fall
from such lofty perch?

You never cared for this f*cking place,

nor those that haunt its walls.

Years have not dimmed aversion,
yet I am set to task

upon vital errand
in service of my employer.

For the f*cking Syrian? [guffaws]

- [fighter grunts]
- [crowd cheers]

Whatever he asks of his better,

Fides will aid in effort.

Gratitude. Yet it is a private matter

ventured upon discretion.

Your lips were ever sealed,

and even now more so you stand as Doctore

in a house blessed by Crassus himself,

while poor Fides toils for
scraps from f*cking Proculus.

Bridle overreaching desire

and see prospects brighten.

May the gods grant such discipline.

Come, let us share a drink
and relive days past

when we stood yet at shoulders.

A dire warning to every sh*t who
dared break unflattering word.

I would welcome such
fond memories, and uh,

petition kindness
to help ease present burden.

You stand so defiled by misdeeds

you beg absent honor?

Ram c*ck up the arse of honor.

I need coin, mm,

and you stand well-positioned
to provide such.

Misfortune can forge iron
in those who bear its heat.

I would not obstruct such vital
lesson for one with keen need

to set foot towards more auspicious path.

Perhaps the Syrian or withered noble

might prove more generous

in return for tales
of your past misdeeds.

Be well...

and place me far from f*cking thought.

- [Fides] Our business is not...
- [grunts]

Avert f*ck' eyes
next they light upon me.

- [grunts]
- [Fides groans]

[crowd clamors]

[Ashur roars]

Fire burns bright,

as it did in the eyes
of the mad Thracian.

[Achillia groans]

He too made attempt
upon life of his Dominus.

[Achillia grunts, shrieks]

[Achillia grunts]

[Ashur] Yet his venture
proved more successful.

Why do you fail?

Your skill with sword exceeds my own.

[Ashur] By considerable f*ck' margin,

yet insignificant
towards question. Why...

do you fail?

[ominous music]

[piercing tone]

[Achillia inhales sharply]

Perhaps wooden man
will offer greater opportunity

for reflection.

Work the palus, and turn thoughts inwards

towards more enlightened response.

[percussive music]

[aggressive shouting, clamor]

[woman moans]

[cheering, chatter]

[Opiter scoffs]

sh*t struggles against piss.

[fighters grunt]

Make offer towards winner.

No more than three denarii.

Day unexpectedly brightens.

[fighters grunt]

[Opiter] You stand absent wine.

Allow unworthy hands
to see offense corrected.

I am for business,

and the swift f*cking concluding of it.

We stand the same in that regard.

Recent losses have depleted stable,

forcing me to restock
offerings towards arena.

These men would see your ludus

a greater disadvantage.

Was not the mighty Oenomaus

birthed from such darkness?

Was not the Bringer of Rain
condemned to hardened purpose

within these very bowels?

Singular f*cking men,
their reflection unlikely

to be glimpsed among
the chattel displayed.

[fighters grunt, roar]

What business compels
visit to Stygian depths

if they so offend?

I would break words with Anubis,

former overseer of the pits.

Anubis? Towards what purpose?

Rumor holds that he has a bounty of grain

much in need by the house of my employer.

I fear you have been
led astray by errant tongue.

I had dealings with Anubis
only this morning

and can assure that grain
not among his current holdings.

Well, then I am sent
upon a fool's errand.

Only foolish,

if you return to the Syrian empty-handed.

A true friend would see them
filled to overflowing.

You hold grain?

- [Opiter] To excess.
- At what cost?

Only honored presence,

honeyed by wine and engaging discourse,

far from the noxious scent
of unwashed patrons.

Then I am your man.

As I stand yours upon the moment.

[shouting, cheering]

[fighters grunt]

[blood splatters]

[indistinct chatter]

Ah...

Thoughts wander afield,

and loving daughter steals advantage.

Hand moves as it was
taught upon loving knee.

- [both chuckle]
- I give invitation

for you to join me in the city

to find you playing games
with your father.

She prefers training of mind
to clucking of hens.

[Gabinius clucks]

More years are yet required to best you.

I concede contest.

You but humor an old man
to believe himself

master of strategy.

A thing received with much gratitude.

I but bow to elevated skill.

[Cossutia] It is far too early in the day

to yet be dressed for its end, Viridia.

Fall to baths and proper attire

befitting daughter of noble senator.

He's forever held in highest regard.

Aw. As he eternally holds
beloved daughter.

You coddle her
in obstruction of needed return

to the world of men.

She recovers herself
from loss of cherished husband

at measured gait.

Sharp words to spur action
will but harden resistance.

Then aid me in seeing it soften.

Reality of unmarried daughter
elicits whispers.

I would not have name sullied
by wagging tongues.

[Gabinius scoffs] Such as
the ones you wasted hours with

this very day?

I did not deem you concerned by
the clucking of f*cking hens.

Let ill temper fall to faded memory

and common ground regained.

Much desired, as is the breaking of words

towards the impending games
you so generously host.

What of them?

They present much needed opportunity

to reintroduce Viridia after
long absence in public eye.

You well know her feelings
towards the games

and the gladiators who play them.

Feelings can be molded,

especially if reformed...

by loving hands.

Oh. Countenance did noticeably brighten

when bestowing gratitude upon the Syrian

in aiding the downfall
of the rebel Spartacus.

f*cking Syrian.

He stands serpent,
grinning with human teeth.

He is a creature not to be trusted.

Trust is as water transforming
to vapor or ice

upon varying conditions.

You speak in knotted riddles.

Then let us untangle mystery.

Why do you think I invited him
to break meal?

Your machinations elude.

To gauge the man towards usefulness

in rising conflict between Pompey

and the Syrian's patron, Crassus.

And how is such worth measured?

By revealing desire
towards presenting motion

in the Senate,

to see Pompey unmoored
from the gates of Rome,

in pursuit of the Cilician shits

plaguing the waters of the Republic.

You take the f*cking Syrian
into confidence?

A false one,
unbeknownst to the man himself.

You test him.

If knowledge imparted
finds way to Crassus,

then we shall know the Syrian's
loyalty holds firm.

And if the cur holds tongue?

Then he may be of use to more...
agreeable master,

and perhaps maneuvered
to aid in brokering peace

between Pompey and Crassus,
averting civil w*r.

Truly believe that the Syrian holds sway

over the will of Marcus f*cking Crassus?

Even a crude lever

can displace the largest of
stones when put to proper use.

The only use for such a man

is to see worms to ravenous meal.

Does he not stand
Dominus of his own ludus

once claimed by Batiatus?

Favor granted by Crassus himself.

His f*cking house is buttressed

upon back of his Doctore Korris.

Absent him, the Syrian
would fall to deserved ruin.

True. As many before,

the Syrian stands upon
shoulders of his betters.

And seeks to gain further
purchase beyond reason.

[Gabinius sighs] As all
of base position dream.

Why do you think they come
to those of us higher born,

seeking the borrowing of coin?

The loaning of it a loathsome thing,

and your brother never
should have moved you

toward such base venture.

Let us not gather Servius into argument,

nor turn from fact that
interest paid on 'base venture'

offsets costs of fineries

you so enjoy.

We stray from point.

I hold suspicion you shall
navigate us back round to it.

Do you not glean desire
simmering in the eyes

of the Syrian when lighted upon
our daughter?

Is it a wonder? She is of a form,

as her mother so stands.

You flatter when you
should be rising towards anger.

And you anger when you should
descend towards quietude.

Now, attend to Viridia,

and place thoughts of
the Syrian from mind.

Words difficult to embrace. He...

I will hear no more of it!

If he proves of no value,

he shall surely manufacture
his own demise.

Draw comfort from such,
and let that be an end of it.

[Ashur shouts]

- Leave it!
- Yes, Dominus.

Assessment holds true.
Achillia yet proves unable

to shatter chains tethering ascension,

and with it, the rise of
this f*cking house!

[Hilara] The Nubian sours mood,

a thing keenly felt since her arrival.

Untamed oxen break countless yokes

until they learn to walk
where strong hand leads.

Am I to be a farmer then,
plowing fields of sh*t?

Apologies, Dominus.

I-I did not mean to speak out of turn.

[Hilara] Achillia presents annoyance

absent benefit of beast of burden.

Perhaps you should reconsider

staking future in imagined abilities.

What words broken
led belief I sought your counsel

towards f*cking resolution?

[Hilara] I only seek to protect...

You do not stand f*cking wife,

nor I husband

in need of f*cking concern!

- [shouts]
- [table clatters]

Apologies.

I overstep.

[somber music]

[Ashur exhales]

[men shout in distance]

[Ashur groans]

What fresh sh*t pours into open mouth?

Fall to f*cking position.

- f*ck position!
- [Achillia grunts]

I will not work palus
beside f*cking woman!

A blessing to be
so removed from distraction

of lesser presence.

[Erato] Put tongue to proper use...

and lick f*cking c*ck!

Fall to command, you mad f*ck!

[Erato screams]

- Dominus watches.
- [grunts]

Hold ground, Erato!

Calm your mind.

[both grunt]

Tarchon, Erato! Fall to f*cking position!

[Erato screams]

[Erato growls]

[both grunt]

[percussive music]

[both grunt]

[Erato growls, grunts]

Do you know the f*cking man
who stands before you?

I am Celadus!

I bested Anthus in the f*cking arena.

Camulus fell to my

f*cking sword!

As did Magnetius, once champion
of this f*cking house.

Now, you shall heed word and show respect

for this f*cking ludus,

or see your blood on the f*cking ground!

- [Celadus screams]
- [whip cracks]

[Ashur] Embrace warning.

Witness feats accomplished
when mind is set to purpose.

Aspire to such...

and one day, you may also
recount grand tales...

of faded glory.

[thunder rumbles]

[thunder cracks]

Apologies.

Message has been delivered for Dominus.

Give it here.

Shall I fetch him?

No.

'Tis a matter beneath his attention.

I will deal with it directly in his name.

Domina.

[ominous music]

[Opiter] He views you as a common sl*ve.

I stand a free man,

receiving coin for service rendered.

And what amount graced palm for removing

decaying vestiges of
cherished brothers upon cross?

Did you wrest such knowledge
of our labors

- from that sh*t Proculus?
- [Opiter laughs softly]

Men of brute strength
may wrest such truths

from unwilling mouths,

yet, lacking such
stirring form as yours...

I must rely upon other skills.

I would be privy to
which skill one so slight

could muster in aid of such endeavor.

[Opiter] Oh, there are many
who have been persuaded

by the lilting tone of my voice, yet...

I favor listening.

Arrogant tongues often reveal
secrets that fall to advantage.

There are many paths to victory
absent force of arms,

to those with a mind to pursue them.

You exhibit rare insight,

even for storied Doctore.

It stands wounding shame
that the Syrian fails

to place respect where it is
so lavishly deserved.

Hm. A thing I would never allow
beneath my roof.

You broach offer?

[Opiter chuckles]
I merely make observation

in advance of... future possibilities.

I fear they are bleak
towards house blemished

by constant defeat in the games.

It's true.

Losses mount.

Yet, unlike the Syrian,

my house holds position

in the arena.

Imagine heights achieved if
drunken excuse training my men

were to be eclipsed by a more...

radiant sun.

You place blame for failure outward

towards your Doctore?

I place it where it is firmly deserved.

Present Doctore has
the mind of clotted earth.

Men grounded by dull wit
seldom grasp the heavens.

And only a fool leaps from a cliff

expecting wings to sprout
as if by miracle.

And how might a hawk
ever know he possesses such

when confined to restrictive cage?

How high could such a bird soar?

Far above the walls of a ludus,

borne aloft by the
turbulent winds of opportunity.

You are not what expectation conjured.

Well, I stand honored
in the exceeding of it.

- [thunder cracks]
- [men grunt]

[Achillia grunts]

[Ashur] Achillia!

Fall to position.

Let us divine if sober reflection

birthed desired result.

[Achillia] Dominus.

[Ashur] Begin.

[Achillia yells]

Dominus' words
were ill-spoken against you.

Yet he broached no lies.

Even hard truth
may be honeyed with gentle tone.

Such was deserved.

I do not stand wife...

nor should assume such position.

Nor should I see you
so aggrieved by love withheld.

Presence warms heart beyond words.

[wind howls]

I would warm more than heart...
if so allowed.

Sentiment is well received.

I have long desired to hear those words

fall from ripened lips.

[Hilara sighs] Messia,
I hold you dearest friend.

Friend?

There is no more truer word

for those who care for each other.

Then let us stand as such

and condemn errant musings
to forgotten memory.

[thunder rumbles]

[somber music]

[Achillia screams]

Perhaps the gods will bless us this day

- and they will k*ll each other.
- [laughter]

[Ashur grunts]

[Achillia grunts, shouts]

[Ashur] Good.

Use nimble body of a woman to advantage

against more lumbering opponent.

[Achillia grunts]

[both grunt]

Yet do not fall to overconfidence.

[Achillia shouts]

[Achillia grunts]

A mistake you may
never rise from in the arena.

[Achillia screams]

[Achillia grunts]

[Ashur grunts]

[Achillia whimpers]

[foreboding music]

[both scream]

- [Achillia pants]
- I ask again,

why do you fail?

[Achillia pants]

[Achillia screams]

[both grunt]

Fail.

[Ashur grunts]

[Achillia screams]

[Achillia exclaims]

[Ashur grunts]

Fail!

[Achillia screams]

[Ashur grunts]

[both grunt]

[Ashur roars, blood splatters]

[eerie music]

[thud]

Why...

do you...

fail?

[Achillia pants]

[coughs]

Because I stand unworthy!

My duty forsaken!

And the memory

shackles f*cking mind!

[somber music]

The weight you carry,

memories from the land you hail from,

of love, family, triumph and tragedy.

It is of no interest for
the eyes upon you in the arena.

The past,

stands not who we are.

The present is what holds meaning.

The promise of tomorrow.

[thunder rumbles]

Resume training.

And seize fate,

as champion of this f*cking house.

[thunder rumbles]

[thunder rolls]

[percussive music]

How gauge you my form against Achillia?

You stood as colossus, Dominus.

Question was not posed to you.

[Hilara] Yet words are plucked
from my thoughts.

You stood as described,

unequalled by man, nor undeserving woman.

I will not have reply
from sl*ve to Dominus...

but from Hilara

to Ashur.

[thunder rumbles]

I hold deep regret...

that eyes never witnessed you
upon sands of the arena.

Had they been upon me...

I would have risen to champion.

[Hilara whispers]
You forever stand as such

to those who hold you to heart.

[soft music playing]

[thunder crashes]

I would fall to bath
to erase day's labor.

I would have you as you are,

a god among men.

[both breathe heavily]

[Hilara moans]

[tense music playing]

[thunder rolls]

[all breathe heavily]

[Hilara moans]

[Hilara] Fetch wine.

Wait to be summoned.

[Hilara moans]

[percussive music]

You find offered distraction lacking?

Passion fails to rise
towards early contest.

Blood stirs with unveiling of the primus.

[Opiter] Hm.

Then let us not delay
anticipated arrival.

[both breathe heavily]

[Korris] You present such diversion

- to all who call upon you?
- [Opiter chuckles softly]

Such titillation pleases the
elite of both Capua and Rome,

knowledge embraced by
the previous Dominus

of the Syrian's own house.

I am yet astounded

that women of position lower themselves

to such base entertainment.

[Opiter] Their appetites far exceed those

- of languid husbands.
- [man moans]

You would marvel at those
who have crossed threshold

in such pursuits.

Surely none of esteem within city walls.

No less than the wife
of the aedile himself.

- Horatia?
- [Opiter chuckles]

And what of her friends?

Modesta? No.

I fear she lacks courage
to propel desire.

But the honored wife of
good Gabinius, however,

stands opposite in all regards.

[Korris whispers] Cossutia?

[Opiter chuckles]

The woman's disposition cuts sharper

than well-honed blade.

How did you fall to
such prickly acquaintance?

As with... many women of a certain age,

she craves days forever lost

and attention faded by passing years.

Praise and gentle words
dull even the sharpest edge.

The Syrian possesses no such insight

that would sway nobles to his cause.

[Opiter chuckles] He does lack
a certain art of tongue,

causing those of position
to shun his presence.

A thing of no concern

if you labored beneath
a more appreciative lanista.

I have lingered beyond reason.

You spoke of grain.

I shall see you well satisfied

to be delivered upon break
of day when storm has passed.

Gratitude.

I should fall from presence...

while-while I still remain upright.

What wonders could be presented
in the hopes of basking

in such glorious light
on a more permanent basis?

- Evidence.
- Towards?

I would see my men in deserved position

in the impending games
of the Ludi Apollinares.

You wish me to secure purchase

for the house where you stand dishonored

while elevating the Syrian
at my own expense?

I trained those men,
not the f*cking Syrian.

They stand but reflection of my worth.

Victory in the arena swells
esteem and conveys advantage

towards next who would
embrace me as Doctore.

And if gentle breeze
lights upon receptive ear

in service of desire?

Then perhaps we shall
share wine and words once more.

[people shout indistinctly]

[dog barks]

[grunts]

Apologies.

[tense music]

Coin or blood?

[man laughs menacingly]

Blood, then.

[man grunts]

[Korris grunts]

- [metallic squelch]
- f*ck ya, b*stard!

[all grunt, scream]

- [metallic squelching]
- [man groaning]

[man screams]

- [Korris grunts]
- [metallic squelch]

[Korris roars, growls]

[metallic squelch]

[both grunt]

[man grunts]

[all grunt]

- [man screams]
- [blood splatters]

[man grunts]

[Korris grunts aggressively]

[both grunt]

[chain rattles]

- [squelching]
- [Korris roars]

- [man screams]
- [wood clatters]

[man pants, grunts]

[both grunt]

[man grunts]

- [blade swishes]
- [man screams]

- [Korris screams]
- [metallic squelching]

[man growls]

- [man screams, howls]
- [squelching]

[Korris roars]

[Fides] How's your f*cking honor now?

[screams]

[Korris] Fides, you f*cking c**t!

[Fides screams] Spare life! I beg you!

I'm not in a forgiving mood.

Wrath falls upon mistaken form!

It is not my hand that moves against you!

Who set you to f*ck' task, eh?

[Fides groans]

[man screams]

[Korris pants]

- Fides!
- [man whimpers]

[squelches]

[Korris screams]

[Korris grunts]

[thunder rumbles]

[Achillia mutters fervently]

[sobs softly]

[thunder cracks]

[screaming]

The past stands not who I am.

[screams]

The past stands not who I am.

[screams]

The past stands not who I am.

[gasps]

[screams]

[rapid percussive music builds]

[screams]

- [guard] Achillia.
- [gate clangs]

You are summoned.

[thunder crashes]

[Ashur] There are those
among you, I am told,

who take issue with latest acquisition

and hold she does not stand
among the brotherhood.

Let us put such concerns
to f*cking grass.

[Tarchon] Dominus.

Apologies, but she has not yet
been tested upon bridge,

as each of us has.

Have you ever drawn blood
from your Doctore?

Hmm?

Have any of you f*cking c**ts?

Speak now

and dispel ignorance.

Achillia need prove herself
worthy of the mark to but one

in this house, and I...

stand well f*cking satisfied.

Kneel.

[metal hisses]

Set mind towards glorious f*ck' purpose

in honor of the House of Ashur...

and receive sacramentum gladiatorum.

Echo my words.

I commit my flesh, my mind, my
will to the glory of this ludus

and the commands of my Dominus.

I commit my flesh, my mind, my will...

to the glory of this ludus...

and the commands of my Dominus.

I swear to be burned, chained, beaten

or die by the sword in the
pursuit of honor in the arena.

I swear to be burned, chained,

beaten,

or die by the sword...

in the pursuit of honor in the arena.

Oath has been spoken.

[brand hisses]

[Achillia grunts]

She now stands among the brotherhood.

Let this hold end of
f*cking disagreement.

[gate rattles]

Doctore!

That sh*t Proculus moves against us?

The villain Fides is known to be his man

upon necessity and occasion.

And you ripped confession out of him?

No, he slipped from grasp-[grunts]

[Ashur] Attend with
more considerate touch

or see wound afflicted upon own flesh!

I yet live,

and all that follows I hold
to be a f*cking blessing.

[Ashur] Lifts heart to hear it so.

What of your task?

Were you able to secure
what I've asked of you?

I broke words and wine with Opiter

and gained his confidence as instructed.

And he suspected nothing
of your chance encounter

at the pits he often frequents?

He believes I was sent upon errand

to secure grain from Anubis.

And how did you leave the man?

Swelled with hope
of me becoming his Doctore,

if he moves Cossutia
towards our inclusion

in her husband's games.

You prove yourself beyond measure.

Rest and see health restored.

And what of Proculus?

[Ashur] We shall repay blood
with f*cking blood

upon time and place of our choosing.

[thunder rumbles]

[Fides grunts, pants]

I am in need of a f*cking medicus.

[groans, pants]

[ominous music]

It is done?

Korris yet lives,

though grievously f*cking injured.

See debt owed to your husband
stricken from ledger

as agreed upon in reply to
today's message,

and I shall redouble-

[blood splatters]

Consider ledger balanced.

[ominous music]

[dog growls]

[dog barks, crunches]

[foreboding music]