The Appian Peaks snuggled in the wool of clouds to ward off the morning chill as I marched to Fidelium from the Temple. Headache dug in behind my eyeballs like it was going to stay. The overgrown snake left me with such pain in my bones after our dream fight, that I swore off wrestling an actual serpent should I ever come across one. And I whistled, squinting at the washed-out spot of sun in the overcast sky. Victor was alive, on the mend, and it was downhill almost all the way.

I reached the school before noon and knocked on the wall of Rufius Fulgentius' office, to attract his attention to my return without stopping by. Let him follow me, if he were so inclined, even though I was his slave. The weight of this realization collapsed on me, burying me under, like that shoddily built tenement that had nearly killed Albus and his brother. At the Asclepius' temple, I worked hard and obeyed, sure. Yet there I could pretend that it was a penance served by a free citizen out of his own volition. At the school it was different.

Rufius Fulgentius' sandals thumped against the packed dirt of the gallery's floor right behind me. I picked up the pace to stay ahead of his huffing and puffing. When I burst into the training yard, my breath hitched in my throat.

It felt like I was gone for a year and returned—of course, I returned, where else would I go?—and found everything as it used to be: the sand-covered ring, the rough wall, the straw dummies, and the racks of the training weapons. Nothing had changed, except the configuration of the obstacle course. Even that hadn't been altered much, because my men were slackers. How I loved these idiots... not that I would tell them that.

One by one, men abandoned their sparring, those who faced me did it first, except for Quintus. He couldn't have possibly seen me from where he was, not unless he had an owl's ability to turn his head backward. Yet before I even finished my first step on the sand, he whirled. "Lanista!"

Quintus stuck his rudis into the ground, tossed his net aside and dashed toward me.

His limp was barely noticeable, but I yelled, "Tat! What are you doing running on that ankle?"

My scolding was useless, because Quintus came to a skidding stop in front of me.

"Ma... Maxi—!" His mouth worked, unable to finish my name, and his indigo eyes widened so much, they overtook half his face. It was clear he couldn't decide if he wanted to throw himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck, or cry from guilt.

I resolved his dilemma by giving him the most innocent hug I could manage. Despite his lankiness, his body shrunk somehow and his forehead bumped into my shoulder. Keeping my hands hovering above his back and his fly-away hairs out of my mouth, I shouted, "Victor is recovering!"

Junius stepped forward, applauding. "Viva Maximus!" he screamed, like it was my achievement, not Victor's amazing constitution and the temple's magical bite-of-life medicine.

The rest of my students didn't question Junius' assumptions. They took up his cry and converged on me. Why did they cheer my idiocy? And why, O why was I grinning like the biggest idiot of them all?

I'd won duels and tournaments, I won the Great Games, but my heart had never palpitated like this. Claudius Caesar handed me my rudis and my freedom to the roar of twenty thousand throats—and it wasn't the same triumph.

Quintus stepped back, clapping so hard I feared he'd have bruises on the palms of his hands. The pebble of his throat bobbed up and down, choking off any yells he might have tried to produce. It was for the best. In the small yard, echo bounced from the walls, multiplied. The ovation was deafening, and some invisible hand clutched my windpipe to shut off air.

Why was this happening? Nobody had bothered with cheers the first time I sold my person to the arena, not even my lover for whose sake— Not now! I tilted my head back... not even my lover! The sky revolved majestically over me. Another moment, and the old heartache on top of the amazement would have toppled me off my feet.

I raised my palm to stop this nonsense. "Don't think I would go easy on you because of the camaraderie."

My churlishness had the opposite effect from what I hoped for. They roared with laughter, as if I was joking. It added to the hubbub, so Rufius Fulgentius had to dig deep for his shrillest voice to be heard.

"You better!" he squealed. It was as pleasant as the sound of the ungreased wheel, yet I welcomed it. "When will Victor return? Our situation—" his voice broke on a trilling note, but he didn't need to strain it any longer. The fire was doused. The men's brows furrowed, and the excitement drained from their faces.

Wow, that was fast! What did I miss during my three-day vigil? Something major. Something bad. So bad, it was worse than Victor's near-miss.

I couldn't guess what it was, nor did I formulate any specific plan yet. I argued with Rufius Fulgentius simply out of habit. 

"It doesn't cost you a single sestertius to let him recover at the temple, noble Master. Room and board, all taken care of while he's unable to fight."

Scarlet splotched Rufius Fulgentius cheeks. "Come to the office, Maximus."

My queasiness fled. The invisible vise squeezing my temples released its grip. I no longer belly-ached over the rejection I had suffered eleven years ago. Well, well, well... Rufius Fulgentius had a therapeutic value in small doses. Who knew?

"Practice!" I barked at the men, particularly Junius. He was my best, so if he picked up his rudis, others would follow. "Fight!"

As if mocking my order, the first lightning of the brewing spring storm zigzagged across the sky. I looked up, and the clouds spilled their load. Thunder boomed so loud, it threatened to shake loose stones from the walls. Raindrops pelted my eyeballs, forehead and cheeks, multiplying at a frightening rate. It was too early for thunderstorms, but the weather had been off since the last Saturnalia, so why not a thunderstorm mid-spring?

Thunder roared after another flash of lightning, much closer this time, and so did I. "Tat! Get the gear covered up and get inside! Now!"

If Jupiter spoke to my students, they would not have obeyed him any faster.

I went after Rufius Fulgentius who'd already scuttled inside, whimpering about bad omens. I wouldn't say I dragged my feet, but my toes curled inside my sandals. Something was brewing aside from the thunderstorm and it stunk.

At his office, my owner reclined in a chair, one hand covering his eyes. He pointed at the waxed tablets that were spread on his table, instead of being neatly stacked. "Read it."

As I picked them one by one, scanning the scribbled messages, a crease deepened between my brows. "We are overbooked."

He whimpered.

Some bookings were one-on-one, private fights. I set those aside. "That's Junius, Didius, Valentine... maybe Probius."

"Nuh-huh. They all want you, if they can't have Victor."

Incidentally, I glanced at the graffiti wall. Victor dominated it: well-wishing, propositions, bets, drawing of his giant cock.

"Victor, for sure, but... me? How do they even know?"

Rufius Fulgentius followed the direction of my gaze. Shrugged. "I kept your comeback quiet, but the news got out somehow."

What was I supposed to do? Blame the Augusta of the Fidus Empire for being a terrible gossip?

I stacked four tablets to the far side of the table. "These are for major quad fights. We'll start the season with a bang, but we need a shield-wall with experience."

"Uh-huh," Rufius Fulgentius said.

"How's Laurentius' thigh?"

He wiggled his fingers in a 'so-so' gesture and cringed.

"Fine, I'll take the first two and push Probius harder, in case Laurentius doesn't fully recover by the third fight." I sighed. "It's really unfortunate timing for Victor to be down, but I'll keep an eye on him at the temple. Make sure he's in fighting shape by the time he returns."

"You'll train him at the temple of blessed Asclepius?" Rufius Fulgentius gawked. "Seriously?"

"With the priest's permission and yours, of course. He'll recover faster there than at the barracks. They have medicines Fulvia can't dream about."

I suspected the priests wouldn't waste their precious bite-of-life on Victor once he was out of the Sanctuary, but it was pretty on the Healers' Hill. Peaceful. Safe. Not at all like a dirty, stinky corner of the dormitory. I wanted Victor to have the best, so I tapped my fingers on the tablets with the big leagues bookings.

"In a month or so, we'll bring Victor back in. Mithras' willing, we can rotate three quads at that point."

The oily film of greed rose to the surface of Rufius Fulgentius' eyes. Despite that, he hesitated.

"You'll be burning a torch on both ends," Rufius Fulgentius said. What he wasn't saying hung between us, anyway. 'You're growing old, Maximus.'

I dipped my head. "Do you have funds to purchase another experienced shield-wall?"

The gears churned behind Rufius Fulgentius' wrinkled forehead. His brain wasn't a fine-tuned instrument, so I could guess everything he was pondering and twice as fast.

What choice indeed was there? Buy another shield-wall, so soon after splurging for Victor? We'd go broke and there was no guarantee the new slave would be of sufficient quality.

"Fine," Rufius Fulgentius rasped at last, "I hate it, but fine. Let's do it."

I stifled a smile. Victor would get his respite. And I would have time to wear him down, scruples or not after his injuries. Similarly to Rufius Fulgentius, I also had no choice. More lives were on the line.

"You won't regret it," I promised to both my master and myself.