We begin our story on the decks of several ships, traveling over the vast oceans on a voyage from Rome, in search of a better life. Ordinary citizens from all over the country, all manner of professions--pottery makers, farmers, tailors and seamstresses, homemakers, warriors--are crowded together in close quarters, but hopeful and happy. They have been traveling for countless days already, and for miles there is nothing but water and sunlight.

The rolling of the waves under the vessel were genteel for now. The morning was quiet, the sky a perfect shade of blue, lightening gradually with hues of pink and orange as the sun rose far to the east. The waves crashed and rolled against the bow of the ship as it crossed the waters, unhindered by them, yet rocked by them all the same. It was quiet still. Most of the passengers were still sleeping, curled up on the single deck below and wrapped in blankets and robes, kept warm by the insulation the woven baskets of wheat and other food provided.

Brison woke early and headed out onto the deck of the ship, a couple weeks out of Rome and he still looked back, concerned someone might be coming after them. He and his wife decided to leave with several others, before the chaos that was approaching overtook Rome and the rest of the Empire. Looking to the captain he called out, "How goes our voyage?"

The captain looked down at Brison and gave a friendly wave of greeting, his hand leaving upward from his head in a half circle. "We are making great time! The gods are granting us favor on this journey. They must pity us." he said with a humble smile. The captain was an older man, his hair already white. But he was strong and experienced, having tolerated decades of work at sea. "We should hit land soon. Any day now," he said confidently. That was a relief. The sooner they started to move into shallower waters, the better--they were less like to hit a harsh storm if they were closer to a chunk of land that could soften the blows. "How fare your wife and son?"

"They sleep easier than they did in Rome and my mind and conscious are clearer here than there. Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked looking out over the horizon. Isidor and his wife would sleep a little while longer and then he would go back under deck and spend time with them.

The captain nodded his head at that response and peered out over the horizon himself. "Naught. The passage is so clear yet... perhaps later if the wind changes." he said.

There were some soft footsteps on the stairs leading up from the below deck, and a head of straight, dark hair appeared. The young woman was wrapped in light robes of cotton, which barely managed to cover her olive skin. She had boarded this ship alone, with no family, no husband, no possessions, but she had befriended Brison's wife, Ptoli, very quickly. "Companion, your wife calls for you," she said gently. "She wishes not to move, as Isidor sleeps still."

Brison smiled and thanked Calia then went below deck and made his way to his wife and son. Kissing her lightly, "Good morning, how did you sleep?" Isidor was still asleep, his dark hair getting thicker as he got older and Brison kissed his forehead. There were still others sleeping or talking in hushed tones, this had been life the last couple days and while some hated it, Brison held on to the hope a better life awaited them at the end. "Can I get you anything my love?" he asked.

Ptoli rolled to look up at Brison with a warm smile. She had hair the shade of honeysuckle and skin a warm peach. She was dirty from living this life on the ship the last couple of weeks, but so was everyone else aboard. She was covered in a woven blanket the color of sand, and just as dry and rough to the touch, as if it belonged on the backs of horses. Isidor had taken most of it, and she was happy for it either way. The inside of the below deck was warm enough with all of the bodies inside it anyway. "No, thank you," she cooed up at Brison quietly. She reached up and touched his face endearingly. "I just missed your face. I have seen so much of it as of late... not seeing it upon waking nearly broke my heart." she joked with a small smile.

"Soon we will be in a new home," he said kissing her again, "Then we will raise our family and have a good home." Looking at the small form of their son sleeping soundly, they would have more. They had always talked of having more children and helping raise grandchildren as well. Soon they would be passing out the rations for the morning and then it would just be more waiting to spot land.

Ptoli looked at Isidor's sleeping little body as well and smiled at it an adoring smile. "He will be so happy to have brothers," she said, "and I will be so happy to have daughters." She laughed and looked up at him. "May the gods bless us with plenty of both." She kissed him again and shifted to sit up a little.

Calia came down from above again and eased herself to sit on the bottom step. She drew up her knees and watched Brison and Ptoli quietly, if a bit enviously. She'd had plenty of advances from other male passengers--both married and single--but she had declined. No one had caught her eye like Brison had. But he was taken, and she would respect that. She would merely watch from afar.

The people came around passing out the rations, Brison insisted Ptoli have hers first. He could wait and if she was still hungry he would give her or Isidor half of his. He had noticed Calia on the stairs, she had become a good friend to them both and Isidor enjoyed her company as well. The people on the ship all had become good friends with his family.

Isidor woke as the breakfast rations were being handed out. Isidor happily took the half of stale bread and warm chicken in a gravy-like substance for his breakfast. He hummed happily as he ate, making a mess of himself. Ptoli would occasionally wipe his mouth of dripping gravy and pop her finger into her mouth to clean it off, making him laugh. He was too hungry to waste it with continuing those games though. Ptoli and Isidor finished their food quickly, and then Isidor toddled off on his two little legs to play with the few other kids on the boat. As always, Calia kept a watchful eye over him, and Ptoli was well aware of her care so that she could go relieve herself and scrub her teeth with the frayed ends of a piece of alfalfa. She curled up beside Brison with her back to the wall of the boat, watching Calia watching Isidor from aside the small living space. It was a bit more spacious now that several bodies had moved upstairs to enjoy the clear sea air. A couple of the shutters had been opened to allow a little breeze, and it significantly cooled the inside of the space. "When we get there," Ptoli started to Brison, "I want a piece of land with green as far as the eye can see... and heather. And a stone wall waist high to corral Isidor and the goats." she chuckled.

"Only waist high? He will be over it before it is finished." Brison teased her taking her hand in his. He too watched his son, hoping wherever they went he would become a good man. The air wafting through the shutters caused him to pull a little closer to Ptoli. "The chill reminds me of our first night together in the mountains." he said smiling at that thought.

Ptoli's lips turned up in a smirk and she looked up at her husband from under her pretty lashes. "Mm, it was warmer than this," she said, her tone hinting at the intimacy they had shared to keep warm against the winter chill. "And far sturdier." She laughed as a particularly large wave rolled the boat a bit to the right. Everyone on and inside the boat shouted and laughed with the jostling, especially Isidor and the other children, and then everything settled again.

Brison hated the water, not a lake or river but the open ocean the vastness of it all. He could swim, but there would be no safety in sight out here. Putting the thought aside he settled back with Ptoli until Isidor came to him with open arms, then he picked up his son and placed him between him and his mother.

Ptoli welcomed her son between them and laughed. "And this little heathen is the result!" she laughed. She kissed his head and ruffled his head of blonde hair, then looked at Brison and kissed him, too. There was another harsh roll against the boat, and she fell against Brison a little, bracing herself so as not to crush Isidor between them.

"All men above! A storm approaches!" the captain called to the passengers below. Any women who had been above hurried down the steps and the men below hurried up to take their places. The women grabbed their children, Calia helping to round them up. The captain was already shouting orders above to brace the sails and take hold of the oars.

Brison hurried and followed the other men, but called back to Ptoli. "Don't worry, we'll be through it before long I promise." He then began to help the men who went topside to brace the sails, after that he took his place on the oars and said a prayer to the gods that they would get through this.

The ship began to pitch and roll as the waves began to grow. The closer they grew to the storm--or rather, the more the storm bloomed over them with a menacing drumming of thunder--the higher the waves became. The men at the oars were sprayed with cold water and the winds blew harsh and unrelenting against the sails. The captain kept hold of the wheel, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep the ship on a straight path.

Brison was doing everything they could do to keep the ship going. Shouting encouragement to the others at the oars, "Fight, fight this storm for your families!" Inside he pleaded with the gods to spare his wife and child, if his life needed forfeit than so be it.

Everyone on the ship shared his prayers as they fought the storm. The sky darkened further as the clouds thickened. There were endless peals of thunder and flashes of lightning large and bright enough to be the arms of gods. The waves crashed and rolled like mountains around their ships. There had been several at the start of this journey. Very suddenly, the captain could only locate three others. "HOLD!" he warned as a wave crashed the port side of the boat and threatened to capsize it. It steadied yet and he looked up. A massive hurricane was swirling ahead of them, and there were two others touching down. "By the gods..." he said under his breath, the rain pelting them now. There was another crash of thunder, but it was nothing compared to the sound of the boat breaking beneath them. They climbed up another wave, countless miles into the sky, but just when they thought they would crest it, it overturned them, and brought the entire ship hurtling back down into the abyss below.

The world went dark and muffled. The boat was broken to splinters, and lives ended abruptly in the mess of wood, sails, and supplies. 

When Brison awoke he was laying facedown in the sand with the tide lapping against him. The sun was out and he slowly moved, pushing himself out of the water. He then rolled over and sat up; looking up and down the beach he saw debris. "Ptoli! Isidor! Calia!" he shouted several times looking out to sea. He continued to move along the shore shouting for anyone.

There were bodies. So many bodies. Debris for miles. Isidor and Calia were nowhere to be found. Many people were just... gone. Missing. The tide was gentle now and the storm was far off from the shore, rumbling menacingly from afar. Otherwise, the sky was a clear blue, without a cloud after the dark storm head ended. He walked for hours before he would see a familiar face.

Caught on a heavy piece of wood that had perhaps been part of the mast was his beautiful Ptoli. Her normally peachy skin was now a sickish green shade, pale and still. Her hair was matted with kelp and blood, her entire body covered in sand, and it lolled with the tide as the waves pushed the mast she was stuck to. She had been impaled by a large shard of wood through her chest. Her eyes were open, glossy with the sea water, staring at nothing.

Brison emitted a strangled cry and pulled her free of the mast, he looked about for their son to no avail. He held her close and cried, overcome with grief he would have to attend his wife but would be unable to do the same for their child. Poseidon had claimed him with so many others. Gathering what would he could find he began to make a pyre, also gathering others he found. Ptoli was last onto the pile, "My dearest love, please find our boy and wait for me in the afterlife. I love you as I always have." he kissed her forehead and stepped back. It took some time but he did light the pyre and sent their souls to rest. Looking around he had no idea where to head next, so he began to walk away from the shore and the smoke.

The place he had landed was massive. Even from the shore, he would see green trees and mountains for miles, dwarfed only by the skies above them. Little did he know, the pyre he had lit, and the smoke rising from it, had caught the attention of other bodies on the island. They had already been scouring the shores after the storm, and had struck figurative gold with the survivors they had found. They lurked in the trees and brush, and when he was far enough into the jungle, they pounced. A dozen men, dressed in rags and crude armor, jumped at Brison with spears and swords. They shouted their war cries and surrounded him.

With nothing left in this life, an anger built up inside Brison and he lashed out with a battle cry of his own and threw himself at the nearest attacker. He might not survive, but he would be with his family soon and might even kill some of these men now. The man he went after had a spear, and he planned on killing him for the spear and then a swordsman. His body was tired but the anger spurned him on to fight to kill anything to relieve the pain in his heart.

The man he had attacked had honestly not been expecting that. They had been capturing survivors all morning, but this one... He did something more than simply submit. He was not prepared and Brison easily overtook him. He stumbled backwards and Brison had his spear. The men didn't retreat simply because he was armed. The others closed in on him, despite his rage, and tried to overpower him. Two others, armed with a weighted net, waited to throw it on him at the first opportunity.

They would not have known that he had been a soldier, that his wife had pleaded with him to leave with her and their child. Easily he feinted and stuck one of the swordsmen with the spear, Brison was angry with himself and with the gods who took his family away. And if he could not kill the gods then these men would stand in for them.

When he actually showed some skill, and managed to kill one of them, the men started to become uneasy. It was only after the second one died that they became desperate. The two with the net threw it over him and tackled him to the ground so he could no longer use the sword he'd gotten a hold of. Another waited until he had a clear shot, then struck Brison on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword.

The world went black for Brison for a second time.

When he woke next, it would be because his head was pounding and the world was moving around him. Or maybe he was moving. He was restrained, his ankles and wrists bound, and his mouth gagged. He was in the back of a cart. A caged cart. There were voices around him, chatting in another language. Aside from that, it was the sound of the iron wheels on the ground and horse hooves ahead of that. A whip cracked somewhere off to his left and a woman screamed in pain and fright.

Disappointment waved over him, they had captured him instead of killing him. There were others here going with them to the destination. Brison tried to turn his head enough to see if he knew anyone, but the strike to his head hurt too much.

"Do not move," came a rough voice from close behind Brison. Another male. The other passengers in his cage were all male, of all different ages and sizes, but most of them were of good size and muscle mass. The one behind him was shaved bald on his head, though the rest of him had a good helping of hair. He was battered and bruised across his face the same as Brison. He was Roman, but not from the ship Brison had been on. Perhaps one of the others. He looked down at Brison with deep green eyes and said, "They hit you hard. You have been out for almost a day." Though, he supposed part of that could have been the exhaustion. Brison had been thoroughly waterlogged when they had tossed him into the cage.

"Where are we? Where are they taking us?" he asked the man. He knew why they had not killed him now, these men were slavers. His heart still ached, but he was happy his family would not suffer this fate. "You weren't on my ship, did you leave Rome on board ship?" he tried probing to find out any kind of information.

The man nodded his head and looked down at Brison. He reached forward and carefully helped remove his gag from the rest of his mouth, then helped him sit up so he could look around. He steadied him until the dizziness departed, then sat back again. "I did, but that was long ago. My name is Jaro, but everyone calls me Dominus." He motioned to Brison's restraints. "You must have put up one hell of a fight. They do not normally restrain as they have done you. You will fetch a hefty price in Atlantis."

The cart was rolling down a dirt road, following another cart full of people. It looked like it was full of women and children. Young ones were crying, as were older women. They were approaching what looked like giant, stone city gates. They were carved with intricate designs indicative of fish and other sea monsters. Just inside the gates, the populous suddenly overflowed. There were people everywhere. Men were selling, women working, and children playing. Music played somewhere in the distance and the smell of freshly cooked beef wafted towards them.

"Atlantis? It's a child's tale, there is no such place." Brison said looking around him. Atlantis a place of magic and mysteries where it was said the gods walk amongst mortals. His father told him the island country never existed, that Rome was the hub of the world.

Dominus laughed a deep-chested, amused chortle. "I would start believing, if I were you." he said, good-naturedly. The cart slowed to a jerky stop, but only so the cart ahead of them could unload. "Ah... The town square." Dominus sneered. There was a stage where humans were shackled, being sold, nude or in rags but all dirty and bloody. The cart of women and children ahead of them was unloaded and forced to line up towards the stage.

There were dozens of them. Some of them Brison was sure to recognize as the wives, children, and mothers of his ship mates. The children were crying and clinging to their mothers--if they survived--or any woman they could, if they were alone. Then, suddenly, he would see someone all too familiar. A head of dark hair, matted with sand and saltwater, and barely covering olive skin. Where Calia's robes had barely covered her before on the ship, they were ripped to shreds on her body now and did nothing to hide her modesty. More importantly, hugged to her front in protective arms was Isidor. He was perhaps the only one not crying, too young still to understand what was happening. Other children were hugging themselves to Calia's waist and legs, sobbing out of fear and confusion. She hugged them back as best she could with her one free arm, the other clutching a naked Isidor to her hip.

Brison couldn't believe it, his son; his and Ptoli's baby had survived the shipwreck. He had to get out of this cage, take them to a safe place. With a noise akin to a growl he forced himself to a standing position, even while being restrained and grabbed the bars of the cage. Several people turned their attention to him, he ignored them and instead focused on Calia and Isidor. "Dominus, how do I get out of here, how do I get them out of here?" Brison asked quietly.

Dominus looked at Brison as though he were mad. "You do not," he insisted quietly, "such a thing is impossible from where we currently sit!" he hissed. "I suggest you plant your ass back down before they bring the whip on it!"

Just as he said this, Calia and the children huddled around her were bring ripped apart. The children screamed and a whip lashed at them with a mean crack, forcing them to scamper back to the older women in line behind them. Calia was pulled up onto the stage to be sold, but when a man tried to pull Isidor from her arms, she screamed a she-devil's shriek and her fist collided with his throat. He stumbled back and fell off the stage. A few men laughed, others looked shocked and angry that she would have the nerve to do such a thing. She glared at them all like a mother tiger protecting her cub, and clutched Isidor tighter to her chest as he began to cry from being grabbed. The man with the whip approached her. She saw him come, and dropped to her knees, covering Isidor's tiny body with her own as the whip's leather came down on the smooth skin of her back with another loud snap. She cried out against the boards of the stage and against Isidor's shoulder.

"RELEASE THE CHILD!" the man with the whip demanded between lashings. But Calia did not let Isidor go.

Standing in the crowd Ragan turned his attention from the stage to the noise of the cage behind him. Apparently, the male must know the female and child on the stage. Perhaps if he could purchase all three then he could use the woman and child to encourage the man to fight in the arena. However, as he touched his belt pouch he frowned it was lighter than he would have liked. His father saw to that, he and his new step-mother hated to let Ragan do as he pleased. Turning back he lifted his arm, "forty for the woman and child!"

The man with the whip paused three lashings in. He turned to see who had called, leaving Calia a trembling mess of cries and blood with a screaming baby in her arms. Even though it hurt to move, Calia lifted her head to see as well. "You wish to purchase them both, Sire?" he asked, as if unsure. No one raised their hand or voice in a counter bid. Forty was already a hefty price. "She has already shown herself troublesome, sire, allow me to sell you a woman well-broken."

"My bid stands, and I do not wish it harmed anymore than you have done!" Ragan retorted. He was known as the Senator's son and that afforded him a great deal of leeway. The child would distract his step-mother and the woman, well he'd find a use for her at some point. Hoping the remaining hundred would be enough for the warrior, but he doubted it already the news that the man had killed two of the slavers men had spread. Who knows what would need to be done to get the full usefulness out of his slave and the man in the cage.

The man nodded at Ragan obediently and waved two other slavers forward to grab Calia and the baby. They pulled her to her feet by her arms, making her scream in pain. One of them made the mistake of thinking it would be easier to try taking Isidor from her now that she was week from pain. Her hand lashed out the instant he grabbed for Isidor, leaving angry scratches down his face. She clutched Isidor still, even trembling from agonizing pain from her lashings, and struggled as the other slaver led her off the stage towards Ragan's waiting caravan. As they did, they walked by Brison in his cage. Calia looked up at him and her eyes went wide. He survived! But he was bound. "I'll keep him safe!" she swore to Brison as she was half-dragged away. "On Ptoli's soul, I will keep him safe, and you find us!"

Ragan watched the reactions of the woman and the man in the cage, so they were familiar with one another. That meant the investment in them was well placed. He instructed his man to keep an eye on the woman and child then turned back and waited for the male to come up for auction. Although his hopes were soon dashed, Noam the leader of a gladiator school had arrived and the old goat had deeper coffers then Ragan's pouch.

The women and children were auctioned off one by one, and one by one they were sold. Only three remained unsold, who were donated to Noam As he was noticed in the crowd. The mens' cage was unlocked next. They were forced onto their feet and to shuffle in their heavy shackles towards the stage, and then up and onto it by slavers armed with whips, swords, and other sharp instruments. They were lined up neatly for inspection and introduced.

"Put on a good show, companion," Dominus whispered to Brison, "pray a wealthy man takes you and promises you freedom for your servitude." When his name was called, Dominus stepped forward with a stoic expression, but his history of being a ruthless fighter was told and he raised his shackles arms with a barking growl, making buyers in the crowd nod contemplatively. He stepped back again and Brison was introduced next.

Brison did not move, didn't make any showy attempt to have a bidding war upon him. A man who would pay a handsome amount to have him, would never allow him to leave. And under lock and key he would never be able to escape and save his son and Calia, as she was now being mother and protector to his son. When the slaver took a threatening move towards him, Brison growled enough to remind him that he was missing a few men because of the Roman.

"This animal," started the auctioneer with a motion to Brison, "is a cold-hearted, ruthless killer. Just today he took down three of my best slavers, all armed with swords, spears, and armor!" He announced, making the onlookers gasp and stare. "He fears nothing! He laughs at death!" There were a few murmurs in the crowd and buyers eyed him. Calia watched him from the bars of Ragan's caravan, trying not to cry from her own paralyzing pain. Isidor was hushed now, sucking on his thumb and still clinging to Calia's breast.

The auctioneer moved on and finished introducing the last of the male slaves. Some of them were leaders in the ring, large men with lots of promise. Others were small and scrawny. Once the introductions were doled out, the auctioneer returned to the center of the stage and threw up his arms. "I open the bidding!"

Noam, who had purchased Dominus started, "twenty." Several others brought the bidding up to forty, Ragan knew he had to make a move, "Sixty!" A couple lower gladiator owners dropped out, complaining that the Senator's son, "Had no business buying gladiators." Ragan looked happy with his purchase until Noam spoke again, "Eighty."

The auctioneer was more than happy with this development. He loved it when the bidders got into a small war over his product. The profit for him just continued to go up. "I have eighty!! Eighty for master Noam! Any counter bids?! Any at all for this beast?!" He said with another wave at Brison.

Too late the auctioneer realized he was too close to his "beast" as Brison head butted the man and sending reeling backwards off of the stage. Some laughed, some were amazed that such a thing had happened, Noam knew he made a good selection and went to pay for his prize. Dominus was an excellent addition, but this new one with all the news about him would bring the people for miles around.

While the auctioneer was busy recovering from his broken nose and Noam was seeing to his purchase, Brison, Dominus, and whichever others Noam had purchased were ushered from the stage and towards Noam's caravan. They were filed past Ragan's caravan, and Calia sat up on her knees, clutching to the bars with Isidor in front of her. She watched Brison with sad brown eyes, her matted black hair in front of her face. Isidor recognized his father from so close and screeched as he reached through the bars, screaming, "DADDY!"

One of the guards went to strike at the cage and for his effort caught Brison's elbow in the face. Brison pulled to the cage and touched his son's face. "I will come for you, both of you." he said looking in his son's eyes then into Calia's with dire seriousness. Several guards descended upon him and after a beating they hauled him away to Noam's group.

Calia and Isidor had clutched to Brison while they could, as did several others in the cage. Perhaps they thought him a life line--a shimmering glimmer of hope for them all. Isidor screamed painfully as his father was ripped from his tiny hands, and Calia's hovered where she'd lost contact with him. She pulled Isidor in from the edge of the cage as more guards came to correct them. She wouldn't see him hurt, not even in the smallest ways.

Dominus made sure to stay close to Brison after the beatings on him from the guards stopped. He helped him to his feet and dusted him off with his bound bands. "You are insane," he commented, both sad and amused. He understood the sentiment though, between Brison and his son. He looked towards Ragan's caravan as it lurched and then headed on through the city towards the farms on the outside. "They'll be alright, companion, I swear it. They are off to the senator's house. If they keep in line, they'll be well cared for."

Ragan had watched everything and was impressed with what he saw. He had no idea that Ptoli was the child's mother, he figured that Calia was. He tried to get closer so that he could talk to Noam, but the slave master came to him first blathering on about adding any of the slaves not purchased. And before he could untangle himself from the bothersome man the gladiators were long gone.

---

Noam's gladiator school was only a school in the sense that there was an expansive training arena in which the gladiators bled, exercised, and fought until they could fight no more. The open dirt arena was situated in the back of the colossal house in which Noam lived, decorated with marble columns and swaying tapestries. The house looked old, despite its impressive size, and might have been inherited. The gladiators and other slaves occupied a series of smaller wooden houses outback, fortified by iron bars. Iron gates and fences lined the whole of the property to keep the gladiators in, though their treatment here was more than enough to keep them obedient. When the caravan of new slaves rolled in, the ones training in the arena paused their exercises to hoot and holler at the caged cart. They banged their swords on their shields and barked like dogs. Dominus was all too familiar with this welcome and barked back fervently from between the bars, almost excitedly. He was actually flushed and panting when he looked back down at Brison.

"We will be more than companions now, Brison. We will be brothers of the arena!" He beamed.

Brison had to admit the whole treatment was more akin to when he served in the legion. His mind though was still too concerned with Isidor and Calia, they were his first thought. "How long do we remain here? I've never heard of many gladiators earning their freedom." he asked to Dominus.

"It depends on our new master. Some allow their fighters to earn their freedom in the money they win in gambling winnings. Most will set you free if you earn back what they paid for you, or twice that. Some will make you fight until you die in the arena... Some may force you to fight until you are old and let you retire in peace." Dominus shrugged as if to say it was hopeless to know until they spoke to Noam.

"I need to be free sooner than old age, I need to get my son back." Brison said even as Noam motioned for his men to bring the new recruits forward. In his mind the old gladiator knew that the Roman would have a good word of mouth and draw many people and a great deal of coin. All that remained now was how to get him to fight.

Dominus clapped Brison on the shoulder encouragingly as they were led down from the cage and onto the hard-packed dirt of the arena. They shuffled in their shackles out and into a straight line, like before at the slavers' in the center of town. Dominus stood tall and proud and watched Noam with steady eyes.

"MY NAME IS NOAM!" he began in a rich baritone voice, "Or if that is too hard to remember MASTER will do just fine. You lot belong to me now and will fight and in most cases die by my will. GLORY, will come to those who seek it with me as your guide. Those who choose not to listen to me will find only death approach that much faster. Serve well and do as I instruct and you will be rewarded and have many pleasures, or disobey," he looked at Brison, "And suffer my wrath." He then motioned for his men to begin going through his new men to separate them by skill.

Noam's men, all experienced and skilled fighters, began to question, assess, and test the skills of the new men brought in. The scrawnier ones were ordered to the houses. They could clean, keep armor well polished, and sharpen swords. The bigger ones, like Brison and Dominus, were pulled aside and drilled. Dominus exceeded expectation, as always. He was calculating, his movements smooth and practiced, his blows hard and unrelenting. He didn't stop until he had forced his competitor down on one knee, then he stepped back and offered him a hand up when it was clear he was victor. He turned to Noam and brought his right fist to his left pectoral in a harsh punch, a sort of salute of servitude.

Brison did as he was told, but in a less showy style than Dominus. Noam watched impassively, the beastly one had never been a fighter like a gladiator. More than likely he was a soldier, "Dominus is a natural in the arena, Brison will need to learn to play to the crowd. That is all for them right now, Dominus, you will have your choice of place to sleep and eat first." He narrowed his eyes at Brison, "You will eat last and sleep wherever is left after the others, or in a cage if you prefer."

Noam's head fighter, a harsh man of massive size by the name of Cranth, nodded in understanding to his master's orders. He would make sure Brison ate last and slept last. Dominus was happy with his privilege, and thanked his master respectfully before he was showed off by his new arena brothers to the wooden houses. He kept an eye on Brison though. He had a feeling Brison would come to surprise them all.

Brison had no reaction and waited while the others got their food and picked out a place to sleep. In the end he was left with a straw pallet in one of the worst corners of the shack. Truthfully he did not care, but he would need to play this game so that he had a chance to get to his son. It was still daunting that Atlantis existed, this was going to be the place he would live until he could get his family back. He prayed that Isidor and Calia were safe and asked Ptoli to watch over them.

---

Ragan smiled as he arrived home with the new slaves in tow, his step-mother, Zarka who was closer in age to him then his father was waiting. He explained to his guard to take Calia and Isidor to be cleaned up and dressed, he would speak to them before introducing them to his family. When he got to the top of the stairs he nodded respectfully to Zarka, the only reason she became his father's wife was due to her exotic looks and ability to please him. However, due to his father's age he was unable to gift her with a child she so desperately wanted. "I see that you have been waiting for my arrival mother." he said trying to sound placative and obedient.

"As though I had anything else to wait for," Zarka retorted playfully. She was excited, really. She always rather enjoyed seeing new slaves come in. New faces and attitudes revived her. She was also a fan of a good gossip or scandal, besides. She touched his shoulder out of familiarity and smiled. "What have you brought home for us, Ragan?"

"Something I think will spark your interest dear mother. I take it my father is still at the senate? I think he leaves you alone entirely too much." Ragan said, with almost a veiled comment. In truth, he found her alluring, mainly because like his father's title, it and she was his fathers. Ragan aspired to take power from his father and eventually everything, for there was no love loss between them. "I have a few matters to attend to with your gift and then I shall bring them to you. Will you be in the garden or somewhere else within the next hour?"

Zarka cooed excitedly. "I will be sure to be somewhere you can find me easily," she assured him, her beautiful smile staying on. She released his shoulder from her touch and waved him off. "Go, go! The sooner you prepare my gift for me, the better!"

Calia and Isidor had been shown an area of the baths and been instructed to wash and redress in the garments provided. Isidor while knowing that Calia was a friend was unsure of the new surroundings, "I wan' Dadda." The guards then moved outside the entrance and left them alone. The house and even these baths were luxurious and Calia had seen that there were soaps and all manner of things to leave a person smelling wonderful. Although the question was why did the man buy both of them and bring them here?

Calia looked around warily and studied their new, rather lavish surroundings. She looked down at Isidor and frowned sympathetically. She knelt in front of him, even though having to do so caused her great pain in the lashings on her back. She cradled Isidor's face in both hands and kissed his brow. "I know, Isidor, I know. I want your daddy, too. We'll find him soon enough, but for now we need to be on our best behavior. Let's get you cleaned up and fed. Then you'll be a happy boy." she cooed. She helped him into a bath of warm water. The warmth of the water and soap caused her lashings to sting and become irritated, but she pushed through it for the sake of making sure Isidor was thoroughly cleaned. She combed his hair and dressed him in a new tunic that had been laid out for him. With that done, she washed her own hair of the sea water and dried kelp, and cleaned her own face and body of the excessive sand and grime. She felt refreshed, but still uneased. She combed her dark tresses and dressed in the tunic-like wraps provided to her. When they were both clean and dressed, she sat with Isidor on a bench and simply waited to be called on.

She did not have to wait long, Ragan had been watching as she cleaned Isidor and then herself, and entered when they had settled in. "I see the baths have been good to you and him. I am Ragan, and I purchased you and will tell you exactly what I require of you. My step-mother wants a child and I intend to allow her to have him, you will help her with him. If you refuse this then you will find that there are worse places and jobs that I can assign you. Many of those children that were holding onto you will not live out the month. And the women young and old without a use will wish they were dead working in the brothels on their backs. Do we understand?" he asked even as his own eyes slid over Calia.

Calia slowly looked up at Ragan. Her expression was a bit stoic, almost disrespectful, but hard overall to read. Her dark eyes considered him. He was wealthy, the son of a man with power, she assumed. She rose from the bench slowly and turned to face him more rightly. She was not immune to his appreciation of her body. The tunics that had been provided for her did little for the imagination; they hugged her curves rather sensually, and she wondered if all Atlantian women dressed this way. After careful but brief consideration, she nodded her head once. "I will be his nursemaid for your mother," she agreed, "if it means he will never leave my sight. He is mine to protect." She had sworn, after all.

Ragan smirked and took hold of her chin in his hand, "Then we are agreed, but you will tame your distaste or I will make sure the boy suffers for it. You are one and I have many at my whim, I expect you to act as the slave you are." His next move was to smack Calia, "Imagine that one hundred times over, or perhaps my father's soldiers might see the pleasure they may take from the body under your tunic." The threat was implied, but for many it would be enough.

Calia's face was still turned away, paused where it had landed after his strike to her cheek. It was nothing compared to the burning open wounds in her back. She swallowed hard and clenched her jaw. She wanted to tell him that if he wanted her to curb her distaste for him, he was going about it the wrong way. But she would not risk Isidor getting hurt on her behalf, or because of her pride. So, instead, when she righted her head and neck to look ahead again, she kept her eyes down and said quietly, "Yes, master." His threat of letting his soldiers have her was both frightening and distasteful. She was untouched as of yet, and she would keep it that way as long as she could. She merely hugged Isidor into her leg and stood waiting for his next command.

"Now that we understand each other come with me." Ragan said turning and leaving the baths with them in tow. He led them through the house telling them about who his family was until they came out into the gardens. Zarka was there enjoying the sunshine and flowers, "Step-mother, may I introduce you to Isidor and his maid Calia I brought them from the slave market this morning."

Zarka, who was lounging on a long chaise bench stuffed with soft cushions, looked up at the approaching trio. She gasped a big, excited gasp and stood up at the sight of Isidor. "OH! Look at him! Look at you!" she squealed at the tot, who cowered behind Calia a bit. "Oh, he's adorable, Ragan, you bought him just for me?!" she yelped, then threw her arms around her stepson happily. "Oh, thank you! He's wonderful!"

Calia stayed silent, which was the easy part. The hard part was keeping the disgust from her face as Zarka spoke of Isidor like he was nothing more than an animal to own. She pushed Isidor in front of herself and nudged him towards Zarka after she had released Ragan. "Be polite," she chided gently, "say hello."

Ragan smiled inwardly as Zarka hugged him, his plan though starting small was taking shape. In truth he didn't care that the child was uneasy around her right now. They were merely a distraction while he continued his main plan to take his father's place and power. "Unfortunately, I tried to pick up a gladiator but I figure we might want to go to the next games. The one that I was trying to buy was rather spirited." he said when she finally let go.

Zarka scoffed a little and threw her hands up. "Another gladiator. You and those brutish games, you and your father both. The last one we bought did not last past five games. What makes you think this one will be different?" She turned her attention back to Isidor and smiled as sweetly as she could, opening her arms to him. "Come here, baby! Come see mommy!" Isidor stared at Zarka warily, with big eyes. When she mentioned "mommy," he instantly started to search for Ptoli, whimpering when he didn't see her. He clutched to Calia and started to cry. "What a rude little thing," Zarka commented, her smile slipping from her face as she straightened.

Calia quickly scooped Isidor up into her arms and hushed him, bouncing him and stroking his mess of curls. "Apologies, m'lady," she said, "he just lost his mother in a sea storm last night. He is too young to understand his loss." She tried to say this as respectfully as she could, without implying Zarka was some kind of spoiled simpleton.

Zarka wrinkled her nose a little and looked at Ragan. "Well... I suppose he'll do, I'll just have to work twice as hard to get him to open up to me."

"I'm sure in no time he will look upon you with the devotion of a son, and hold great love for you as I do." he said ignoring her comment about the gladiatorial games and their luck. "Calia will help bring the two of you together, I'm sure she could be a fountain of knowledge and a great nursemaid for him." he said coming to stand beside Calia. "You'll need to decide where they will sleep Zarka, as they aren't exactly your normal slaves. I'm sure Calia will be on her best behavior, so that you aren't required to seek magical means to keep her on the estate."

Calia's delicate brows furrowed at that comment. Magical? What did he mean? Zarka smiled though and clapped her hands, bringing Calia back to the present. "Yes. She'll help me and Isidor get acquainted." she agreed. She looked at Ragan and rested her hands on her hips languidly. "I suppose if you want to seek out purchasing that gladiator I could speak to your father of an allowance... As thanks for my new gifts." she smiled sweetly, prettily, almost with a natural seductiveness.

"Unfortunately, that old goat Noam bought him for eighty coin." Ragan said, "but if you could help me secure the money then maybe Noam would part with him. I don't truly know how I could thank you for your efforts on my behalf." he said smiling at her. He turned to Calia, "Do you think that if the mistress were to offer Isidor some treats, maybe some fruit he might come around to her?"

Calia was almost hesitant to answer. Zarka looked so genuinely excited though. She really wanted Isidor to like her. She looked at Isidor and said quietly, "I think so... some fruit or some sweets." she said, stroking his hair again. "A toy, perhaps."

"Oh! Let's go shopping! I can buy him everything he needs and wants!" Zarka said enthusiastically.

Calia tried not to frown. "That is very generous of you, mistress," she started carefully, "but Isidor and myself have done a lot of traveling and have been through something traumatic as of yesterday morning... We need some much-needed rest and food." she explained. "I fear that Isidor will not be his normal self if he does not eat or sleep soon."

Zarka's smile fell again visibly. "Oh... Oh, of course, how silly of me. Ragan, please show Calia where she can find some food for herself and the boy. Then show them to my quarters to rest."

Ragan bowed to his step-mother's request, "Of course, will there be anything else you will need while they rest?" After getting her answer he took them into the house and to the kitchen, the other slaves hurried as he ordered them about and then took Calia and Isidor to Zarka's quarters, "I have a job for you Calia, you will report anything I might need to know about my step-mother. I will consider it protecting my family and you will be rewarded for it." After the food came he let himself out and went back to check on Zarka and let her know that her 'property' was resting.

Calia was confused by his request. Anything he might need to know. It sounded like he was plotting something, or that maybe Zarka was not as kind or trustworthy as she outwardly seemed. Isidor are the food they had been given greedily, and drank the water they were provided with heavy gulps. Calia let him eat and drink first, and then helped herself to what was left. The natural course of events after that was for them both to grow sleepy. Calia tucked Isidor into the massive bed, the one she assumed was Zarka's and her husband's, and stayed beside Isidor until he drifted to sleep. Calia had a feeling that if she were caught sleeping in this comfortable bed that there would be hell to pay, so she helped herself to a softer chaise, which she pulled closer to the bedside, rather than the harsh marble floor. She fell asleep within moments, her eyes on Isidor and her hand wrapped protectively around his.

---

"WAKE UP!" bellowed Cranth, banging his sword hilt on his shield. "WAKE UP YOU DOGS OF THE DEVIL!" He went to every house performing this wake up call. The sun had not yet risen, but the air smelled light and early.

Dominus was already awake, dressed, and ready. He moved to Brison to check on him before Cranth could reach their house. "Companion, Are you roused?"

"Reminds me of the wake up call back home." he responded getting up. He did not like Cranth, the man was brutish and thought him everyone's superior and used violence where none was needed. He exited the shack and lined up with the other men, many would be unhappy that he was lined up closer to Dominus rather than the end of the line. After this start of the day they would go into the mess and have breakfast.

Cranth showed the line of men into the mess hall to eat. It was, at the basic level, a barn, cleaned out and with tables and stools put into it. The servants of the house had a few tables set up with plates of food laid out for the men to choose from. There were baskets of fresh fruits, breads, hot meat, and boiled eggs. Fresh water and even wine awaited them in glasses at the end of the line. Before Brison could grab any food for himself though, Cranth grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him back. "Noam says you eat last, dog!" he spat.

Dominus turned on Cranth and shoved him back, staring him down hard. Cranth recovered from the shove and approached Dominus, the two of them locked in a battle of wills and dominance as they touched foreheads and pushed against one another, not breaking eye contact. It was a bestial show of dominance, and it brushed over the entire public within the barn in a heavy silence. The others watched Dominus and Cranth try to best each other without laying hands on one another.

"Hold Dominus, I will not have you risk your standing because of an old scared dog." Brison said inferring Cranth being scared of him. "If a fight needs happen, then perhaps the old cur needs to do it himself."

Dominus was not one to normally back down--it was his namesake after all. But at Brison's bidding, he stepped back from Cranth, who followed him through a step before allowing him to leave the challenge. Cranth's eyes befell Brison next, and he scowled. "You dare call me old?! Insult me in front of so many of the men I myself have trained and hardened?!" he growled. "Let us go outside, dog, and I will show you how deep a hole you have dug yourself." he sneered, motioning to the doors. "Winner eats the other's portion on top of his own every day for seven."

Brison did not blink nor did he move yet, Cranth believed that his brutish nature would get the better of him. "Raise the stakes cur, if I win your bed is mine every night for seven." The murmurs of the men made Brison smirk, Cranth would not back out now and in his haste, Brison could handle him easily. "I'll even let you name the aspect of combat, although I'm sure waiting for me to grow as old as you are not one of them."

"My food and bed are yours for seven days if you best me at swords, as we are." Cranth said, a bit too proudly. He honestly believed he would win. How could an untrained, scrawny wash-up like Brison best him? He clapped his hand into Brison's forearm in a firm shake to settle the stakes, then motioned to the doors. He turned and exited first, all while calling for someone to bring out a pair of swords and shields. Naturally, all the other men in the barn followed, as did the servants. They wanted to bear witness to this, in order to uphold the winnings.

Dominus made sure he had a front-row sight, and clapped loudly, cheering Brison on. "Bets! Bets, who wants to bet?!" he called jovially. He actually received quite a few bets in Brison's favor, but most bets were for Cranth.

Brison held up his hands when he saw Noam watching, "Practice weapons, I would not damage Master's favorite old pet." And when they men brought shields and rudius, he took his and tested the weight of both. Once satisfied that he had brought Cranth into this fight, he prepared as a member of the Legion should for an oncoming opponent. He almost felt bad that he baited the other man into this.

Cranth narrowed his eyes and adjusted his grip on his own blunted blade. "I am his favorite because I am the best." He raised his shield to shoulder height with a strong arm used to carrying it, and then waved Brison forward. "If you are so sure of yourself, I will allow you the first strike."

"Too old to attack? Afraid you'll need to stop halfway here to rest?" Brison said only taking a half step. Already he could see a measure of attack, and if Cranth didn't take the bait he would still move in and begin their little sparing match.

"You must think me a fool if you think baiting me with poor insults will provoke me," Cranth said, bracing his feet in the dirt and putting his shield arm forward, wooden sword off to his right. "Come at me, dog!"

Brison came on putting his shield against Cranth's and pushing while looking for an opening either above or below. At the same time he waited for the larger man to push back, and then he would give ground and hope to catch the man's sword or shield arm. Inwardly, he remembered many a battle when he was part of the legion and his body began to crave that violence again. This would be the first step to getting his son back, to freeing Calia as well and getting away from Atlantis.

Cranth seemed prepared for Brison's rush, and even though his feet slid back a few feet, he left little opening for Brison to attack him otherwise. He gave an angry tell and brought his wooden practice weapon down on Brison while their shields were still locked.

It was what Brison waited for and danced of to the left bringing his weapon around Cranth's shield to hit the man hard under the armpit. Then swinging it down to score another hit on his left leg, before he kicked the back of the left knee. No sense in making the fight end quickly, but he needed to stay vigilant or Cranth my hit him harder in response.

Cranth gave a pained grunt in response to the blows, dropping to his knee as it was kicked out from under him. The men around them bellowed and cheered, throwing their arms in the air. Cranth didn't waste a second. He spun back up onto his feet and shoved his shield back against Brison's with a loud clang to throw him off balance, and then stepped back and brought a leg up, planting it against Brison's shield in a hard kick.

When Cranth stepped back Brison knew what would happen next, rather than trying to hold firm against the kick he too stepped back letting Cranth over lunge forward. The next sword strike was harder to the side of his attackers head, even with a wooden sword it would hurt so Brison made sure to turn the blade to the flat side.

Even on the flat side, the heavy wood broke skin and knocked Cranth dizzy. In fact, it was only too late that he realized he was lying on his back. The crowd of gladiators was eerily quiet--well, all except Dominus, who continued to cheer on his friend. "A LOSS! CRANTH HAS FALLEN!" he bellowed proudly. "And so quickly, too, I'm actually disappointed." he laughed. "Fill your bets, comrades!"

Brison too was quiet, proud that he had won but not in so much that he made light of his opponent. When the senior gladiator tried to stand Brison helped him up and motioned for two lesser to aide him to a chair. Leaning low he whispered in the man's ear, "I suspect we have a new understanding of each other, I am no dog, I am a lion." Then standing straight he announced, "I show my opponent respect by giving him back one half his rations he set for the stakes of our bet." He however would lose the use of his bed for at least three to four nights. He then looked up at Noam and bowed respectfully.

Cranth, though he understood what Brison had said, was still a bit too disoriented to answer in kind. Dominus approached Brison and clapped him hard on the shoulder with a big grin once he had straightened from his respectful bow to Noam. "You have impressed him, I think! Perhaps He will reward you with your freedom for the price of a few games after all!" he grinned. "And by gods' wills, I pray I am allowed to fight beside you in the games!"

"I'm sure Noam will use my...er..our abilities to their full potential before releasing us." Brison answered. A couple slaves came and saw to Cranth's wound while the two men walked away. "How long do you think it will be before we are sent into the arena?"

Dominus shrugged his shoulders, but said, "if Noam is a trainer worth his salt, he will not send us into the arena unprepared or inexperienced." he said. "Then again... I am experienced in the arena, and you have just proven that you would be a force to be reckoned with. He may very well send us in sooner than the others."

Brison nodded before filling his plate and having a seat, "You've not told me much about yourself, I shared everything once upon a time with my fellow warriors. Is your's a sad song as mine?" Tearing into a piece of bread it ate hungrily, the fare the night before was not much nor was it very filling. "And how much did you make from my little show?" he asked after a sip of wine.

Dominus chuckled. "Only an extra pillow for each of our bunks and extra half portions of dinner for weeks." he winked. He seemed to be avoiding the questions about his past, as instead of answering him, he began to shovel his own food into his mouth as if he were a starving man.

Brison let the questions go by the wayside, some men find strength in their past others only pain and sorrow. When they finished it was time to truly begin training. Cranth was still being tended to by the slaves so they gave him a wide berth and instead went to the armory to see what might lie in store for them. "Do you have a specific skill set, companion?" he asked after looking at a pair of gladius.

"I am best at close combat--swords and hand-to-hand." Dominus said proudly, a grin on his face. "Although, I will be sure to boast a talent with spears and javelin as well." He laughed. He pulled up a heavy longsword and tested its weight in his hand, grimaced, and put it back carefully. It was too heavy on one end. It would require two hands, leaving him open with no defenses. He opted for a smaller sword instead, and an unusually small shield covered in cow hide and metal spikes.

Brison smiled, he had a soldier's training and could fight spear and shield or sword and shield as well as hand to hand. In a pinch he could fight two weaponed, but it was not his best form and he was less comfortable fighting that way. The best route for him was a metal version of the gladius he beat Cranth with and shield. The man in charge set their choices aside and told them when they went to the arena the weapons would be ready for them.

Dominus thanked the man with a confident grin. He followed Dominus out into the training yard with the other gladiators now that Cranth had been seen to and was up and about again, and everyone had eaten. They were gathering beneath Noam's balcony to hear him speak.

"In less than one weeks time we will be in attendance of the first games this season. Those who have never been involved in the games will learn to love the glory found inside the arena. I will not be taking all of you into the arena, some have not yet earned the right to fight before the people of Atlantis. You will need to impress me, or admit you are not worthy of such an honor!" he exclaimed before retaking his seat. "Let the training begin!"

The gladiators all gave Noam a salute of fists to chests and then turned and began to pair off to train with one another. Dominus turned to Brison and waved him on. "Will you fight me? I would like to learn some of your techniques."

---

Ragan awoke and smiled, day two of fun and games here at home with his father and stepmother. Once fully awake and out of bed he went downstairs to breakfast. His enjoyment only grew as he saw Zarka and her new toy at the table with Calia not far away, trying to get him to eat. "Well, good morning everyone." he said getting to his seat and helping himself to food. I see that my father has yet to rise or has already left for the Senate today. I did wish to know if he agreed with you about our new family members."

Zarka seemed to be in a rather cranky mood this morning. She picked at her fine pickled vegetables and boiled eggs and wrinkled her nose. "He was rather unsettled by them," she mumbled sourly. "I think he is hurt that you had to resort to buying us a child rather than relying on him to give me one." She huffed between her lips. "But I did speak to him of an allowance for your gladiator anyway. He says we'll attend the first games next week as a family, so he can see this gladiator that has drawn your attention. He wants to see for himself if he's really worth the price."

"I must admit I had not thought he would take it as such, more that if he spent time with him perhaps he'd be able to give you the child you truly wish." he said taking a few pensive bites of food. The news that they were going as a family to the games appealed to him somewhat. He needed to go visit Noam and speak about the possibility of the purchase, but right now he needed to keep this situation interesting. "I am sorry stepmother, is there anything I could do to brighten your mood or at least make you smile?" he inquired as he took a sip of wine.

Zarka raised her eyes to his slowly. There was something in them, something plotting but outwardly sweet and pensive. She brought a bite of food to her lips and are it slowly, contemplating. "Well... I suppose a trip to the market would be nice." she shrugged. "I could buy Isidor some sweets and toys... Things to make him happy. Maybe a gift for your father to lighten his mood as well." she sighed.

Ragan nodded, "I have a meeting later to discuss if Noam would even part with his gladiator. But, I would be happy to go with you to the market and look for some things. That is if you like some company while you shop?" He doubted she would take the child or Calia with her and that was fine, he would speak with the woman later and find out anything important he could use. It was sad though that he was causing such things in his own house, but such was life in Atlantis. "Perhaps you could buy a new dress that might help father's mood, something which if possible could make you more beautiful?" he said before taking another sip.

Calia eyed Ragan suspiciously as she fed Isidor cuts of apple, banana, and egg. She was no stranger to plots, and she could not shake the feeling that both Ragan and Zarka were planning something, and perhaps for the same person.

Zarka have a flattered little giggle at Ragan and smiled prettily. "You have your father's natural charm, Ragan... Though you use it far more than he does." she smirked. "Very well. Calia, let's go." she said, standing. "I want you and Isidor to come with me. How else will I get him to warm to me if I do not spend time with him?" she asked Rhetorically. Calia stood from the table and pulled Isidor up into her hip, giving him the remnants of his apple to enjoy. Zarka smiled at Ragan. "Are you coming?"

"Of course." he exclaimed finishing his glass and taking a last bite or two of his breakfast. He motioned to a servant and fell into step behind his stepmother. Calia knew he was up to something, but considering his promises, the slave would remain silent. This trip to the market would be a good one and he could only hope that the visit with Noam would bear fruit. As with everything in life one only had to have a plan and patience.

Calia and the other servant followed them out of the house. The other servant no doubt would be used to carry whatever was purchased today. Calia was there to carry and see to Isidor. The trip to the market was short from the senator's house. His house was on the outskirts of town, on its own little plantation, and yet it was still fairly central to the rest of the city. A short cart ride had the group centered in the bazaar, and Zarka was all too quick to exit the cart and start walking around with eager eyes, Calia obediently on her heel with Isidor on her hip. "Ooh, look at this!" Zarka would squeal when she saw stalls of jewelry, or, "Ragan, look!" when she found a pretty ream of cloth. Calia kept her distance, though she did stop occasionally to let Isidor explore fruits, veggies, and animals. She set Isidor down so he could chase after some goats and ducks, smiling as he played.

Ragan knew where Noam's training facility was and would visit after this little errand. He followed along with Zarka and indulged her in questions about how things looked and if the color flattered her. "Mother why not go to a shop that already has made a dress for you to try on?" he asked her. Watching Calia and Isidor he hoped the boy would see a toy or something he wanted soon. Several people he knew said hello and inquired about his father, Ragan was polite but told them his father was busy with matters of the Senate.

Zarka laughed at Ragan's suggestion as if that were a silly idea. She could always buy the cloth she liked in the colors she wanted and pay the seamstress to tailor the dresses specifically to her curvaceous form. It always worked out best that way. As she was meandering and looking at various items, she noticed a familiar face among the crowds. She gasped and let out an elated squeal of, "My darling husband! What brings you to the market at this time of day?!" She ran to her husband, throwing her arms around him in a show of affection many would have deemed inappropriate, even for a married pair. She quickly remembered herself and released him, grinning ear to ear. "I am so happy to see you out and about, instead of being restrained to that drafty senate hall."

Quintus noted that Zarka was out and about with Ragan and the new female slave and the child. The other slave he knew was theirs but never really bothered to learn his name. "You did not say you had a visit to the market planned today, I am just running an errand to procure some more of the herbs for my stomach." It felt insulting to discuss the situation in front of so many people here in the market. "I would have figured you would be pouting after your loss at the auction to Noam, Ragan." he said to his son.

Ragan immediately felt his ire grow towards his father, "If my coffers were not limited so then we would have the finest gladiator in Atlantis to enter into the games. Still, I think Isidor will settle in very well when he gets used to Zarka, since she would so love to be a mother, he will probably want for nothing." Now it was Quintus' place to be irritated by his son's words.

"Oh, cease, the both of you!" Zarka snipped at both her husband and Ragan. She was not oblivious to their subtle quarrels. She looped her arm around Quintus' arm and hugged herself into his side. "We didn't have a trip planned, dear, we just decided to come." she beamed. "Oh! You haven't met Isidor and his nursemaid yet! You're always so busy with work." she chided, then quickly turned and called to Calia and Isidor, waving them over.

Calia quickly scooped Isidor up from where he was playing in the dirt, and carried him over to the trio. He fussed for only a moment at his interrupted play, but when she hushed him he quieted. She approached Zarka, Ragan, and this new, older gentleman that she could only rightfully assume was Zarka's husband. She gave a respectful bow of her head in greeting.

"Look, Quintus! Isn't she so pretty?" Zarka asked, a knowing smile slipping across her lips.

"Very, however I do not see the reason to purchase a child." he said indignantly. Quintus firmly believed at some point he could father a child with his wife, it would just take time. And he was sure the child would be far better than his eldest son could ever hope to be. "Perhaps, if you had just bought the woman, you'd have had enough for the gladiator." he said making Ragan almost lose his temper. "Zarka, you know I've stopped looking at women other than you. We are husband and wife and I am deliriously happy with you."

Ragan was now visibly irritated with his father, "I bought the child so that Zarka would have a child to give affection to while you spent all your time in the Senate. But, I understand doing for others is a foreign idea for you and your Senate friends." He glared at Quintus for a few seconds, then reached out for Zarka's hand, "Stepmother, it was fun seeing the market with you. I must take my leave and go to my meeting now. Father." before he moved off into the crowd.

Zarka watched Ragan go with a bit of a disappointed smile. "Okay, Ragan. See you at dinner." She hugged herself into her husband's side a little, but once Ragan was out of earshot, she grumbled, "why must you be so harsh to him? He bought me Isidor to make me happy." She pulled away from him and frowned. "You're always working, Quintus. Isidor fills the holes you leave when you are too busy for me. For us."

Quintus looked at his wife and the surrounding crowd, "This is not the place nor the time for this discussion Zarka. His shortcomings are why I do not intend to give him my blessing to take my seat in the Senate. What I do, I do for Atlantis and for the future of our home." He looked at Isidor and then to Calia, "Besides what will you do with the boy when he grows or when you become pregnant?" It was practical matters like that which never crossed his son's mind, only the now and never later. It was sad that father and son were at such odds, but it had been like this since Ragan's mother died and Quintus found comfort in Zarka's arms.

Zarka pulled herself from Quintus rather abruptly at that question. "I will love him just the same. I cannot so easily toss aside my feelings for another." she hissed. She looked at Calia and Isidor. "Come. Let's find the little one a treat." She headed off without another word to Quintus and Calia gave a slow bow of farewell before turning and following after Zarka, Isidor in her arms.

Ragan had not been far away when he saw Zarka storm off, it was to be expected with his father. He instead turned and headed to Noam's and knocked upon the door and told the slave who answered he was there to discuss business with Master Noam. Perhaps when he arrived home he would be lucky and his father would stay at the Senate until late and leave him time to continue his plans.

The slave hurriedly opened the heavy wooden gates to allow Ragan onto the property, and then followed him to the front door of the house. The slave led him upstairs and to a set of wide and intricately carved double doors, which led onto the balcony overlooking the training yard, where Noam was currently watching his gladiators practice. "Master Noam," he announced, "Ragan, senator Quintus' son."

Noam turned and regarded Ragan, "It is not every day that I get such a visitor. I assume you have come for some kind of discussion about yesterday?" It was plain to see the young man desired power and a name for himself.

Ragan nodded and looked down at the men training, "I am, what would you be willing to take for the one we bid against each other for?"

After what he had seen this morning Noam chuckled, this young man did not really think that he would part with Brison. "The only way I would part with him right now is if you bought his companion and the pair are not cheap. I doubt I would let them go for more than two hundred." Noam said looking back into the training area as Brison and Dominus were sparing together.

Down below Brison waved off Dominus, and went to get some water when he noticed the man talking to Noam on the balcony. "Any idea who that is?" he asked Dominus as he handed over the dipper of water.

Dominus took a loud and hearty sip of water from the well dipper and eyed the pair on the balcony. "That is Ragan," he panted once he was done slurping, offering the spoon back to Brison and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "He is the son of a senator here in Atlantis, though which one I do not know. He is also rumored to be some sort of war hero." he shrugged, his hands on his waist as he peered up at the pair in the harsh sunlight. "No doubt he's here to buy you, companion. He was bidding against Master Noam for you yesterday."

"Then he is the one who bought my son as well." Brison said taking a drink and putting the dipper back in the bucket. "Does he own many gladiators? Or was he trying to buy his first one yesterday?" he asked still watching the two men talk. It was strange that his life now would be considered a commodity to be bought and sold.

"He has owned a few before in the past... but they were all lost in the games." Dominus explained gravely. "A couple of which died by my own hands..." He was ashamed to admit that. Survival was a hell of a thing, especially in the ring. "He may try to convince Noam today, but he will fail. He will surely regain footing and conviction with your purchase after he witnesses you in the ring for the first time." he grinned.

Brison looked at Dominus, "If I was successful in the ring then wouldn't my price go up? Or is it possible there is no direction but down after your first bout?" Atlantis seemed to be much like Rome in that respect, once at the top there was no other way than down. He took up his position to continue training with Dominus then asked, "Do you like this life? fighting and killing for the pleasure of a mob?"

Dominus took up his sword again and twisted it in his hands as he walked to retake his place opposite Brison. "I do not enjoy this life," he said honestly, "but it's all I know anymore. I have nothing else. All I can do is hope that I die a warrior's death, with dignity and respect, in the ring. Whether that be tomorrow, or next month... or fifty years from now," he sighed at that, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, like the thought of waiting that long for his end was daunting in and of itself. He refocused on Brison and put himself into a ready stance to continue fighting, his shield on his arm. "I do not have a reason to fight for my freedom as you do. You... you have a grand reason to live and to fight your captivity. And I hope the Gods see you satisfied in that endeavor."

After a couple strikes and parries Brison spoke, "Perhaps your reason to try to escape is to find what life is like with true freedom? Or perhaps the reason lays out there somewhere with people you have never met." He shrugged and glanced back up to the balcony where it looked like negotiations were breaking down in a hurry. It seemed that the son of the Senator was used to getting his own way.

As Brison was distracted with glancing up at the balcony, Dominus brought his shield hard against his chest and knocked him back. He frowned at him a little. "I cannot have hope for ideas like that--that my reason for living is outside these walls, this life... waiting for me. If that purpose or person is out there waiting for me... they will die waiting. I fear I will never leave this life. My last moments will be spent in that arena, with nothing but the cold embrace of steel and death. What I wouldn't give to have a woman to hold... warm and soft and so full of unconditional love and admiration... like the one you have waiting for you. She is beautiful, and you are lucky." he said with a small, sincere smile. "And your son... he is the epitome of godly perfection."

Brison looked at Dominus like his head had split open and a bird took flight. "The woman who watches over my son is not my wife, Ptoli died during the storm Calia was a friend we made aboard the ship. I do not understand, I've seen gladiators in Rome who influential ladies pay huge sums of money to have them attend them no doubt you could handle that." he said with a slight laugh and came back into the ring. "I wish nothing more than to have my son back, until then I trust Calia to protect him and his mother to watch over them both."

Dominus watched Brison a moment with a serious expression as he straightened up. "I am sorry for your loss.... And for the misunderstanding. The way you two reacted to one another yesterday... The way she shielded your son with her own body, one could only assume she was the boy's mother." he explained. "She looked at you in a way that.... Well, never mind it then." he mumbled, waving it off and retaking his stance. "As for tending to women for money... I cannot lie by saying I haven't done that," he grinned, "but it is not the same as having a true, burning, fighting love between two people. That is what I miss."

---

That evening Ragan returned home in a foul mood; Noam's rebuff of his offer to buy the gladiator put his plans in jeopardy. And the argument with his father was still on his mind, as he believed it influenced the disastrous meeting with the gladiator owner. He went to the baths to hopefully calm down and relax, he wondered how Zarka had fared with the rest of her shopping trip with Calia and Isidor.

The baths, however, were not vacant when Ragan arrived. Through the steam, he would be able to see the petite and curvy form of a particular dark-skinned lady. Calia had washed herself and Isidor after a certain incident with a pig and a pool of dirty mud and water got them both dirty. She had washed Isidor, fed him, and laid him down for the evening. Zarka, of course, had insisted that Calia go wash before she lay down in the new bed that had been moved into a sort of en suite quarters beside Zarka's room, where Calia and Isidor were now staying. Isidor even had his own bed--though currently he was sleeping in Calia's. Zarka had insisted Calia go wash, and she would watch Isidor sleep. Calia could not say no. She had just settled into the bath and begun washing in the cool, clean water when Ragan had entered. Normally more vigilant, Calia was strangely too far into her own thoughts with her back turned to notice Ragan come in.

Ragan did not announce his presence, he could of course order Calia to service him if he so wished. And he believed the beauty would do it well, but his mind was on other desires. However he did disrobe and walked to the edge of the bath and sat on the edge watching Calia. Perhaps he would order her to continue washing herself and then wash him so he could continue watching her curves and perhaps enjoy a touch or two. "Well, good evening Calia." he said, "I see my stepmother and Isidor are getting acquainted?"

Calia jumped a little at the sound of his voice, but the surprise was almost imperceptible. She kept her eyes down and even as her face went dark with embarrassment at her nudity, she said in an even tone, "Isidor is sleeping. Mistress Zarka commanded I come wash. We... fell in a mud puddle today at the market." she explained briefly. She was still covered in a bit of mud, but still she stood and said quickly, "Please excuse me," and turned to go. Surely he wanted the baths to himself.

"NO." he commanded, "My stepmother says you are to bathe and so you shall, continue to clean yourself." When she turned he saw her breasts and her other curves. And Calia saw his manhood stir in response to seeing her nudity. "Actually, I sometimes enjoy having a slave help me bathe, and since that slave is not here I think you'll do well in her stead. Come closer, I wish to see you wash better, to make sure you are up to the task of helping me."

Calia stopped instantly when he said no. She stifled a shudder of fear and anger at his commands and swallowed hard. Very slowly, she turned back to him and returned to her seat, her movements hesitant. She took the sponge back up in her hands, but instead of returning to washing herself, she clutched it in her lap, as if trying to shield her most prized place from him. She looked ahead and not at him, her damp dark hair sticking to her face and shoulders.

Ragan sighed, she wasn't following his orders very well and that began to ruin the enjoyment he had found in finding her here. Instead he slipped into the water and came up to her making sure she had to look into his eyes or at his manhood, his eyes glanced at her breasts and her face until he got to her. Reaching out toward the sponge he kept his eyes on hers, "Are you dirty down there? Did the mud touch that place? Perhaps if you are unwilling, I will wash you and then you will wash me. Would that make you happy Calia?" he said in even tones then reached out and slid his fingers up her thigh from her knee.

Calia tensed and without think, she reached out and her hand connected with Ragan's cheek in a harsh slap. She realized only too quickly her error, but it was too late to take it back. She instead held her ground and stared at him with hard, unwavering eyes the color of allspice. She held her chin high and her shoulders back, and still said nothing, even though her stomach was currently turning in knots. The only giveaway to her sudden nervousness was perhaps her breathing, which had picked up a little after the strike to her new master.

Ragan accepted the slap without even trying to defend, instead his hand shot past her and grabbed her hair pulling her head back. "Again you forget that you are the slave and I the master." he said moving up to get her hands in his other hand, "I can have you do anything I want, anything because I am the master!" With a quick movement he pulled her into the bath and spun her around bending her at the waist and pinning her to the side of the bath. Before Calia could say anything else she felt his hand touching the curve of her backside, "I can touch you here or thrust myself inside and have you." He picked up the sponge and began to rub it over her shoulders.

She had let out a short cry of pain when he had thrown her and pinned her against the tub. She struggled a little bit, her breathing heavy and shaky as he touched her. She feared this was it--instead of losing her virginity to a night of consensual passion with the man she loved and adored, it would be ripped from her by this spoiled heathen. Part of her told her it would be stronger to just be quiet and obedient, to bide her time. But a louder, much more stubborn part of her demanded her strength be equally as loud and stubborn. She stayed quiet, for now, allowing him to touch, but she was plotting, waiting for her chance to strike again.

He continued to bathe Calia until he got the mud off, "There now you are clean, well now let's see the other side." Ragan flipped her over and pulled her close to get her hands in his. Now Calia could see his manhood as he had a leg on either side of his torso. His free hand wetted the sponge again and he began to bathe her front, letting his manhood set upon her but not entering her. "If you move I will impale you and then be very angry and you and later Isidor will not enjoy that. When I am done you will have your chance to bathe me. And anything I may not like Isidor will suffer, do you understand?"

Calia shivered with rage, her nose wrinkling at his threat. She watched him, swallowing back her anger and her terror. In her head, she made a silent vow that any harm he beset on Isidor would come back to him tenfold. "I am untouched... unbroken." she whispered to him with a trembling voice that betrayed her fury for fear. "You want the Roman... the man you lost at the auction that day?" She hoped she could intrigue him enough to draw his attention away from her body for now.

"And if you wish to remain so you will listen to my commands, and of course if you wish to keep Isidor safe. Do we understand each other?" he asked his fingers lightly brushing her breast. "I do wish to get the Roman, but his master refuses to see reason. You believe you have a way to change his mind? You will tell me as you bathe me, if you do well and your idea appeals then you will keep your virtue. Or do you wish violence and me forcing you to lose said virtue?" Ragan asked letting his fingers brush against her lower abdomen before her released her.

Calia took the sponge from him, just barely restraining herself from snatching it back from him. She wetted the sponge again with a slow, deliberate dip into the water, then approached him where he reclined against the side of the tub. Very slowly, she started to wash his arms, shoulders, and chest first, her cheeks once again red, but in shame. "I was just thinking... You could... Dress me up. Make me look like more than a slave and... Maybe auction me off. Or rather... Auction off my virtue," she said slowly, hating herself for saying it. "You might just catch the eye of the man who bought him from under you. At the very least, he might be interested in a trade."

Ragan watched her, she would know he could keep her from hurting him and that if she did the child would suffer. "And you think that he could not get any virtue he wanted, there are many harems and even women who sell themselves for coin. I think though you will be with us at the games, if nothing more than to see what could befall young Isidor if you betray or continue being irritating. Do you know what they do with little ones in the arena? Feed them to the lions, so you remember that when you begin washing me lower." As she finished his chest Ragan pushed himself out of the water so Calia could finish her duties. "Some men prefer women who know what they are doing when it come to sexual pursuits." he looked her in the eyes and pointed to his manhood.

The only reason she held her gaze on his face was to avoid looking at his manhood. If she was honest with herself, it scared her. She had seen plenty, but never had she been so... close to one. She swallowed hard and continued to scrub his abdomen, gradually getting lower, and she had to pause and take a breath to steady herself before continuing. She had thought her idea was a good one. Men in Rome would have paid good money for virtue. Roman women were as promiscuous as their men were brave. Apparently things were different here in Atlantis. She rounded the sponge over his stiffened manhood with movements neither too quick, nor too slow for fear of irritating him. But she had no intention of lingering.

Ragan smiled, "And to show that you understand and are sorry for striking me you will continue washing it without the sponge. I'm sure if you're willing to sell you virtue you've seen women who rub a man to completion, unless you'd rather use your mouth or have me take your virtue." The fact she was so uncomfortable touching him, made him interested in making sure she understood the dire situation this second slap had created.

Calia glared up at him. She felt sick, but she was only thinking of Isidor. She tossed the sponge At his chest with a snap of her wrist, and then quickly wrapped both hands around his shaft. She was careful not to squeeze too tight--no matter how badly she wanted to hurt him--and with her soapy, oily hands she began to rub him up and down.

Ragan released a small groan of satisfaction, "Such skilled hands, they feel wonderful Calia. Perhaps I should reconsider having your virtue, you'd have a better room, food and clothes all for giving me pleasure like this." He reached down and rubbed her cheek with his free hand. "Do women where you come from treasure their virtue so much? I would hazard that your's would cost a hefty sum." he praised as she continued. Finally after several minutes with a grunt he reached climax and spilled his seed.

Calia was quick to wash her hands and anywhere else his seed happened to spill on her. She didn't look at him again, and her face was red in shame and anger. Once she was finished washing, she moved to grab her clothes and leave without another word.

Ragan watched her leave without saying a word, he felt better after his trying day. Perhaps he would do something nice for Calia, or to her now that they understood the slave/master positions. For a second he wondered if his father ever ordered Zarka to handle him, or if his stepmother willingly laid with him the first time. After a little while he washed himself clean and dressed, he would say goodnight to stepmother and apologize for his antics at the market. He really wasn't, but playing the dutiful son of a harsh father kept Zarka walking a knife edge between them.

Calia didn't dress until she reached Zarka's room. She didn't care who saw her nude on the way. Once inside the relative safety of her and Isidor's little space, she dried and dressed. Zarka came in upon her and seemed surprised. "You look shaken," she commented.

Calia, whose face was still red, shook her head. "Ragan..." she started to explain, then frowned and added quietly, "never mind it, Mistress. I'm alright."

Zarka frowned deeply at her. "Did he touch you? Did he force you?" she questioned. "I order you to answer me."

Calia shook her head meekly, not meeting Zarka's gaze. "He forced me to touch him. To..." she wrinkled her nose. "He threatened Isidor's safety if I did not."

Zarka's expression slowly changed from concerned to enraged. "How dare he." she snarled. "I will talk to him. He's not to touch you or Isidor maliciously." she hissed.

Ragan returned to his room after stopping in the kitchens and was looking out over the city and fine tuning how he would one day be a man of power and influence. The only thing that would be the ending of his day would be to wish Zarka goodnight, he thought about how to word his apology for the market today. He hoped Calia would not tell his stepmother about the baths, or else he would have to come up with something to tell her.

Just as he was thinking this, and almost as if sensing it, Zarka burst into his room with a shout of, "How dare you!" She strode to him with purposeful steps and her hands balled in tight fists. "The poor girl is shaken because of you!"

Ragan frowned, "Stepmother, I did not mistreat her. She struck me again and I chose to have her simply be tender to me to prove she understood my point. I would not hurt the child, but it is the only way to make her listen without beating her. But, perhaps father is right and my way of thinking is not right." Ragan sighed and gave her his best I'm trying look, "Maybe I will never know the love of a woman...." he said quietly and sat on his bed.

Zarka stopped in front of him and while she still looked angry, she did look confused and concerned. She breathed deeply and relaxed, shaking her head. "Oh, Ragan..." she cooed. She moved to seat herself beside him on the bed and rested her hand on his arm. "You will. I think you have been around brutish men for so long, you forget that women are delicate. They must be treated gently. Calia may be a slave, but she is no different. She will respond better to you and your... Advances... If you show her more kindness than sternness. You are a handsome man, and a good person. Any woman would be lucky to have your affections. You just need to be sure you communicate them clearly." She paused a moment and slowly asked, "do you... Have feelings for Calia?"

"I do not believe so. I think the argument in the market today along with the rebuff at the gladiator school influenced me. I remembered father once saying that a slave could be a source of relaxation when a person was stressed. And then she struck me a second time, and I lost my temper, but I knew if she every struck another master then they would beat her or worse." Ragan looked at Zarka, "I just wished to feel better after my horrible day, and some affection from a woman."

"Did you say exactly that to her?" Zarka asked curiously, raising her brows. "Or were you more crude than that? Be honest." She pointed her finger at him sternly, but there was a playfulness in her tone.

With a sheepish look Ragan said, "In my frustration it might have been more crude. How should I have gone about it Stepmother?" he asked hoping to further calm her ire with him. "Is it wrong to seek out pleasure on occasion with a slave, or should I look somewhere else?" if he could have gotten away with it he would have laid his head in her lap, but instead he looked into her eyes. Inwardly Ragan hoped his stepmother would help him, and give him insight.

Zarka hummed thoughtfully a moment. "Your father would not like to hear about your exploits with slave girls... But I say you just follow your heart. If you love a girl, really love her, then her status matters none." she shrugged and smiled warmly. "But maybe next time, change your language to something heavier with compliments and appreciation... Be romantic, not lustful." She patted his hand and smiled gently. "Do you understand?"

"My father truly could not have a better wife, and I a better stepmother." Ragan said looking her deep in the eyes. Truly his father did not deserve this woman, if only he acted first. "Do you think we could not mention this to my father? I mean he already has such a hateful opinion of me, I dare think of what he would say or do."

Zarka giggled and have a bashful blush. "Ragan, your secrets are always safe with me." she smiled. Her hand rested on his bicep and sort of lingered there before she seemed to remember herself and drew back. "Good night, Ragan."

Ragan caught her hand and kissed the back of it, "Goodnight stepmother, I appreciate all that you do for me."

Zarka smiled at him, admiring him as he kissed her hand. "You are so thoughtful," she commented. She gave his hand a squeeze as she stood. She had to be careful around him, she felt. He was intoxicating when he was charming. She withdrew her hand from his slowly with another gracious and pretty smile. "Sleep well."

"You as well, Stepmother." he said as he slowly let go of her hand. He wondered why she stayed with his father, the man left her alone too much. "Zarka, do you miss the way my father was before? How he spent less time at the Senate and more time with you?"

Zarka was clearly taken aback by the question. She stuttered a moment as she contemplated her answer, then frowned and admitted she did. "He never used to work so much... I miss him dearly. I fear sometimes that... maybe he is working so much because he is trying to avoid me... avoid us." she shrugged, unable to look at Ragan. "He insists he is not, but..." She trailed off, at a loss for excuses for her husband.

Ragan nodded, "He did the same when my mother became sick. It is a shame, you're too good of a woman to ignore. Goodnight stepmother, I hope you sleep well." He escorted her to his bedroom door and opened it for her, "Perhaps tomorrow I will find the right words to Calia to apologize for my behavior."

"I have no doubt you will, Ragan," Zarka said and touched his cheek endearingly. With that, she left his room and headed back to her own. By the time she returned, she saw that Calia was resting in her own bed, her back to the room. She seemed to be sleeping. Zarka tucked herself into her own bed after checking briefly on Isidor.




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