The Ultimate Spoils (Tumultus Chronicles Book 1)

by Nathan R. Mancini

  With Elder Liberius leading the way, they walked the length of the hall, passing walls of ancient books and racks of half destroyed machinery whose function still remained unknown. During the golden age of Arcem’s history the room had once been the heart of Monarx, representing the great endeavour of noble Romanus to recover the lost pieces of the world that had been all but destroyed in The Fall almost four hundred years before. But that had been a long time ago. The golden years had not lived long after the death of Romanus. The great leader’s vision had dwindled in the hands of a complacent Senate and the hall’s collection had eventually ceased to grow at all.

  Looking at the dusty shelves filled Gaius Valerius with newfound resolve. He could not allow Arcem to fade and be forgotten like these treasures. He had raised his son on such a vision and by the gods he swore to see it through.

  Finally, the hobbling figure of Elder Liberius came to stop by a long table in the far corner of the room. Gaius came around to stand alongside him and see the purpose of their visit. There on the table, locked in heavy leather bindings, lay the Chronicles of Tumultus. The hallowed first volume, penned more than a hundred and thirty years ago by the founder of Arcem himself: Romanus’ own tome.

  Elder Liberius loosened the neck of his robe and pulled off a small, heavy chain necklace from around his head, a gold key hanging on its links. Delicately, the aged custodian unlocked the ancient parchment of the book’s pages.

  ‘Is there anything else I can assist with?’ asked Liberius.

  ‘That will be all, thank you,’ said Gaius Valerius.

  ‘I shall wait outside for you then, Consul,’ said Liberius, bending his hunched form a fraction lower in an awkward bow. The Senate Elder left the consul alone and started dragging his withered frame back towards the door.

  Gaius Valerius watched Liberius leave and could not shake his suspicions. He knows, Gaius thought. The old fox knew his crimes, he could feel it. The Senate Elder had hounded him for weeks about the Spolia Opima and deep down Liberius surely knew, but only lacked proper evidence to challenge the consul.

  Gaius put the thought out of his mind. In a few days it would not matter, his legion would be marching on the city and all could be revealed. He turned back to the table where the Chronicles lay. The heavy spine creaked loudly as he opened the book, turning its stiff pages in search of what he was after. It had been written during the founding of Arcem, in the dark time when men had to fight for their own. Not only did it recount the known histories of Tumultus and the mysteries around The Fall, the Chronicles also contained the lore of what would be the Republic. Gaius continued to turn the pages; passing through details about the structure of the Senate in search of answers. One page made him pause briefly as he recognised the golden eagle seal of Romanus himself. It was marked on a copy of the treaty between the allied towns around Monarx, in what became the founding of the Republic of Arcem.

  Gaius smiled, sensing the weight of history before him. Here was something more than a simple relic from their legendary founder, or a dark history of their planet. The words before him, written in the Chronicles, were Arcem – which was why he had sought to explore its pages for any more answers.

  Finally, Gaius found what he was after. As he read the heading, he silently prayed that the gods would see the righteousness of his cause.

  “Chapter XIII: Concerning Dictators and the Senate. When times of unassailable darkness take root and crisis looms over the lands, the Senate may witness the rise of one to power. For the preservation of the State and its citizens, He may dictate the will of the Senate and shall reign so long as danger prevails and His deeds hold true to this sacred duty. He may not be held responsible for the actions necessity requires, for the costs of victory are always great and so the law shall have no power over such heroes...”

  ***

  Octavia rolled over to face her husband, causing the bed sheets to coil about their feet in the process. Not that it mattered; the balcony window was open enough to let the sun warm her golden skin and besides, they were not in bed so late in the afternoon for sleep.

  Octavia pressed herself into the arms of her husband, enjoying the strength of his embrace. They lay there together for some time, as they had been for most the afternoon, enjoying the stillness of the moment. Communicating on a level beyond the need for words, for what could be said that cannot be better expressed by sharing a look or the touch of their hands? It was only after a while that Octavia finally spoke.

  ‘The scars are faded, almost gone,’ she said, brushing her fingers down her husband’s chest, referring to the battle scars he had earned during his time in the legions. Now the only obvious mark remaining from those years was the sword-and-wreath symbol of Arcem tattooed on his right arm.

  ‘You sound disappointed,’ said Corvinus, her husband.

  ‘I think I shall miss them. They had something of a rugged attraction to them.’

  ‘An attraction you say?’ said Corvinus raising his eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, maybe because they brought out the soldier in you.’

  ‘Well then my love, you must hurry to the kitchens at once and fetch a knife. We must rectify this terrible change in me.’

  ‘I think I will be able to manage without such drastic action.’

  ‘Or maybe you just didn’t want to get out of bed,’ Corvinus smiled.

  ‘No,’ said Octavia laughing, hitting her lover with a nearby pillow. ‘I just wouldn’t want to ruin this new bed by turning it into a surgeon’s table, that is all.’

  After they had both settled, Octavia looked up, her features telling of a more serious contemplation behind her smile.

  ‘So what’s it like?’ she said, looking into Corvinus’ dark brown eyes and running her hand along his back. The metals of the Spolia Opima were closest to the surface there by the spine and the skin was cool, far colder than the room’s temperature should warrant. Octavia felt her husband’s body shiver slightly at her touch.

  ‘It’s hard to describe,’ said Corvinus. ‘Do you remember the stories we learnt as children, about the casting of the gods?’

  ‘How Almighty Taranis exorcised the voices that had afflicted him, casting them out into forms of their own that then became his divine children,’ said Octavia as if reciting a history lecture. ‘Sorr, His daughter, the guardian of light and His son Khronus, who lurks in the shadows of our world, yes I remember the tales. But what do the origins of the gods have to do with anything?’

  ‘Well sometimes I feel how I think Taranis must have.’

  ‘What all-powerful?’

  ‘Divided,’ Corvinus admitted. ‘The changes are said to be amazing, divine even and yes, it’s invigorating as if I were invincible. But at times I feel detached from its senses. When the alien nature of its technology dawns on me it can feel like I am divided in my own body.’

  ‘Maybe you just need more time for your mind to adjust to such a gift,’ said Octavia as she drew herself close, laying her head on her husband’s chest. ‘Give it time my love. Arcem was not made to be what it is in a single day after all.’

  ‘That’s what I presume,’ said Corvinus, kissing his wife’s forehead.

  A knock on the door interrupted their moment as Teos, their estate’s head slave, entered the room. Teos was a short, olive skinned man from the small city state of Daon on the shoreline of the Bay of Eous – a place renowned for its commerce and knowledge. Had Teos been more of a soldier during his prime and less of a scholar he would almost certainly not have been captured by the rival Thrysan city of Adpulsus, yielding the rest of his life as a slave.

  Like most male slaves in Monarx, the man’s head was shaved bald and hanging around his neck was a bronze collar with the name “Valerii” to mark the property of his owner. Teos had been a wedding gift from Corvinus’ father, along with most of the other household slaves.

  The man bowed quickly before pacing to his master’s bedside, a letter in hand.

  ‘Dominus,’ said Teos, offering
the letter. ‘Forgive my intrusion but I believe you would have wanted it be brought to your attention as soon as possible. A message has just arrived from Elder Liberius. There is to be an emergency summons at first light tomorrow morning.’

  ‘What has happened?’ said Corvinus, sitting up. Octavia rolled over pulling the bed sheets with her.

  ‘There is no mention as to why, only that all members of the Senate are to be in attendance,’ said Teos.

  ‘Let me see that,’ Corvinus said taking the proffered letter. It did not worry him that Teos had already opened the Senate seal and read its contents. The man had served the Valerii for many decades and his loyalty was certain. He was a slave smart enough to know that steadfast service to his masters could earn him his freedom far more easily than any treachery or escape.

  Corvinus read over the message but could not make out any further details from its wording.

  ‘Thank you Teos,’ said Corvinus at last.

  Octavia sat up beside her husband.

  ‘Why so shaken my love? I’m sure it is nothing too serious,’ she whispered into his ear.

  Corvinus kissed her cheek.

  ‘There are scarce few reasons I can think of that would cause such an assembly,’ he said. ‘And none of them good where it is Elder Liberius that sends for me on behalf of the Senate, instead of my father as consul.’

  ‘I’m sure your father would have warned you if anything were to happen. Do you really think you would still be enjoying your honeymoon if Liberius knew something?’ said Octavia.

  ‘There is another matter Dominus,’ said Teos, clearing his throat. ‘There is a guest in the atrium waiting to be received, a soldier by the look of it. He claims to be in service to your father and was able to produce the consul’s personal seal.’

  ‘How long has this man been waiting?’ Corvinus asked.

  ‘He arrived two hours ago, shortly after you instructed me you were not to be disturbed,’ said Teos. ‘The man assured me there was no great urgency to his business but insisted on waiting for you.’

  Corvinus nodded.

  ‘Bring me some clothes and I shall be out shortly,’ said Corvinus. ‘Perhaps our visitor can shed some light on why the Senate is to be gathered.’

  ‘Yes Dominus,’ said Teos with another bow, before leaving.

  Corvinus exited the doors of his bedchamber, adjusting the folds of his toga as he did so. Teos followed closely behind as they made their way down the hall towards the atrium. They walked briskly as Corvinus led the way, his annoyance at the day’s interruptions obvious to see.

  Corvinus sighed at the prospect of another lost afternoon, time with Octavia was scarce enough already without the need for further disruption. Though they had been courting for quite some time now, Corvinus and his young wife had had little time alone since being wedded that summer. When he had not been under the surgeon’s knife in the operating theatre Corvinus was often away from Monarx, busy with the recruiting and training of his legion in Ultor.

  In his periphery Corvinus saw Teos glance over at him, but he ignored the slave’s concerned look. The man had served the young master all his life and often treated him with an almost paternal vigilance. A thin smile creased Corvinus’ face at the thought of the house slave still struggling to adjust to his master’s new name. Nearly two decades of service were still engrained in the Doanii’s way. Marcus no longer, Corvinus thought, his boyhood name now replaced with that of a man.

  ‘Did our guest say anything else regarding his purpose here?’ said Corvinus as they neared the atrium.

  ‘No, simply that he must talk to you in person on your father’s behest,’ said Teos, as he tried to keep step with his master’s long strides. ‘Other than that he has been most unsociable, refusing all food and drink offered to him during his wait. Of course, that may be due the man’s person rather than character...’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ asked Corvinus.

  ‘You will understand when you see Dominus,’ said Teos as they entered into the atrium.

  Their guest stood by the shallow pool in the centre of the room, his attention preoccupied by the coloured fish swimming in its water. The man was tall, taller than Corvinus or any man he had met for that matter. The guest’s face was concealed beneath a hood and it went without saying that whatever the man’s business, their meeting today was not to be public knowledge.

  As Teos had described, the guest had the appearance of a soldier. Though disguised by the folds of a dark-grey traveller’s cloak, the outline of armour was evident beneath.

  Unlike the untrained eye of his house slave however, Corvinus noted the size and shape of the plates were slimmer than the heavy segments typical of most ranking legionaries. This man’s armour was custom-made to fit, allowing for greater flexibility and speed. Whoever their guest was, he had expensive backing.

  ‘You don the armour of a bodyguard, yet I have not known my father to employ any protectors other than the Praetorians and his normal house guard,’ said Corvinus. ‘Who are you?’

  The guest turned from the pool to face the master of the house.

  Staring out from eye-slits of a bronze mask, two dark eyes were all that were revealed of the guest’s identity as he turned to greet Corvinus. Between the cloak’s hood and the mask, the man’s entire face was hidden.

  ‘If you are here to kill me assassin, I will tell you now you will not succeed,’ said Corvinus, feeling the pure sense of wrongness that radiated from his guest. Corvinus felt the metal of his body begin to twitch and his muscles tense at the prospect of a fight.

  Teos stepped in front of Corvinus, drawing a small knife from his belt with which to protect his master. As a slave his life was forfeit if he failed in such a duty.

  The guest chuckled, the sound muffled by his mask.

  ‘If I had come for that, you would not be standing here now,’ said the guest, his voice slithery and unnatural. ‘Besides, I would not want to see all of my precious work squandered by such a thing.’

  ‘I know your voice,’ said Corvinus, trying to envisage a face.

  The guest reached up and pulled back the folds of his hood. The polished bronze of the mask shone as it caught the sunlight from the open roof of the atrium.

  ‘I should expect as much,’ said the guest as he slowly began to unwind the strip of dark fabric that held his mask in place. ‘It was not so long ago that we last met. I am pleased to see you have recovered well since then.’

  ‘Xaphia,’ said Corvinus.

  The guest removed his mask. The face beneath did not belong to a man.

  Grey, alien lips smiled at Corvinus.

  ‘Salve Senator Corvinus,’ said Xaphia, her voice like a snake’s hiss.

  ‘Demon!’ cried Teos, dropping his blade in fright at the revelation of Xaphia’s ashen features and pure black eyes. ‘Spawn of Khronus! Leave this place!’

  Corvinus placed a hand on his slave’s shoulder to calm him. The last thing he need was to have his wife or the house guards come to discover the source of the commotion.

  ‘Be silent Teos, this is no evil spirit of the underworld,’ he said. ‘This person is known to me and you do my house no service by your shouts. Go to your quarters and do not utter a word of this to anyone. I will speak to you later. Do you understand me?’

  The slave managed a timid nod. Trying to avoid eye contact with the guest before him, he quickly ran out of the room.

  Corvinus sighed and turned to Xaphia. He was relieved to see she was already beginning to wind her mask back in place. Though he had seen her true face before the surgery, it was still an unsettling sight for Corvinus.

  ‘Are you insane?’ he said. ‘Showing your face like that?’

  ‘No one but your slave saw,’ said Xaphia, ‘and if you are unsure of his silence, I can easily open his throat. Not that anyone would believe a slave anyway.’

  ‘What are you even doing here?’

  ‘I am to serve you.’

  ‘Serve me
, as what?’ said Corvinus. ‘Am I to take it you are a trained bodyguard as well as a surgeon?’

  ‘I have walked many paths during my life and the skill of working your kind’s flesh goes hand in hand with the knowledge of its undoing,’ said Xaphia. ‘So you are correct, I am to be your protector.’

  ‘And if I do not trust you with such a duty?’ asked Corvinus.

  Though he could not see beneath her mask, he had the feeling the alien was smiling at him.

  ‘You placed your existence in my hands when you received the blessings of the Spolia Opima, why should you refuse now?’ she said. ‘Besides, I have already sworn to your father that I will do this and words spoken for the gods to witness cannot be taken back. I must.’

  ‘That is true enough,’ said Corvinus, looking at the figure before him. Other senators had employed guards far more exotic looking than this in their entourages, he supposed Xaphia would do.

  ‘I accept your pledge to my service,’ he said, ‘on the condition that you never reveal your identity like that to anyone again.’

  Xaphia bowed low, her arms wide open as she did so. Corvinus could not tell if the gesture was genuine or mocking him on some level.

  ‘So how shall I know if you are any good?’ he said, ‘or will the edge of an assassin’s blade be how I come to decide?’

  ‘Such distrust,’ Xaphia chuckled, the sound a dreadful hiss. ‘Did your father not tell you that it was I who secured the Spolia Opima for you from the vaults of the citadel?’

  ***

  Looking away from the view of the twilight horizon from the balcony of his Monarx townhouse, Decius Hannibal Barca glanced over his shoulder through the open doorway to the seated visitor waiting inside the adjoining room. As the emissary of Syphax and its collective peoples to Arcem, Hannibal was accustomed to having many clients. Syphax was after all the largest and most lucrative of Arcem’s protectorates. However, this last guest gave him pause. He would need a moment to compose his thoughts.