by Kyle West
“A rich man’s funeral, most likely,” Julian said. “There is a cemetery within the forest they are likely returning from. It’s not likely that the guards will stop them. If we can somehow attach ourselves to them without anyone noticing...”
“That’s our way in,” Samuel said.
Samuel walked forward boldly, and we followed him. As we neared the gate, the crowds thickened. It was early enough in the morning that anyone living outside the city would still be making their way in – and that worked in our favor. It wasn’t hard to attach ourselves to the tail of the funeral procession. By the time we were that close, there were enough people around us to where we didn’t stick out. We neared the gate, keeping our heads low like the mourners.
I tried not to think of how we would stick out, being so differently dressed from them. But a moment later, we were out of the sun and in the shade of the gatehouse. The chatter of the crowd echoed within the confines of the entrance, and I didn’t dare glance to my left, where a group of people separated us from the guards. Finally, we were through the gates, walking into the sunlight of the city. Before stopping, we walked on with the procession for another moment.
I glanced back toward the gate. The guards were there questioning a new group of people.
“We made it,” I said, hardly able to believe it.
But no one was listening. They were gazing in awe at the buildings surrounding us. The street was bursting with people, flowing down a long, stone avenue like a river toward the city’s center. Tall, stone buildings lined each side of the street, and green trees occupied a median in the center of the avenue. Carts filled with sundries, anything from produce to glassware to clothing to household goods, lined the building fronts, behind each of which a merchant hawked his or her wares. The people were dressed in robes of white and brown, the richer wearing more vibrant colors of yellow, red, and purple. Head scarves covered the faces of most of the women, obscuring almost all of their features except the eyes. The richer and more colorful the woman’s clothing, the more her face was hidden. The poor wore simple tunics of burlap or cotton, all undyed and dirt brown.
The morning air smelled of unwashed flesh and animal dung. The thrum of human life was near deafening.
As we walked ahead, a contingent of guards marched down the street, regaled in leather armor and carrying long, pointed spears. Standing at the head of the contingent was a leader wearing a yellow and black-spotted jaguar headdress. The crowds parted before them, giving them plenty of space to continue walking. The guards marched past us without even a glance. As soon as they passed, people filled the void they left behind. It was a scene of confused chaos.
In the distance, the Coleseo towered above the other buildings. A large temple rose on our left, marble steps leading to an altar surrounded by both green trees and pillars. Smoky incense drifted from the temple’s open doorway, trailing down the steps and into the street below. A vendor to our right shouted, hawking a sugary pastry which carried the scent of cinnamon. Despite my breakfast that morning, my stomach growled.
The entire city was overwhelming, and boasted the wealth and power of the Nova Roman Empire. The amount of things to see was a bit overwhelming, and it made Raider Bluff, the largest city I had seen to this point, look like a tiny dot.
“Come on, we’re not here sightseeing,” Samuel said, marching ahead. “We have to make it to Central Square.”
I followed Samuel, along with the others, but I could not keep myself from not looking around.
“Hide your weapons,” Makara said. “They might be as lenient here as in Raider Bluff.
Nodding, I slipped my gun underneath my shirt, where it would remain hidden.
We followed the curve of the street, surrounded by people on all sides. The main road split into smaller streets of stone, and the smaller streets split into alleyways. People came in and out of doors, groups hung out on corners, watching passersby. And always, the guards marched, stopping people on occasion to ask questions. Most people ignored the guards, giving them a wide berth. I saw two more men wearing jaguar headdresses, questioning a very nervous merchant.
“What are they?” I asked Julian.
“They are the jaguar warriors – the most elite force of the Emperor. They are brutal fighters with both gun and axe. They also serve as his police. During war, they lead the centuries.”
“Centuries?”
Julian didn’t answer for a moment as one of the warriors pushed the poor merchant. The man looked like he was near tears, but in the end, he reached into his satchel, producing a handful of small, silvery items. It was then that I realized they were batteries.
“In the Imperial Army, there are divisions,” Julian said. “Largest is the legion, twenty thousand men. Then comes the cohorts – a thousand men each. The cohorts are split into ten groups of one hundred. These groups of one hundred are called centuries. The jaguar warriors, also known as the centurions, lead the centuries. They are known for the bravery, leadership, and martial prowess.” Julian paused, watching the jaguar warriors turn away from the crestfallen merchant they had just shaken up. “They are also corrupt. You never want to have to fight one.”
I had trouble imagining twenty thousand men in one place – much less an entire army.
“How many legions are in the Empire?” I asked.
Julian shrugged. “Four, I think.”
Eighty thousand men. That could easily overwhelm the entire Wasteland, even if they didn’t have many guns. If we could manage to gather all the people of the Wasteland, and that was a big if, we wouldn’t even have a fourth of Augustus’s army. It was all the more reason why he had to be convinced to join us.
We came to an intersection. Four roads entered a square plaza. In the center of the plaza, a step pyramid rose. There were six tiers total, and people could be seen walking up and down the steep steps.
“What the heck is that?” I asked.
“The Temple of Quetzalcoatl. An ancient god that has been appropriated into the Imperial pantheon. The Temple was here long before Nova Roma was. The city just sort of grew up around it.”
My attention was distracted from the Temple when I heard the roar of engines coming from our left. A moment later, two all-terrain trucks surged into the plaza, going right for us.
We rushed to the side of the street before we could be run over. Soldiers bearing guns and spears filled the trucks to the brim. Seeing the clash of technology with what could otherwise be an ancient city was shocking. The truck sped behind us, for the city gates.
“There seems to be something big going on,” I said.
“Augustus is mustering his legions,” Julian said. “They train every morning, and soon, they will depart for the north.”
“The war is starting, then,” Makara said.
“Yes,” Julian said. “They are expected to leave at any time.”
“It is a long way to the Wasteland,” Samuel said.
“Yes. It will take months for them to go that far. They don’t have enough vehicles to carry all their soldiers. But Augustus means to conquer it.”
Julian led us down a side street, where traffic wasn’t as thick. We ducked through several alleyways, avoiding people where we could. Finally, the alley opened up into a large, paved area.
“Central Square,” Julian said.
I knew from the moment I stepped in it that Central Square was the center of Nova Roma. On one side of the square were a series of tiled buildings, supported by pillars. Before the buildings stood a fountain and a large statue of a man on horseback. People milled across the square, mostly in fine robes. A steady stream of people walked toward the buildings. In that nexus of buildings, shirtless workers constructed a massive edifice at the top of a hill. Pillars lined the building’s front.
“The new Senate House,” Julian said. “The Empire has grown, and there are more representatives now. The old one was getting overcrowded. Those buildings are all part of the Grand Forum – which is the main shopping district of Nova R
oma.”
“You know much about the Empire,” Samuel said.
Julian shrugged. “I have lived in the Empire for much of my life. My old master had many dealings with important men in Nova Roma, and he would take me with him often.”
“Is this Central Square?”
Julian nodded. “Yes. The slave auctions are held in that corner, over there.”
He pointed to our right, where a street met the far right-hand corner of the Grand Forum. Already, chairs were being set up, and a large stage mounted.
I turned my attention to the very center of Central Square, where a large square tower, about four stories tall, rose. On each of the two sides facing us were large television screens, and I could only assume there were two more on the sides facing away from us. On each of the screens was shown the sport of the Empire – the Gladiatorial Games. A bare-chested man appeared on the screen, beating his chest as his other arm held a gladius. Rocketing onto the screen was another man, wielding spear and shield. The shield slammed into the first man’s chest, sending him sprawling backward into the dirt. People gathered below the screen cheered on, watching the fight unfold with revelry.
I was very surprised to see this place had the capability to televise anything.
Julian answered my unasked question for me. “There are cameras in the Coleseo, and cables run underground from there to here. Augustus wants everyone, especially the poor, to watch the Games.”
“Why especially the poor?”
Julian gave a grim smile. “Because they are the most likely to rebel against him. Augustus is good at keeping them fed. Next on his list is to keep them entertained.”
In the distance to my right, I heard the roar of a crowd. I turned to see it: the Coleseo, its three tiers of arches forming a perfect circle on one side of the Forum.
“Are the fights happening live?” I asked.
“Yes,” Julian said. “There are fights all day most Saturdays, and sometimes during the week if there is a festival. Anyone who can’t afford tickets can watch out here.”
Even if it was grotesque, it was amazing what Augustus had been able to do with his Empire. If we could have something as powerful as the Empire on our side, fighting the xenovirus, then that would be a major win. But we had to talk to Augustus first. Before that, we had to rescue Anna.
“What now?” Samuel asked.
“We wait for the auctions to begin,” Julian said.
We waited in Central Square for about an hour, watching the sun rise and burn away what was left of the misty air. With the loss of cloud came the heat. The televisions blared on, and the crowds grew, both to watch the fights and shop at the many stalls that were being set up. More crowds funneled in and out of the Forum buildings on the south side of the square.
I pointed to a walled enclosure that contained a massive, pillared building.
“What’s that place?”
“The Imperial Palace of Augustus Imperator,” Julian said. “Augustus lived here, first. Like the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, it is said that the city grew up around him.”
“Amazing that it took only thirty years,” Samuel said.
“Augustus is very powerful,” Julian said. “Augustus used that power to put everyone to work, including architects and engineers.”
As the day wore on, we noticed a crowd gathering before the base of a stage where the slave auctions were to be held. We made our way over there, keeping to the back of the crowd. No one noticed us as we stood, even though we were dressed differently from the other spectators. In fact, the proceedings had brought a lot of different kinds of people together. Most of the spectators, however, were the rich people of Nova Roma.
However, one man caught my eye in particular. He was short, fat, and wore rich, purple vestments. A long scar cut across his left cheek. His keen brown eyes did not leave the stage. Rings bejeweled his fat fingers.
“That man’s name is Ruben Barrios. He is a Lanisto,” Julian said. When I looked at Julian questioningly, he answered. “A Lanisto is a master of gladiators. He is probably the richest one in the Nova Roman Empire. It’s hard to tell from his looks, but he was once a gladiator himself, having earned his freedom from the Emperor Augustus during the Solstice Tournament.”
“The Solstice Tournament?”
“It takes place every twenty first of December,” Julian said. “It is an epic tournament where the winner gains his freedom. The losers, if they do not die in the arena, are sacrificed at the Temple of Quetzalcoatl.”
Makara sniffed. “And they think we’re barbarians.”
“The Tournament begins this Tuesday, and is one week long.”
“Looks like they’re starting,” Samuel said.
Julian went quiet as slaves were forced on the stage by the guards. None of them even remotely resembled Anna. For one, all were men, and they wore nothing bur crude loincloths. All were strong, fit, and chained hand and foot.
An auctioneer then took the stage, conducting the proceedings in Spanish in a loud, booming voice. No more slaves lined the stage.
“She isn’t here,” I said.
“More might come,” Julian said. “Just wait. Usually, they auction off the cheaper ones first.”
We watched intently for the next hour, as the sun continued to climb to its peak. Once the last slave had been auctioned off, the auctioneer announced something in Spanish before walking off the stage. The crowd began to disperse.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The auction is breaking up for the moment, and will restart in one hour,” Julian said.
“Will Anna be there this time?”
“I think so.”
“Instead of waiting, why don’t we go take a look for ourselves?” Makara asked.
She pointed toward the right of the stage, where a line of carts was parked against a large, stone building. The carts carried cages, and within them were people. Outside the carts stood guards.
“If she is there, we can at least see her,” Samuel said. “When she is purchased, we can tail her to wherever she is taken. It will be too risky trying to break her out right now.”
“We should get a closer look,” I said.
We dispersed with the rest of the crowd, trying to edge closer to the slave carts. As we walked past the stage, down the crowded streets, we stood as close as we dared to the guarded carts. Crammed within were dozens of people. One of them had to be Anna.
It wrenched my heart to see it. Most were dressed in rags, and the citizens of the city passed the slaves and paid them no heed, as if they were nothing more than penned animals. Tools to be sold and used, and killed at will. I would have gotten closer, but guards flanked the entire convoy, directing anyone who got too close to go the other direction. Several men watched in the wings – prospective buyers that wanted an early look.
Then, I saw her, holding the bars and staring outward at the city intensely. She was wearing the same clothing she had been captured in, and despite a bruise on her face, she appeared to be okay.
“Anna,” I said.
She wasn’t looking in our direction, and it wasn’t like any of us could call out to her. That would be a dead giveaway. Instead, I tried willing her to look our way. I just wanted her to know that we were here, and that we were going to take care of everything. In her face, I saw determination. I don’t know where she got it from, but Anna was a fighter, even when the situation seemed hopeless.
“Do you see her?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Samuel said. “She’s right there.”
“...And we can’t do anything about it,” Makara said. “There must be twelve guards around those carts. If we just went in there, we’d be captured or killed.”
“Stick with the plan, then,” Samuel said. “Whoever buys her, we’ll follow him home. And then there will be hell to pay.”
I nodded. It was the best we could do. I just hoped it would be enough.
Reluctantly, I turned away and followed everyone back to the staging
area for the second round of bidding.
Chapter 15
When the auction began again, Anna came on stage next to last. People were more excited about these prospects; the crowds were more numerous, and on the outskirts, even the commoners watched, percolating from the televisions in the center of the square to watch the bidding. The Lanistos stood in their own corner, laughing and joking. Anna was the only woman. The rest were bulky, muscular men that were probably destined for the Coleseo.
Anna kept her head straight, her eyes searching the crowd. When she didn’t have her katana, something seemed off about her. I gritted my teeth. It angered me to see her up there. Most of all, I was angry at myself. If I had been more careful, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I was willing to do anything to get her out of there. Anna had gotten this far. We would carry her the rest of the way.
The bidding began, and the first few men were auctioned off relatively quickly. As the auction progressed, the Lanistos ceased their joking and became more attentive, at time bidding aggressively on the prospects.
Finally, only two were left – Anna, and a bulky, muscular man who was shaved bald.
The auctioneer indicated for Anna to step forward.
She did, and the auctioneer began to speak in Spanish once more.
Julian translated. “He is saying the she is a beautiful warrior from the far north, an expert in the use of the katana. He also says that she has...”
The men in the audience laughed and smiled. I waited for Julian to continue.
“Has what?” I asked.
Julian a hesitated a moment. “...other talents.”
My face burned with anger. There was nothing more I wanted to do than rush that stage and carry her away, danger be damned. My hand reached for my gun. Makara brushed it away.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Alex. We’ll have the last laugh in the end.”
The bidding began. It seemed everyone was making an offer. Quickly, the poorer men were left in the dust and the richest men – the ones wearing the finest and brightest clothing – continued to bid in larger and larger amounts as if it was nothing.
