[screams]
Sundered hand must be removed before infection sets.
You would see my champion crippled.
[screams]
Tarchon shall stand as champion
until such day Achillia returns to form.
[Cornelia] Let us witness evidence of the divine.
Offering falls short.
She was in error.
Your boasts proved true, in all regards.
Cornelia, she conspires
to see my only child bonded to Quintus Thermus.
I would plea... against it.
Are we not friends?
Ah! Gratitude!
[Opiter] Turn from cold, uncaring arms
in favor... of loving embrace.
My villa and ludus
and all men contained within
in exchange for but one of yours.
The man takes flight,
his holdings falling to deserving... hands.
Opiter?
[sinister laughter]
[screams]
[shouting, screaming]
[blades ring]
[rapid percussive music, vocalizing]
[dark, eerie music]
[sobs]
[brooding music]
Aargh!
[thunder rumbles]
[dramatic music]
No, no, no!
No! [sobs]
Cilicians.
[thunder booms]
We must go, quickly.
Let's go!
[frenetic music]
[groans]
Aargh!
He has barely taken food in seven days.
Yet appetite for drink threatens to drain pantry of wine.
Loss of heart's desire inflicts deepest wound.
Is there nothing to be done for him?
Time...
stands only remedy.
Then may it swiftly pass.
See wine tempered with water
in hope of dousing inflamed passions.
And deny entry to villa, lest he cause unwanted disturbance.
I will see it so.
There is one more thing I would ask of you.
Opiter's holdings are to fall to auction.
Do they not spill to you, as promised?
Agreement was not enshrined in wax nor parchment
prior to Opiter's passing.
Come.
I would have you gauge coin towards purchase.
[sobs]
[sobs] Cilician shits!
A fucking blight
upon republic!
Heart shatters at thought of final moments.
Opiter did not deserve such fate.
You were right.
- Towards? - This world
holding nothing
but shadow.
For there to be shadow, there must also be light.
Realization formed by words of loving mother.
He was my friend.
[sobs]
Oh, you must compose yourself.
You wail and gnash teeth
as if the man were cut from your own flesh.
Would that they had taken arm
or fucking leg!
Gladly given
to have him yet among us.
I know the worth he held towards you
and services provided.
Apologies.
I do not glean...
meaning.
Let it pass from thought,
carrying with it weight of such grief.
It would hasten climb
from depths of sorrow
to see Opiter deservedly honored.
In what manner?
Funeral games
presented by this house.
Warmest gesture.
To hold remembrance of him in the arena
where he once presented spectacle to all of Capua.
We must fix intent upon mounting Cilician threat
in advance of additional lives claimed.
- Father-- - He stood a lanista.
A senator cannot be seen
publicly honoring a man of such low station.
Your own image
is all that consumes you.
One of us must make attempt.
[wails]
Is there nothing you can do,
striking balance between limits of title
and compassion towards wife and mother?
Games are removed from question.
Yet Opiter's holdings
fall to auction,
in absence of family to claim them.
I could preside over event,
breaking measured words of praise towards his memory.
Gratitude.
It would lend much comfort.
[speaks Greek]
[chuckles]
It lifts spirits to see you rise again.
- I'm too stubborn to die. - Mm.
On that we are in agreement.
The name Achillia falls from every tongue
in Capua,
clamoring for your return to the arena.
May the gods marshal patience, for the wait fucking continues.
But increases anticipation.
Thoughts have turned towards you,
in days confined to recovery.
I admit, thoughts of you lend distraction.
A feast for the senses.
[chuckles] I have been called many things, yet never that.
No, your words broken towards the arena.
It stood just as you had described.
There are few things more intoxicating.
And I would drink my fill.
Yet the champion,
would begin day's training.
Rest.
Attend your recovery.
Tarchon assumes mantle
until such time you are able to reclaim it.
You stand his better in every regard.
Why was title not bestowed upon more worthy name?
Because I no longer stand a gladiator.
- Dominus strips you of honor? - Oh, no. He but elevate it...
to position of doctore.
Doctore?
What of Korris?
Departed from this house,
only to return haunted by phantom of slain lover,
grief twisting thought and purpose
beyond concerns of ludus.
Much has changed in brief absence.
Some things have remained constant.
I have been too long upon back.
Let us to training for the moment,
in promise of future glories.
Doctore.
[men grunt, swords clash]
[slow, stirring string music]
[wind whistles]
[swords thud rhythmically]
[dramatic music builds]
Achillia!
[all] Achillia!
[music fades]
Dacus!
Swords.
Hen returns, and with broken wing.
She shall find cock crowing in her place.
May the gods bless your return.
And stay from fucking path if they do not.
Achillia.
Pair with Salvius.
I would train with exalted champion, doctore.
A thing equally desired.
Then fall to fucking position.
Begin!
The Nubian,
has learned much within her short time at this house.
Lessons I stand eager to impart.
[both yell]
Perhaps former champion requires a moment
- to gather herself, doctore. - [men laugh]
[tense music]
[both yell]
[Achillia screams in agony]
Yah!
[pants]
You tend to your hand,
and return to training when you are able.
As you command,
Doctore.
Father, I would break much-needed words.
[Ashur] And use of fucking hand?
[Celadus] But it proves a concern.
Perhaps more days tended by medicus.
The city clamors to lay eyes upon the Goddess of Death,
yet their interests shift as fucking wind!
Days must become hours if we are to harvest victory's fruit
in advance of fucking rival
presenting imitations upon the sands.
How fares Korris?
His wisdom towards returning Achillia to the arena
would be of great benefit.
His thoughts are his own until shared.
You remain doctore.
Return to your duties and see Achillia rise once more
to exalted position.
Or all within this house shall tumble with her towards abyss.
Apologies, Dominus. I would... I would petition towards favor.
And what does newborn doctore seek to wrest
from generous fucking master?
For myself, nothing.
Yet son stands champion in Achillia's absence
and beseeches request reflective of title.
Break words
and see considerations met.
If coin
presents no...
burden.
How do accounts stand?
Towards villa and ludus, adequate.
And towards purchase of Opiter's holdings?
- Purse falls short of ambition. - [sighs] By what degree?
If we reduce the men to half rations
-and cease purchasing of wine, -Mm-hm.
we are able to offer 5000 denarii.
Barely.
Even a house as lowly as Opiter's
will command many times such amount for the land alone.
Then I fear holdings remain beyond grasp,
absent intervention from the gods themselves.
Perhaps there is one less close to the heavens
who may be of assistance.
Gratitude.
Domina.
Cornelia.
I would break words.
In private.
- Leave us. - Domina.
You seem of a fucking mood.
Apologies.
Recent events weigh heavy upon thoughts.
See worries lifted by daughters of the field.
The finest opium from Cyprus.
Provided as tribute by Pompey
upon meeting loving husband in Sinuessa en Valle.
I do not partake.
It addles the senses,
clouding vision with apparitions of the mind.
More for those of an appreciative nature, then.
Opiter's holding to fall to auction
in wake of untimely demise.
Who?
The lanista who shared the pulvinus with us
at the games of the Ludi Apollinares.
Oh, yes. A pity.
Yet not unexpected for a man of his profession.
His passing was severest blow to my doctore,
who held feelings towards the man.
And this concerns me how?
Opiter was to leave Capua for warmer climes of Sicilia
and wished to see Korris fall by his side.
I agreed to release him from his duties as doctore
in exchange for Opiter's holdings within the city.
Unfortunately, deal was not concluded
in advance of Opiter's death at the hands of the Cilicians.
Perhaps the same one who descended upon Cossutia
and noble daughter in advance of your arrival.
Speak plainly, so we may come to fucking understanding.
Plainly, then.
Your noble husband orchestrated attack on Viridia and Cossutia,
disguising his men as Cilician cutthroats.
And now good Opiter succumbs
to similar fate.
You suspect his hand in this.
Or one more delicate, in Caesar's absence.
Loss of Opiter is a thing of no matter.
Yet that of his holding afflicts more grievous injury.
I will see coffers balanced towards purchase
of what should have freely been given.
You seek redress upon erroneous assumption.
You claim no knowledge of the deed?
I but bestow veracity upon the ignorant.
Ha!
Your machinations hold little interest
within sphere of your betters.
Perhaps look towards one of lower breeding
as cause of current distress.
No one knew of my agreement with Opiter beyond Korris
and the man himself.
Tongue seizes within mouth.
Thing to be nurtured.
I have broached accusation absent...
proper consideration.
- Apologies. - None required.
I so enjoy our little talks.
[chuckles]
[tense music]
You resumed training absent consideration of counsel.
Did you instruct son towards victory against me?
He did not require such to see you so easily dispatched.
You hold such little faith in me?
I hold more faith in you than in Jupiter himself.
This.
This is but obstacle
on your path.
You - you will regain position one fight upon another.
How is obstacle to be surmounted
if I cannot cling to fucking sword?
Dimachaerus is but one style among many.
We shall find you a new one,
offering opportunity in place of disadvantage.
I would know your thoughts upon my form, Doctore.
Hoplomachus favors one hand towards weapon,
with small shield strapped to the other,
absent need for heavy grip.
- The spear? - Yes.
I would consider retiarius instead.
Trident and net
require fast grip of both hands.
- Thraex, then. - Sword and medium shield.
Once again, two hands with the firmest grip.
Hoplomachus stands only path to overcome present injury.
- I will not take up spear. - And what is the reason?
My fucking own.
As is cause why you will never again grace sands of the arena.
[sniffs]
[both grunt]
[fighters shout]
[spectators laugh]
[Tarchon] Well fought, brother.
[spits]
[tense music]
Return to training, you fucking cunts!
Hmm.
Your father's position as doctore appears secure.
Give way!
I would break words with honored fucking guest.
You are denied entry.
- By whose command? - Dominus himself.
So be it.
[grunts]
Open the fucking gate!
[grunts] Fuck off!
- Bastard! - [thud]
- Open the gate, you bastards! - Korris!
- Come to fucking sense! - Get off me, you- [grunts]
Get off me, you bastards!
[grunts]
Fucking cunt!
[brooding atmospheric music]
[gate creaks]
[gate clanks]
You deny entry to fucking villa?
A decision well-founded.
You stand not yourself.
[winces]
You...
do not know me, Syrian.
Once more, you treat me like your fucking slaves!
A temporary measure taken in consideration for well-being.
I need no such consideration.
It is not yours that lends pause.
Why did you seek entry to the villa?
To break words with Caesar's bitch.
Words alone?
Caesar threatened Opiter,
and now the man lies...
dead,
breath stilled by the same Cilician phantoms
that assaulted Cossutia and her fucking daughter
that you hold such obvious affection towards.
Years etched upon visage
outweighs briefest moment in Opiter's embrace.
I will not see you fall from this world
seized by fit
of passion.
What care you if I live or die?
We do not stand as friends.
No,
we do not.
Yet I have come to know the value of your presence and...
would have you tarry among the living.
[chuckles]
You season words with flattery.
In hope it might aid digesting truth.
Well received.
Yet I would take leave of this place.
- Where would you go? - Sinuessa en Valle.
If I'm denied words with Cornelia,
I'd have some with that bastard, Caesar.
Caesar's hand in this has proven...
uncertain.
What leads to such revelation?
My own reflection towards event.
I am but captive audience.
[exhales]
I was moved towards boastful humors
upon meeting Proculus in the street
and let slip
Opiter was to release his holdings
to the house of Ashur.
You fucking--
It was not intent to see harm befall him.
Do not feign sympathy
for a man that you slighted
at every turn!
You did not
fucking care for him!
In your welfare I hold the utmost.
- [chains rattle] - Unchain me. Hmm?
Hmm?
[growls]
Opiter's holdings are put to auction.
I would have you fall by my side
and together let us unearth truth about his untimely fate
and only then,
be spurred towards mutual purpose.
[sighs]
Your will,
my hands.
[dark, dramatic music]
Have eyes ever beheld such enticing wonder?
No, Domina.
You are familiar with the ecstasy that lies within?
I have never been afforded opportunity
to embrace such pleasures.
Not unsurprising within the house of the Syrian.
The man does not seek elevated pleasures,
content as those of his station
to wallow in common pursuits of wine and fucking.
You are very perceptive, Domina.
Do you believe I require a slave
to impart such wisdom of observation?
- No, Domina, I only meant- - Do not look so stricken.
Your presence brightens otherwise grim surroundings.
I value it.
And the lay of your thoughts-
when so requested.
Gratitude, Domina.
Tell me, how long have you toiled beneath the Syrian?
Since Crassus granted him freedom,
blessing him with villa and ludus.
I fear the richest man in the republic
overestimates the worth of his pet.
Sentiment deeply shared.
You do not care for the Syrian?
I serve as commanded.
That is not the question put to you, is it?
He is a serpent,
venomous of fang and not to be trusted.
You would speak of your dominus in such manner?
He stands unworthy of title,
and affections misplaced by those who serve him.
And what of your domina?
How gauge you her worth?
Beyond measure of words to describe.
You are a treasure, are you not?
A precious jewel,
exhumed from muck and mire of unfortunate environ,
to be polished until made dazzling
to all who gaze upon such rarity.
It shall be saddest of days, Domina,
when you depart from Capua.
Perhaps we shall find place among my possessions
for nearest acquisition.
[sultry choral music]
Apologies.
A word eternally upon lips.
In this moment one sharply required.
Forever intruded upon.
Prepare bath,
and let us continue conversation within soothing waters.
Yes, Domina.
Make whatever bleatings brief in nature,
if such a thing is within your limited powers.
I approach but to confess
previous accusation towards Opiter
was perhaps built upon...
unsteady grounds.
- Perhaps? - A thing I would move beyond,
in consideration of more pressing concerns.
[chuckles]
You vibrate from one calamity to another.
It stands a wonder you yet remain whole.
You light upon reason of my interruption.
Opiter's holding, which slipped from grasp.
To be put to auction, yes.
You trod well-worn ground of conversation.
Entertain but few more steps.
Opportunity presents itself to secure what was lost.
Yet I...
regrettably stand shy of coin required.
You seek warm embrace from the house of Caesar?
The rise of my own would benefit Crassus.
A man we all admire, I suppose.
Yet what benefit would such expenditure grant Caesar
and deserving wife?
Continued effort towards desire of matrimony
between Viridia and your husband's man,
Quintus Thermus.
You judge goal within grasp?
Gabinius appeared...
moved by my counsel
towards the matter.
Surely Caesar will incline towards generosity,
given such favorable news.
What gauge you worth of Opiter's holdings?
25,000 denarii- a balance that may ebb or rise
with egos of challengers towards goal.
That stands all?
A sum hardly to be noticed.
Ah.
Let us take wine in celebration of common purpose.
[chuckles]
Gratitude.
Although I fear word falls short of adequate expression.
Yet gratefully accepted.
To future promising mutual gain.
[laughs]
Mood takes hold.
Its grip to strengthen in coming moments.
[tense music]
You tainted fucking wine?
The Syrian accepts one gift, yet refuses another?
[clears throat]
[ethereal choral music]
Ohh...
[chuckles]
[laughs]
[sighs]
Dominus?
[sighs]
A vision,
descended from unworthy heaven.
Come.
You honor me.
I am the one who stands so,
in such glorious,
unexpected presence.
- Dominus. - No.
I would have my name
upon your lips.
Speak it.
[whispers] Ashur.
Again.
Ashur.
Shall we fall to bedchambers?
So long a wait an eternity.
I must have you now,
upon this moment.
[sultry percussive music]
[ethereal choral music]
[both moan]
[grunts]
I would have you look at me and know that my heart is yours.
[Gabinius] Citizens of Capua,
we gather this day upon solemn occasion.
The Cilician scourge that has so plagued beloved republic
has yet again cleaved close to the bone.
Good Opiter,
cherished by many among you for his offerings in the arena,
has fallen from this life by their barbaric hands.
Yet we must marshal fortitude towards coming days.
Absent family to lay claim to property and holdings,
all that Opiter possessed within Capua is presented for auction.
Tradition dictates coin from such
be administered by aedile as he would see fit.
However, in these
extraordinary days,
extraordinary measures must be appropriated.
Beyond a...
cursory fee,
all coin shall be reallocated
to strengthen defense
against mounting threat of Cilician incursion.
[all cheer]
Gratitude!
You fall to drink as well?
Would that only wine had parted lips.
Twenty three gladiators,
one doctore,
one medicus of foreign tongue,
fourteen house slaves,
one villa, one ludus, and all contained within,
inclusive of furnishings, statuary of minor origin,
jewelry and adornments befitting a citizen...
The jackal appears.
Remove hand from fucking sword!
This stands neither time nor place for bloodied conflict.
Nor can we move against him, absent proof of deed.
[Uvidius] Ten stallions
of moderate and pleasing countenance,
as well as four ponies believed to be of Galician origin.
Ashur.
Ah.
You have been in my thoughts.
As you have in mine.
How fares Achillia?
She clawed way from darkness
and makes progress towards return to arena.
Oh, heart soars at such news.
Secured by the power of your prayers.
My own accompanying them.
- You made offering to the gods? - Upon your urging.
And they have heard you.
- You wander astray. - Apologies.
I would have you close by my side,
lest you fall to less savory elements within crowd.
[sighs heavily]
Turn thoughts towards possession more attainable.
[Uvidius] He has been torn from breast far too soon.
It's unseemly to associate with a man in public,
especially one with such meager esteem.
I merely broached subject of his champion.
A woman in the arena- an affront to the gods.
I find her a welcome provocation.
Bidding commences at 10,000 denarii.
Who would light intent of first offering?
10,000 denarii.
Good Proculus ignites the flame.
Eleven.
[Uvidius] 11,000 from the Syrian!
Glorious mother and radiant daughter
of the house of Gabinius.
[Bidder] 12,000!
I did not expect to find such delightful company
in midst of base proceedings.
15,000 denarii.
Sixteen.
Opiter was much loved by the city
and held
personally as trusted friend.
Deepest sympathies.
I but knew him for an instant,
yet he left indelible impression.
Apologies.
I would break privileged words with loving mother.
See her to her father.
[Uvidus] Who shall offer counter?
[Proculus] 19,000.
- 20. - [crowd mutter approvingly]
21,000.
Men battle for dominance beyond arena.
They clash over insignificant meal.
Let us see bellies sated towards hunt for larger prey.
Word reaches ear your husband favors union
towards Quintus Thermus and beloved daughter.
I fear such has been received in error.
Thoughts towards matter soured considerably
in wake of the Syrian's visit.
Really?
How unfortunate.
21,500.
Twenty two.
23,000 denarii.
- 27,000 denarii. - [crowd cheer, applaud]
27,000 denarii
from the Syrian!
How counters the house of Proculus?
Cost floats beyond reason.
[crowd laugh]
To the victor the spoils.
Opiter's holdings fall to the Syrian.
[cheering, applause]
[Man in crowd] Glory to the house of Ashur!
Let us arrange payment.
The house of Caesar shall stand for me in such regard.
I fear you are mistaken.
The house of Caesar does not involve itself
in the affairs of lesser men.
[crowd mutters]
Are you able to produce sum required, Syrian?
[ominous music]
Apologies, Senator.
It appears I am not.
[Proculus chuckles]
[Man in crowd] Fucking shit!
[crowd laughs]
Promises unkept,
prove vexing,
do they not?
If there stand no other bids,
Opiter's holdings fall to the house of Proculus.
[cheering, applause]
Gods grant favor to those deemed fucking worthy!
Satyrus!
What seizes fucking mind?
He wears Opiter's pendant on his fucking belt.
We cannot move upon him now, you simple fuck.
Let us give pause and consider path.
The house of the Syrian succumbs to public disagreement.
A blessing dearest friend Opiter's holdings
did not forth to such ill-mannered hands.
A blessing, indeed.
[Man in crowd] The Syrian shits on his memory!
[sighs heavily] Counsel holding cock in fucking hand?
I but suggest a moment of reflection towards course
that sees our enemies to fucking grass,
with us not among them!
[crowd mutters]
[chuckles]
Gather husband and daughter.
I would return to villa
in advance of further unpleasantness.
I would have words, Cossutia.
Break them with noble husband.
Perhaps they will bend him towards your will,
as they did in denial of suitable match for my daughter.
He appears unreceptive towards my presence.
Spurred by overreach of your purse
and your man's unbalanced display, one would imagine.
Korris was but moved by passions shared,
towards untimely passing of Opiter.
I did not know there stood a bond between them.
One that promised to lead them far from Capua and fate...
Opiter feared.
He feared Cilician assault.
No.
Nor do I believe he fell by their hands.
Whose, then?
One I would enlist aid in holding
to deserved account.
[dramatic music]
[grunts angrily]
Aargh!
[groans]
The Nubian believes herself deserving of highest mantle,
yet...
cannot best
idle log.
[men laugh]
Doctore.
I would take up fucking spear.
Dacus! Spear and small shield, towards style of hoplomachus.
Yes, Doctore.
Decision wisely made.
We shall see.
[suspenseful music builds]
[screams echo]
Tarchon, take position.
I now stand champion, Nubian.
- And you but a fading memory. - [whip cracks]
[Celadus] Begin!
[tense music]
- [grunts] - Yah!
[dramatic percussive music]
Yah!
[grunts]
[both grunt]
Yah!
[intense choral music]
[Tarchon growls]
[grunts]
Perhaps idle log stands more formidable opponent.
[gladiators chuckle]
[yells furiously]
[intense music builds]
Yah!
[yells]
Tarchon!
Contest is ended! You stand victor!
[spits]
[gentle music]
- Was there ever doubt? - Tarchon.
Well fought.
You fall from training.
See yourself to deserved reward.
Gratitude, Doctore.
One fight.
[dramatic music]
How did sufficient coin grace palm to see me to the ludus?
With title of champion comes many rewards.
Champion?
No one is more deserving of the mantle.
Well, my father may hold differing opinion.
Hmm.
You are not a boy.
[sultry music]
Nor should you be treated as such.
You stood as a god upon the sands.
And my Elysium...
is nestled but paces away.
What fucking hand laid marks upon you?
The fat one,
short of humor and shorter of cock.
Unintended laugh escaped lips when he unsheathed tiny weapon.
I will have his fucking life.
He's a Roman
and we but slaves, to be used towards ends not our own.
He favors the games, does he not?
And I by his side.
Petition for seat towards very front next I fight.
And I will give him spectacle not soon forgotten.
What is of your planning?
Let us fall into discussion after.
Tending to rising...
necessity.
I will gain my freedom
in the arena upon a day
and purchase yours from coin won in blood and battle.
I must attend recent acquisition.
What is so pressing words desired cannot be delayed?
Your life and the forfeit of it.
The Syrian claims proof it is your hand
that struck Opiter down, not the Cilicians.
-He moves against you presently. -Hm.
How did you come by such absurd notion?
He approached,
in attempt to gain aid in swaying husband and aedile
towards your hand in the deed.
You and Opiter stood inseparable.
Even if fanciful accusation proved true,
why reveal the Syrian's plan?
My love for Opiter,
is eclipsed by hatred for the Syrian.
A loathsome creature, eyes slithering across my daughter.
I would see him...
to quick and unfortunate end.
Hmm.
In that we stand in agreement.
But how best to rid ourselves of such annoyance?
I will send counterfeit message
confirming meeting with esteemed husband and aedile
in place far removed from view,
under condition he move alone,
due to delicate nature of the accusation.
-Hm. -The rest...
falls to your...
discretion.
Gratitude.
I shall see the matter properly attended.
[suspenseful music]
[whispering] Gabinius?
Aedile?
[whistling]
Someone has lost his way.
We will help him find it.
[laughter]
Thought he could turn Cossutia to his cause.
Thought we wouldn't know.
Thought he could fuck us.
You are the one who stands fucked, Syrian!
[ominous music]
[gladiators laugh]
Your dominus once swore if he were to move against me,
it would be his hand grasping blade.
He attends to Opiter's holdings.
Yet I shall report your screams in exquisite detail!
[chortles]
[gladiators laugh]
[laughs]
Aargh!
It shall not be the cries of Ashur
that fill the air this night.
[ominous music]
That fucking cunt!
Never place trust in a woman of a certain age.
Come, let us embrace.
[Korris] Hold!
I alone would repay debt of blood.
That appears unwise.
Intercede and find us at cross purpose once more.
I should not stand surprised, yet here we fucking are.
No one leaves arena.
[suspenseful music]
[grunts]
That does not belong to you.
[Satyrus chuckles]
Come, then, and retrieve it!
[fighters grunt, swords clash]
[screams]
Yah!
[dramatic action music]
- Yah! - [gurgles]
[yells]
[weapons clash]
[Korris groans]
[all yell]
- [Korris groans] - Dominus.
Yah!
Ugh!
Yah!
- [splat!] - [screams]
Musicus!
[groans]
[blood trickles]
Aargh!
[screams]
[splat]
No!
[laughs]
No!
Aargh!
You stand alone,
little man.
As Opiter did
when you claimed his fucking life.
I but did as commanded
by my dominus!
Then I would see message delivered to him.
[both yell]
[Satyrus groans]
Yah!
[pants]
[whimpers]
Carry a message to your master.
[groans]
The house of Ashur shall see his fall...
[whimpers]
...upon the sands of the arena.
[groans]
Aargh!
I would not have let him live.
- And I am not you. - And I thank the gods...
for it.
See bodies beneath ground. Quickly!
Ashur.
I would reclaim title,
and resume my labors.
[dramatic choral music]
You honor this house.
Doctore.
[dramatic music deepens]
[percussive, foreboding music]
[foreboding music continues, builds]
[music becomes ominous]
[music continues]
[music becomes intriguing]
[music becomes dramatic, percussive]
[music intensifies]