Prologue

Between two districts lies two school's whose headmasters share complex chemistry between each other. The Mercatus District, home to the female institution honing on all standard fighting styles. The Domus Nobilium District, home to the theater arts and performance gladiators. To one, a masterful craftswoman of materials and fabrication, the other, a renowned novelist and theater director extraordinaire. Both, grand representors to their gifted traits, faced the early struggles of everyday life on managing their school’s reputation and fame to where it stands now. Throughout the years of their rivalship, one is still at odds with the other on a personal level. As more is unveiled about the troubles these headmasters clashed amongst themselves, the more chaotic the metropolis unsettles itself on what’s really happening behind closed school doors.

Chapter 1: Messaging Errands

Beautanica Oralcosis is the headmistress of her school of lady fighters, with only one exception, a male foreigner whom Gladians happily accepted as their own. A net and trident fighter who’s earned a reputation as a retiarius gladiator. Not only that, but an exquisite servant in the arts of butlering. His charming looks are masked under his helmet. His know-how of producing the largest maid teachings for any woman interested in the useful skill, makes him the only male to be allowed to train within the feminine institution. This head butler of Beautanica's school educates girls and women on maintaining a habitat's cleanliness, dining waitership, and laundry services.

The school went on as normal with its daily routines, personnel at their chores, female warriors practicing their combat, and the staffing maintaining a listing of administrational office deeds for the building. Its headmistress diligently worked within her highly decorated living and office space. Animal furs coated the walls like blankets. The fresh aroma of essential oils basked the lavish space. At her detailed engraved desk, the lanistress wrote in her leger. A sudden knocking beheld her ears, halting her strokes briefly before resuming.

“Come in.” Beautanica casually said. 

A man appears before her desk while she continues writing within her leger. Dawning a retiarius helmet with a predominant fin feature visored all around, his only armor protection was traded off from the usual shield arm manica all common classed retiarii wear.

The man bowed. “Answering your summons, Headmistress.” 

“Acolytus dear, some of the girls have had discussions about that lanista boy who’s writing in his ‘special’ novels again.”

“Yes Mistress, what would you like for me to do?”

Neatly tearing a pre-written page out of her book, she rolled her message up with a wax seal of her insignia before handing it to the head servant. 

“A message is all, he better not portray me or my love interests on the Spectacula District's headmaster again.”

“Yes Mistress.” Acolytes bows, departing from her office.

The brisk hot day bathes sunlight on the passing citizens and slaves of Gladia. The Nobilium District goes through its regular day to day functions as usual, its gladiator warriors training around the clock. Swift timing auditions ensue. Casts are being settled upon who fits the role of each character in the plays. Customary showings are being rehearsed. In the midst of this commotion, hides a lanista, within his office space. His surroundings, decorated in bizarre souvenirs from his travels. His legacy, exploring the outskirts of the outside world and living to tell the tales therein, with stories through his imaginations. Among the most popular are his romance novels. Something about his audiences, especially early teenagers, they’ve fallen in love with his works. Such lively literature produced, it even attracts many of the children serious about dating and falling in love. For some, Quinlan Uberio is a successful author, others, an accomplished artist in his own right, but for the few, a sick offense to the natural separation between man and woman.

Writing in his many journals stacked copiously around his desk, the young adult’s focus is shattered by a voice.

“Master?”

Quinlan looks up from his journal to see his group of student leadership recruits. 

“Oh” The feeling of shyness settles in as he careful places his works away under his desk. forgive me. “Yes, my pupils?”

The head pupil cleared his throat before answering.

“Headmaster, a number of us would like to partake in the gathering of grapes to vibrate our spirits for the dances with lulls tonight.”

Quinlan blinked, reaching under his desk to reveal his activity binder for scheduled events, finding a slot available for the group of 6 wanting to stock themselves with the available resources for their get together with other Gladians.

“Time opening, today after 2 half way.” He shyly states.

The head pupil bows in thanks, taking his group out of his office space. Uberio, feeling hunger churning his belly, retrieves his notebook of drafted stories and ideas. Heading outside, the warming sun shines down on him as he slowly makes his way to the Oscan Capua District. Its many open food stands offer many viable snackings for the young adult. Many people who pass by him take note of his presence. Even some children spot him and run up to the incredibly young headmaster.

“Oh Mister Mister, can I sign your draft works?”

The 10 year old was accompanied with many children chiming in with similar requests.

Quinlan shyly opens a page of his notebook as children line up, each child with their own writing pens, autographing around the written works of the young headmaster. It’s common for the fans of his works to sign his drafts as motivation for the author to keep up his spirit of writing.

The children thanked him and also got a wicked sneak peek at what's to come about his next works. Quinlan resumed his walk, trying to fall into crowds of strolling pediatricians to avoid more attention. 

I wish I had those kid's enthusiasm to openly meet their inspirations in public like that. He pondered.

Talking with a nearby food vendor, Uberio bought a mini bag of almonds and one honey crisp apple. Carrying the apple in one hand, he stashed his almonds next to his coin purse. Heading over to a fountain, he sat at the edge of the water well spring, enjoying his mid day snacks, admiring the view of the Oscan as people passed on with their day. Voices bounce all around, noises echo from the environment’s bustling business goers with laughter, chats, and greets. It's rare moments like these that make him feel steady and calm.

With the last bite of his apple, he felt satiated. Peering over a public area of resting hammocks, it felt necessary for a nap's rest. Laying himself on the net, he fell right asleep thinking about his next writings with fun detail, the surroundings soothing him. Sometime passes as his mind regains consciousness, opening his eyelid a tad to see Acolytus, him, sitting down on the cool stone floor, reading a book. Quinlan leans his feet out of the hammock sitting up right. The retiarius glances over to him watching, then closes the book, standing. 

“Headmaster, a personal message from Headmistress Oralcosis.” The butler bowed, offering the letter.

Quinlan hesitates on taking the scroll sealed with the beautiful woman's insignia.

“Thank... you.” He says, carefully breaking the seal, unraveling it, then reading while Acolytus glimpses over him.

[Letter from Beautanica to Quinlan]

Not so dear Uberio,

It's come to my attention that you seek on writing yet another perverts tale about me and Headmaster Cortelyous. I promise you that such provocaty shall not slander my good nature as an upstanding woman and a mature kindly man's such as Vero’s. Keep me out of your gross filthy stories, you dinky creep.

With serious inclinations.

Beautanica Oralcosis

Headmistress Lanista

of the Mercatus District

[End of letter]

Quinlan got excited, his mind filled to the brim with ideas and details for his next romance novel. Acolytus noted the headmaster's giddy expression, those aroused eyes at the scroll, the shying man’s insecure expression had disappeared for a moment, lost like a child in a wonderland of adventure. Uberio glances to see him still there, and he composes himself.

Clearing his throat. “Excuse me, umm... I'll be leaving.”

The retiarius watches as Uberio briskly makes his way to the Nobilium District without haste.

Acolytus ponders as he walks the other direction back to Mercatus. Should I tell Beautanica that the opposite just happened? Hmm? 

As her ladyship deems it, her gladiatrix fighters are appropriately behaved, very ladylike in the strict motherly ways outside of the arena, but when in combat or training, these women pose strong skills to outwit and subdue their opponents more effectively than other gladiatrii outside the district's teachings. Their stances shift to aggressive strikes, dominating defenses, and cooperative plays with and against others. Beautanica studies her slaves well, knowing what's lacking, improving their abilities in fighting. She is blessed to have 5 elder brothers share their combativeness as hunters in the arenas and outside the metropolis in real game combat. Never being allowed to participate in such manly activities, this has bonged her perspective on men, her specialty, crafting useful equipment for her siblings. Being the only daughter, her mother helped her master the art of crafting with all varieties of raw resources. 

Her father fought in the outskirts of Gladia. Ambushed by a slew of savage beasts, wild, untamed, lethal creatures of destruction. The defenses subdued and put down every vile creature that stood against them, hauling in the largest return of stocked resources of the century, but at the cost of some mighty men. Meats, pelts, bones, fat, and much more to sustain the entirety of Gladia for years to come. She never saw her father in person, only in portrait memories. Now in her early thirties, Beautanica has maintained and ran her school with success. She would have never done it without the spectacular aid of a discontinued stupendous classed sagittarius, Vero Cortelyous, retiring from fighting against an unbeatable foe.

The fatherly man held dutiful expressions of treating women like they are his own daughters, with sincere respect, honesty, and gratitude. Beautanica feels indebted to a man so kind, so righteous to pave the road for a women's only gladiator school, and what's more, she be the one, asked by him, to run the establishment. 

As her day goes on, she spends her time repairing sturdy pouches for a group of scouts setting off to explore the settlements outside the metropolis for some game hunting. The hunters’ pack leader is impressed by the headmistress's hand at sewing up badly torn satchels and quivers as if they were new once more. 

“Ah Miss, what would your brothers do without your skill with materials?”

Beautanica snorts, “They’d turned to a lesser craftsman, one with amateur talents to temporarily fix their inventory holders and baggage.” The lanistress was hard on taking compliments from men. “There you are now, make tributes to my women in the Treasury Department.”

The hunters’ pack leader took his stitched satchel discouraged by her attitude, but yet satisfied with her marvelous hand in mending. They take their leave, admiring the brilliant works from a woman's abilities with raw resources, such timing to fix their equipment with high quality materials was extra convenient. 

Acolytus returns to her working on other crafting projects within her workshop. His footsteps alert her for he brings to her, her favorite snack, dehydrated fruits chopped into bite size pieces.

“My dear Butler, what news of the delivery?”

“Headmistress,” Acolytus says as he removes his helmet, a serious note for the butlerman to speak his next words, “it seems that your letter of discouragement for Nobilium's Headmaster has… brought out inspiration.”

Beautanica's expression hardens, her attitude turning sour.

“Humph, it's always the same thing with that boy! Everytime I write to him to stop, he makes even better stories than before.” She sets her work down, maddened over her foiled attempt. “Why does a twirp like him get so motivated by my disapproval?”

Her head servant sits next to her, lending the mistress’s hand on his for emotional comfort. She often requests this of him during her mental struggles. 

“Have you asked Headmaster Cortelyous about your issues with Uberio, madam? Surely he's aware of his literary works.” 

Beautanica sighs, “Yes I have…” she squints in knowing something, “and he seems to think the tales have nothing directly about us. Stubborn as always.”

The retiarius gets to thinking, “Headmistress, I'm curious, how is it that you know what's in his writings?” The question begins to beckon on Acolytus more. “Did you acquire a book or two from Uberio?”

She stands, heading to her office embarrassed about it, her butler following. 

“Ten years ago when I first met Quinlan, he was but a boy. Mind you he was shyer than anyone I've seen before, still is to this day. Anyways, I was 20 years old and him, 10. Cortelyous was an epic addition to my brothers’ band of hunters. The 6 of them pursued and decimated all sorts of moderate level threats that lurked the horizons of Gladia's metropolis. I worked to develop their increasing satchels and pouch requirements. The more hunted spoils they returned to me and my mother, the more they were capable of repelling the hostile invaders. Uberio was with other scouts sighting out enemies and wild beasts from afar. He studied everything he saw, watching our activities and documenting them down for his grand school assignments. He was undoubtedly a rememberor of details and events. My brothers are trained close-quarters fighters, meanwhile Vero Cortelyous, an expert sharpshooter with the longbow, sniping his shots from extreme distances.”

“How extreme?”

Beautanica smiles impressed. “Few very lucky shots over 400 meters, any close to 300 meters are 80% chances, and any below 250, almost always, and closer ones with greater and greater hit successions.”

Acolytes blinked, wowed by the archer. “This is of course idle or at least slow targets?”

“Oh yes, anyone able to hit moving targets at those far ranges is capable of assassinating the Emperor from outside the metropolis.”

“So I assume that Cortelyous frequently visited with Uberio back then?”

The two walked throughout the school’s hallways.

“Yep, and the boy wrote lots about his experiences with a skilled archer, detailing his events as extraordinary, killing many wild beastlings from afar.” The mistress points at a display case of fur warrior armor. “People may say it's exaggerated, but here's one of many furs that were used during the outer settlement skirmishes.”

Acolytus sees an arrowhead with a small vc on both sides, pierced through the head portion on the armor’s attire. “Truly fascinating mistress. I presume you marked his ammunition?”

“I have,” she says reminiscently, “and Uberio… boy, those were the days when he observed my gazes upon Vero. He thought it special to know that I have deep affections for the sagittarius. Growing up, I'd always fond over Vero, wanting him to be my lover, but he instead gave me something else I wanted, this school for gladiatrii fighters. He was pursuing on establishing a school at the Spectacula District instead, and so as the years pass, we both grow more and more occupied with our lanistal duties to where we are now.”

Entering her splendid living quarters, the headmistress and the butler take their seats around her desk in the office portion of the hunting cabin styled floor space.

“When Uberio returned from his bizarre risky trips outside the reaches of Gladia, he became famous for his willingness to explore the unknown lands far beyond our explorers in the past. The people were honored to make him the Nobilium Headmaster, even though he openly shied away from the offer, even on multiple occasions. Right he was, so young, barely old enough to fight in the arenas, like he ever would. So during his spare time, he would write to his heart's content, on everything he explored in the outer world. The people absolutely ate up his works on the regular. Uberio even had one of his favorite foreigners meet him on his return to Gladia, showing the geography man details on how to bypass all the natural disastrous acts of nature shielding our homeland from massive invaders. Once the boy was content on staying back home for good,” her expression sours, “he started writing so many of his romance stories. The first copy he ever wrote, he gave it to me. When I read it, I was so shocked at how accurately he depicted my affections for Vero, how lewd and attracted I have been to have Vero take my hand in marriage, that I would bare his last name as mine.” Beautanica placed her hand on her chest, closing her eyes, face redding embarrassed. “That perverted boy read my heart from the day I first met him. He knows my secrets, secrets that would make me a hypocrite on everything I stand for now.”

Acolytus now understands why she feels burdened by Uberio from time to time. “Mistress, I'll be off now, performing my butler duties for your pupils. If you require of me, send me summons.” He bowed to her to take his leave.

Beautanica blinks a smile, nodding to her dismissed servant. The headmistress opens up her ledger to continue writing her log entries and updates for announcements.

Chapter 2: Writer's High

Back at the Domus Nobilium District, Headmaster Uberio had been writing away at his journals, switching back and forth on many referencing pages, adding further details to his imaginations. With each passing minute, his handwriting gets more sporadic, at times slightly unlegible. Intensely focused, his speed halts when he comes to a part when he must know of a certain someone's reaction, a certain headmaster, and a certain mentioning of a female reaction. His eyes dart around, mind going crazy about how he's going to mention it. Without much thought, he scans the room to where Beautanica's letter greats his eyes. A happy giggly smile appears on his face as he stands up, heading for the scroll. Picking it up he stashes it in his chest pocket heading out. As he walks out a number of his students come to him.

“Headmaster! Come tell us which of us is right for sea battle roles.” Said one.

“Please enlighten us with your experiences with sea travels.” Said another.

Quinlan nervously rubs his head, “I…” breaths nervously, “kinda have to be somewhere my pupils.”

“It'll only take but 15 minutes Headmaster.” Yet another student said.

Feeling pressured, Uberio nods his head to the slaves' approval, following them to the school's main arena. Taking his seat at a lanista's visiting chair, he notices some small-time slave owners out and about the school. Catching view of the shy man, they readily approach him. Uberio gave a slight wave, not at all wanting to speak with visitors at the moment, but the lanistas cameforth anyhow. 

“Headmaster Uberio, us lanista folk want to negotiate some use of your school's resources, of course this is to aid in the training our pupils in the arts of fighting with graceful balance and flair, access to stage props is a rarity in other headmaster circles, you very well know.”

“Oh, Freelancer Yamahan... I… I could spare some appointments for you, uhmm how many?” The headmaster inquired. 

“For me, just 4 students, all customary classed fighters, surprisingly enough.” Signals his assistant to prepare a formal document.

“Umm no…”

The freelancer’s eyes widened at the sudden decline.

Quinlan shudders. “Uhh ohh” Shies, embarrassed, posture curled in. “Apologies Freelancer, I meant... a verbal agreement will be fine.”

Yamahan glances at the headmaster suspiciously, curious as to why a freelancer like himself would be offered a verbal agreement contract. Such is normally reserved for headmasters and ever rarely, housemaster lanistas. Either way Yamahan looks to his left and right and leans in. His assistant and him baffled at the ultra rare agreement.

“Are you serious?”

Quinlan smiles shyly giggling, “Umm... I... I, I'm kinda in a hurry to ma ma... meet another Headmaster today, and I'll b b busy later on.”

Yamahan blinks, “Um sure. I'll be bringing out my men sometime today, that be alright with you Headmaster?

Quinlan nods his head in agreement bowing fashion. His students are readying themselves for a reenactment miniature sea battle. Sensing that it would take much longer than 15 minutes plus any other visitors that wished to speak to him, his worries soon disappeared when he saw a senior classed hoplomachus gladiator spectating the auditioning scene. Uberio kept his sights on him until the young chap looked at him. The shiny golden visor of his helm blinded the headmaster for a brief second. When Uberio looked back to see the stocky built warrior making his way to him, he curled back his posture shyly.

“Dear Headmaster of Domus Nobilium.” The warrior bowed formally down to a knee. “Are you asking for me?”

Quinlan, comforted, “Why... indeed I am, rise gladiator. Amadeus Masonius, pleased to grace your presence before me at this very moment. May you supervise the few students on who is best suited for the role in sea battle matches? Feel free to pick multiple if they succeed in each criteria. I really must be off to meet with another headmaster at the moment.”

Amadeus nodded a bow. “Of course Headmaster, leave it to me, unlike most of Gladia, you and I have been on long voyages at seas before, I'll gladly share with these pupils what I've learned.”

Uberio smiles happily, then shyly gestures to the students that the senior hoplomachus will instruct them and critique their audition in his place. Before taking his leave, he also notifies Amadeus that Freelancer Yamahan will later bring 4 of his students over unannounced, and to send them in some of the open reserved stage training spots located within the school’s grand theater auditorium. 

The headmaster eagerly walks off, the residential apartment hotels in between Domus Nobilium's pedestrian walkways blend his presence well, crowds here wear similar clothing like Uberio’s. Crossing the stony walkways to the Capua, he takes one of many entrances to the Spectacula District, going through an inner building with an elegantly designed elevator.

Powered by ropes and pulleys, the passenger lift is safely secured by adobe wedges that halt the platform if it were to at all snap its roping. To head downward, the elevator operator seated at a corner would release its catchings to the wedges, slowly descending the platform to lower levels. Vast experiments and studies went on about years of research to establish the vertical transit in the safest means possible. The headmaster saw the enclosed metal gate, meaning the conductor was elsewhere on other floors delivering passengers at the moment so he slid in a slider that vibrated the rope, notifying him of his floor. After a while, Uberio noticed the elevator arriving at his level. The caged doors unlock then open. Walking inside he spots the conductor, a 12 year old child, a little tall for his age.

“Hello sir, where to?” The chap greeted, holding on to rope and or release brake.

“To the Colosseum Square please.” Quinlan requested.

The child engages the release brake and the lift descends down at a moderate pace. Uberio rummages through his purse pouch for the smallest currency to offer the child but all he carried with him was silver denarii and bronze sestertii, no copper assarii. The lift stops at its destination, cage doors opening. The child looks to his passenger, hand out to accept payment.

The shy master hiccups an apology, “Apologies little one, all I have is sestertii.” hand the large coin over to him.

The child conductor receives the 4 times amount for the high end single lift operation, reaching into his own purse of assarii and gives Uberio three.

“Oh, thank you, child.”

ie. for an indebt overview about Gladia’s currency visit the economy section of ‘Visiting Gladia’ or click the link here

Stepping off the lift, the gates close as its conductor locks it in place, pulling the ropes slowly making his way up. Uberio can tell that this child operator makes a good income for every few lifts Gladians are willing to spend some currency here instead of energy, walking the many stairways of the Spectacula. Mainly the eldest folks of Gladia prefer the elevators going up as it takes much less hassle going down stairways. Uberio enters a corridor of passageways that lead to the Spectacula District's school situated within the southeastern part of the Colosseum.

The headmaster's office, led by a few stairwells up, houses the important man’s home furnishings, and livable quarters open to headmasters and legendary gladiator champions from the past as pupils. The young shy adult ambles to the shut office door with what appears as one candle lighting the darkness within the bottom of the door. Standing at it, Uberio gently knocks three times. The soft pounding echoes through the seemingless vacant area. From within the room, he hears what sounds like a man slumping out of a couch and dragging his feet upon the ground. The footsteps at the bottom of the door block the little light eliminating from inside. Sharp jigglings of the doorknob startles Uberio as he sees the door crack open. 

Within the pitch darkness of the room's background, one eye lazily peers to the right, blinking turtlishly to the left, and finally at Uberio. The eyelid slightly rises then lowers with an oh it's just you look towards Uberio. It had been several long years since Uberio’s even seen Vero Cortelyous. This headmaster was not so keen on dealing with any other lanista whatsoever, lest they held a champion gladiator worth joining the ranks of the most elite fighters of Gladia. Ever since the sagittarius failed his final gladiator match against Pankraious, the unbeatable, so few members remain upon the prestigious corps of warrior training establishment designed to take on the best. The door opens a little more, this time two eyes peer down at Uberio.

“Look at you boy, all grown up, sorta. Still a shy little boy? No matter, you'll learn to deal with it eventually.” His tired voice continued, “If this is about bringing me a champion gladiator, forget it. I have enough pupils to weed out the next best, if that man ever appears in Gladia again.

Quinlan dabbles his nervous fingers together, “Oh no dear friend, I've…” nervously studders, “personal things to discuss with you.”

To this, Vero squints at the paper scroll Uberio is holding, Beautanica's symbol insignia waxed on the broken seal. His eye twitching like a cruel joke played on him, door opens to a dark room as he reveals his exhausted face to the shy guy.

Vero sighs, “Come in then, boy.”

Quinlan hesitates, but reluctantly steps inside. The archer man slowly closes the door. 

“Take a seat there.”

Quinlan sits on the couch, still warm to the touch, most likely from Vero napping on it. Still holding on to the scroll, Vero eyes it, hungry of what’s inside. Uberio, not sure with the state Cortelyous is in, should see what Beautanica has to write to him about, he holds away the scroll close to his chest. This annoyed Vero.

Vero grabs ahold of the edge of the papyrus. “Let me see it.” Quinlan with an unsure burst of confidence, 

“No... sir, wha... what is wrong... with you?” 

Getting irritated, Vero lashes out at him.

“Wrong with me? What's wrong with me!!? Grabbing Uberio by his robes and lifting up the short man off the couch, he rips the scroll out of Uberio's hands, throwing him to the ground.

Cortelyous reads the letter, his voice muffling out the words in deepening rapid breaths and as he becomes vexed with hatred, exhaling his frustration.

“Raghh! As if I didn't know. She hasn't come out with it all these years.” Quinlan looks up Vero’s disposition. “Oh she hasn't told you yet? How I have been secretly involved with her for the last 8 years. Intimate with her and all her sistren, every day, ever since they broke me, since they forced my hand away from being a true compassionate father figure!”

Quinlan lays on the ground staring up at Vero speaking such revelations that would stir Gladia into turmoil. Wild thoughts race through his mind with the words Vero is spatting out at him. Uberio couldn't believe what he was hearing, he couldn't make this up, even as a sick erotic romance novel he wishes himself to be in at times.

Vero’s breathing heavies. “Oh yeah, those yearly expeditions she's alway sending her students on, even herself…” he says kneeling down to Uberio, “ever wondered why they lasted about a year? Yeah, and our metropolis's Chief Executive Doctor just happens to be requested to their extremely remote locations on a yearly basis too, huge coincidence huh? Well shy boy, don’t I got a lot of inspirational material with what I'm gonna tell you next.”

Cortelyous lifts Uberio off the ground and tosses him on the office desk chair. Shoving him to the desk, he fondled Uberio for his writing journal stashed within his robes, retrieving it, slamming it down on the desk.

Leaning into his ear, the archer dares, “I know you're a fast writster kid, so let's draft a perverts' tale that will expose Beautanica and her well behaved girls for the nefarious scarlets they really were and still are with me all this time.”

Uberio’s hand shakes, himself feeling more excited in the longest he's ever been. Cortelyous speaks, and as the vocal typewriter, Quinlan Uberio, drafts his greatest work to ever alter how Gladians look at Mercatus's gladiatrii ever again.

Chapter 3: Sporadic Book Hunting

The following days issue cool breezes of morning gusts which most of the public slept comfortably indoors. The gladiators who wake earlier often get their training out of the way first. For Acolytus, he enjoys a nice stroll around the metropolis. Having his last sip of tea for the morning, his gaze over a book stand intrigues him, noticing three new pieces of literature being advertised by the famed Headmaster Uberio. Reading the covers alone he sees it's a three part series. One about the essence of creating lasting bonds with friends through challenging times, the second being about the total workings of a wife and husband lifestyle.

Probably the one Beautanica doesn't want out and about her personal feelings with Vero. He thought. 

As the retiarius peers over the third book, the title, “The Curves of Quickest Deceit of Her Decency,” it's clear that the book has the secrets that the butler's headmistress warned him about. Lifting the book, he sees it’s one copy of it shelved in the recently delivered collection of three. Quickly then, he swarmed all over the metropolis, heading from the libraries to open book shops to retrieve a total of 7 copies from every single place he knew books were available. Bursting into Beautanica's office he dropped the literature caught from his fishing net all over the adobe rugged floor.

The headmistress moves from behind her desk, observing the butler’s action. “What is this, I didn’t request anything?”

Acolytus, panting between words, “They're...books. Whoo! Books… from Headmaster... Haw… Ub… Uberio!

Seeing the title, her eyes lit up frighteningly, she covered her mouth, trembling in fear, she looked at the other 7 copies, then finally to Acolytus. She blinked at him, scared to ask but she persevered.

“Di... did you... read any of this?”

True to his loyalty for her, Acolytus didn’t. “Just the title ma'am. My good conscience can not bear troubling you with what that headmaster writes symbolizing you and Vero. Whoo, quite the challenge to race all around the metropolis for these. Haw!”

The mistress’s eyes darted around, then gathered the books off the ground. “You're sure that this is all of them?”

“All the bookstores known to me in the metropolis that his works displayed at from all the times prior.”

Beautanica’s heart skips a beat as she glances at Acolytus dead in his eyes through his fish helmet. “What about Insulae!?”

Acolytus composes himself calmly, gently removes his helm placing it on her desk, leaning his trident on it. Quickly as he composed himself, he ran right up to the open window and dived out of the building rolling onto soft sands. His pace quickened from before scaling through obstacles, walls, railings, and such. Beautanica caught a true glimpse of what a retiarius’s swift acrobatic parkour skills are like as he disappears behind buildings. The retiarius was well versed in delivering messages all across Gladia in record timings, now, this was his most important one. As he reached the dense atmospheres of Insulae, he scaled the buildings rooftops looking at a bookshop that hardly stood much for anything else. To his horror, he spots a door opening with the district's sudo-emperor and headmaster lanista strolling up to the book vender not fully awake. The lanista kicked the stand, yelling at the shop front owner on the three new books that arrived at his stall just now.

“WAKE UP You mangy pig!!!”

Frightened awake the shop owner instinctually reacts, “ABhhh Yes hello Headmaster Mulsuevi, I wasn't expecting you to be here at my dant of goods store.”

The madmans growls, “I have need for some reading material, something to interest an ery young lad the next time he be crawling up to my office bored!”

“Uh yes yes,” scared to say something off, “you're in luck, some new additions from the renown novelist Uberio transported new works to my shop recently. Uhh? Take a gander your majesty.”

Mulsuevi glimpsed the first two titles, not at all interested, but reading material enough for the young child in mind, he stacked the three books together.

“Awwww, that chicken chips Headmaster from that nerdy theater arts school for gladiators so has worked something new recently, did he now?” He asked throwing the books to his side, staring down the shop owner. “How much!?” He barked, pulling out his coin purse out.

Sees the giant of a man sizing him down he asks him. “Uhh, you, y, you planning on returning those books?”

Mulsuevi yells at him. “If I wanted to come back to your pathetic shop stand to return three books, I'd otta jist have threaten the author to write me copies!!! HOW MUCH!!! OR! How about your LIFE!!!”

To this the shop owner hid behind his stand. The sudo-emperor, too annoyed by him, grasps a small handful of coins from his purse, chucking them at the shop owner's wall behind the stand. From what Acolytus could tell, much of the coins were rich in silver denarii and copper sestertii. The majority of the currency fell on the owner who peeked up to see the madman storming away. 

Upon seeing this, the retiarius landed on some hay bales. Acolytus blended with his environment of many loinclothed slaves and gladiator citizens dressed loosely as customerary to the derogatory nature of the district. Tailing the headmaster, the butler periodically caught eyes from the local prostitutes and brothel girls, shunning their revealing offers, it them giggle and laugh back at him. As the headmaster headed into a tunnel, the head servant was surprised to find it leading into a maze of passageways scattered about the underground metropolis. Acolytus had to stay vigilant about his target. An opportunity presented itself when Mulsuevi glanced over a refreshing spring fountain and decided to rinse his groggy eyes off. Setting the books upright on a stone stand next to him, the tall man proceeded to wash his morning face of crustaceans. The retiarius shimmied the wall hiding himself behind 8 foot rectangular storage boxes. Spotting the 8th book, he carefully reached for it. In a split second trying to grab it, the headmaster bumped the stand with his feet incidentally, causing the third book to fall to the ground. 

Darting back behind cover, the headmaster looked around him, seeing the third book's title on the ground.

“What's this now? ‘The Curves of Quickest Deceit of Her Decency?’ Hubba bubba…” Mulsuevi said lustfully intrigued.

Acolytus, knowing the worst to happen, comes out of hiding, “STOP Headmaster, do NOT read that!”

The madman gawks at the stranger before him, “And just, who the hell, are you?” He violently growls ferociously.

“Forgive me Mulsievi, but that book is a mistake.”

The headmaster lessens his strife, “Nah, forgive me," He calmly says, analyzing the stranger, "something as eye catching as ye, would make a LOT and I mean a LOT of coin as a male prostitute.” He implied seriously.

Acolytus’s eye twitches in disgust, “Wha... What is it with you guys in sex?”

Raningo squints questionably with a hand raised, digits pointing, “Wait, why is it that your voice sounds familiar? And how is it that you know my name?” The madman’s suspicions connect the dots that this stranger is Acolytus, Beautanica's Butler, “You freaking foreigner!!! Retiarius!!!”

Left with no choice, Acolytus swiftly snaps the book off Mulsuevi’s hands before the mad man could clamp down on it. Across the hall was a senior secutor changing into his heavy gear after washing the blood stains on it. This gladiator catches wind of the verbal comotion and strips his leg armor back down to his groin wear, acknowledging that an unauthorized retiarius is within his midsts.

Snarling the slave's name, “Xizor!” the headmaster calls out to him as this gladiator is running to him. With his commanding hand gestures beaming towards the run away retiarius, “HUNT!!!”

Acolytus sprints his pace, already disadvantaged by the tunnel's maze-like passages, what's more, his fatigue, it’s building up from all the dashing around he had already done early in the morning. Looking behind him, he sees the secutor gaining on him, the red plate armored mask chained to his face, multiple scars wrought about him. Xizor catches up to Acolytus, as this retiarius's last chance, he ensnares the secutor with the heavy weight net about his person, bullseyeing the secutor, but the plate armored mask of his was so smooth and streamlined that the weighted net slides right off him. This horrifies Acolytus as he has one last wind in him to ditch the hunter, but Xizor was well acquainted within this habitat. Pausing his pursuit, he noted that the escapee is running through a detour. Xizor quickly crossed through a few residential homes and rooms where people were fornicating, to then pop in front of retiarius, socking the runner dead on the chest with his arm and shoulder, knocking the wind out of Acolytus. The secutor grabs and lifts him up face to face plate.

The secutor tilts his own head, cracking it around. “Long while no see, brethren?” Xizor releases him, knowing it's foolish for him to escape now. “What's a man of your stature doing in a scum runt’s haven paradise in this part of the metro?” While Acolytus recuperates, he eyes Xizor grabbing the book off the rocky ground nearby. “What's so special about this book?” He asked, turning to read the back cover, but it had none, just the title is all, not even the extra writing that comes with normal books, just the title.

Acolytus exhales a plea, “Don't, please, haw! The book is a mistake, I must return it to my Headmistress at once.”

Headmaster Mulsuevi appears from the shadows, shoving Acolytus to the side of the wall, “Or what?! Is she gonna march herself all the way down here, to my level, and kiss me between the legs for it?” He laughs boldly. Xizor offers the book out to his headmaster’s approval. “You did good kid, I always liked your style, I always have.” 

Reaching for the interesting book, Xizor places a hand on Mulsuevi's chest and backs him away from the publication. “Not until I hear what my pal has to say about this book.” Mulsuevi resists the natural urge to knock some sense into Xizor, but his elite slave glares up at the tall headmaster, taunting him, “My style, remember?”

In a fit of anger Mulsuevi fists a hole in the wall close to Acolytus's exhausted head as the madman grins menacingly, glaring back down at Xizor, “You have one minute.” He threatened retracting his bloodied fist from the wall, standing back.

Acolytus opens his eyes, coughing, “Do any of the people here have manners at all dear friend?”

“Not for the like of you, especially running off with what's rightfully my Headmaster's. Now why does she want this book back? Aren't there more copies of it scattered around the surface of the metropolis instead?”

“That's just it, if I'm quick about it, that copy remains to be the last one left, or until Uberio decides to make another.”

Xizor squints at him. “Oh well ain't that swell, you go all round Gladia hunting these particular copies of books and tire yourself out, getting the last one. And here I thought I was genuinely fast enough to run with ya for a time.” He snickered.

Acolytus signs chuckling, “Hooow! Look buddy ole pal, I'm serious, I must bring that book back to Mistress Beautanica, she doesn't want anyone to read the cover of the such literature, by golly whatever ghastly content lies therein.”

Mulsuevi buds in and snatches the book out of Xizor's hand reading the front and back covers. The retiarius grunts, sore from the knock down. The headmaster’s eyes widen as he peers down at Xizor's buddy, “Oh, we can work something out for that whiney Mistress of yours butlerman.” The madman grinned with cruelty in mind. The retiarius, not liking what's coming next.

Later in the Mercatus School, the headmistress was deeply troubled by the news her butler shared with her.

“He did what now!”

“He tore the cover out, Mistress.” Acolytus said, adjusting the cold tan ice towel around him. It helped to cool off such an exertion of his body’s agility through a hot climate of the metro.

Beautanica sat on her chair panicking. “And with the full story in his hands, he'll piece together what's really going on about me and more!”

“Madam, everyday I'm doing my utmost best to avoid listening to these accusations against your good natured motherly ways. For you and your well behaved pupil daughters of this institution deserve no false accusation.

Beautanica turns in her swivel lanistress chair to look out window, really hiding her face from Acolytus. Hiding a guilty conscience, her eyes darted left to right. “Indeed my head servant, Gladia must know that me and my pupils are righteous ladies outside the arena, and effective female fighters in combat.” Composing herself, she turns back, facing the butler. “Let's hope that dumb punk for rocks, sudo-emperor madman hasn't the high reading capacity to remember what he reads off that book, otherwise, good work my devote butler. You most certainly done well for Mercatus this day.

“In servitude for all Headmistress.” Acolytus sighs, shivering off the exhaustion, bowing his leave.

Beautanica ponders while looking at the hard binding of the cover title within her grasp. “Say Acolytus? Just how did you manage to convince Mulsuevi to hand over the cover?”

He sighs heavily. “Well madam. I had no money to bargain with at the time, and I have indeed tried to rob the Headmaster Mulsuevi of his rightful purchase.” The head servant said disappointed in himself and sighs again, “Let's say that in order for me to walk away with that cover, I'd pay the price for my actions in… another way.” Beautanica got nervous at this. “The gracious Headmaster parted me with his personal gift of his very own doing. It still hurts Headmistress.”

Acolytus turns his back to her, lowering the cold wet towel, revealing 38 lashes sprawled all over his back. Beautanica shrieks, jumping in her chair, absolutely horrified, tearing up at what her dedicated servant had to suffer through protecting her secrets from Gladia. What's worse, is that the madman, Mulsuevi, sadistically knew to strike her butler 38 times, 1, for every character on the cover of the book she now holds in her hands. It mortified her even more, for her even to retrieve the rest of the book, is unspeakable.

Chapter 4: E-Recovering Ties

Trying to nap in his bedroom, Uberio rests his aching hand bandaged up by the Chief Executive Doctor, Eternal Rest.

“You have written your hand quite the mess child.” The physician said in a shameful tone.

Quinlan blinks exhausted. “How long will you be in the country?”

The doctor raised his kneeling stance to reveal his spring-lock metal stilts for his forelegs. Packing his medical case of ointments, bandages, and surgical tools, the doctor bowed to the exceptionally young headmaster.

“Rejoice boy, for I am here to stay for quite some time, lest I sense the calling to be elsewhere. Now, if you may excuse me. A meeting with the rest of the medical physicians of the metropolis, beckons us. We need to discuss my extended stays here, and how they'll prosper without me when I part again.”

Uberio gestures his farewell using his functioning left hand to remove his glasses and set them on the nearby stand, before dozing off. The doctor dims the blinds, leaving the headmaster to recuperate piecefully. He naps a heavy rest, thoughts about his published works wandering in his mind.

At her school of gladiatrix fighters, the headmistress reads the sacred pages of the third book, the events described within the literature mix with the normal lingo of storytelling. Introducing new characters, building the plot and such. What Beautanica realizes is that Quinlan's usual flow of slow work ups on romance and steamy passion circumstances are out of whack. It's more aggressive, pushed much earlier than any work the mistress is ashamed to admit. She notices key events, emotions between certain characters that mirror what she only knows between one man and her. After enough of a hint, she pulls the book down despicably.

“Vero.” She says disgruntled.

Uberio hears some commotion outside, his napping nearly interrupted as it calms down. Hearing the door open into his dimly sunlight filled office room, the headmaster sleepily opens one eye slightly, seeing Headmistress Beautanica, annoyed with him at first. When her curious eyes laid upon the bandaged writing hand, she felt more sorry than she ever had for the boy, knowing he couldn't have forced himself to overdue his novelist skills. Even a renowned author must relax himself before overworking themselves dry.

Beautanica petties his injury, “What happened?”

“I... I visited Vero... for the first time in years.” Quinlan softly spoke.

Hearing this, she couldn't help herself but feel ashamed that the poor boy was caught in the middle of the chaos between herself and Vero's secrets. Keenly before Quinlan, “I'm so sorry.” Feeling her motherly instincts kick in and overthrow her ego, she lifts Quinlan a little, placing herself underneath his upper body where she can comfort the boy. “Did he Vero hurt you badly?” She spoke, saddened.

Quinlan sighs an exhausted, “Uh huh.”

“He made you write all that?” She rubs his shoulders.

The boy sniffles, “Uh hun.” this made Beautanica begins sniffle too.

“He... he, tossed me to the ground... w, when I didn't let him have it.” He says sniffling.

“Have what child?”

“Your letter to me.” 

Beautanica knows exactly which one, feeling further saddened and disappointed in herself, “Oohh me and my pathetic attempts to mask the truth.” She leans her head on Uberio's knowing she is at fault.

From outside the office door, the two headmasters’ senior gladiators stood guard towards Uberio’s office, disallowing anyone from entering the hallway. Gladiators Amadeus Masonius and Acolytus stood their posts valiantly, having kept a large lot of discouraged slaves from seeing or hearing what’s going on in the headmaster’s office.

Acolytus adjusts his helmet to scratch an itch behind his head, “Soooo, dear friend. Any idea what they're discussing in there? Kinda quiet isn’t it?

Amadeus fixed his grip on his medium sized shield, “Ehh, headmaster stuff.” but then his brows rose from under his golden visored helm, intrigued. “You seem to know more than you’re letting on brethren, pray tell?”

“For all that I know, it has something to do with your Headmaster's third book on his latest releases. I've never been more shocked by how Uberio would write a title such as this one.”

“I've known him for all my adult life thus far, and if you ask me,” leans closer to the butler, “There’s no way he could have come up with that title all on his lonesome introverted self. He wouldn't. There's always something off with the man, but this time, it's not of his doing I'm afraid.” The two confront another wave of people approaching them, this time some freelance lanistas.

Back in the Uberio’s office. Beautanica strokes his hair with her own. “I should have never treated you like a pervert, really because I am the pervert in reality.” She says tearing up with siffles.

Quinlan puts his bandaged hand on hers, “I never wanted to offend you, I wanted to bring you and Vero closer. I knew from the very beginning, you two should have been lovers.”

Beautanica chuckles a stream of tears. “You were always good at reading people, I'm so so sorry that I made a lot of them see you as a creep.” She began to sob a little.

Quinlan squeezes her hand with his injured one, the banding coming apart, “I... forgive Vero, I... forgive you.” Beautanica softly cried at this feeling Uberio slowly sit up, hugging her, which she hugs him back. “If it makes you feel better Miss, I don't mind at all, being your little pervert.”

To this Beautanica tightens her arms around Uberio, for a brief moment holding him out, then giving his adorable forehead a quick kiss of true empathic understanding between themselves, embracing once again. After a while, they happily agreed to remain as the public would see them, while in reality they love each other as best friends. After another 15 minutes passed, the slaves and questioning lanistas began to uproar in arguments about the suspicions of other district's formidable headmaster’s qualities. The woman warriors began arguing with the males and vice versa. The two senior gladiators, about ready to throw down anyone who tries something on them, hear the door down the hall swing open.

Beautanica comes out of the office, her face flushed with embarrassment and resentment. Approaching the two senior gladiators throwing glances behind themselves to see the shy headmaster at his office door.

“Don't you ever again write such erotic depictions of me and my pupils with that kind natured man, you pervert!” She says, her true happy expression looking at Uberio as it changes to one of disgust facing Masonius and Acolytus and anyone else peering in. Her voice quieted the ruckus happening outdoors as the headmistress dominated her presence among them. Quinlan smiles super shyly, giving her storming off act a wave of farewell. The senior gladiators and the rest look at the scene as another regular fuss between two headmasters with complex chemistry about one another.

A week’s passing since the inaugural front to Insulae has left the cruel headmaster chilling in his throne. The citizens and activities of the underworld yet belong to him. Just as the first sudo-emperor ruled it, Prudes. Now the madman wants to express his sexual desires upon learning his two favorite slaves’ and their adoptive child’s attractive dirty secrets. His run-in with the boy and his parent’s guardian sitter revealed delicious revelations to the madman. To his unhinged mind, Mulsuevi’s subtle infatuation hadn’t ceased, still clinging to the demon boy’s erotic and enlightening supposition. Xizor and Vanessa arrived at the master’s lanistal chambers, the brother and sister wore their gladiatorial armor from recent combat training. Their presence arouses the madman as he dares to introduce his findings.

“Ye two! Kneel tis moment.” He ordered, "All fours to ye, gally." He says to Vanessa, she added her her hands to the floor. "Now guy? Hover over her in similar fashion."

The siblings eyed each other wearily as they do what they’re told. Their master approaches, standing next to them. “Now! Tell me ye two. To what infamous Extremus incident does tis remind ye of?” 

The two know what he’s leading on about. Xizor speaks, “The 'incident', master.”

“Yes master.” Vanessa added.

The madman leaned close to them, his scotty irish accent toning, “Ye right! So right. I’d be astonished to find amongst yers interesting past that a certain adoptive foreigner child bequeathes me interests in yas.” Xizor and Vanessa feel hands grabbing their necks and Mulsuevi lifts them standing up. Then in rough fashion he buds their heads together, teasing a mockery of their masked face plates kissing. “Hoeee yoo no nothing how excited i’s is to know of the truth.” Shoving them forward, they adjusted their facial armor as he approaches his throne desk. Xizor speaks up.

“So you know then, the kid told you.”

“Oh he told me much more than that, guy. How’s yers been like rabbits in heat.” He lustfully said. 

Vanessa purs seductively, “Well… So it’s out now, good.”

Mulsuevi crumples up some outdated letters, “Not entirely, missy. The metropolis as a whole, is yet unentertained by such secrets. Even me spies don’t learnt of your incestable nature. Though it’s frowned upon all throughout the nation, that Emperor up there will be in for quite a treat when I choose to expose what’s really going on with headmisty Bitchica.” He insulted Headmistress Beautanica’s name. To the madman's liking, sliding through a hidden hole from the ceiling, Devol Ixion lands on his feet gymnastically. 

“Ah! So here he be! My boyo boy!” Mulsuevi greeted.

“Headmaster Raningo…” The demon boy bowed, much the different boy he was to him in weeks prior.

“Haha! I’d be getting to know some of yer’s parents deepest darkest secrets while yus was coming. Just like I told ya.” The brother and sister give each other quick glances. Learning that this biological son of theirs had won the liking of such a cruel brutal leader. 

“Humm? Got to the part where my mom and me bathe together in the tub to this day?” Devol’s words enticed the sudo-emperor’s carnal fantasies further.

The madman erupted out laughing with approval, Xizor glanced at his sister giggling, seeing her motherly side showing as she puts in her reasoning. 

“Now, now, Devol is certainly old enough to bathe by himself, but any chance I have to bond with him over washing, I take. He won't be an adorable little 8 year old forever, you know.”

“Oh yeah mom? I won’t always have small kid guts, I'm gonna grow to be nice and strong like Raningo some day!” Devol announced.

Mulsuevi chuckled manically, “So true! But for now,” he pulls a stack of books from his desk, three, the very set that retiarius Acolytus was trying to revoke the third book from public and private eyes, “I gots ye a gift, boyo.” He said grinning.

Devol smiled a little annoyed, “Come on Headmaster, I’m not really the gift taking kind.” The demon said.

“Well anyhow! I’d like ye to read me the third book’s contents later today, capeesh?” He threatened in a murderous tone of voice. “And If it’s gift taking ye probleming ith, then sit on my knee while your parents retell those wondrous years when they were so very young at the Extremus. Hell! We’ll even have a feast over it.” Mulsuevi manhandles the kid’s cheeks playfully, “Consider all of that, a gift to me, from you, citizen.” He intimidatingly states.   

“Whatever pops,” Devol rebelliously agrees, hands gesturing like so. “After dinner, I’ll show you how a real cuddly I am with my mom.” Vanessa upon hearing this raises a brow at Devol. “Yeah mom! During dinner, I even want dad to cuddle with you on the dining tale, like a dating couple, while Raningo and me talk about it over juicy stakes! Then afterwords, we’ll all have a steam bath together.” 

Raningo lifted the child with one hand, the sibling couple impressed by the demon boy’s assertive maturing commands. “Boy! If you asked Xizor to take yer's mother's hand in marriage, I sodomly decree ye the better man than me! Ye'd be the honored for her!” Mulsuevi happily cheered. Xizor and Vanessa look at each other questionably and both express the same seductive looks behind their face plates masks. 

The two of them simultaneously say, “they grow up so fast.” in father mother parenting fashion.

Later in the mid day’s noon, Devol read throughout the literature of Uberio’s creativity forced on by Vero’s abuse from Beautanica’s antics. The demon boy was vividly thrilled by the lustful tales exposing the headmistress for the whorish bimbo slaving bitch she really is. The madman sat at his throne while the boy read on the stone ground before him.

“Say Raningo, what happened to the title of this marvelous book?” Devol asked

Mulsuevi grinned sadistically. “Oh, a certain butler paid 38 lashes for it. Cheeky retiarius sought it wise to thieve it from my hands, in my own district, how ironic.”

Devol gave the headmaster a disappointed look, whipping his loyal babysitter like that, “Well you're obviously wrong pops!” He told him off. 

Mulsuevi, angered by this, stands from his throne and prepares to stomp the child’s skull to the ground, “Really lad?! I’m wrong?! Wrong to whip ya precious skinny wheeny babysitter for crossing me?!”

“YEAH!!!” Devol said confidently, infuriating the sudo-emperor further, “You ought of let me whip some! No Fair!!!” 

To this, the madman’s twitchy eye psychotically smiles as he playfully tackles the boy into his arms, joyously tickling the demon boy, absolutely loving him. “Hooo! Praise the truths of all existence, you are my successor before fate!!!”

The melodic exchange blurs as the nightly events of such a derogatory dinner ensue and Mulsuevi learns of beautanica’s dirtiest secrets. Planning to blackmail her for sex, the madman utilizes Vanessa’s sexual eye appeal to seduce Vero Cortelyous gathering routine habits information that Ms. Oralcosis performs from day to day. Sending in the hot muffin in search of Vero, she discreetly travels throughout the metropolis, asking for word to more of where the retired sagittarius lingers. As the evenly dusk settles in, see spots the headmaster alone at the furthest section of the Spectacula District’s balcony neighborhood. The man stood at a railing peering at the Grand River of Gladia, watching its currents flow downstream north. Vanessa appears next to him, dressed in her most provocative wear; her outfit of a loincloth and cloths covering her tits, allures even the most loyal of husbands, even women.

“Hi ya handsome, what’s a hunk of love like yourself doing all the way out here.” She greets.

The archerman, peers upward, his statue leaning on the rail comfortably, recognizing the voice of the sexiest gladiatrix before him. He sighs, “Just getting some fresh air, away from people.”

Vanessa neared closer to him, matching his lean on the adobe railing. “Has that lady of yours ever been good for you?” She says seductively implying the sex relationship of the two headmasters.

Vero blinks hard and grabs Vanessa, his grip not lustful, his gaze not aroused, but fatherly and controlled. “Listen here dear, you are a beloved daughter to Gladia, not some whore or slut. I’m a caring and compassionate father for your kind, helping throughout the struggles and temptations that our bodies mistaken for love.” His words notion within Vanessa the beauty of being a female, the true meanings of why she’s put into the world.

For Vanessa, fate had long already taught her this truth, her actions proving it, giving him a glimpse of a real motherly figure straight into Vero’s eyes. The initial shock headaches the man, as he slowly untouched his grip on her. Standing confused, the sagittarius blinks at the honest lady, he smiles for once, but then at the mention of Beautanica, his gaze falters once more.

“Where does she go? What times? And how often? Vanessa inquired. 

The archer man didn’t bother to know why it mattered, telling the beautiful woman what she needed to know. The valuable tip off proves good on Mulsuevi’s next plan of action.

Chapter 5: Rumble in Capua

Upon the mighty metropolis, two large towering monuments overseer the Capua. These two massive structures hold many of the mass transit stagecoaches, horses, animals tamed or untamed, corporate offices, manufacturing floors, and residential housing. Truly a modern marvel for the citizens to provide aid to every corner of the nation’s settlements. It’s within the southern tower that Beautanica routinely heads over to visit with one of her favorite lanistas, Housemaster Udov Akimbar. The older kinder man often receives visits from the headmistress to discuss arrangements of new female recruits to be transferred under the mistress’s institution.

Upon entering the building's booming crowds of Gladians roaming the first floor's intricate decorated interior, Beautanica took to having a private, single passenger elevator lift, take her to the House of Akimbar. Pulling the slide in then out, the still ropes of the upper class elevator began churning. When the gates opened, the very same boy conductor from the Spectacula District operated the lift, he quickly closed the second book of the recent series of the renowned novelist’s latest works.

“Greetings Ma’am, where to?” He kindly asks.

“House of Akimbar, please.” The headmistress requested.

The metal gates close and the lift rolls up towards the designated floor. Beautanica eyes the boy’s books that he reads when it’s slow. Her feeling of telling the child off entices her as she works up her feminist act. 

“Child, do you know what you're reading?”

The boy continues slowly pulling the rope down lifting the elevator upwards. Turning to look at her disgruntled gaze on the book he’s borrowed from the local Capua Library. “Ummm?” He says, puzzled.

“That book is made by a perverted author.” The mistress stated.

“Perverted?” The child asks.

“Yeah, as in a man who likes seeing woman naked, doing lewd acts, and wanting to sleep with them.” She said in an annoyed rehearsed tone. The child was speechless as he just focused on carrying the mistress to her destination, eager to drop her off already. As her stop nears, she asks, “Let me guess, you’re into that sort of thing?” 

The boy conductor nervously denies, “What me? No! It’s… it’s a good book is all Ma’am.” As he reaches the floor he opens the gate for her departure. Beautanica hands over the pure copper assarius coin to the child, correcting him.

“That’s mistress to you child. Headmistress Beautanica Oralcosis of the Mercatus District.” She verbally flaunted. 

The boy was shocked to have taken her as his passenger on other occasions, never realizing she was an authority figure, a grand official of Gladia. Closing the gate doors, the child went for his book, lifting the many pages, confirming the many similar details of a female character out to seek affection from another. 

Udov’s house was open to any lanista wanting to perform business with him. His home doubled excellently as a bar, himself the renowned bartender to many visitors and slaves to his large establishment. His main network of slaves occupied themselves with guests and temporary warriors, fetching refreshments every now and then, and training their combativeness in a separate part of the floor. The housemaster and his staff mostly worked on the administration side for the transfer reception of new gladiator fighters. The entire organization equating to nearly half the size of a school. For now, the very late 30’s man rinsed and cleaned used empty bottles and drink cups. On seeing the headmistresses arrival, he poured a special shot mix drink for them to share, their usual greet.

“Housemaster?”

“Headmaster?” 

The two raise their drinks, colliding them before siping. 

“What can I do for you Mistress?” Udov’s deep distinctive huskiness of voice said.

Beautanica retrieved some paperwork from her toga wear’s red chest satchel, “How’s my line up of girls coming?” 

“Quite nicely Ms. You’ll have adequate turnover on fresh recruits for your school by the end of season, I’m sure of it.” Udov said signing off on some of her papyrus documents.

Beautanica admires a man up to date with his penmanship. “Ever considered scribing?”

“Nah Ms. You know I came from a long line of writers back in the day. All that fancy grammar stuff doesn't suit me, it’s the drinks.” 

After further chatting, Beautanica is satisfied with her time with Udov and heads back to the single elevator, the child conductor, mesmerized by the 2nd book’s concluding chapter, gets spooked by her presence.

“You little pervert.” She says, “Come on now, open up, places to go, places to be.”

The boy remarkably finished the book, only reading the appendix portion before her return scared him. “Uhh yes, Mistress!” He’s nervously heeds, opening the cage door of the floor, “It’s just such a good book Ms. I can’t wait to read the 3rd and final one.”

“Oh child, my apologies to disappoint you hun, but that pervert author’s finale work of literature has been revoked but yours truly.” She stated, the boy curious as to why, locked the floor and elevator gates, lowering the lift down.

“If you don’t mind me asking Headmistress, why did you be rid such exciting literature? All the eager fans want to know how the tales of Ms. Ocelotious fairs with her long sought lover, Courtonius Macker.”

“Because…” Not having gotten to the juicy part of the 2nd book's climatic ending, she hesitates an excuse. “Because I saw too much perversion with the young lewd author’s antics with such tales.”

The conductor's child wasn’t buying it, but didn’t want to push the subject further, simply muttering to himself, “Man, I’d do anything to get my hands on the third book.” The woman hearing this, sensing guilt stirring in her heart for preventing the final work's availability, but she had no choice. Protecting her image and standing mattered more.

The descent went as normal. The boy was having an easier time gently pulling the rope up, until it got harder and harder.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Beautanica asked.

“I don’t know, usually this never happens.” The kid conductor tried yanking the rope up and down to no avail. Beautanica leaned over to expect the mechanism then she peered through the metal cage door to see Mulsuevi clamping down the line with one hand at his floor stop. The mistress screamed as she saw that the metal gate of the floor was busted open by him.

“Hello there beautiful.” The madman growled seductively. The child conductor left the elevator cage locked but the sudo-emperor brute forced his way in, smashing the lock open with his spiked shin greave. Stepping inside, his weight wobbled the elevator as the conductor child braised hands on the rope, holding it tightly. 

“What do you want, you psycho?” Beautanica yelped.

Nearing her up against wall, he breathed down her head, “You know thy answer to that, better than anyone.” Shifting his gaze to the child’s curiosity, “Boyo! Resume transit.” He ordered. The lift descended again, this time a little rapidly as the child tried to hold the rope from accelerating to fast, due to the exceeded weight limit of one single passenger. The madman sexually interrogates the mistress, slightly poking her chest and caressing her very smooth silky hair. “Thank ye free from people knowing who you are by hogging all em ‘special’ books, huh?”

“My servant did an outstanding job, madman. What hobby is it for you to have books, especially from the likes of Uberio?”

“Not at all Missy, just felt like providing some reading material for my boy back in the depths of the underworld, that is until your rat of thief butlerman crossed me.” He growled fisting the elevator wall, vibrating the lift momentarily.” The child nearly lost grip of the robe as he continued. “Trust me missy, alot of hungry eyes beg for what’s stashed in that finer book of es.”

“Don’t expect me to believe a dumb ox like you reads fairy tales.” Beautanica said, blocking a hand from his breaths on her head.

“Who needeth reading when you have a little lad speak it for ya?”

The mistress glares up at Raningo, “Of course you would.”

The child conductor blinked curiously on how the man got his hands on a copy. Listening intently to their conversation.

“Ahh but Missy, care to ‘whip up’ yer butlerman’s courage to suffer attaining the rest of thy 3rd book?”

“Never you monster.” She said without haste. “Without the cover, it can be anyone’s works on those pages.” 

Mulsuevi scoffs, “No matter you bitch, such tales are enough to bring the metro on an uproar on ye. Lest… ye kneel and let me have me way on ye.”

Unsure of her circumstance, the headmistress tries to at least be where she can reach for help. Being locked in an elevator with the madman is the last place to fight for her life. Cleverly, she calls out the sudo-emperor’s lack of dominance.

“What? Here? Where only a child would lay witness to your assault on me? I thought the legendary crimelord of Gladia takes to making examples out of those who disagree with him.”

Mulsuevi’s eye twitches at her daring statement, yet so true for an Insulae member of the criminal syndicate, let alone its very crime boss.

The boy conductor jumps in his spring mechanized seat at the realization that Mulsuevi is the crime boss of Gladia, slightly triggering the auto brakes of the lift, in case its operator leaves the rope unattended. The sudden jot gets the two headmasters gawking at the child. “Whoops! Wow! I never expected to meet the very sudo-emperor of Gladia in person.”

 “Stop here!” The madman yelled, returning his gaze at Beautanica.

“Why you cunt!” Grasping her luscious hair up, lifting her up to her toes, the mistress grips hands on Raningo’s wrist, his toughened grip clamped down at her ponytail.

“Let off my hair you bastard! You’ve any idea how much care I go into keeping it smooth and silk?”

Opening the metal gate door, the two left as Raningo pitched a bag of quadrans at the conductor’s feet, gesturing to the child should he alert authorities, he’d be a dead one walking after he’s done with the headmistress. Slamming the floor doors shut beyond opening, he manhandled his hostage throughout the vacant halls.

“Where are you taking me?” The mistress asked, resisting Mulsuevi’s grasp.

“To where we can bask in the view of Capua, where hundreds of people can see us being naughty, if ye calls for help that is.” The madman said, groping her behind along the way. They enter a baloney, a neat view of the district’s residence neighborhood from where they were at. Beautanica starts clawing at Mulsuevi as he thrusted her on to a railing. “Naughty girl Ms. You wouldn’t want me blabbering about how much of a whore you are to all those people down there, would ye?” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She said intimidatingly.

Mulsuevi gets into her face, “Yeah? Well maybe if ye allow me to get into yer rump once in a while, I’ll stand down and let ya keep playing yer charade.”

Beautanica tries headbutting him to no avail. “You’ll be hunted down by everyone, if you violate me.”

“Hawww, but Ms. I just love the thought of that. Suicide missions are mines specialty and efs ya didn’t know, I shouldn’t be alive, ever since the witchdocter’s find on me, miles away from the Gladian border.” Mulsuevi gnashed his teeth at the recall of his lethal near death trauma. Gripping her throat, preparing to violate the headmistress where crowds of people might see them, should she yell, the madman began pulling her toga robes up from under her. 

Just as Beautanica thinks she has no way out of her predicament, a stray arrow graces the knuckles of the madman's grip on her, drawing blood. The madman, seeing his wound, releases her, biting his knuckles, mouth sucking his torn flesh, halting the bleeding effect. The two look far down at the Capua noticing Vero, alongside Quinlan with a pen in his hands. Mulsuevi pulls the arrow off the wall, seeing a papyrus parchment saying That's my woman. - Vero C.

The crazed headmaster laughs loudly, “Really!?” as another arrow pressure-point lands on his upper thigh. Hearing the madman’s grunt of the impact, Beautanica uses the distraction to kick him directly in the balls. To her horror, the cheap move didn’t faze him as he chuckles off the pathetic attempt. Left with no options, she jumps off the balcony landing on rooftops to escape, lifting her toga robes as she goes to avoid stumbling.

Raningo pursues after her but his limp leg falters from Vero’s arrow, "Huh, looks like this is an unfair chase Beautanica…” he squints his eyes, “for you.” Seeing her making distance from him, he breaks the arrow out of him, slowly regaining control of his right leg. Hoping down, he makes chase through the rooftop balconies after her.

Quinlan, writing down another one of Vero’s messages on paper, hands it to the archer. “Got it?” Vero attaches the note on his next arrow, “Here we go!” Firing it at the Oscan region of Capua, the shot lands on a pillar head level where someone’s to find it and alert the authorities ahead of time.   

Vero and Quinlan now run to close their distance for Beautanica, the leaders dashing through crowds of Gladians curious about their predicament. As they pass roaming pedestrians, Amadeus and Acolytus catch sight of the two headmasters running, sensing they’re in danger they pursue, commanding on comrades nearby to join. Not long do the roaming female warriors catch sight of their headmistress being chased by the madman, do they run towards her aid. By now, Beautanica has made her way to the crowded Capua Square trying to flee from her assailant begging for aid. Mulsuevi calls out to his warriors hiding within the public, the amassed criminals slipping out of hiding spots, sewer tunnels, and rooftops, heeding their sudo-emperor’s demands to chase down Beautanica. 

Centering around the Capua, the warriors from the Mercatus, Insulae, and Nobilium triangulate the chase towards each of their headmasters’ protection. Raningo, seeing the mistress run into Vero’s arms, sees Uberio’s anioxus smiling gaze blocking his path to her. One of the criminal scouts alerts the sudo-emperor of the two headmasters’ trick to alert the authorities in record time. Piecing together the notebook in Uberio’s hands and Vero’s drawn bow, Mulsuevi fumes in hatred howls. Without hesitation he throws the first attack at the short man, but a hoplomachus’s shield blocks it with thundering echoes, it was Amadeus’s. Ambushing in to face off the protector, Xizor tackles his brethren away from Mulsuevi. Women fighters armed to fight off both sides of men gladiators, battle the madman back with Acolytus safely securing Beautanica.

The triangle fight officially breaks out at the Capua square, ensuing ganking fights of women against individual men. Raningo fights off with Vero's disadvantaged throws of any projectile weapons, Quinlan, quick to dodge the incoming attacks from Insulae gladiators trying to guard their ruler at the same time. The surrounding crowds of pedestrians notify the guards as word swiftly sprints to notify the emperor beyond immediate response times. After 3 minutes of the fast paced riot of clashing metal, steel, and chaotic mayhem. The fight halts when a man's ear piercing, earth shuddering clap breaks the attention of the gladiator warriors’ conflict, their sights looking up at the patio shaded balconies huts from above. To their amazement, it was the district’s very own elite slave owner, Headmaster Damis Sevierow who sounded the frightening roar with his bare hands. Beside him, an extremely known lanista stood beside him, Headmaster Evad Nortorapoly, gazing down, disgraced by the ruckus. Looking down at their fellow rivals, the two dominating leaders walked down the stairways disappointed that such a skirmish happened. It was further discounging to Damis since it was at his district’s reputable expense. Mulsuevi’s blood lust eyes calmed as he stormed towards them. Opening crowds of simmering fighters made space for their leaders to congregate at the center of the incident.

“Braigh!!! Why'd you gone and ruin the fun, Damis!” Raningo barked.

“Bro! I don't want to hear it!” The taller giant said, sizing up Raningo. It’s times like these that Mulsuevi ever backs down from a man who bests him one on one.

“Bah!” He stands down, squinting at Beautanica behind Vero.

Evad sighs an exhale, disappointed by his own slaves, “Amadeus, Xizor, and Acolytus! Step forth!” The three senior warriors appear at the notorious lanista’s disciplinary tone. Mixing a small hand of maroon clay within his side pocket, “Helmets off!” The three unmask their faces, having a dabbed streak of clay slashed across their foreheads by Evad. “You three, dismiss yourselves from my sight for three days.” His strict voice made the hairs of every warrior shoot up. The three do so, leaving from the metropolis.

No sooner does the Emperor of Gladia appear on horseback, his royal guards equipped with weapons of war, actual lethal weapons. With them dismounting, the supreme ruler and his loyals approach the headmasters, taking note of all who are involved. Removing his samnite helmet, Sinus Maximus eyes the entire crowd of warriors surrounding him and the elite slave owners and bystanders. Upon seeing Evad’s disgruntlement, Maximus half smiles.

“Damis, Evad. Tell me what went on here.” He asked casually as if it were any normal disturbance. The two fill in their perspectives and once it got to Vero’s, the senator announced the whole truth about the secrets between him, Beautanica, and her school. Mulsuevi was quick to hold his tongue for once, awaiting for the emperor’s response to such revelations. Boiling down on what all has led to the skirmish, Sinus approaches the sudo-emperor. “Headmaster? Did you or did you not, throw the first punch? And if so, to whom?”

Feeling all eyes on him, Mulsuevi didn’t let the emperor’s observations fool him, he told the truth, wanting to receive maximum punishment for his misdeeds, “Aye I did, and to that little shrimp of a slave owner no less.”

Maximus, surprised by the final honest response, declared, “Amnesty for everyone part of this skirmish.” 

Raningo, pissed off about the outcome, argues “Oh noo! Ye give just sentencing right now, old man!”

Sinus eyes up at the madman, knowing full well he can be struck down by such a maniac in one fell strike, “You people disagreed madman.”

“Whaaaaat!” The crazed man’s eyes scan his criminal warriors, confused. “Whyyy?” He taunts Maximus.

Sinus, knowing and obligated by the nation of Gladia to rub some dirt in the sudo-emperor’s eye, educates him. “Vero Cortelyous has been diligently fulfilling his special obligations to bring the elitist of the elitist gladiators to put to rest an undefeated gladiator known as Pankraious, The Nortorious.” With the crowds of the metropolis listening in, he further explains. “Left with no options of valuate champions, he breeds his own offspring with the entirety of the Mercatus district's gladiatrii, this can only bring about the best fighters against the undefeated champion of all time, still.” 

Evad’s expression narrows, a brow raised at this revelation, knowing that his north cycle of children gladiator students consist of those very special elite bred offspring of Vero's, this explains why the females of the Mercatus school are all not open for relationships. It’s because Vero is breeding them and they all mutually love the sagittarius, knowing that Beautanica should have him as his first wife, as was testified. Raningo gawks at this predicament, staring at Vero viciously and insanely jealous of the legendary mack.

“Return to your hole, Headmaster.” Maximus orders. 

The madman huffs and stomps off, yelling at his warriors to buzz off with their day and remain discreet. The emperor left the remaining warriors and citizens with one final word before his departure back to the Spectacula. “Everyone, let it be known that it’s the nation that guides and ultimately brings about what you all want, as a country! Ultimately what the entirety of Gladia deems fit, I enforce! Acknowledge your tendencies and awareness of yourselves, secrets will be known, struggles will be met, and realities endured. Treat what must be treated truthfully!” With that, the emperor dawned his samnite helmet, mounting his horse, himself and his royal guards returning to the Spectacula District.

Epilogue

After the largest civil scuffle the Gladian metropolis had witnessed, people became open about their secrets on the regular. The emperor wasn’t blind to the hearts of his nation, he knew what the individual ones yearned for. But doing so for entire crowds of them? That’s what separates him from other eligible rulers. His mind and wisdom descended down by the previous emperor, Flamma, aiding the country on the upcoming decades of advancements, securing the haven from the hands of corruption.

Three days after the incident, Amadeus, Xizor, and Acolytus, return to their master at his quarters within the Lanista Villa. His disciplinary action of rubbing clay on their foreheads served as a reminder that they should not invoke their powers to summon aid from another Headmaster’s slaves other than his own. A lesson learned for the slaves and their brethren that a Nortorapoly’s property has no business getting involved with the affairs of other districts’ property at such a high scale. 

“The Extremus District is a private one, as is its reputation.” Evad lectured.

As for how Headmasters’ Vero and Quinlan caught wind of the sudo-emperor's plan to kidnap Beautanica; in a surprise turn of Vanessa’s loyalty for Mulsuevi, she let Vero know that the only women who really loved him was going to be abducted, molested and very possibly raped by her master. Having heard this, Vero’s hard heart for the headmistress yielded a soft spot of protection to safeguard the woman’s dependency on men at the very least. With the help of Uberio’s writing skill, the two of them were able to reach word on the Mercatus and Nobilium warriors’ to head over to the Capua Square and keep an eye out for their headmasters.

Days after the incident, Beautanica’s erotic secrets were no longer just rumors. Being comforted by Headmaster Uberio’s writing influences, the young renowned novelist vouches for her respects to be treated ladylike and honest, regardless of the circumstances. To leave the relationships ‘acting’ as they still were before the big reveal. Beautanica showed her gratitude by allowing the 7 books that her head servant attained for her privacy to be put back to their initial locations. Having the torn cover copy of the finale book, she went to Uberio to request a special edition of the book be made. One, where she can add her flavor and spice to the theme of the story where Vero’s forcing hand played a role in. With this edition, Beautanica and Quinlan explored the high end elevators for this conductor boy. He wishes to read the final book inspired the leaders with care. With success, they find him around the Spectacula District, his smiles so thrilled to read the content, he wished to read it aloud for the two headmasters, them, to comment on the spectacular novel.

As for Mulsuevi’s boy, Devol, the demon looking child develops further likings to his idol, being a loveable experience for the sudo-emperor’s inner grandfather to take the boy in as his secret consigliere of Gladia’s Criminal Syndicate, without the child knowing.