Chapter III: Arcadia

 "The name of peace is sweet, and the thing itself is beneficial, but there is a great difference between peace and servitude. Peace is freedom in tranquility, servitude is the worst of all evils, to be resisted not only by war, but even by death." - Marcus Tullius Cicero 

"Lucus, remember that time when we were still apprentices and doing survival training in the forests of Macedonia?"

"I remember convincing myself that beetles tasted like slightly stale sweet rolls."

"What was that stew you tried to make on the third night? The one that smelled like incontinent geriatric donkeys after eating leftover pig slop? This tunnel smells about like that."

"You're not funny."

"I saw your smirk. God saw you smirk. We all saw you smirk. Don't lie."

"I am literally attached to a very sharp sword right now."

"Wait" he said, pausing in the walkway. "We've walked the 100 paces needed before the first turn."

He knelt down and withdrew the map again from its case as I carefully hovered the small torch I had lit over the design. He placed a finger on where we were estimated to be and looked up, pointing ahead at an intersection.

"There. That's where we turn North. From there we should have a straight shot to the palace. Apparently Nero wanted a speedy escape route."

We continued on towards the intersection, stepping around rats who seemed to be both far to brave and far to big as the light of the tunnel entrance faded behind us in the distance. Never before had I hoped more for a fresh rose or clove of onion or that even stew I had that I am fairly certain did actually smell better than than this.

"According to the map," I said, "once through the end of the tunnel our entrance should enter up into a room adjacent to the throne room. Once there, hopefully we can find the priest and rally with the remaining defenders and protect the escape of the civilians that survived. By the time all of that happens our fleet reinforcement biremes should have made it up the Tiber and be waiting for us hiding outside the docks."

"Should be," he said. "Until they aren't."

"We've got this. There's not going to be any issues."

"Right, no issues.  Until there is."

"You're such an optimist."

As we carried on, the sounds of the chaos outside began to make its way into the tunnel, reverberating through the hollow tunnels and making its way from the cause to our ears. As we got closer to the exit hatch, though, some of the sounds changed from mere noise to clearly understandable words.

"Where is your king?" a thickly accented, guttural voice aimed at an unknown target.

"Rome has no king," came the hoarse but determined reply.

The sound of a forceful retaliatory blow echoed through the halls and prompted us to being to sprint towards the source. A light from what we hoped was the exit grew larger, and I extinguished the torch as we approached what looked like a drainage slit in the floor next to the hidden hatch. It was a Visigoth, questioning what we could clearly see now as a young woman in Legionnaire's armor. She was roped to a pillar surrounded by other barbarians, cackling at the retort of the female.

The map was obviously correct and we were just outside of the throne room, evidenced by the massive and richly adorned double doors not far above from where we stood. Distastefully but effectively, the Visigoths were questioning the female warrior, whose light armor looked like similar to a scout who was captured looking for civilians to guide to the relative safety of the throne room. Through slits to thin to attack but large enough to see through, the besieged defenders could witness the acts but be helpless to intervene.

"I'm sorry, I must've dozed off. Could've sworn I felt the caress of a muse," the bloodied woman defiantly spat to the interrogator.

The Visigoth vindictively raised his hand once more, preparing to hurl his full force into her.

"Hold!" an unknown voice called from somewhere behind the interrogator. The entire area full of Visigoths visibly stiffened into a barbarian form of attention and the interrogator stammered quickly, "I wasn't going to kill her, sir, just scare her!"

"I seem to recall a certain Thracian whom you said something similar about, shortly after he insulted you and met an unfortunate demise as well."

The Visigoth lowered his head and backed away submissively, clearing the area for the new entry to make his away to the interrogatee. As he made his way to the roped woman, she raised her head, strands of her red hair falling unrulingly over her piercing blue eyes as she glared unflinchingly at the interloper.

He made it to within a few feet of her and stopped, surveying her armor. "I was unaware that female Romans had the ability to even pick up a sword, much less bear it. What is your name?"

She stared, not speaking, not moving. If glares could stop wars then never a one would be fought again from hers.

"You're roped to a pillar in the palace of the emperor in the world's most powerful city." He paused, reconsidered what he said, "Well, was the most powerful city. You are here for as long as I desire it whether you admit it or not."

"Auxilia Reconnaissance Scout Arcadia Evios Theophylaktos. "

"You're Greek!" the Visigoth exclaimed, feigning surprise and ignoring her military title. "What's a Greek doing dressing as a Roman and fighting its war?"

"We are all Rome."

"Nice sentiment, though ultimately futile I fear. My name is Chief Recimar, and I am the one decimating your capital," he said as he took a step closer, quickly lashing out a gloved hand and snatched her chin in his hand, clinching tightly.

"Obey me and you have nothing to fear, Auxilia."

"For fear I'll leave to you, Chief," she gritted through clinched teeth, the utter opposite of fear blazing in her emerald eyes.

Grimacing subtly, Recimar released his grip on her chin and turned around, turning his head around as he walked off, saying, "Take solace in knowing that your courage did not fail you at your end. But nothing more. Execute her."

Having far more than our fill Alexius and I both burst upwards through the hatch, throwing ourselves against the Visigoths before they could even draw their swords. Alexius drew one of his daggers and hurled it at the war chief as he glanced backwards, the dagger nicking his neck and impaling the barbarian standing behind him.

Running to the nearest barbarian I rammed myself into him, cracking his head against the wall and pinning him against it as I deflected the blow from another, backhanding my attacker with the pommel of my sword. I carried through the arc of my backhand to slice into a soft space between the armor of the goth I had pinned against the wall, then quickly turning my attention to the second one as he slid downwards. The second goth, eyes wild at me dispatching him with a backhand, leaped towards and swung his axe full-strength, lodging deeply into the stone wall. I ducked down and kicked out with both feet towards his knees, toppling him over as he tried vainly to pull his axe free. I spun around on the ground, righting myself and quickly falling again, this time with gladius pointed downwards against the goth, not stopping until my own weapon became lodged into the stone of the palace.

As I pulled my sword from the stone, an almost inhuman gurgling sound came from the other side of the chamber. Looking up I realized it was Recimar, clutching madly the side of his neck with a now blood-soaked cloth. He was stumbling back, his mind seemingly trying to process how so many things could've changed so drastically so soon. The remaining barbarians circled around and past him, in full retreat over the losses of their comrades and the wounding of their chief. Recimar, keenly more than aware of the severity of his wound, allowed himself to be pulled back by his subordinates and taken away.

"Well, then. That was fun." Alexius said, sheething his sword and turning from watching their retreat to Arcadia. "Ma'am, we're-"

Arcadia, hands still tied upwards with thick rope had somehow managed to pry her feet lose from the ropes previously binding them, and had brought them upwards at chest level and was twisting the neck of a goth who had gotten to close to her reach with her legs. An audible snap was heard, and she released her grasp and used the height of the goth to kick upwards and spun herself around on the pillar to where she was now perpendicular to it, climbing up the pillar on the ropes.

Alexius and I exchanged a baffled but impressed glance.

"Mental note: Don't make whoever she is angry," he said as he watched her reach the top and with the limited freedom her ropes gave her managed to still grasp enough of the knotted twine to unloop her harness and jump gracefully to the ground.

"Yes? You were saying?" she said.  "From your armor it's obvious you're both Clerics."

"Yes, ma'am," I quickly said. "My name is Lucus Secundus Vorenus and this is Alexius-"

"Well, except you. Did you lose your armor there, monk? Does the Pope know?"

"Wait, what? But I'm not-and we're not-" I stammered, the sound of Alexius laughing blocking out anymore audible statements from me. 

Realizing I still felt the weight of the gladius in my left hand, I turned it around and sheathed it within the scabbard on my back, catching the attention of Arcadia in the process.

"Why do you where two rings on the same finger, Cleric?"

Suddenly, an arrow ripped through the air, implanting itself deeply into the pillar standing beside us, followed by another and another. We moved quickly to the other side of the pillar and saw twice as many of the Visigoths that had been there earlier rallied together and charging with weapons drawn towards our position. More arrows flew towards us, the air reverberating from their whistling and the first Visigoth ran and fell upon us in a flurry of metal and motion. Alexius took center, placing himself between Arcadia and the barbarian as I maneuvered around to her other side, forming a barrier between her and the incoming goths.

The next warrior was on me in a matter of seconds, striking relentlessly as I quickly drew and parried with my gladius, not hoping to match his weighty frame pound for pound. He swung again and I stepped around his blow, allowing his momentum to carry him a fraction of a foot to far and I swung my sword quickly into his clavicle, felling him in an instant.

The immense double doors behind us creaked, the hinges protesting their opening as if they knew what lay wait for them on the outside. Immediately voices from inside called out to us, desperate in their pleas.

"Hurry! All of you get inside! There's more on the way!"

Not willing to protest we all made our away into the throne room, jumping over the fallen bodies of the barbarians and ensuring that none made it in behind us, the last thing we heard was the closing of the doors before being greeted by a room of stark blackness and deathly stillness.