G
AIUS THRAX THE TYRANT OF INSCHA
The sound of leather sandals slapping against marble floor tiles broke the silence of the private chamber, as a young soldier entered the room. A member of the praetorian guard. Making his way over to his captain, the youth suddenly caught sight of Mistress Korvina on the central dais, reclining upon a luxuriant bed of pillows as plump as her ruby lips, and silken sheets as soft as her alabaster skin. He locked eyes with the raven-haired temptress and, in this brief interlude, all sense of duty and discipline disappeared. Lost in her deep brown eyes, he didn’t even notice he had stopped walking, until his captain loudly cleared his throat, pulling his subordinate back into the real world once more. Peeling his eyes away from this goddess of a woman, he approached the captain, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Unimpressed. The soldier thumped a closed fist upon his bronze breastplate and waited for permission to speak. He could still feel Korvina’s intense gaze burning into the back of his head, and it took all his willpower to stop himself from glancing back at her. From her nest of comfort, Korvina watched as the two praetorians engaged in a hushed conversation. No doubt keeping their voices low so that she could not hear them. They needn’t have bothered. Few people knew that she could read lips. This was a skill that only the elite assassins of the Interitus Vita had mastered. As their leader, Korvina often employed it to great effect. Once the cursory exchange had ended, the captain dismissed his junior officer with a nod, keeping watch of him as he passed by the temptress. This time, although it almost broke him to do so, the soldier ignored the urge to take one last look at Korvina. After all, making eyes at his master’s lover in his private chamber was beyond foolish. Particularly when the dominus was present. Tickled by his apparent indifference, Korvina watched the soldier leave before turning her attention to his captain, who was now standing on the balcony nearby his master. Once again, he cleared his throat to gain
attention. Only, this time, it fell on deaf ears. For the self-appointed King of the Isle was deep in contemplation, leaning upon the stone balustrade with his palms resting upon its smooth surface, gazing out upon the many wonders of his kingdom. From the heights of Dominus Gaius Thrax’s palatial hilltop villa, one could look out across the entire Isle of Inscha. A rich, rolling landscape of lush, verdant hillsides bursting with grapevines and olive groves, as far as the eye could see. A scattering of simple limewashed farmhouses dotted amongst them shone like stars beneath the brilliantly bright sun. But these distant farmlands and their neighbouring homesteads was of little concern to Thrax. His interests lay far more centrally. For, as agriculture gave way to architecture, a bustling city arose in stark contrast to its tranquil surroundings. Busy streets thronging with activity, at all times of the day. An endless stream of traders, buyers, beasts and slaves, toing and froing from the docklands to the main agora. Barracks packed with thousands of disciplined soldiers The Kyrios’s resident army – engaging in their daily drills upon the many training grounds by day, and drinking the town dry of wine and women by night. And, not to be forgotten, the regular arrival of wealthy patrons alighting at Thrax’s private port to enjoy the island’s many forms of entertainment. They came for the gladiator games and chariot races at the arena, the jewel of the isle, but they stayed for the fight pits, the brothels and the slave markets. Beneath its glossy veneer, Inscha was home to all manner of nefarious activity that had made Dominus Gaius Thrax a very rich and powerful figure indeed. Summoned from his daydream by a familiar voice, Thrax turned ever so slightly to see the captain of his praetorian guard standing beside him.
“Dominus…” he said, “We have them.” Receiving no more than a nod of the head in reply, the captain turned and crossed the room to the large, ornate double doors that led back into the corridor. Korvina found it amusing how determinedly he kept his gaze fixed on the exit. Turning her focus back to her lover, she enquired, “Is this finally the entertainment you promised me?” Still marvelling at his majestic kingdom, Thrax replied, “It’s just business, my dear. But no doubt it shall appeal to your…sensibilities.” Moments later, the captain returned, leading a group of prisoners, escorted by armed guards. Korvina’s brow lifted with intrigue as she looked upon the four men bound in chains. Each one recognisable as lords of Inscha and known acquaintances of her lover. The prisoners were marched over towards the terrace, where Thrax awaited them, and forced onto their knees by the guards at their backs. Korvina studied them closely. Sizing them up in an instant. They were too distracted to even notice her sipping on wine in the centre of the room, or her two masked companions blending into the background like the other marble statues that decorated this private chamber. Each prisoner appeared jittery, seemingly ignorant as to why they had been captured. Except for one, Lord Daron, who simply glared at the silhouetted figure of Dominus Gaius Thrax upon the shady balcony. The master remained aloof, still staring out upon the vista, as if unaware that the lords had arrived. But then, he spoke. “No matter how long I stand here, I never tire of this view. Look at it. This magnificent isle. So full of life. Intrigue. It was once no more than a simple island, famed for growing two things. Wine and olives. Just wine and olives. Nothing more.” He now gazed upon Mount Ira in
the distance, towering over the land at the opposite tip of the island. “It’s the volcanic soil, you see. Not only is it extremely fertile… perfect for growth and cultivation, but it also provides excellent drainage. This helps the grapevines to grow deep and strong. Which, in turn, adds to the flavour and texture of the grape itself. The same is true for olives. That, and that alone, is how the Isle of Inscha started its journey towards becoming a focal point of the known world.”
“An endless wheel of wealth, influence and violence has been in motion here for generations” Thrax continued, “Long before The Kyrios’s navy arrived with his armies. I have climbed my way to the very top of the wheel. Fighting tooth and claw. And I will stop at nothing to stay there.” After a slight pause, he peeled his eyes away from the outside view, glancing ever so slightly over his shoulder to address the four lords in question. “Do you know why I have summoned you here?”
Thrax paused momentarily, now steering his focus away from the peaceful hillsides to the energetic city. With a sigh, he concluded, “Selling wine and olives is a nice hobby but, as you are all aware, there are far more lucrative endeavours.” He grinned wickedly as he eyed the slave ships in the distance. Each one of them a goldmine, bringing fresh meat for private buyers to bid on. “Growing grapes upon a vine, olives on a tree, requires years of effort and patience before you’ve even begun to reap the fruit of your labour. But trading in people, well…that is the prime example of how to achieve the maximum output from the minimum input. You simply take what you need from one place and sell it in another. No initial cost. No wasted time or effort. And then, once you bring them to the markets, who cares what happens to them? Whether they become fodder for the gladiators in training, champions of the brutal fighting pits or a plaything of some lecherous old man, it makes no difference when the coin is already in your pocket. You see, gentlemen, people is where the real money is. Not just slaves, but lords too. Kings, even. All you have to do is recognise one of the key tenets of profiteering: violence, gentlemen, begets wealth. And one must often be violent in the pursuit of profit.”
Thrax raised his hand, silencing the man in an instant. Then he turned and slowly strode towards his prisoners from out of the shadows, glaring at them with a dark look.
This concept brought a sly smile to Korvina’s face. Particularly as the lords began to squirm. They had correctly sensed a threat hidden within those words.
“N…no, dominus” one lord answered, “But, if I have done something to offend you, I assure you…”
Now bathed in the light reflecting around this decadent chamber, he appeared almost godlike before them. A lush, deep purple toga dressed his athletic frame, highlighted by bands of gold clasped around his biceps, forearms and wrists. And a thick gold chain draped around his neck, displaying in this one trinket alone his immense wealth. He wore his shoulderlength, jet black hair in a central parting, so that it fell like curtains around his scowling, harsh features. His heavy brow arched downwards, adding to the threat of his penetrating, evil stare as he spoke to the lord he had just silenced. “I was an orphan, you know. At a young age I discovered just how unforgiving life on the streets can be. But I survived by watching how others strived. I observed. I learned. How to employ wit, guile and, yes, violence to get what you want. I’ve always applauded those who share such traits. After all, where might I have ended up without them? Probably some starving street urchin sold into slavery myself. It doesn’t bear thinking about.” The lord shook his head in agreement, as if he were appalled by the very notion. His response tweaked the corner of Thrax’s mouth, which curled into a smirk. Now looking along the line at the other lords, he continued, “However, while I admire men with ambition and a thirst for profit, I cannot help but take it personally when they aim their sights at me.” With this veiled accusation hanging in the air, another lord called out, “Please, dominus…I would never dream of treading on your toes!”
“And yet” Thrax countered, “One of you has stolen from me. Something of immeasurable value. A woman. Touched by the gods themselves. I have summoned you all here because I know that one among you is guilty. Should he come forward and admit to his crime, perhaps I shall go easy on him. But, should he remain silent…well, then you will all be punished.” At the promise of retribution, Korvina felt a mild rush of excitement flow through her, and she secretly hoped that all four men would profess their innocence. Sure enough, the promises and bargaining began to flow, as the lords offered assurances and loyalty – some far more enthusiastically than others. Thrax found their fawning particularly tiresome, swiftly bringing it to an end with a raised palm. “Well, I must say I’m very disappointed that the offender has compounded his crime with lies. I would have held him in greater esteem should he have confessed openly. But here we are.” Thrax now paced the floor, stalking the line of lords from one end to the other and back again. “It seems you underestimate my influence upon this island” he began, with a stern but calm demeanour. “You see…I know everything that occurs around here. Every… little…thing. Let me educate you on the reach of my power.” He stopped before the first prisoner and looked him square in the eye. “Lord Aris. Yesterday morning you had bread with honey for breakfast. The bread, your servant Kalia bought fresh before dawn from the bakery behind the bestiary school, opposite the arena. The honey she purchased from Daraxius, the vendor in the agora. After breakfast, you went for a stroll along the coastline before heading to the ludus of Master Alexios to check on the progress of your sponsored gladiators. You stayed for most of the afternoon, drinking with Alexios until sunset. Then, after returning home last
night, you sent your wife, Lucretia to purchase a new outfit from the silk merchant while you visited your favourite whore, Paolina, in one of the many fine, disreputable establishments that Inscha has to offer.” Aris bowed his head in shame as Thrax moved onto the next lord, revealing in vivid detail similarly personal information, believed to be private. By the time he reached the third, the elderly man was so fearful of what might be revealed that his cheeks were already wet with tears. “Lord Tarsis” Thrax smirked, “You are undoubtedly the most depraved man here. And I include myself in that.” He crouched down and continued in a hushed voice, “I must admit, even I was shocked to hear what you got up to in the last twenty-four hours alone. Bravo, my lord…you certainly know how to live life to the fullest. But…” Thrax now wiped the blade of his index finger on Tarsis’s cheek to catch a tear, which he rubbed dry with his thumb, “…as we can all plainly see, you are a coward. You wouldn’t dare to cross a man like me.” Thrax grinned as Tarsis bowed his head
and wept. “Pitiful” he scoffed, dismissively.
grin, now clapping his hands sharply.
“Which brings us to you, Lord Daron. What possible underhanded activities did you engage in this week?”
All of a sudden, the chamber doors flung open, and a beautiful young woman was brought into the room by two praetorian guards, who delivered her to Thrax and then stood back. A glimpse was all it took to see recognition in Daron’s eyes and witness the hope draining from him. The young woman bowed her head, sheepishly, as Thrax revelled in his captive’s disenchantment. “As you can see” he said, sporting a sly smile, “Nothing is beyond my reach.”
Daron shook his head as he replied, “Dominus, I promise you…” His words were cut short, as Thrax suddenly grabbed his chin with a muscular grip, pinching his cheeks and erupting with incandescent rage as he shouted in the lord’s face, “Do you take me for a fool?!” The outburst was so sudden that it rattled the other lords, who practically jumped out of their skin and stared down at the floor. But Daron could not look away. His wide eyes were fixed directly on Thrax and his venomous expression. “You thought I would not find out, is that it? Was it purely to undermine me, or did you have some grand plan for her? Hmm?” Thrax released his grip, to allow his captive a chance to respond, revealing a cluster of half-moon cuts on Daron’s face, where his fingernails had sunk into flesh. Daron looked up at Thrax and said, “You will get nothing out of me. I swore an oath of secrecy. And I intend to keep it.” Despite his aching jaw, Daron mustered a knowing smirk, content in his belief that he had deceived the deceiver. But his joy was short-lived, for Thrax wiped the smile off his face with a swift backhand, laden with rings. Daron’s cheek slammed against the marble floor, cracking several teeth loose in the process. The guard behind him quickly dragged him back up onto his knees. The skin above his left eyebrow had burst open like a wellspring, as a stream of blood trickled down the side of his face. Spitting a bloody mouthful at Thrax’s feet, Daron chuckled, “Do what you will with me, but you will never find her. She is far out of reach by now.” “Is that so?” Thrax replied with an ominous
Thrax now ambled over to Daron and crouched down before him. With an outstretched hand he slid his fingers through the lord’s wavy hair, tightening them into a fistful of copper-coloured locks. The captive winced as Thrax tugged sharply, yanking back his head to look him in the eye. “Now, tell me why you did it. Who paid you? Hmm? Give them up willingly or else I shall have my chief torturer extract the information in the most… imaginative way.” Daron chuckled, defiantly, “I thought you knew everything that goes on around here.” This provoked Thrax to a new level of rage. In one swift motion he pulled hard upon Daron’s hair, throwing him facedown onto the solid marble floor. Standing over his battered acquaintance with a handful of auburn tufts, Thrax bellowed, “Everything on this isle belongs to me! She belongs to me! I don’t care if the gods themselves tasked you with her safe return, anyone who steals from me shall be met with swift and severe retribution!” No sooner had the outburst ended than the room fell utterly, impossibly quiet. Then, quite unexpectedly, a trickling sound appeared, like water gently splashing against stone. The praetorian guard behind weeping Lord Tarsis looked down at the amber puddle spreading beneath the kneeling captive, and grimaced with disgust.
His temper cooling, Thrax now composed himself once more and tried a different tact. Brushing the strands of hair from his palms as the throbbing vein upon his forehead began to shrink, he declared, “Lord Daron…I am not an unreasonable man. As someone who deals in slaves, I recognise that no one is beyond negotiation. If you, or your co-conspirator, had wished to take this specimen from me, all you had to do was come to me with an offer. I would have happily relinquished her. For the right price, of course.” Before another word was spoken, Korvina exhaled loudly, expressing her boredom at the current stalemate. Practically tossing her empty chalice at the nearby servant attending her, she rose from her nest and floated down the steps of the dais with the grace of an eagle. Her elegant, ivory dress flowed behind her as she walked. All eyes were on the leader of the Interitus Vita as she approached the girl in question, inspecting her like a horse master in the market for a new stallion. Even Thrax remained silent and watched as the two beauties stood facing one another, wondering just what her intentions were. Korvina lifted the girl’s chin with a curled finger, and studied her features. Her piercing blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Sumptuous, honey-golden hair. Perfectly pink lips. A delicate, pretty nose. She was a beauty. Of that there was no doubt. A lock of the girl’s golden hair fell down across her face, prompting Korvina to reach out and gently sweep it back behind her ear. The girl smiled in reply, seemingly comforted by Korvina’s care and attention. “Touched by the gods, you say…” she said, directing her comment at her lover, without looking at him. Before receiving an answer, Korvina slashed at the girl with a hidden blade that flashed like lightning in the sunlight. In an instant, displaying her effortless skill for death. A necklace of ruby red pearls appeared
around the victim’s throat, before a curtain of blood gushed forth. Clutching at her wound, the poor woman collapsed to the floor, where the gathering crimson pool spoiled her honeycoloured locks. Now standing over the lifeless body, Korvina shrugged, “It would appear she is nothing special after all.” Thrax’s face was a picture of surprise and perverse enjoyment as she turned to face him, but he was unique in this. For the captives felt sick to their stomachs and Korvina sensed even the guards were more than a little bewildered. How she loved to shock an audience. Approaching her lover, she stroked Thrax’s face and kissed him gently on the lips before slipping away, out of the room, followed closely by her two ever-present assassins. “Well now…” Thrax said with a chuckle, “it seems I was misinformed. Still, Lord Daron, you weren’t to know that when you stole from me.” His eyes lit up with glee as he witnessed the sorrow on his captive’s face. Clearly, this woman meant something to him. “I see now that any punishment I could devise would not be as cruel as watching her die in front of you. Helpless. Hopeless. Full of regret. You do realise, of course, that she’d still be alive if you hadn’t meddled in my affairs.” He feigned a sympathetic sigh which turned into a smirk of delicious irony. A tear rolled down Daron’s cheek as he gazed upon the body lying in a pool of blood. Peeling his eyes away from the unfortunate girl, he glowered at Thrax. Blood seeping through his loose, gritted teeth as he now replied, “You didn’t deserve her. Even if she were not chosen by the gods. Even if she were nothing more than a simple farmgirl, she was too good for you.” His voice rose in volume as he became braver, bolder in his insults. “You’re a worthless, thieving scoundrel! A sneering, snivelling coward who hides behind his palace walls and doesn’t even have the guts to carry
out his threats himself.” “Oh? Is that what you think?” said Thrax, visibly amused. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. You see…” Thrax wandered over to his praetorian captain and withdrew the sword from his scabbard. The shink of the iron blade ringing against the sheath’s lip echoed through the chamber as he continued, “…it’s not that I lack the courage. It’s just that…well, I’ve always been a voyeur, at heart. I take far greater pleasure in watching others carry out my bidding than in doing it myself. Such is the privilege of the lordly. I could very easily pour myself a goblet of wine. But I have slaves to do that for me. I could simply cook my own meals when I’m hungry, but why bother, when I have a kitchen full of servants to prepare banquets at my command?” Thrax now placed the sword’s edge against his captive’s cheek and let his arm guide it downwards. The weight of the weapon was enough to slice through his bristled skin. “You misunderstand, Lord Daron, just how easy it would be for me to skewer you like a stuck pig.” Droplets of blood streaked down Daron’s face, staining the blade as Thrax gently pulled the weapon away, now handing it to his captain, who cleaned it against his own sleeve. “I could end you, right here and now, if I so wished. But…I have far more interesting plans for you.” He peered deep into Daron’s unblinking eyes. The lord was certainly doing his best to keep up appearances. Some might even think him brave. Thrax knew it would not last long, as he suddenly called out, “Borsus!” No sooner had this name been uttered than he noticed a flicker of fear in his prisoner’s eyes. His thin lips parted in a wicked grin that turned into a contented sigh, displaying his genuine satisfaction as Daron’s bravery subsided. “Ah! Now, there it is!”
A heavy door shuddered open and in strode a colossal brute of a man. Thrax’s champion of the arena. His prized gladiator. Standing at his master’s back, biceps bulging with anticipation, he answered in a deep, husky voice, “Yes, Dominus?” Thrax peered down at Daron with a smirk as he addressed his champion, “Congratulations, Borsus. You have a new chattel for the pits. He’s less than useless in a fight, but I’m sure he will die well enough.” Borsus nodded and stomped over to Daron, who was pleading with the praetorian captain that had stepped forward to unchain him from the others. All his courage had melted away, leaving him a whimpering wreck bargaining for his life. “P…please!” he stuttered, “Have mercy. I beg you! I’ll pay you anything. Anything at all, if you let me live.” But nobody paid him any mind. For the hulking gladiator reached down and hoisted him up, draping Daron over his shoulder like a petulant child and ignoring his cries for mercy. As the prisoner was carried out of the room, Thrax closed his eyes and craned his neck, listening to the distant sound of Daron’s pleading growing fainter and fainter as the double doors shut behind him. Now turning his attention to the three remaining captives and offering a rather disconcerting smile, he warned, “Let this be a lesson to each of you. If any of you ever even think about crossing me. Remember this day. I am always watching. I can get to any of you at any time. And that goes for your loved ones, too.” With no more than a nod, he dismissed the lords, whose thanks fell upon deaf ears. Their host was no longer interested in what they had to say. As the guards ushered the lords outside, Thrax called out to the remaining slaves, “Leave me.” They quickly obliged, shuffling out of his
private chamber quickly and quietly, leaving him entirely alone. Once the room was empty, Thrax waltzed over to the balcony and once more rested his palms upon the smooth balustrade. “It is done” he declared. A cloud of purple smoke swirled into existence, as The Veiled Emissary appeared beside him. “You have done well, dominus. You wish to play a bigger part in this godly game. Well, it seems you are ready for what comes next. Prepare yourself. The time is nigh.” A shiver of excitement rippled down Thrax’s spine, and as he peered out upon his kingdom with eyes greedy for power, his wicked grin evolved into a maniacal laugh that rang out across the island.
www.cerberus-studios.com
G
AIUS THRAX THE TYRANT OF INSCHA