The roar of the crowd flooded into the hall where Vince stood. Arena battles were always spectacles for the world to behold. Legends from the past centuries permeated even distant regions of Europe. Gladiators taking their freedom from the days of the Old People. War’s greatest soldiers proclaiming their name and taking the seat of power. Today, Vince knew, would be one such story.

  He walked through the hall of the Arena to the viewing podium he was meant to be in. Each step pained him through his body just as the noise pained his ears. General Procas was a man of great strength, a man of discipline. Surely Vince's wounds would have been fatal if Tiber had not interceded. Indeed, they could have been fatal for the whole of Aeterna.

  In keeping with the tradition of the past two centuries in honor of the Old People, the rite of Mars— which had dominated for five generations— was meant to reach its apex on the twelfth day after the challenge. It had only taken two before Numitus and Tiber needed to act.

  Vince had watched under the cover of his own guard the chaos that ensued. Old veterans terrorized those on the grain dole, and the poor lashed out against soldiers and veterans alike. No one had died, but Tiber feared one death would cause the eternal city to burn. And so, they would fight merely two days after the challenge when a storm would be about.

  When Vince entered the podium, several of Vesta’s family members were there. They peered at him and turned away. In the time following the reveal of Vince’s failing, most of his family had shunned him. All of the older members turned their heads away. The ones he was closest with always scattered when he saw them. He felt alone as a follower of the goddess of family, of home and hearth. Tiber never abandoned him, however. Neither did the old crone who sat alone watching the preliminary fights between deserters of the army.

  “Storm is rolling in, boy.” She said, her voice scratchy and older sounding than she looked. The younger girls of Vesta stayed away from smoking hemp for fear of sounding like this woman. “An omen to be certain. But for who?”

  “Minstrel.” He said, taking a courteous bow to his elder. She hardly gave him a look. Vince took a seat next to her. “Do you believe the storm would favor us?”

  “Hmm.” Minstrel pondered for a moment before letting out a quiet cackle. “The storm is a bad omen for everyone. Have you not heard that Zeus fights with Mars when the throne is empty?”

  “The men of the storm are weakened.” Vince answered, not understanding the woman. He glanced over to the other Vesta family members, and they turned away from him again. His bruising ached more than ever. “They would not dare interfere.”

  “Ah, but they already have. What do you think your fate will be, Vincent?”

  “I believe in the Elder. Vesta’s blessing will strengthen him.”

  “Do not put your faith in such a man, boy.” She seemed disgusted by what he said. Why, he could not imagine. Tiber was the beloved father of Vesta’s children, and hero of the masses for his stewardship of the grain. “That man’s life is cursed beyond measure.”

  “Why do you say such things, Minstrel?”

  “I hate him.” A nasty, twisted grimace appeared on her face. Vince feared it. “Vesta never chose him. He will never be truly a father to her children. I wish him dead and his bones ground into dust and tossed into the sea. The sword of his enemy should slit his throat.”

  Vince leaned away aghast at what Minstrel had just said. Of the Vesta family, Tiber and Minstrel were two of the oldest. Vince had never known a time when they were not leaders in the family. And though Vince did not know Minstrel well in the past, such hatred was unfathomable. Everyone loved Tiber, son and daughter, brother and sister. Yet this woman’s hatred, it felt deeper than all those loves put together. He was struck then, when Minstrel’s face softened as she turned to look at him.

  “But for you, boy, I will wait to see if he lives. His curse should wait another day.”

  At that moment, lightning struck outside the city, and thunder rolled. The crowd quieted, many cowering before Zeus’s heraldry. One deserter had just killed another and was granted another station in the army for his redemptive victory. In the world of Mars, blood paid all prices. Tonight, he would be satisfied once more.

  “Enter the General Protector of Aeterna!” Men all throughout the arena yelled. They followed the cues of the master of ceremonies who occupied the empty podium of Numitus. “Chosen of Mars. Leader of men. Protector of Aeterna and her land. Behind him the gods of Love, Harvest, Justice, and Sea.”

  From the Gate of Life, Numitus Procas entered, adorned in his finest armor of steel and gold and leather. His violet garb discarded, thrown aside just as his title and power. The color of kings is purple, wealth and influence manifest in rich and divine dye. Numitus wore it as a symbol of his sovereignty, so that his followers and citizens would recognize him as the greatest among them.

  But Aemilia had told Vince what color the General knew best. Neither purple for kings nor red for blood nor silver for steel. He knew the color black, the mark of deep soil where a man is buried. The power to bury his challengers, that is what Numitus sought every time he carried his sword. While all the other contenders thought of kingship or wealth or infamy, Numitus thought only of victory. Aeterna lived off of a strength which sought only to win. Vince believed in Tiber, but Tiber fought to preserve his honor and his family. Numitus in his core held no such love, even for his daughter.

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  Another lightning strike and thunder followed his entrance. While the crowd either cheered for Numitus or cowered from the storm, Vince looked up and saw the gray sky, darkening always but never becoming black.

  “Enter Curator Annona!” The arena quieted when the master of ceremonies spoke. No one cheered when Tiber entered in his bronze outfit. “Chosen of Vesta. Chosen of Zeus. Behind him…”

  The master trailed off, failing to recall a great god who backed Tiber’s power beyond Family and Storm. Vince and many of the other Vesta members were slack-jawed, learning Tiber was named chosen of two gods. Such a title was near unheard of save for legends from a far distant past. The power imbued by one god granted strength beyond human limitations. A second, no one knows the lengths to which power could go.

  All that could be heard in the arena was the rumbling from the foreboding clouds. The storm was an omen, as Vince understood what Minstrel had said. Zeus came today to judge not Numitus but Tiber. The Elder of Vesta is also the chosen of Zeus, the king of the sky and chaos. Is this god a jealous one, or will the Storm side with Tiber and deliver Family? That is what Vince thought.

  Empty sand and two weapons stands were all that was near Tiber and Numitus. It looked like the pair were lions of Afriterra stalking their kill. Both went to the weapons and took their piece. For Numitus, a spear with a sword as its edge. It stood a head taller than him, yet it flowed with ease when he swung it. The blade was two feet long, an instrument befitting the grandest warrior west of Babylon.

  Tiber’s choice was his own personal family sword. Shining steel passed down through the ages, yet it did not fit a man of the Storm. Their weapon of choice was a blunt mace with bulbs all over it. When bludgeoning a man to death, the victim’s armor would sound of thunder, and their bones would crack like lightning. It was a finer weapon, one more suited to the civilized nature of Aeterna, just as his choice of god.

  Vesta was a goddess both to the Old People and the Ancients, to Roma and Hellas. Zeus is much the same. Yet, one abandoned their Hellenes name, Hestia, and became a patron for family and hearth. The other never took their Roman name, Jupiter, and retained the chaotic nature of the past. Kingship among the gods in Aeterna was always meant for Zeus, yet his power failed in the civilized world, and Mars took his seat of power.

  Vince watched as the two men approached one another in the ring, and he heard the world quiet. The crowd and the clouds both faded into nothingness, even the Minstrel who shouted was silent to him. He saw steel meet.

  Tiber’s sword blocked Numitus’s blade. Over and over again with wide and swift swings, Numitus forced Tiber away. In constant retreat, all Tiber could do was defend, parrying to lesser effect each clash. Tiber was greater than a decade senior to Numitus, and a foot smaller. Numitus’s greater reach, his age, and his strength all boded poorly for Tiber.

  With a powerful strike, Numitus knocked Tiber to the ground, and the old man scrambled to his feet. His back was sliced in a glancing blow. Vince could almost hear the cry Tiber let out as he forced himself away.

  His eyes closed, and Vince felt the dread of a lost battle wash over him. He could never make anything right with Aemilia, with Tiber, nor his family. All because he would not propose to the girl he felt for so deeply so soon after his brother’s death. A brother who even defended his honor and Aemilia’s virtue.

  When he next opened his eyes, Vince expected to be a dead man with Numitus staring at him. Instead, when he saw the Arena floor, he watched Tiber kneel on one knee and bow his head. Was he now begging for mercy? Could Numitus even grant such a thing, Vince wondered. The General paused his advance, seemingly waiting for a plea but then began again. Before him, Tiber stood and swung his sword, clashing with Numitus’s spear, their clash ringing out to the crowd.

  Suddenly, the long and graceful weapon that Numitus used when he took his seat of power became gangly and difficult. Its weight being thrown off balance took him by surprise, and Tiber advanced for the first time. With his family sword, he slashed down at Numitus’s breast armor, and it shattered. Tiber’s sword tore into Numitus’s chest, blood and skin ripped from his right shoulder to left hip.

  The former general of Aeterna fell to the ground, nearly cut in half by Tiber’s unnatural strength. No member of Vesta’s family had ever shown so much power, but a man of Zeus has done so much more. Vince and the crowd watched, stunned by how quickly Tiber turned the tide of battle, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. The only one who cried out was Aemilia, who Vince could not bear to look at.

  Numitus struggled, unable to breath and move more than an inch. But with that last inch, his hand searched for his sword-spear, a warrior until the end. Tiber raised up his sword one final time and thrust it through the final general of Aeterna’s heart. Aemilia’s sobs and cries echoed throughout the whole of the Arena, and the storm dissipated. Tiber stood tall, and from his mouth came a voice like thunder for all the people to hear.

  “My fellow citizens, truly, I have won this day. Numitus Procas was a warrior unlike any other, but his time has ended. He will be given a funeral and a triumph as his life deserves.” He held his sword up so everyone would look at him. Tiber pointed it like a finger at him. “ Let it be known that Aeterna is a city of the Hearth and Storm, of peace… of power. I am Tiberius Colonna, now First Citizen in Aeterna to whom all of your loyalties lie just as they did with the General.

  “With the power bestowed upon me this day, in the eyes of gods and men, I decree three things. First, that my heir is to be Vincent of Aragon, now to take the name Colonna in my honor. It is by his actions that such fortune has befallen me. From his line will be the leaders of Aeterna for a thousand years.

  “Second, I betroth Vincent Colonna of Aragon to Numitus Procas’ daughter Aemilia Procas. For the greatness of her father, and the wrong that was done to her, I bestow upon her the power to bear the future of our great city.

  “And finally, to honor our now departed General, a period of three days of mourning will be held for Numitus Procas. No feast will be held in my honor. I have won this day, but he lost no honor in this fight. To the people of Aeterna, to her empire, my service is yours.”

  Old Tiber took a bow as far as he could go before wincing in pain. For a man who had just conquered a city in one strike, Vince saw him as advanced in age for the first time. Tiber, who had once been a great warrior for the Storm, looked like death tempted him. Yet, he stood tall once more and exited through the Gate of Life. And Vince felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.