B3 Chapter 57: Royal Rumble

Stepping into the arena stadium, Tiberius felt as though he’d been transported back to Rome. As much as the new constructions were meant to emulate his homeland, they remained clearly distinct. And that was without considering the deviations that this world’s System encouraged.

Even now, long after its builders had died, their civilization scrubbed from all but the most ancient of records, this relic still stood to pay homage to their existence. Of course, the passage of time had taken its toll. Crumbled arches and columns still remained, their restoration a lesser priority than the thousands of other matters that required the Legion’s attention. But the most major issues had been remedied, such as the flooding and the collapse of the most major passageways. It was in an intact enough state for both active use and study, which was all that mattered.

The sound of a roaring crowd mixed with enthusiastic combat as they neared the arena. Upon reaching the entrance, Tiberius, Secundus, and their group were met by a comparatively small Legionnaire. The man bustled toward them hurriedly, looking as disheveled and exhausted as if he were part of an active warfront. Collections of parchments and writing implements hung from bags at his sides and threatened to spill out onto the floor.

“Emperor Tiberius!” The Legionnaire bowed. “It’s an honor! Pardon my appearance. I was not informed of your intent to visit…”

Tiberius dismissed the man’s concerns with a wave. “You are the one responsible for the arena, I assume?”

“Yes, emperor! Drusus, at your service!”

Tiberius looked around. Though the sounds of battle echoed from within the arena itself, the halls stood mostly empty. The small handful of people milling about either bowed reverently or made themselves scarce. “I see. Your assistants?”

Drusus barked a laugh before clamping his mouth shut. “Ah, with all due respect, emperor… I’ve been the sole custodian of this place for some time now. The others have been drawn away to more… pressing duties.”

Ah. That certainly explained it. While the arena was interesting and full of strange magics, it truly had fallen lower on Tiberius’s list of priorities amidst everything else. Likely, any men that Drusus had commandeered as researchers were either working to whip the auxiliaries into shape, preparing more equipment for their forces, or off fighting themselves.

He nodded. “Very well. Show me what you have learned.”

A glimmer of excitement flashed in the researcher’s eye. “With pleasure, emperor!”

Drusus began to lead the group through the concourses, explaining as they went. The arena had proven to be a valuable training aid, giving men the ability to engage in simulated combat that more closely mirrored a real battlefield. Yet that wasn’t the only benefit. There was also the matter of the rewards built into the arena itself, allowing combatants to gain titles for exceptional performances.

“…I’ve been staging matches regularly and opening them to the populace,” Drusus explained. “At this point, every one of our troops in Habersville has earned the [Crowd Favorite] title. Many have also earned ones related to arena performance, whether from a single standout match, repeated appearances, or earning a place on the leaderboards. That last one is far less common, but we have seen a few impressive shakeups.”

Tiberius listened with interest, though he was not entirely surprised. Much of this he’d heard in reports, albeit in far less detail.

“Hmmm.” He mused. “Perhaps we should send the rest of our men here to bolster their titles, as well.”

“Yes! I would very much encourage that, Emperor.” The man bobbed his head. “It can never hurt to have more titles.”

“Have you encountered issues garnering a crowd?”

Drusus grinned. “Not in the slightest. As you may expect, the people absolutely love the entertainment. I set the price to spectate low and also implemented some free days, just to ensure we pull good numbers. And we’ve made watching bouts free for Legion. But even with that, the arena is generating quite an impressive sum! It’s served as a great recruitment tool as well.”

“I see. Well done.” Tiberius praised the man. Taking in his state again, he continued. “You appear to be managing things well on your own. However, I assume you would not be opposed to additional help.”

The arena manager’s smile flickered. “I would not, emperor. Although even before, much of the actual research work fell to me. Ah, not that I mind! But our brethren, you know… Most would prefer to be in the arena rather than be peering at its stones.”

The last part of his answer was delivered more sheepishly as the man averted his gaze. Tiberius nodded. “I may be able to spare hands for you. More research-minded ones.”

“Thank you, emperor!”

They continued on as Tiberius made his plans. He had little doubt that Claude and his mage apprentices would take an interest in the monument. The better question was, would he be able to keep them away once they were made aware of its existence?

He shook his head. Even if this did seize the Grand Mage’s interest, it would be all right. Tiberius could always distract the man with the other carrot he’d dangled above his head—that of joining the Legion. A matter which they’d likely see to sooner rather than later.

“The current bout is a fairly low-level one, just a few auxiliaries getting in extra training,” Drusus continued as they neared one of the two viewing boxes that stood above the arena. “But afterward, we have a group match of our current champions facing down a group of challengers. It’s a well-anticipated fight, given the storyline! Ah, but if the emperor wishes to see a different match—”

“Unnecessary.” Tiberius shut him down. There was no reason to throw things entirely into disarray. Besides, he was interested in the skill of these so-called “champions”.

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Stepping toward the viewing box, the crowd suddenly roared in approval. Far below, one of the auxiliaries struck a decisive blow with his sword against a similarly armed mannequin. Another sprinted towards his back, moving to take advantage of the man’s distraction, only to be flung sideways as an arrow embedded itself in his skull. The pair of foes joined the others crumpled on the ground as the humans panted, raising their fists in victory.

“A thrilling victory for Rodney’s Roughnecks!”

An announcer shouted from some unseen position. “And a hard-fought one as well! Put your hands together for our winners!” The crowd cheered appropriately before the voice continued. “This next bout is even more hotly anticipated than the last—the reigning champions of the group format, Vibius’s Victors, will defend their title against the up-and-comers, Gareth’s Grunts! Who will win in this battle of experience versus innovation?!”

Tiberius raised a slight eyebrow at Drusus at the names. The man flushed. “Ah… The men come up with names for the arena. It helps keep continuity and storylines, you see. Only… They’re not the best at names. Though neither am I, so…”

“But before we launch into it, we have a special announcement!” The booming voice saved the abashed Legionnaire from further embarrassment. “This bout will be overseen by an honored guest, gracing the arena with his presence. The emperor of the Roman Empire himself—Tiberius Rufius Maro!

Tiberius stepped forward, gazing down at the gathered audience as they redoubled their cheers. He flared his [Regal Bearing] to further play into the announcement. It had been a long time since those at Habersville had seen their ruler. Best to make a proper impression while he could.

After an appropriate amount of time, Tiberius sat in the box’s largest center seat. The announcer continued to whip the audience into a frenzy as Drusus stepped up and gestured to a small, ornately wrought pedestal. “It would be an honor to have you select the scenario for this bout, emperor. Simply place your hand atop the pedestal for options.”

He did so, and a collection of images immediately sprang up before him. Flipping through them as he would a System menu, Tiberius found that he was able to control a surprising number of variables. The win conditions, competitor requirements, terrain features, enemy difficulties… The arena itself was as malleable as clay before him. There were even options to render the bout nonlethal and rewards that he could offer. They seemed to scale with the difficulty of the fight, topping out when the most difficult combination of enemies was selected and the chance of death was real.

“Are these rewards something that you provide?” Tiberius queried.

The arena manager shook his head. “No, emperor. They came with the arena itself. Frankly, I’m not certain where they’re stored, or else I’d try to raid the treasury. But for now, our best method of extracting the wealth is to fight in bouts. We’ve also found that the greatest rewards come from letting the arena itself decide more variables.”

Tiberius hummed thoughtfully. After a moment, he selected a combination of attributes that best approximated the orcish warfront. The bout would be a wave defense, testing the groups to see how long they could last against increasingly difficult waves of foes. It would, of course, be nonlethal. He didn’t see a need to risk soldiers needlessly, especially when they were in such short supply. Even if that did reduce the rewards to a tenth of what they would be otherwise.

Once he was finished, the two contubernia of men stepped into the center of the arena. One group was armed as standard Legionnaires, albeit with more ornamental flourishes to their armor and weapons that coordinated across their number. The other…

“Gareth’s Grunts are some of the master blacksmith’s students,” Secundus spoke for the first time in a while. “Their fighting style is… experimental.”

That seemed to be an understatement. Each man was loaded down with enough weapons to outfit a century and other contraptions of twisted metal that Tiberius couldn’t easily discern the purpose of. Both groups waved to the audience as they entered, seemingly enjoying the attention.

The two groups turned to face their emperor and gave respectful salutes. At his nod, two gates raised at the ends of the oval arena. Groups of faceless gladiators stepped through and began their slow march toward the Legionnaires. These mannequins were poorly armored to start, each wielding only a short spear and a small buckler. Yet Tiberius suspected that wouldn’t last for long.

“Let the battle begin!”

At the announcer’s words, the enemies rushed toward the two groups as they took up defensive positions. The first group assembled into a more standard phalanx, while the second began to quickly set up an assortment of traps and miniature artillery. Both groups took down the first wave with relative ease, prompting the second to emerge.

Tiberius watched the bout with satisfaction. The men certainly weren’t treating this as some game. Yet at the same time, they did seem to be enjoying themselves quite a bit.

A fleeting temptation to try out the arena himself seized Tiberius before being dismissed just as quickly. It was a stupid idea. He had enough concerns about his safety without hurling himself into danger’s path willingly—even if the bouts could be made “safe”. He would be satisfied simply watching his men and learning from them. It was quite the spectacle.

The battle was a long and brutal affair as both groups mowed down stronger and more numerous opponents. But in the end, Gareth’s Grunts managed to outlast their competition. Their artillery and control of the battlefield as a whole allowed them to weather the assault longer and more efficiently, though it was a narrow thing. The majority of their contraptions were broken and scattered as the last of Vibius’s Victors fell.

“And we have a winner! The new champions of the group format—Gareth’s Grunts! It’s been a long time coming, folks!”

Tiberius couldn’t help but smile at the triumphant men below. This truly was a good form of entertainment. Perhaps he’d need to find a way to bring it to the masses at large. Something to think about.

****

The diversion at the arena proved entertaining, but Tiberius did not stay long. He only watched a few more bouts to evaluate the standouts that Secundus had mentioned—auxiliaries that did indeed prove impressive—before it was time to move on.

His visit to the elves of the Great Ruthin Forest was long overdue. Despite that, Tiberius would not be able to stay long. It would be a brief trip simply to meet the king of the elves and lay eyes on the territory as well. One more thing on his to-do list that had gone unaddressed for too long.

The trip should be a simple one. The fact that the elven legion answered to him made it clear that the nation wasn’t hostile and made their desire to rejoin Rome appear sincere. He’d be commandeering the help of some of these very elves as guides through the forest, as their capital was apparently difficult to locate otherwise.

Still, Rome’s biggest threats had never come from without. They’d been from within. He just hoped that their preservation of Roman culture didn’t include the assassination and duplicity associated with their history.

Bringing some of the elven legionnaires along also served a second purpose. It would allow him to showcase the abilities of the forces he’d been entrusted with. Sure, they might have been lower-level now, but their improved tactics and skills had rendered them quite respectable and powerful already. Iladrien, who had been almost constantly communicating between his king and his emperor, expressed confidence that even more recruits would follow in the wake of such a demonstration.

Tiberius gathered his men and set out into the forest. It was time to see the hidden city of the elves.

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