Headed by a Snake

Sorina Capulet was easily the most important existence for Guild Invictus' strength and prosperity. Tycondrius would be hard-pressed to find another woman (or man) of either her class or caliber.

She was also the weakest combatant in Sol Invictus.

Even Popoto Potata Pota had four years of heavy sword training.

In theory, Seldin Korr was assigned to guard Sorina against any would-be kidnappers or assassins...

"Miss Capulet..." Tycon forced a polite smile, "Where is Korr?"

"Oh?" Sorina tilted her head gleefully, "She's with Popoto Potata Pota! There's a horse-grooming competition right behind the venue."

"Why, then..." Tycon pursed his lips, "--are you not with them?"

"Makin' stacks, Boss~" She sang, fanning out a series of betting receipts as if they were playing cards.

Oh.

"...Very well."

Tycon sighed and dropped the subject. In the open and public area that was the Caeruleum Coliseum, the risk for Sorina being captured was low. At any rate, Tycon could reasonably guard Sorina just as well as Korr could.

The junior competition went well, with Athena and Parthenope encountering no troublesome opposition. Before the young Vanzano's matches, Tycon advised her to focus primarily on winning through swordplay, saving her frost abilities as a hidden trump card.

On a real battlefield, Athena could utilize her abilities to incapacitate swaths of opponents, her ⌈Frost Blades⌋ cutting down dozens at a time, her domineering ⌈Ice Beams⌋ obliterating closely packed groups of shield-bearers. The more enemies she cut down, the greater the advantage her allies would have.

The arena fights were decidedly not life-or-death situations... and they were set in a way to be reasonably 'fair.' If she were to hide her strongest abilities, she'd also be able to gain an edge from teams underestimating her. She could afford to take each fight slowly and methodically, not fearing the casualties of dozens or hundreds of allies.

Tycon found it surprising that Parthenope performed quite well. As she wielded a crossbow, he expected the twin-braided girl to remain on the defensive, patiently waiting for an opportunity to shoot, and taking advantage of conditions Athena set.

In the first match, the archer smashed her weapon stock against some poor Warrior's teeth. Then, she shot a blunted bolt into their chest from a Tyrion palm away.

It was good. When an opponent isn't vulnerable, the fighter can create that vulnerability.

It reminded him of Tanamar... Though the Holy Lancer was technically a ranged class, he was deceptively strong at close combat.

After the junior preliminary matches ended, he met with the Athena Collective for a short lunch before returning again to watch the rest of the matches. In the afternoon, the crowd had swelled, packing the colosseum seating and putting Sorina into a frenzy as she took far more bets than earlier in the sun.

Tanamar and Zenon did as well as the girls, before them. Their matches, however, were... more orthodox. They kept their distance and remained defensive... because that was both logical and efficient. Zenon's blasts of wind kept close combatants away and a Tanamar's relentless barrage of magical arrows at range. It was an effective if nigh-unbeatable strategy.

Tanamar kept yawning as he struck down his opponents. Tycon planned to scold him later for the lack of professionalism.

In one of the fighting rings, however... Tycon noticed a particular person he recognized... and one he certainly did not expect to be present. That person took a grievous injury, a deep trident stab to the upper abdomen.

As Sorina would be safe with both Athena and Parthenope, Tycon informed the group that he was leaving to investigate...

...

Dorus wiped the sweat from his brow.

He stood guard inside the gladiator pit entrance instead of out. He took solace that he wasn't outside in the sweltering heat of the Tyrion sun. He almost wanted to check if it was cooler out there than in the shade. For one, it would be abandoning his post. More importantly, when he came back, he'd have to again get used to the reek of gladiator sweat.

It was worse than usual, too... even though many of the competitors had much better hygiene than the regular gladiators, there were literally hundreds of them in the pits... and from every part of the Realm.

The soft steps of another unwashed fighter began to pad down the stone steps.

Dorus stood up straight, feeling the cold and clammy stick of his sweaty tunic on his back. As miserable as he felt, at least he'd look somewhat professional with his Caeruleum armor and shiny pilum.

It was a green-haired youth with golden eyes... which was odd because the junior matches had ended nearly two bells prior.

"Good afternoon, young sir. This area is closed off to all but current participants."

"I am aware," The youth narrowed his eyes, the bright gold of it gleaming in the torchlight. "Let me pass."

Dorus coughed in embarrassment. The look was slightly intimidating... but he'd dealt with gladiators and their ilk for years. The tough act tended to just be bluster. Dorus would stand his ground... at least a little bit.

"I suppose I can make an exception for you, Sir," Dorus rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

Taking a small bribe here and there never hurt anyone.

The young man shrugged, "Are you asking for silver or steel?"

"I uh..."

Was that a threat?

"Sod off," The green-haired fellow rolled his eyes and shoved Dorus aside. The boy was far stronger than his smaller frame suggested.

...It was worth asking for a bribe. It always was. Dorus didn't particularly care that he was rejected so easily. It was better than being overzealous and getting hurt.

Coliseum guards were easy to replace... and the city had no use for injured guards.

So what if a gladiator got punished for it? They'd get a slap on the wrist and Dorus would get a career-ending injury. That was the way of things.

Heimon, one of the other guards, approached. How the man could still his helmet with the body heat around baffled him, "Hey, Dorus. Who was that, just now?"