The Gladiators of House Valens
Winter was at its end, and that meant that Apulum's largest gladiatorial tournament was imminent.
Of course, the largest tournament Apulum could offer was not the equal of even minor tournaments elsewhere, but it was still an event that would draw gladiators and arena enthusiasts alike from around the Empire. Apulum was a lovely coastal town, and had many attractions beyond its well kept if modest arena to entertain travelers with. The wealthy wishing for a getaway from their lives in the capital or one of Venatria's other cities would flock here for relaxation, punctuated by the thrill of excitement that bloodshed in the arena brought with it.
And there would be sponsors. Watching the ravenous and fresh faced gladiators competing for glory would be men and women with coin to spare, knowledge to give, and influence they believed they could use to the benefit of a team. For teams looking to win entry into tournaments of Tarracina, or even places beyond like Meroa in the far south, this was where they had to start. Tournaments in towns like Apulum, where those with potential could be plucked from obscurity and pushed into the light of fame and glory. More than one legendary name in the arena had been born in Apulum.
Loreia Valens had one such legendary name, though its weight was steadily fading with time. The crowds of the world had proven fickle, eager enough to move on to the next hero that the loss of one did not weigh them down for long. Many of those next heroes were born at the Valens Gladiatorial School. Not literally, of course, but they were set on the path that led them to glory there, in the sands of the training courtyard, drilled into the weapons that were adored and cheered on in the arena. So many of them had gone and taken their own glory under their own names now, leaving the name Valens behind to fade.
Loreia would let that stand no longer, but for her, the glory would be a means to an end. The influence would be used to find justice, not for her own selfish gains. The money would be used to travel far and wide, to places her father's teammates and students had traveled since leaving Venatria. To find them, ask them questions. Ask them why. Why was her father murdered? And why did so few of them even try to keep the school together?
Or, she would simply die a bloody death a number of times in the arena, finding no glory for herself. Perhaps she would even die out of it, and join her father. Amulius sure seemed to think so.
"Your father would not want you to be doing this," he reminded her, for the hundredth time in the last day. Ever since she'd put out the call, a mere day before the tournament was to begin. As set as she was now, she'd been very indecisive, unsure if this was the way, if it was something she was capable of. Her capability was irrelevant in the end. She had to try. The last year had led her nowhere.
"My father is gone, Amulius," she said, resolutely.
"I'm going to find out who is responsible, and bring them to justice. And I won't let everything he built fall to ruin. Even if he never intended it for me." She was never supposed to be a warrior. The diplomat's life was chosen for her, and she'd intended to take it until a year ago. She could hardly be called a warrior now, and indeed she didn't look the part, but she had skill and good instincts. All her instructors had assured her of this.
"I fear this course will destroy you," the steward said. "You are all that is left of this House. Of your family."
"Then help me get started. Give me a better chance to succeed." She did value his opinion, after all. The old steward had three times her years on the earth, and her father had always listened to his counsel. Loreia's views, she found, were often different from her father's, but she would at least try to listen. Reluctantly, he nodded.
The volunteers would begin arriving soon, she suspected. It was mid-afternoon now, and the first match took place at sundown, mere hours away. A hasty call had been put out for all seeking entry to a gladiator team to present themselves before Loreia Valens at her family's manor and training grounds the following day. The Valens grounds were located just outside the town, a peaceful area on the edge of Apulum's farmland. Their lands were well tailored by family workers being paid still with the earnings her father had set aside throughout his winning years.
The manor itself was protected by a high wall of near ten feet, solid and sturdy stone, with a gate in the front manned by well-armored guards. They would escort the prospects inside, across the front grounds and into the gladiator school. Loreia herself was located at the far end of the training grounds, a large, open square courtyard of sand the likes of which they'd find in most of Venatria's arenas. She sat on a cushioned chair in the shade of an awning, dressed practically but fittingly for a young noble, in well-fitted trousers and high boots, a leather jacket draped over her tunic. She was trying not to look
too much like a noblewoman. Upper class individuals were not the types she was expecting to receive.
Once inside the training grounds, the gladiators would meet with her one at a time, those waiting their turn able to occupy themselves with either the target range, the practice dummies, or the refreshments of water, wine, and a few snacks the kitchens had been able to arrange on short notice.
Truth be told, Loreia wasn't sure how many she could expect, if any at all. Her name had history behind it, but she was seen by many as just a girl, entirely unproven and probably unready for the arena. She had half a mind to agree. But it was also a name that carried a promise of potential glory. And it was
that she was counting on.
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