Page 32 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

The word echoes in my mind, stirring something deep within me.Retiarius. Net-fighter.

Flavius, the youngest of us disappears into the wooded area nearby, emerging moments later with a long, straight stick. “It’s not a proper trident,” he says, still peeling off smaller twigs from the main shaft, “but it should do for now.”

The moment my fingers close around the stick, something shifts. The world around me blurs, and suddenly I’m no longer in the training yard at Second Chance.

I’m in theludus, the familiar scent of sweat and sand filling my nostrils. The wooden trident in my hand is well worn, its weight a comforting presence. Across from me stands my training partner, a burlymurmillonamed Gaius.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Gaius taunts, his voice muffled by his helmet. “Let’s see if you can do more than just look good for the crowd.”

I grin, twirling the trident with practiced ease. “Why don’t you come find out?”

We circle each other, both looking for an opening. Gaius charges, his gladius flashing in the sunlight. But I’m ready. I sidestep his attack, bringing my trident around in a sweeping arc. The blunted prongs catch Gaius behind the knee, sending him stumbling.

Before he can recover, I press my advantage. My movements are fluid, instinctive. The trident is an extension of my arm, striking with precision and speed. Gaius fights back fiercely, but I can see the frustration building in his stance.

Finally, I see my opportunity. As Gaius lunges forward, I drop low, sweeping his legs out from under him. In a real fight, this would be the moment I’d cast my net, entangling him for the killing blow. But here in theludus, I simply place the prongs of my trident against his throat.

“Cede,” I command, breathing heavily, unable to keep the triumph from my voice. It takes self-control to tell him to yield rather than order, “Supplica,”—beg for mercy.

Gaius laughs, pushing the trident away. “Well fought, Cassius. Looks like there’s more to you than just a pretty face, after all.”

The scene fades, and I’m back in the present, the wooden pole still gripped in my hands. But something has changed. My body thrums with energy, what Dr. Reid calls “muscle memory” is awakened by the familiar weapon.

“Well?” Thrax asks, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “Care to try again?”

I nod, a smile spreading across my face. This time, as we square off, everything feels right. My stance is balanced, my movements sure. When Thrax attacks, I dance away, the pole a blur as I parry and strike.

It’s not a perfect match for the trident and net I once wielded, but it’s close enough. My body remembers what my mind has forgotten. I weave and dodge, using the longer reach of my makeshift weapon to keep Thrax at bay.

The fight seems to last both an eternity and no time at all. When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, I realize the entire yard has gone silent. Everyone is staring at us—at me—with a mixture of shock and admiration.

Diana pushes through the crowd, her eyes wide with wonder. “Cassius,” she breathes, “that was amazing!”

I shake my head, still trying to process what just happened. “I… I remembered,” I say, my voice filled with awe. “Not everything, but… I know who I was. Who I am.”

Though I don’t. Not really. Were all those memories of my so-called father just dreams? The opulent mansion? The tutelage on how to act like a senator? How does that fit with my skill with the trident? Of these two things, only one is provable—I just acted like a master retiarius. I’m no patrician. I’m a gladiator slave.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cassius

The dining hall occasionally erupts with raucous laughter as we gather for our evening entertainment. It’s become a tradition of sorts, these game nights. A way for us displaced warriors to unwind and connect with each other and the staff in a more relaxed setting.

I sit across from Diana, a wooden chess board between us. As she explains the rules, her hands move with confidence as she points out each piece.

“This one’s the king,” she says, holding up a carved figure. “He’s the most important piece, but also the weakest. Your whole goal is to protect him while trying to capture your opponent’s king.”

I nod, studying the board. “It’s a bit likelatrunculi,” I muse, the word slipping out before I can question where it came from.

Diana tilts her head, curiosity lighting her features. “Latrunculi? What’s that?”

“It’s… a Roman game,” I say slowly, trying to grasp the wisps of memory. “A game of military maneuvering. We used colored glass pieces instead of these carved figures.”

“That’s amazing, Cassius!” Diana exclaims. “Do you remember how to play it?”

I shake my head, frustration coursing through my veins. “No, just… fragments. The name, the pieces. Nothing solid.”

Diana reaches across the board, squeezing my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. That’s still progress. Now, let’s see how you do with chess.”

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