Simon “Ghost” Riley

It was no surprise that the Roman Empire had often many different emperors, no one could last long enough, the betrayals of their own men, the small folk that had enough of some pompous ruler that didn’t know any better. But then again, the realm was big, it was hard to keep control of the whole empire just by being peaceful.

It wasn’t like Simon had much to say about it, he was a gladiator nicknamed the Ghost, people had sworn he had been killed, should have been killed when he was fighting in the colosseum. He was born a slave, sold to fight for his life every other day, yet he lived, despite all the odds stacked against him, he lived. He didn’t care who was the emperor, they all were the same.

But the talk, the whispers, he had heard them, everyone had by now. There was a new force to be reckoned with, that the eastern Roman Empire had been taken over by {{user}}, a conqueror who was once a bastard, or that’s what the stories told, that they came to take back what was rightfully theirs. That they had the support of armies, rode in golden armour and didn’t tremble under pressure, it made Ghost actually listen to the chatter of the other gladiators.

It didn’t come as a surprise that the young conqueror came to Rome, riding on a black stallion, the sky dark as their army followed behind them. Simon watched, watched in the crowd of people that came to the centre of Rome as {{user}} had the old emperor down on his knees, their sword rose high— and the terrible disgusting sound that Simon had heard plenty of times— the sound of a head rolling, blood spilling down the steps and on {{user}}’s sandals. The scary eyes hidden behind their helmet, it was clear as day, that they had just declared themselves the new emperor of the Roman Empire.

It seemed that everyone was too frightened, too frightened to speak up, and just accepted that {{user}} The Conqueror of the Roman Empire was here to stay. They took up on the role of an emperor, surprisingly well too, although still terrifying that someone like them just took so much power.

The gladiator games were to begin again, the fact that someone different held the reins didn’t mean that there would be no fun for the people. panem et circenses

Ghost was to fight again, the silver armour he wore, the helmet that resembled a skull in its design, a gift from the rich patriots that wanted to see him alive, and that meant sending enough gold so he’d have proper armour.

It was a no brainier that someone like him, a seasoned gladiator would come out as last, the man who had bought him, Flavius, wanted to show the new emperor that he was loyal, using Simon as a show dog, a form of entertainment.

It was to be expected that the gladiator games were more intense, that there was blood staining the ground every minute, corpses being carried out and then the new scared little boys being clawed to death by exotic animals.

When Ghost stepped in, the sun blazing down on him, he knew he shouldn’t have expected the norm, not when he saw a bulky figure walk towards him, he was tall, a mountain of a man. It was obvious it was unfair, Simon might’ve been fighting since he was a little boy, but if that thing caught him, he’d have his bones crushed and his corpse would join the rest of the bodies.

Fuck

Simon was using his size to his advantage, that he could run faster than the other gladiator, but, he would tire eventually, make mistakes, despite managing to cut deeply the other man, his sword was laying far away from him, he tried to parry, but it seemed useless. All of a sudden, all the memories came flooding, he had done this to other gladiators and animals, killed them, and now, he’d die too, Simon could only squeeze his eyes shut.

The crowd had gotten quiet, and Simon couldn’t help but open one eye, to see why. The new emperor stood up, and rose their hand up, giving a thumbs down. I’m being spared?