Original subtitles

Then the first crude brick lane foundation to the rise of the House of

All those before me shall fall.

Enter the Brothers Farrow.

That toad is pit to Marcus fucking Crassus.

Apologies, Gabinius. We did not think that you redoubled the effort to secure

undiscovered spectacle and see rematch upon a day.

Let us gaze upon glorious future.

Pledge oath. Call me Dominus and fight in the arena.

Earn your freedom upon the sands.

Achillea. Dominus.

You lower shield before you strike. See it raised.

Your brains upon the sands.

Yes, sir.

You fight with vigor.

Well, the house now stands after the champion.

Position I will claim my own.

Well, to become champion, you must first defeat vaunted father.

Eventually, I'd be on ground.

Well, now you've lived it, folks.

You mad fucker!

You lower your guard. The Lord's good fucking reason.

We have felt the sting of loss.

Witnessed honor champion fall upon the sands of the arena to the ill -thriven

jackals of Proculus.

Yet, as rising sun breaks dawn, so too shall the House of Asher dispel darkest

night of indignity.

We shall no longer be bound by the shackles of history or fucking

We set foot upon uncharted course to satisfy the crowd's desire with more

offerings.

But how shall rising thirds be quenched? There stands but one capable of

satiating such ravenous moth.

Behold, Achillea, the goddess of death.

Silence, fucking town, and attend your dominus.

Return to training, you simple fucks.

Latorre.

The Achilles' instruction.

Take it.

Sword and shield to what style of mamillo?

Yes, Latorre.

Woman bears resemblance to my mother.

Spiteful fucking war.

That explains much you witness shit.

A fucking woman, father.

Turn thoughts.

Raise guard!

Erato, they're gonna kill you.

I would see cock tangle with more worthy adversary.

Work the fucking log!

Hey! Don't go!

Here with Achille.

Your stuff's all right.

Shall I treat you as opponents or something of delicate persuasion?

A question I was of mine to pull it toward you.

The idle words give way to clash of swords.

She is of a form, is she not?

Yeah. Mm -hmm.

You've fought before. You're not against such as I.

Fucking shield weights intense.

You will address me as Doctore.

Retreat the ship.

It is not to my benefit, Doctore. You will do as commanded.

Stand ground and receive correction

Dominus The

moment

has fucking passed

Resume training.

Hey, kid!

He does not grant respect the title that Doctore demands.

Respect is not granted, it is taken.

Instruct Achille in our way, then see bare teeth give way to averted gaze.

Unless and not easily grasped by rabid dog. And respond with lash until tongue

laps have healed. And what if peace cannot be tamed?

Spartacus once stood as wild, yet by will and teachings of Animaeus he was

domesticated. And became champion of fucking Capua. A result that would seem

erred. She reflects but promise of disappointment.

Do you stand fucking Dominus?

I do not. Yet you bleed.

As if exalted Tyler cloaks you in such regard.

I account what I behold through lens of expedience. She is but fucking clay for

your hands to mold.

Forger in the fires of this loot is hardening her swift purpose.

Swift? Achillea has but only commenced training.

A thing of minor consequence.

I would see her ready for the games of the looty Apollonaries.

You have secured position.

I maneuver towards such.

So. We have a clutch at fanciful dreams. A certain has waken upon each fucking

day I shall see it done and claim desire contest against the brothers Ferox once

more. You wagered all the crowd will not turn upon us.

For presenting novelty?

For breaking tradition. A fucking woman takes to the stands. Tradition is but a

word revered by those who pursue mediocrity. The house of Asher will

own path and fuck into oblivion all who stands in its way.

Dominus, method has arrived from Rome.

At last, mighty Crassus deigns to respond.

Apologies that it's not from Crassus.

Who then?

Julius fucking Caesar. A man with no worth beyond name granted by slipping

mother's cunt.

He stands requested, is he not? A position of some note?

A fuck position. Caesar flings his own shit and declares it mana from heaven.

He breaks words of some distress.

Some.

He sends us and our men upon Appian Way towards unsavory task.

Do you not stand a free man as Caesar, and as such not bound by request?

I stand free in the eye of the Republic, yet not in coin.

Crassus is honored patron, and Caesar is fucking will.

You must part lips and swallow anointed cock.

It is a heavy sight.

To witness so many hearts no longer beating beneath chest.

The rebel army that shook the mighty Republic.

Reduced the rotten flesh beneath vengeful soil.

Sick cock!

We stand gladiators, not common fucking slaves.

You stand as I fucking command!

Criticus has mind equal to dazed child, yet brings truth.

A gladiator's place is upon the sands of the arena. It is the duty of Equesta to

tend to the Appian Way. Caesar's done yet fine purchase in Crassus' ass.

We must endure one to gain... Stop it!

That mark.

This man's the champion of the House of Batiatus.

Gannicus. Gannicus!

Gannicus!

Gannicus! Had occasion to cross paths with him once.

After he claimed freedom in the arena before he fell among Spartacus and his

rebels.

A drunken, disagreeable fellow.

Much to my liking.

He embraced his fate as all men must.

His death a kindness to one forever haunted by past transgressions.

Seen the fucking wagon, Dominus.

This man's just a god of the arena.

His skill rivaled only by the bringer of rain himself.

Two legends birthed from our ludus.

Yet we now stand absent, even lowly position in the games.

Our father's fucking house has fallen.

You desecrate these walls?

I but enhance them.

This beast, he is of your homeland?

A pedermak, god of war and conquest.

You pray to him?

He would not listen.

Then why work his image?

As a reminder.

To what?

What was lost.

Pause labor and take water.

Aptitude. None required.

Your scars.

How did you come by them?

A tale not for one so soft and full.

In battle?

When captured by the Romans?

I did not fall through the fucking ship. Marked by previous Dominus, then,

towards instruction of man. I have never stood a slave. Yet here in this house,

that is all you stand.

Lay hands upon Dominus again.

And I shall see you parted from fucking life.

Little mouth squeak, and I'm to shudder in fear.

Make a tendency, Talonpothead, from body.

A certain end, if I were to move against you openly.

Yet there are many ways a clever mouse may see vicious hawk to growl.

You rotten water!

I have not.

Yet at any moment I could snatch breath, absent suspicion.

I shall leave you to your God, who ignores your prayers.

fucking mind.

Tori. Tell me.

What is that you fuck?

Enough.

Fuck. You called the fucking quarrel.

Blood boiling in here preventing voice of your dominus to pierce thick fucking

skull.

Look upon your brothers.

They too defy their master and now rot upon fucking cross.

Continue to blame and see yourself nailed among them.

You lose control.

Sun overheats passions already roiled by Achilles' presence.

It lifts hearts to witness your men at last

put to proper use.

I have observed the Republic on this day at request of revered Caesar.

Yet, upon another, I would present latest acquisition in the arena.

and have contests revisited towards diminutive abortions.

Ha, ha, ha! At least we knew our mother, you fucking cunt!

Ha, ha, ha!

Descend from lofty perch and grow subject of lineage again.

Oh! We are for Pompeii where we battle in the arena.

Let us leave the House of Asher to its labors.

In the dirt.

Boom!

Is it fear that stays hand from rematch upon next games in Capua?

I welcome such entertainment.

Yet they shall not decide who shall fight and who shall wallow in their own

shit. Falls not to me, but to good Gabinius.

Gabinius?

He hosts the game of the looty Apollonaries.

We are so honored.

Perhaps you may entreat him towards your cause.

Or his beloved wife.

Blood breaks down from an angry sky!

My God breaks his heart!

My God breaks his heart!

The gods you do not believe in shit upon us once more. They but present

new obstacles.

Cassutia orchestrated humiliation and the fall of our champion, Logus. She

will... Poison husband towards granting position.

The man fears Crassus and may provide necessary leverage.

Would not equal trepidation fall towards Pompey, whose favor Gabinius holds?

Set purpose towards Achilles' training and leave machination towards greater

fucking minds.

You yet reek of rotting flesh from Appian Way.

I could smell as a man.

A man of pith and shit.

Victoria!

Perhaps the goddess of death should fall to proper contest.

She would welcome such diversion.

Sentiment to be regretted.

Take position.

Take it. Beer.

Salted words from mouth.

Do you borrow cock to do so?

Tarcon.

Far beside Craticus.

I'm to face two opponents.

Should the gods favor you towards the arena, you shall face three.

The brothers Ferox.

Vicious half -men pulled from the arse of a rival in East.

Half -men?

I could piss and they'd thank the gods for rain.

Tears not need sword and shield, Doctor.

to cut them down with fucking tongue.

Our honor stands no fucking jest.

Lord of the Brothers Ferox, Nietzsche twisted them into knotted lump, and in

their anger and pain, they torment death with aggrieved hands.

Misjudge them, and see your life forfeit.

Take position.

Begin!

Focus on one opponent and invite fucking from the other.

Fucking shield, generous movements!

Face the man.

Shield stands all between you and the afterlife.

Again.

Talk to me.

Get yourself a one -hour city so you may advance upon other absent distractions.

You have not earned position in this fucking house.

Disappointing.

Hey! We resume training after heat of midday, son.

She is not absent skill.

Oh, she is absent on her.

Striking creates a kiss upon manoid.

An unfortunate blow, yet the fault is yours.

Mine?

Desire towards singular victory left valued friend exposed. Had this been the

arena, both of you would have fallen.

I did not spring from your cock.

Nor am I bound by fucking voice.

Man presents shopping point.

Your sword will not find purchase once more.

Why? Do you never intend to fight again?

Dogs eat from fucking ground.

You do not fight unless it is upon my fucking command.

Apologies, Doctor.

I but remind the woman of her place.

Return to training.

All of you!

Your presence incites disobedience.

and distraction.

They cannot even break food without falling to quarrel. You pace like Cade's

beast, rending tranquil mood.

Apologies for disturbing, fucking Bart.

Perhaps inflamed passion would be cooled by soothing waters.

I prefer to bathe in solitude.

Yet you do not fucking stand so.

Wet cock and douse inferno with wine.

Fill a cup with wine.

Some breakthrough fucking cloud.

It makes a tent.

Achillea affords rarest opportunity, a sight never before witnessed in the

arena. For good reason. She does not belong upon such sacred ground.

heralded with Iarison first introduced.

Net and Trident. How they laughed. Yet now none again passes absent their

presence. Tradition is but a novel right, age to maturity, a thing I would

Achille become.

She cannot triumph against the brothers Fedox. No, she cannot.

Yet. You hold too much faith in my instruction. I hold what is necessary.

And what of the men?

They must embrace the future or fall to memory.

They will never welcome a woman as one of their own. They need not to welcome

her, but they must fucking accept.

It is a bit of herb you would eat and swallow.

And let it feed honey with wine and whores to bomb into your fucking pride.

Such a gesture would aid in calming Gavin and Tim with? With promise of more

towards falling to reason.

Apologies, Dominic.

Senator Gavinius has sent messenger.

What word did he carry?

He insists message be delivered only to your hands.

Materialize the fucking man.

Yes. The Ida champions are close to Gabinius. I yet have opportunity to

subject.

Do you stand Gabinius' man?

Such is my charge.

And over, then.

Inform Honor Senator what he requests.

It's agreeable.

Gabinius invites me to break Beale at his villa.

To what purpose?

Unknown. Yet I shall turn it a fucking advantage.

Dominus has called for a sentence.

As Achille aparted you from yours.

Always for luck.

And trust fucking Nubian held thread of honor.

You place blame where it does not sleep.

You place fault in my efforts.

No.

On mine.

I was absent thought towards all the victory.

Leaving you exposed.

I do not need you to come to aid, you fucking shit.

You're a cop, there's other way.

In the arena you must fight as one.

All four divided.

And when were you last upon the sands, old man?

A lifetime ago, yet I lived.

Which is a victory I fear you may tumble well short of. A thing of no pressing

concern.

We are the house of piss and shit. Denied opportunity of glorious death.

not so much.

Assuming opponents are greater than small child.

Fill air with fucking laughter.

as Catwood has upon thought of this fucking house.

It is what we make it.

See, weighted spirits lifted, your dominus presents gifts of wine and

Oh, perhaps the gods in favor of this fucking house.

Now remove yourselves, so Achillea may bathe absent lingering gaze.

Give me wine! Give me the horse!

Leave it cut for the rest of us.

He pleans as if I've never witnessed cock bare and wet.

Attend yourself and return to self of the night.

Am I not to enjoy the pleasures of wine and horse?

Such rewards are reserved for those who bear the mark of the brotherhood.

An honor you have yet to earn.

Perhaps this one.

You possess discerning eye.

As I was yours for such this night.

I am to give Vinicius' villa, not the arena.

Does Cassutia yet stand as wife?

A Cerberus guarding gate of the underworld, frothing and snapping.

The target of my concern.

She holds no sway, absent command of husband.

And if she has moved him for her cause against you?

She's spread for deeper ramming. Then why accept invitation?

Oh, no fucking choice!

Calm, trouble, thought, and realize.

All men of power and position underestimate Asher at own fucking

Prepare yourself for my return.

You as well.

May you worry over him beyond reason.

He is our Dominus.

Our fate's tethered to his.

Yet who worries over you?

Turn mine to task.

We see Lenin's freshness in anticipation of his triumphant return.

Senator Gabinius shall join presently.

Here is our man.

Gratitude for accepting invitation upon briefest of notice.

I'm swelled by Auguste's request.

You are familiar with cherished wife.

We are so acquainted.

In passing, in the streets, if I recall.

Apologies for our delay. This business with the Salician pirates vexes all

affected by their savage attacks.

Locusts plaguing our beloved republic.

I pray harsh retribution awaits.

We are of singular mind.

I draft motion in the Senate to see men as quelled by able hand of trusted

Pompey.

Pompey? He takes leave from Rome with his army. A small portion. Adequate to

task. The remainder counterbalance towards fighting men loyal to Crassus.

May the gods usher Pompey to victory as Scipio Africanus against Hannibal at the

gate. You are cool to know histories.

I am but babe crawling through, do we mourn.

Then let us see you rise upon legs of knowledge and stride upright as all men

midday of life.

Some yet stumble upon attempt, skull bashed upon unforgiving ground.

I shall strive to remain sure -footed. As most reliable goat.

Let us not veer towards pointed meaning. I would have all slights, genuine or

fanciful, fall to past remembrance.

Memory has faded to obscurity.

Never to return.

Apologies.

Voices stirred interest.

Viridia, it swells hard to see you stir from chambers.

I felt rarely taken these days. Perhaps you might return after our esteemed

guest has departed.

It's him.

It's Irian. You are not properly dressed to receive any... He is the hands.

The ones that saw Spartacus to deserve it end.

They, uh... They but

aided in the effort.

Gratitude.

Rome is forever in your debt.

As am I.

Hour grows late.

Retired to bath with loving mother, so I may break words with honored guest,

absent distraction.

Come, let us lead the men to their folly.

Forgive my daughter, she holds not herself.

What affliction troubles her?

The most grievous, a wounded heart.

Her husband, much beloved, fell to Spartacus and his rebels at Senuessa and

Belay, where he broached business with Laurus the trader.

Such law sees the strongest of us absent mind when in its grip.

Well formed.

Yet, let us...

Turn from shadows past in favour of more promising days.

You sound well satisfied, old friend.

Oh, I sound a fucking god.

You're not fucking dead.

You're not fucking dead. You're not fucking dead. You're not fucking dead.

You're not fucking dead.

You're not fucking dead.

You deprive relief of hardened costs. I deprive you of fucking teeth as well.

How come?

Get out his mind.

It's the humble offering inserted elsewhere.

I favor more heft to ass anyway.

You would pull me from services purchased by your Dominus. I would

from Mars himself.

Be warm hearted, Arthur.

The sun above the earth below.

You flatter as all men stiff of cock.

I know that you're forced to lie with men outside these walls.

Yet within them, I would have no other hand upon you but mine.

Then lay them upon me.

You are commanded to remain in your cell.

Slumber loose with all the fucking noise. The noise of fucking...

What

do you see?

I do not grasp meaning.

When you strike, what do you see?

A wooden fucking man.

You unleash fury beyond simple form.

What do you see?

In mine's eye.

Those who hold me unworthy.

Within Miss Ludus or upon the path that led you to such fate?

You do not partake in the pleasure of who has denied me?

My taste is of a more discerning nature, one not sated by men who accept coin in

exchange for loving and grace.

With that, I would so bless the choice.

Thank you.

And dull pain of coming days.

Speaking to the Syrian as you did?

I but expressed gratitude, keenly felt. You made him feel as equal, deserving of

such praise.

Was he not?

Failing in the fall of Spartacus.

He predated himself and desired to climb above his station.

Not all men seek to be so elevated.

Yet, if they are of proper breeding.

You froth as if personally aggrieved.

The man himself is of slightest note.

It is what he represents, those who would pollute pure waters of the

fancying themselves upon level with storied name and position.

He must be made example to be taken as a warning to all those who would mistake

themselves so.

Father appears in disagreement.

Husband will often stray from reason if not closely attended.

Would that I yet had one to give such counsel.

Except mine.

In his place?

Do not forfeit precious youth to grieving.

We're just yet fresh.

And we'll never heal unless proper balm is applied.

Life does not end when a husband falls from this world. No heart remains

thundered when cradled in hands of a loving mother.

Tell me, Syrian, were you and your family brought to Rome as slaves?

I alone, mother and sister, fell to disease long before I fled to Grani's

and found myself a guest of the Republic.

And your father?

I hold no memory of him.

Absence of such robs a boy of proper direction.

You must truly hold favor of your gods.

To find yourself elevated from slave to current position of dominus of own

fucking house?

I am indeed blessed, yet by labors of own hands and accomplishments beholden

only to them. You hold no belief in the divinity guiding mortal man?

My dominus was known for oft -repeated refrain, one which I yet admire.

Fuck the gods.

And to what end did such sentiment lead?

Most unfortunate one.

Well, one man's misfortune often falls to another's opportunity.

How unseemly a role did your hands play in manufacturing such?

I have done questionable things.

To arrive where I now sit.

Who of worth can claim otherwise?

And now, upon this day, I walk a different path.

So the tiger has altered stripes.

I am not the man I once was.

Nor the man you yet desire to be. You are but faint spectre.

Caught between two worlds you do not belong in.

It is a heavy thing, is it not, to be burdened with dreams made sudden

I am but a humble servant of the Republic.

Why would you swear allegiance to a Republic that despises you?

Why lavish tongue upon those who yet hold you in naked contempt?

You shall never stand equal in their eyes.

Forever condemned to be but rough hue and tool to be used.

Till blade is dulled by unkind years and then cast

aside.

What worth is a knife if

it lies absent use?

Mighty Crassus continues to sharpen intent, then, all the way to where he

with his army outside the gates of Rome. We are as one. Be a messenger upon

regular basis. Only a fool relies upon the benevolence of the rich.

Their whims counsel but their own reflection.

Coin afforded by Crassus admittedly thins with passing of days, yet debt

Water, grain, equipment, my stock drains fortune.

and with it hope of grander aspiration towards the games in the arena, a

I would broach. You refer to your gladiators as stock.

Do they not carry title of men?

They are but slaves.

As you once stood.

A distant memory.

Yet forgotten by none.

Let eyes fall upon it.

Your brand.

Marking you as property of the House of Batiatus, I would lay eyes.

Oh.

Rumour proves truth.

Crassus Grau's command and loyal care...

nor is its own flesh.

Words fell from thus noble heights.

Gaius Claudius Glaber gave command before he was dispatched from this world

Spartacus himself in the shadow of Vesuvius.

I had occasion to break meal with Glaber upon a time.

A most unsettling cast of eye.

absent blink as a lizard encumbered with human form.

Most uncanny assessment of the man.

And how gauge you the measure of the one you see seated before you?

Never come. Told me his friend.

Well, a semblance of such as moment requires.

I see a most noble Roman, well regarded by deed and tongue. That very is of

little worth to one laden with coin and privilege. I would have from you what

others withhold.

The fucking truth.

I see a man of fading years, clinging to what time remains in hopes.

of preserving tradition of beloved Republic.

Yet many within it increasingly find him more annoyance than benefit, save to

those of low position who seek the borrowing of coin.

I see a man possessed of serpent's hound wife, who maneuvers

beyond his entry.

Words well broken.

Now fall from fucking sight and remain so

removed.

Form improves.

Moves from watery shit to firm.

Wouldn't man pose a slight contact?

Perhaps you'd care to engage more fearsome opponents.

I prefer larger challenge.

Fuck what you prefer, woman!

Stay down, you fucking cunt!

The winner last finds her place on her back with legs spread.

Give way.

Give fucking way.

Life is split.

A blessing for one to rudely handle.

What has fucking happened?

The woman!

She went mad.

He breaks false words.

I was about working palace when he... I give no shit what they did.

Only the dominus in the house can claim life of one who stands among the

brotherhood. Any man who lays hands upon me shall fall the same fate, regardless

of fucking brand.

Do not speak!

You believe you hold police among us?

I did not ask to be in this fucking house, yet I stand equal as any man

it. Then give proof.

Dacus, steal!

We must stop this. I will alert Villagas. Hold!

She makes bold claims.

Let her see it defended.

The Tory!

Should this matter not be attended by... Off the fucking side!

Forth, all ground!

Well, Dominus will hear you took wine and fell from fucking post.

Retreat the shield and take position.

You stand for men absent honor.

I stand for the brotherhood.

Then think that God, I am not a part of it.

You have done nothing!

You've got to die, Antonin!

You fought well.

Yet far shorter than Brotherhood.

She took the life of her brother, yet you let her live.

I am the champion of Akragas.

Freedom won upon the sand by my own fucking will.

And yet this woman, absent experience, has achieved what none among you could

dare dream of.

She drew blood against an opponent far outmatching her in skill and experience.

She has earned my respect.

You've got a fleeting moment.

And any man...

who lays undesired hand upon her, shall feel my own at fucking throat.

I have to train with you? I have to gauge first -hand your progress.

I would see my man in a deserved position in the impending games.

Sirians? I trained those men, not the fucking Sirian.

You take Sirian into confidence?

He may be of use to more agreeable master.

The past stands not who we are.

The present is what holds meaning.