Original subtitles

The House of Asher would carve its own path and fuck into upliving all who

stands in its way.

You have not earned position in this fucking house. They will never welcome a

woman as one of their own. She is not absent.

Gil. And when will you last upon the sands, old man?

Govinius. He hosts the game of the loony Apollonaries. I see a man possessed of

serpent -hunted wife.

Perhaps the House of Arpiter shall present surprising challenge.

You worry over him beyond reason.

Yet who worries over you?

Abed -Amak, god of war and conquest.

Then why work with him? Just a reminder what was lost.

Took the life of a brother, yet you let her live.

She drew blood. And any man who lays undesired hand upon her shall feel my

at fucking throat.

You risked life of valued acquisition by pressing grievance with fucking steel?

And what of the life of Criticus?

Was there not a thing of equal worth? No one would produce coin to see shit

walking upright upon the sands of the arena. We do not overflow with men of

skill that the passing of one should be met with indifference. Does voice sound

fucking indifferent?

The man stood but crudely for brick.

Atelia stands as fucking foundation.

Her interest to the games of the Ludia Polonaires will secure the ascent of

house that you're always moaning on about. You have straight given ears to

cause.

Prize was within grasp when you broke kneel. Until unfortunate turn of humors.

Your words have been known to carry such effect.

He pressed for honesty, you towering fuck.

And when presented with such, took offense and commanded me to fall from

sight. So, we remain beggars.

Knees upon ground, mouth open to pleasure any cock that rises to favor.

You need concern yourself with the duties I paid you for in coin, most

of which seeing Achille ready to face the brothers Ferox, not taking actions

absent authority.

I gauged the woman to be wild and untamed, yet you did not heed one. I

fucking dominos. I fucking doctore. Upon the sands, my word is law.

You would place yourself above me?

I place my experience in such matters beyond any man. Then why does Achille

draw breath if you find her such an affront to delicate sensibilities?

Because she proved herself worthy, at least to further consideration.

Ah.

You speak of worth and the proving of it.

I will set you upon tasks to mirror the same.

How more vaunted purpose moves my hand. Whatever fucking purpose I require

towards satisfaction of loyalty.

We stand us on it.

Lacking dominance for a fucking cock to reclaim lost glory from the days of

Gannicus and Crixus. True fucking champions. Far eclipsing the shit

Break words more wisely.

It's the unquestionable man who had parted from body in unfortunate manner

criticus. His pet Nubian claims life of a brother.

Absent consequence, a jest to all who greeted him as friend. A thing

uncontested.

Yet I bow to the will of Aldomerus, as all of us must.

For now.

The writers' words hold truth.

They can hold the world and still prove their little use.

Does the honor of a house not stand above all else?

It should.

then our fucking Dominus has tainted it by positioning woman towards the arena.

I am set to task beyond these

walls. In my absence, Galadus shall stand doctori until my return.

Gratitude.

It is a heavy honor.

The honor is mine to have old friend assume my place.

She'd have meant the perfect.

Zoom training.

Tarkov, Gerato, take position and fall. Freeze!

youthful fury pales against the master of fucking sword.

Inform me when such a master presents himself, and I will serve same meal that

fills fucking mouth. Darkman, had you faced an opponent of the slightest

wild attack would have seen you upon the ground of the arena with addled brain

spilled from fucking head.

Retake position.

and fall to proper form.

That's all right.

She

twice

has won yet burdened by chains.

Perhaps she is shackled by a thing of more crushing weight.

Expand upon thought.

I noticed a shadow within I, as a lingering specter. When did you find

so closer to observe this?

I had occasion to break words when you ventured upon... You summoned her into

the villa, absent my presence?

No, Dominus, I went to the Nubian cell, accompanied by God. You are forbidden in

the Ludus. It is unsafe for one so soft, even with presence.

Of escort. I am no mouth, nor shall cower on such.

Apologies, Dominus.

And did you divine the cause of this shadow you fucking noted?

No.

Yet, mood grew ever more somber when I fell upon scars marking the back of her

hand.

Whatever weight soul may be tethered to how she came by them.

Territory labors.

As we fall, Taro.

I'm to train with you?

I am to gauge firsthand your progress.

Dear Dona.

Is this the style of favor when you drew blood from Doctoring? That of Mumelo?

No, Dona.

Thorin torch.

Absent weight of fucking shield.

Kin to that of Thymcarus.

A style favored by Spartacus himself.

Sword.

How does divine if you send his equal in promise?

Am I to be punished if I draw blood?

Such a feat will be met with reward.

Offerings to offend I and all related senses.

Fault lies with felicians, cutthroats, preying upon ships bearing goods of more

earnest quality.

Well, it's well spoken.

An enduring bane, which must be handled with greatest urgency by those imbued

with the power to act. I can assure you my husband is maneuvering towards such

an end.

I shall pray to the gods the attempt is not mired in pompous rhetoric.

This often turns within the Senate.

An encumbrance, thankfully not suffered by your husband, who remains well

satisfied in the unrivaled monotony of tax collection.

Maratia!

Clouds form upon her, I think.

What unexpected joys do fall upon you?

Had I known... Why, you were venturing about. I would have gladly set aside

urgent concerns.

And joined you. A decision conjured upon the moment.

A thing too slight to mention.

Horatio, I must implore you to break words with Uvidus to open new grain

We were not so burdened by scarcity under watchful eye of previous Eda.

A man much deserving of honoured position.

My husband sits in esteemed counsel this very moment, attempting to bring relief

to the good citizens of Captain.

My husband was not informed of stated gathering.

Such meetings are confined to men of note.

Gratitude for clarifying such matters of import.

And I would be remiss if I did not inquire after the welfare of beloved

daughter.

Has she yet left villa?

Since her husband's untimely demise at the hands of Spartacus and his rebel

horde.

Viridia shows no inclination to end mourning.

I stand deeply concerned for her well -being.

Of course.

I but hope to see grief bound by that of new -sprung love.

As would we all.

My youngest son, Manilaus...

Has come of age and seeks wife of proper breeding.

Perhaps a name worthy of consideration.

Yet I crave more equitable pairing for deserving child.

The wife of noble Gabinius knows best in all.

Please convey thoughts of better days for your poor daughter.

It's a wonder, is it not, to behold a sow bedecked in silk and jewels.

You stand the Syrians, man,

do you not?

A thing well known. Yes, well known indeed.

Heratia, the Edel's wife, Modestel's wife of...

Who does it finally matter?

I trust you were not too grievously wounded by the loss of your man to the

brothers Ferox.

Scarcely thought upon. Yes, I suppose you must have grown accustomed with

failure, given the quality of your offering.

Apologies, but I'm pressed upon urgent business.

For your Dominus.

You mistake me.

I am a free man.

Oh, apologies.

For the era, it is the truth presenting challenge to the core.

May your day be blessed, as richly deserved.

Years have advanced, yet he is still of a problem. I have heard tales of his

sword impaling the most brutish of opponents in advance of winning freedom.

Well, would that his own work can be put to more intimate use?

You lower yourselves and towards one who favors cock to moister offerings.

Let us submit a meal in the hope of more elevated discourse.

to see god grant favor across our paths brother it is you wonder far

astray from your man proculus the fucking cunt parts with coin as readily

would arm or cock i wager in the pit through paid debt out to shrivel noble

absent reason or mercy the old fuck would see me to the mines if the ledger

not balanced i shall leave you to it then place from fucking mine brother

What moves you to fall from such lofty perch? You never cared for this fucking

place, nor those outlawed its walls.

Years have not dimmed a version, yet I am set to task upon vital errands in

service of my employer.

Well, the fucking Syrian.

Every answer is better. Fighters will aid in effort.

Gratitude, yet it is a private matter ventured upon discretion.

Your lips were ever sealed, and even now more so. You stand as doctora in ours,

blessed by craft and himself, while poor Fidus toils for scraps from fucking

Proculus. Bridal overreaching desire.

You see prospects break.

May the gods grant such discipline.

Come, let us share a drink and relive days past when we stood yet at

A dire warning to every shit who dared break unflattering words.

I would welcome such fond memories and petitioned kindness.

To help ease present burden.

You stand so defiled by misdeeds you beg absent honor.

Ram cock up the arse of honor.

I need coin.

And you stand well positioned to provide such.

Misfortune can forge iron in those who bear its heat.

I would not obstruct such vital lesson for one with keen need to set foot

towards more auspicious path.

Perhaps the Syrian.

or with the noble, might prove more generous in return for tales of your

misdeeds.

Be well, and place me far from fucking thought.

Our business is not yours.

Of our fucking eyes, next they light upon me.

Fire burns bright, as it did in the eyes of the Mastration.

He too made attempt upon life of his Dominus.

Yet his venture proved more successful.

Why do you fail?

Your skill with sword exceeds my own. By considerable fucking margin, yet

insignificant to his question, why do you fail?

Perhaps wooden men will offer greater opportunity for reflection.

Work the palace and turn thoughts inwards towards more enlightened

Struggles against piss.

Make offer towards women.

No more than three to nine.

The bay unexpectedly brightens.

We stand absent -minded.

Allow unworthy hands to see offence corrected.

I am for business.

I'm a swift fucking concluding of it.

I withstand the same in that regard.

Recent losses have depleted the stable, forcing me to restock offerings towards

Arena. These men would see your ludicrous greater disadvantage.

What's not the mighty Inimaeus, birthed in such darkness?

Not the bringer of rain, condemned to harden purpose within these very bowels.

Singular fucking men.

Their reflection unlikely to be glimpsed along the chapel display.

I would break words with Anubis, former overseer of the pets.

Anubis?

Towards what purpose?

Rumour holds that he has a bounty of grain to need by the house of my

I fear you have been led astray by errant tongue.

I had dealings with Anubis only this morning and can assure that grain not

his current holdings.

Well, then I am sent upon the fool's errand.

Only foolish.

If you return to the Syrian empty -handed, a true friend would see them

to overthrowing.

You agree?

To excess.

At what cost? Only honored presence, honeyed by wine, and engaging discourse

from the noxious scent of unwashed patrons.

Then I am your man.

As I stand yours.

On the moment.

Thoughts wander afield and loving daughter steals advantage.

Hand moves as it was taught upon loving me.

I give invitation for you to join me in this city to find you playing games with

your father.

She prefers training of mind to clucking of heads.

More years are yet required to best you.

I concede contest.

You but humor an old man to believe himself master of strategy.

A thing received with much gratitude.

I but bow to elevated skill. It is far too early in the day to yet be dressed

for its end, Viridia.

Fault of bath and proper attire befitting daughter of noble senator.

He's forever held in highest regard.

As he eternally holds, beloved daughter.

You coddle her in obstruction of needed return to the world of men.

She recovers herself from loss of cherished husband at measured gait.

words to spur action will but harden resistance.

Then aid me in seeing it soften.

Reality of unmarried daughter elicits whispers. I would not have name sullied

wagging dung. Such as the ones you wasted hours with this very day. I did

deem you concerned by the clucking of fucking hens.

Let ill temper fall into faded memory and common ground regain.

Much desired.

As is the breaking of words towards the impending games you so generously host.

What of them? They present much needed opportunity to reintroduce Viridia after

long absence in public eye. You well know her feelings towards the games and

gladiators who played them. Feelings can be moulded.

Especially if reformed by loving hands.

Countenance did noticeably brighten when bestowing gratitude upon the Syrian in

aiding the downfall of the rebel Spartacus. Fucking Syrian. He's Dan

grinning with human teeth.

You're the creature not to be trusted. Trust is as water transforming to vapor

or ice upon varying conditions. You speak in knotted riddles. Then let us

untangle mystery.

Why do you think I invited him to break meal?

Your machinations elude. To gauge the man towards usefulness in rising

between Pompey and Viserion's patron Crassus.

And how is such worth measured?

By revealing desire towards preventing motion in the Senate.

To see Pompey unmoored from the gates of Rome.

in pursuit of the solutions she has plagued in the waters of the Republic.

You take the fucking Syrian into confidence?

A false one, unbeknownst to the man himself.

You test him. If knowledge imparted finds way to Crassus, then we shall know

Syrian's loyalty holds firm.

And if the cur holds, Tom? Then he may be of use to more agreeable master, and

perhaps maneuver to aid in brokering peace between Pompey and Crassus,

civil war.

Truly believe that the Syrian holds sway over the will of Marcus fucking

Crassus. Even a crude lever can displace the largest of stones when put to

proper use.

The only use for such a man is to see worms to ravenous meals. Does he not

dominus of his own ludus? Once claimed by Batiatus, favor granted by Crassus

himself. His fucking house is buttressed upon back of his doctore chorus.

Absent him, the Syrian would fall to deserved ruin.

True.

As many before, the Syrian stands upon shoulders of his betters. And seeks to

gain further purchase beyond reason.

As all of base position dream.

Why do you think they come to those of us higher born, seeking the borrowing of

coin? The loaning of it a loathsome thing, and your brother never should

moved you towards such base venture.

Let us not gather Servius into argument.

Nor turn from fact that interest paid on base venture offsets costs of fineries.

You so enjoy.

We stray from point.

I hold suspicion you shall never get its background to it. Do you not glean

desire simmering in the eyes of the Sirian when lighted upon our daughter?

Oh, is it a wonder?

She is of a form, as her mother so stands.

You flatter when you should be rising towards anger. And you anger when you

should descend towards quietude.

Attend to the Rudia and place thoughts of the Syrian from mind.

Words difficult to embrace. I will hear no more of it.

If he proves of no value, he shall surely manufacture his own demise.

Draw comfort from such and let that be an end of it.

Yes, I mean... Sussman knows true.

Achille yet proves unable to shatter chains, tether and ascension.

And with it, the rise of the fucking house!

The Nubian saw his mood, a thing Keeley felt since her arrival.

Untamed oxen break countless yokes until they learn to walk where strong hand

leads.

Am I to be a farmer, then? Plowing fields of shit?

Apologies, Your Majesty. I did not mean to speak out of turn. Achillea presents

annoyance. Absent benefit, a beast of burden.

Perhaps you should reconsider staking future in imagined abilities.

What words, broken -legged, believe I sought your counsel to his fucking

resolution? I only seek to protect... You do not stand!

Fucking wife.

Nor I, husband, in need of fucking concern.

Apologies.

I overstepped.

for it into open mouth. Fall to fucking position.

Fuck position!

I will not work palace beside fucking woman.

A blessing to be so removed from distraction of lesser presence.

Put tongue to proper use and lick fucking gut.

Fall to commandment.

Dominus!

fucking man who stands before you. I am Calidus.

I, bested Antus in the fucking arena, Camulus, built up my fucking sword.

As did Magnetius, once champion of this fucking house.

Now you shall heed word and show respect for these fucking rulers.

I see your blood on the fucking ground.

feats accomplished when mind is set to purpose.

Aspire to such.

And one day you may also recount grand tales of faded glory.

Apology. Message has been delivered for Dominus.

Give it here.

Shall I fetch him?

No.

It is a matter beneath his attention. I will deal with it directly in his name.

Dominus.

He views you as a common slave.

I stand a free man, receiving coin for service rendered.

And what about Grace Palm for removing decaying vestiges of cherished brothers

upon cross?

Could you wrest such knowledge of our labours from that shit Proculus?

Men of brute strength may wrest such truths from unwilling mouths, yet

such stirring form as yours...

I must rely upon other skills.

I would be privy to which skill one so slight could muster in aid of such

endeavour. There are many who have been persuaded by the lilting tone of my

voice, yet I favour listening.

Arrogant tongues often reveal secrets that fall to advantage.

There are many paths to victory absent force of arms, to those with a mind to

pursue them.

You exhibit rare insight.

Even for story doctore.

It stands wounding shame that the Syrian fails to place respect where it is so

lavishly deserved.

A thing I would never allow beneath my roof.

You broach offer?

I merely make observation in advance of future possibilities.

I fear they are bleak towards house, blemished by constant defeat in the

It's true.

Loss is mount.

Yet, unlike the Syrian, my house holds position in the arena.

Imagine heights achieved if drunken excuse training my men were to be

by a more radiant sun.

You place blame for failure outward, towards your Doctore? I place it where

is firmly deserved.

Present Doctore has the mind of clotted earth.

Men grounded by dull wit seldom grasp the heavens.

And only a fool leaps from a cliff expecting wings to sprout as if by

And how might a hawk ever know he possesses such when confined to a

cage?

How high could such a bird soar?

Far above the walls of a ludeth.

Born aloft by the turbulent winds of opportunity.

You are not what expectation conjures.

I stand on it, in the exceeding of it.

Fall to position.

Let us divine a sober reflection birth desired result.

Dominus.

Begin.

Dominus' words were ill -spoken against you.

Yet he broached no lies.

Even hard truth may be honeyed with gentle tone.

Such was deserved.

I do not stand, wife.

Nor should assume such position.

Or should I see you feel aggrieved by love with help?

Presence warms heart beyond words.

How it warm more than heart, you feel aloud.

Sentiment is well received.

Some desire to hear those words fall from ripened lips.

Hathia, I hold you dear as friend.

Friend? There is no more true word for those who care for each other.

And let us understand and condemn errant mutants to forgotten memory.

Perhaps the gods will bless us this day, and they will kill each other.

Good. Use nimble body of a woman to advantage against more lumbering

It will not fall to overconfidence.

You may never rise from the arena.

You fail.

Memories from the land you hail from.

Of love, family, triumph and tragedy.

It is of no interest for the eyes upon you in the arena.

The past stands not who we are.

The present is what holds meaning.

Zoom training.

Seize fate.

I'm the champion of this fucking house.

You stood as described.

Unequaled by man, not undeserving woman.

I will not have reply from slaves to Dominus.

I hold deep regret.

But eyes never witness you upon sands of Therian.

Had they been upon me, I would have risen to champion.

You forever stand as such.

To those who hold you to heart.

To raise these labor.

I would have you as you are.

God.

Touch wine.

Don't wait till he's done with it.

You find off at distraction, lad.

Passion fails to rise towards early contest. Blood stirs with unveiling of

primus.

Then let us not delay anticipated arrival.

You present such diversion to all who call upon you.

Such titillation pleases the elite of both Capua and Rome.

Knowledge embraced by the previous dominus of the Syrians' own house.

I am yet astounded that women of position lower themselves to such base

entertainment. Their appetites far exceed those of languid husbands.

You would... Marvel at those who have crossed threshold in such pursuits.

Surely none of esteem within city walls.

No less than the wife of the Aetile himself.

Aratia.

Come walk our friends.

Modesta? No.

I fear she lacks courage to propel desire.

But the honored wife of good Gabinius, however, stands opposite in all regards.

His disposition cuts sharper than well -honed blade.

How did you fall to such prickly acquaintance?

As with many women of a certain age, she craves days forever lost, and the

tension fade it by passing years.

Praise and gentle words dull even the sharpest edge.

The Syrian possesses no such insight that would sway nobles to his cause.

He does lack a certain art of tongue.

Causing those of position to shun his presence.

A thing of no concern if you labored beneath the more appreciative Lannister.

I have lingered beyond reason.

You spoke of grain.

I shall see you well satisfied to be delivered upon break of day when dawn

passed.

Gratitude.

I should fall from presence while I still remain upright.

What wonders could be presented in the hopes of basking in such glorious light

on a more permanent basis?

Towards?

I would see my men in deserved possession in the impending games of the

Apollonaries.

You wish me to secure purchase for the house where you stand dishonest, while

elevating the Syrian at my own expense?

I trained those men, not the fucking Syrian.

They stand but reflection of my worth.

Victory in the arena swells esteem and conveys advantage towards next who would

embrace me as doctore.

And if gentle breeze lights upon receptive ear in service of desire...

Then perhaps we shall

share wine and words once more.

Apologies.

Try no blood.

Blood then.

You're sick to the fucking top.

acquisition and hold she does not stand among the brotherhood.

Let us with such concerns the fucking grass.

Dominus, apologies, but she has not yet been tested upon bridge as each of us

has.

Have you ever drawn blood from your doctorium?

Hmm? How many?

of you fucking cunts.

Speak now and dispel ignorance.

Achillea need prove herself worthy of the mark to but one in this house and I

stand well fucking satisfied.

Kneel.

Set mine for its glorious fucking purpose in honor of the house of Asher.

And I receive sacramentum gladiatorum.

Echo my words.

I commit my flesh, my mind, my will to the glory of this Ludus and the commands

of my Dominus. I commit my flesh, my mind, my will

to the glory of this Ludus and the commands of my Dominus. I swear to be

burned, chained, beaten, or die by the sword in the pursuit of honor in the

arena.

I swear to be burned, chained, beaten, or die

by the sword in the pursuit of honor in the arena.

Oath has been spoken.

She now stands among the brotherhood.

Let this hold end the fucking disagreement.

Dottore!

That shit Proculus moves against us.

The Bellam Fides is known to be his man upon necessity and occasion.

And you've ripped confession out of him.

No. He slipped from the ground.

Attend with more considerate touch.

or see wounds inflicted upon our own flesh.

I yet live, and all that follows shall help to be a fucking blessing.

It lives hard to hear, it's all.

What of your task?

Were you able to secure what I've asked of you?

I broke words and wine with Operter, and gained his confidence as instructor.

And he suspected nothing of your chance encounter at the pits he often

frequents. He believes I was sent upon errand to secure grain for Manubis.

And how did he leave the man?

Swelled with hope of me becoming his doctore if he moves Kasutia towards our

inclusion in her husband's games.

You proved yourself beyond measure.

Rest and see how they're stored.

And what of Proculus?

We should repay blood with fucking blood.

Upon time and place of our choosing.

I am in need of a fucking medicus.

It is done.

Corris yet lives, though grievously fucking injured.

See that oath your husband, stricken from ledger, has agreed upon in reply to

today's message. And I shall redouble it.

Consider ledger balanced.

Here once stood the champions of the House of Batiatus.

Step forward and test what the House of Asher would see challenge accepted.

Perhaps this is what Capua thinks of our house.

A notion to be stricken if we defy odds and see Achillea to victory. Begin.

Let us greet destiny with worthy embrace.