Original subtitles

No, Dominic.

It swells hot to see you stir from chambers.

Sirian. With the gods favoring you towards the arena, you shall face three.

The brothers Ferox, vicious half -men.

Dominus has tainted it by positioning women for the arena.

Cease fate as champion of this fucking house.

Brother Tverox may be twisted in form, yet stand fierce opponents, capable of

sending any man or woman into the afterlife.

Send the cunts of grass and be done with it.

No distraction.

Pulling attention and blessing Satyrus with open attack.

Good.

Now press advantage.

You assume proper place for weakened animal.

Is it intent to lay and repose on mourning or prove worthy of the mark of

brotherhood you now bear?

And rise to fucking occasion.

Dominic, a message arrives from Crassus.

Prepare for honored arrival.

That is the sum of it?

It stands all received.

When?

When will Crassus bless us with fucking presents?

We do not know.

Question was not posed, expecting fucking reply.

Seafloor polished reflection.

Fill pool with water, fresh and clear.

Matthew will attend to menial duties.

Go.

You must present finest wines and exotic meats.

Have me prepared to move the god himself to salvation.

For this day.

Every fucking day until Crassus materializes, our coffer ends fucking

We cannot bear such expense beyond the extent.

You break words towards any beyond fucking calamity.

Apologies.

Sentiment deserved to be broken from my tongue alone.

Ah, Jupiter's fate!

We stand ill -timed for Crassus' absent position in approaching games.

How do labors progress in such regard?

Vaxing at fucking best.

Gavinius stands maker of decision, yet his bitch, Cassutia, growls and froths

like Cerberus at the gate denying entry.

What of Arbiter?

Chorus lays infirm.

Unable to ply the man with honey word towards cause.

Even if so swayed, I fear Cassutia will hold fast in hateful resolution.

A concern well shared.

Yet something fucking must move the woman.

You know, a man possesses admirable talent beyond fans of

the arena.

His enthusiasm but rises to the occasion of your beauty.

More wine?

I would pause a moment.

Gratitude.

Leave us.

A boyish aged husband possessed such artful tongue.

Beyond a ration in the senate.

How fares good Cobenius?

Oh, I would hardly know.

His gaze is forever towards Rome and growing tensions between Pompey and

Crassus. A grievous concern, that of civil war.

Yet... Solution threat to ports and goods. More pressing.

We stand well removed from waters of the Terranian and fucking plunderers upon

its waves.

And yet bodies have been found in our very streets.

Perhaps fallen to solution blades.

Bodies? Six.

Discovered in wake of storm.

Among them, the brute Phides.

An unpleasant specimen favoured by Troculus.

Throat slit as gutted fish.

I did not know the man.

Perhaps he felt a misadventure of his own construction.

It stands deepest mystery why I yet wear this.

Yesterday's fashion extended beyond use or consideration.

Sackcloth is elevated to silk upon frames such as yours.

Sackcloth shall be a blessing before long. It stands impossible challenge to

obtain new fabric with those solution shits.

preying upon our merchant ships.

Word upon breeze has caressed here of the finest Egyptian linens arriving

tomorrow at Gatescloth to be received by the trade of Spirius.

Egyptian?

Are you certain?

A sun breaking dawn each day.

Gratitude. A four -timely consideration.

Are we not friends?

Well, I would see mountains reformed towards shared interests.

I would not ask such Herculean effort.

Yet, there is one favour I would humbly entreat. Give it voice and see it well

received. Thoughts turn towards games of Ludia Poloneri's Noble Husband

Presents. Place wind and ease. Your men shall hold position in them. Honoured,

as always.

Yet I broke subject not for myself, but for the House of Asher.

You petition for the fucking Syrian?

By tenuous association only.

I speak toward a worthy figure of his, Dr. Hawley.

Chorus.

Deserving of the presentation of his labors.

What's turned you to gain from unsavory request?

A man indebted by gracious act pays future dividends when called upon.

You have always possessed delicate sensibilities of foresight.

Yet I fear this may have been rare miscalculation.

In what regard?

Rumour vibrates that the Syrian's man has suffered grievous injury.

Injury? Does he yet live?

Fuck the gods!

We at last come to common ground upon subject.

How does he fare?

You not see me fucking rise before you?

The spirit's inflamed, although weak of flesh.

I hear your breath, and the rest shall follow shortly.

News to Hardencock, as what I break shall in return.

Crassus has word of impending arrival.

Crassus, one more hour.

Enigma yet to be revealed.

I've always thought that he would stand towards Harrow's conspiring to present a

woman in the arena. As long as it harrows adulations from the crowd and

fucking palm.

Crassus shall seem delighted.

We will then turn favorable humor towards advantage and press the man to

effort into rebuilding the arena destroyed by Spartacus and his mongrels.

Assuming we gain position in the arena. When we gain position, you fucking goat.

Help. Then the need of food and wine.

And cleansing waters to remove stanchions. Narrowly averted death.

I have saved men upon rents to give signal when procession comes to view.

When sounded, I would have you fall to my side. Dominus, we have received

unannounced guest.

Good officer.

You grace us with unexpected presence.

Gratitude sends an order for your generous gift of grain. Oh, give it.

all.

Apologies for appearing in advance of proper warning.

News only just reached here of your man's injuries.

I had feared him no longer among us.

I yet cling to fucking life and stand absent need for concern. Oh, he

exaggerates recovery.

Atom of pride.

Apologies. I would offer wine and midday repast, yet pressing concerns pulls me

to market.

I shall take my leave then. Oh!

though remain.

Of course, sister, the bath is so troubled wounds.

Concern will be put from Thawne knowing the weight of his suffering is lifted by

caring hands.

Your presence would lend comfort.

Are you often invited into the Sulean's bath?

There has been none to happen upon occasion.

I'm not aware he possessed such appetite.

His desires do not extend towards his fucking dottore, nor mine towards his.

You do not fave on one of such rich complexion? The tone of a man's skin

meaningless.

When cut, the colour holds equal for all.

Far from presence.

A woman's hands offer rough comfort.

A man's more familiar with rugged terrain,

traverses with practiced ease.

You need not burden yourself with such a chore.

It's a rare privilege for only a mortal to touch the heavens.

I don't use her roughly.

An old acquaintance who took issue with recent conversation.

Does the villain carry a name?

Fridays.

He fell upon me with a clutch of men.

Their lives claimed for the offence, yet the man himself fluttered to the winds.

And swiftly plummeted, never to spread wings again.

Fridays no longer draws breath.

Difficulty with throat slit?

Wounds not inflicted by my hands.

Then whose?

He was known to have dealings with proculents.

A thing I'm certainly well aware of.

I've witnessed that.

I mentioned to Cassutia this very day.

Troubles me to see flesh so marred by basements of bricks.

I would see wounds visited tenfold upon Proculus's men in the arena.

Twice in as many visits you have mentioned desire to see yourself in the

Is that your only desire in holding my company?

I am doctor of this house.

Glory in the arena consumes fucking mind. As well as that of the Syrian.

One would assume.

It's a thing of no matter.

We must all play our part in this game of men and their ambitions.

Words to be acclaimed upon.

Place worried thought aside.

I have brought subject with Cassutia and will revisit upon soonest opportunity.

Gratitude towards effort.

Whatever such be your need.

Next time you find yourself in need,

our lips and

I shall storm Olympus to see you satisfied.

Valiant purpose source in your presence.

He's just a yet in service of the city.

He stands far from fucking thought.

I fear they threaten to exceed weight of purse.

Added to what stands already but. You would see Crassus presented with Finn's

fucking offering. I would see him well attended.

Short of coffers emptied in a tent.

You fret beyond reason.

Yet not beyond purpose.

As Villica, am I not charged with the accounts of your house?

Do you stand so?

An eye, but a factor of such attentive counsel.

In honor of the approaching games of the loony Apollonaries, I again invite any

Roman to step forth and test worth against the House of Proculus.

The House of Asher would see challenge accepted.

Upon the sands of the arena.

You stand absent, giant shadow.

Where lurks your mighty doktore?

Trainer of those who fall against better fucking men.

I thought it courtesy he not eclipsed into your children's spills from

wounds.

We spill the wine and the blood of shit and piss you deem fucking champion.

Victory well earned, even for half men.

Let us see Contessor visited against the newest offering from the House of

Aster.

A sight of wonder and awe, never before witnessed upon the sands of the arena.

Let this Syrian move, good Gabinius, to secure a position in the games.

And then behold, the brothers fair up as again they send his champion to deserve

an end.

dare stand before us.

Awesome words from such little fucking man.

Perhaps.

Brother Balbus shows us the way.

Let us honor the Syrian with gifts of food to feed malnourished men beneath

fucking oath.

It stands fucking so. I witnessed a woman graced with cum and cock one atop

another.

So did you fuck her?

Or she you?

Shits would have a more flavored taste.

Cook offer anything beyond fucking porridge?

Houses of higher esteem have been non -percept meat.

The gods fuck us then.

Putting a deep familiarity beneath this room.

You stand not afraid?

To what?

Breaking meal with someone so hated.

They report to Distemper in response to your promise to station this champion.

Absent time and effort, they claim their own.

I bear the mark of the fucking Brotherhood.

As they do.

Yet not as they had it.

Are they not of my choosing?

We all set upon rightful path.

Four placed upon succession, one following another.

You fall to the theater only to break words absent meaning.

Bold proclamation from one who spent the morning upon ground, mouth filled with

fucking dirt. Give name to one among us who could best three opponents.

If Dominus Miller was Andrews de Games next presented, you shall face equal

number in the arena.

The brothers Ferox.

Half men barely formed beyond that of a child.

Bend your fucking ear and you clutch my words to heart. The brothers fight as

one. With singular might.

The men.

That you face here stand absent such purpose.

They appear single in mind, fucking wise.

Yet one person's attack absent thought of those who would aid him in such

regard. You fight but single opponent.

Your best aim and the odds will quickly fall.

You speak of your son.

No,

I speak of a gladiator.

Consumed by hubris with a thirst for glory.

A thing to be tempted if he is to survive in the arena.

Take stock of what you see before you.

This is what Capua thinks of our house.

Because none of you shits demonstrate fucking worth.

You gorge yourself upon my generosity and in return produce nothing but

excuses and disappointment.

And know this.

Toil and task full from effort of your dominance shall see this house the

deserving position in the fucking games.

And upon such day, you shall claim victory against the house of Proculus.

I will see you all to the fucking lights!

Marketplace appears to disagree with you. Great good works towards the mind

Operator, so I may ram them Apocalypse's ass.

The man seems moved to eat us. And I'll gauge your measure's success upon

venture. Operator has proved unexpectedly persuasive.

After all these years of blood and sacrifice, cloning the precipice of on

position,

Only to stake future upon man so slight a fucking note. Such specters often move

where men of more solid form cannot.

What do eyes behold?

A chamber embracing for weight.

It was not always so.

Here once stood the champions of the House of Batiatus.

This Asian cock captured in stone.

Canicus Quixus.

The mad Thracian Spartacus.

Gods of the arena.

Gods of the arena.

My former Dominus schemed his way from beneath mountains of shit to seize

victory.

upon their backs.

And here stands Azer.

Gather his better clutching air for threat of fucking possibility.

Then let us weave it into tapestry of victory and show this fucking city that

tower above all others.

Dominus.

Apologies. Another message has been dispatched from Crassus.

Oh, let's clarify hour of day of arrival.

Not a person, but a baggage.

Ha!

He sends possessions in advance and commands me as beast of fucking

upon beddings of moral son.

Labor's more befitting a slave.

As I yet stand in his...

Fucking eyes.

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

I shall reclaim Mantle Bottle for you. No.

Your absence was gravely noted at the Albany by that shit Proculus. I would

you fall to my side and remain so at ease in event of future provocation.

You are well.

My fucking hands.

Well, she will find bits her embrace within my arms.

Tarkon.

Theseus. Arathel. Take position.

Achillea!

I will mourn your death at the little hands of Satyrus and his brothers.

See title of champion.

Call to more deserving name.

Focus effort.

And you recall words broken between us.

The weakened animal.

Good.

Instruction towards victory at last finds purchase.

Fucking woman locks herself.

With her prowess.

By elevation of position not yet earned. By dominus.

Rewarding her with the mark of the brotherhood. Absent proper fucking test.

And? By shifting a father's allegiance from his rightful place.

All could hold truth, yet none negate poor Sully against Achillea. Herato and

Ophesius should have bested her. Yes, perhaps they would have. Had you not

foolishly pressed your own advantage?

A thought oft repeated.

One of those are the fucking words you broke with her over yesterday's meal.

to defeat your fucking son.

In. Chorus's absence.

I stand, Doctore.

And word said reflected such.

You place her victory above mine.

I place the victory of this fucking house over all

concerns.

Well,

does it stand so tenuous a bond?

You are my son.

I would see you rise above all of us.

And I will honor you.

And my time comes in the arena.

First, you warn herself with thoughtful strategy.

I fight as I was taught by my father.

may you find more willing students in the fucking Nubian. No, son.

Can't you lash out absent thought of consequence?

And yet you froth over how a woman bested you.

Place game aside and gather yourself. I would have you accompany me.

Where? Where Honored Mother commands.

If passions lie beyond these walls, I fear I stand not your reflection.

Are we so opposed, you and I?

When you were yet a child, we were of one heart and mind.

I'm far removed from the youth I was.

Yet here I stand, willing to embrace you as such.

Apologies.

I'm not myself.

And have not been so for too long a time.

Life has been unkind in its offering.

It is. But oscillation between joy and despair, each new day presents

fresh choice between them. What is choice?

When fate has final say, often leaving but fractured remnants in its wake.

You yet breathe.

Well, I thank thee.

God, if it is so, I would have you return to the happy child that so

this house and world beyond.

And if it holds nothing but shadow? We cannot hold setting of the sun yet.

Perhaps together we may ignite torch to guide our way from darkness.

I promised father a game of Latrunculite.

Came shall greet you upon return.

The operator whispers that Spurious the trader receives Egyptian linen.

How I would see us draped in finery's befitting mother and radiant

daughter.

The letters to market.

The sun threatens to bake senses to oblivion.

Should we pause and fall to shape?

I find it comforting upon skin.

It lifts heart to see you resurrected among the living, Viridia.

Oh, look.

Tarsus, Grace's present.

Where stands his wife?

The name escapes me. A woman of tenuous impression, recently called to the

shores of the afterlife.

Poor man.

A loss most keenly felt.

There stood no love between them.

Only advantage of marriage, strengthening respect of families.

Does cut a form, does he not?

Any woman would be blessed to call him husband.

Perhaps we should pay respect and offer what comfort may be afforded.

The heat is a living thing, is it not?

I would lay eyes upon Egyptian linen so breathlessly promised, lest it evaporate

in advance of purchase.

Let us fall to purpose, then, and consider words with Tertius at later

convenience.

This charge upon him, absent concern to his obligation, claimed my own.

Crassus yanks his leash and expects obedient Cur to fall to fucking heel.

Does voice offend, or do thoughts wander astray from fucking consideration?

They care not for eyes upon us.

Let us attend, demand an undertaking, and return to Villa.

Perhaps some fucking incident.

Is this the thumb of it?

Or does the man seek to transport all of fucking Rome as well?

What eyes lay upon us, all I have been charged to deliver.

Then our business conclude, fall from fucking sight.

I will see us removed from the street in advance of encroaching night.

Do you yet have more words to break?

Or do you stand dumbstruck by glorious form before you? Apologies. I was

instructed payment would be due upon receipt.

And, uh, what is the sum? 30 denarii.

30 denarii.

First, stand shy of required sum. Send notice for balance, and I shall see you

satisfied. Upon what day?

Of my fucking choosing.

Press matter and find yourself forever absent of need.

Of course.

At your leisure, then.

Curses stand for just man and fucking republic.

Yet it falls upon this house to see debt paid.

How, behold, the man became so swollen with wealth by shrewdly using the coin

others in place of his own.

A thing to aspire to.

Pay mine towards footing.

Injury to valued burden will be visited tenfold.

Upon those accountable.

Retrieve more water.

I would see fulfilled before Dominus returns.

Or bravely humor so often unleashed.

His nude is but reflective of forces brought to bear.

You must not hold such against him. I shall do as commanded.

You are not to speak to me in such manner. Apologies for breaking unwanted

words.

Messiah, what would you have me do?

I cannot return feelings I do not hold.

I wish to the gods I could reverse them and see them unspoken.

I do not mean to be unkind. Nor I.

Yet I do not know how to be.

When presented each day with that which I desire, yet cannot have.

Your attention wanders, brother. Towards vexing cause.

You take well to style, I've dined the carers.

I never favored it.

You stand too vulnerable, absent shield.

Yours offered little protection when I sent you to fucking ground.

Do not ascribe to skill what lies in fault of another.

More careful thought will breach you next we meet.

Strategy counseled by one more experienced.

It is a heavy thing, living beneath the shadow of noble father.

I live in no man's shadow.

Only a woman's then?

Upon a day, Nibian.

Upon a fucking day.

Officious!

Let us fall to proper fucking contest!

Oh,

hey to you.

A gift from the gods. I've never felt a sequel.

I have yet more to offer one soul. You're going to rush in the finest stola

city has ever felt.

In anticipation of your father's games, sir.

The games?

Entering the pole when it's dressed in such finery shall precipitate absolute

riot. I will not be in attendance.

Your father expects it, sir.

A desire I've not heard expressed from his lips. You must come, Viridia.

You have been too long removed from eyes of adoring...

Come a thousand such wounds.

If earning of them.

Yet so you grace this world.

Lord, I have you fall from it.

Of my life, of course.

Had Asher and his men not chanced upon us...

Asher.

Silesians.

We must return into your villa.

Pirates!

Here within city walls.

So far removed from fucking sea.

Negro bold, absent proper response from Rome.

Oh, thank the gods.

You did not fall to rancorous harm.

They held no divinity in it.

Asher and his man delivered us from untimely fate.

Who would that Heratius did us what to do?

The Aedile's wife.

Slain.

In the streets.

Whilst sun yet graced the fucking sky. Wife and daughter stood apparent bounty

sought. There was ransom.

One will suspect an outrage that shall be answered in blood. I fear it has

already been drawn.

He suffered injury in the exchange.

No thought given to safety beyond our own. He shall be properly attended.

See yourselves to bath and wine to calm inflamed nerves.

Once more, tongue bends towards gratitude.

Unnecessary.

And gratefully received.

I thank the gods you were present.

And had not succumbed to rumor of previous wounds.

I but stood as any man of means and skill would have.

To protect the Republic.

Fall to the baths.

I would break words with the Syrian in private.

We shall attend to Crassus' shipment.

Crassus? We prepare for his imminent arrival.

He disengages from his army in Rome, so entrenched outside its gates?

Such as message recently dispatched into my hands.

More than can be said of Pompey.

He remains unmoved by request to unset from opposing perch and quell these

salacious cutthroats. Perhaps loss of untold men in failed attempt may give

pause.

Or they shall see efforts redoubled at expense heart can ill afford.

You must remain vigilant against such possibility.

Beloved daughter broke words carrying truth.

Gratitude is owed.

as is reward rising to level of deed.

Your noble daughter yet among the living presents reward beyond measure.

A debt unpaid promises future expense, often many times original sum.

It is well known, by all blessed with sense of fucking hearing, that you

entry to approaching games of the ludia pollinaris.

Thoughts? Occasionally turn upon subjects.

And see to the churning of them I shall see you well positioned.

I... I do not possess for it.

Do not misconceive intent.

I but erase debt.

One I would not see plied against me upon inconvenient moment.

Then we stand balanced in all regards.

Come, I shall have my medicus attend your wounds. A burden I will not oppose.

own shall seat on concerning wounds. I assure you mine stands a greater skill.

Of that I hold no question.

Yet I prefer not to stand in your debt.

You learn quickly, Syrian.

Very well.

Let us part ways equally untethered.

You left Dominus at Echepinius' villa to return alone?

Asher proves himself capable.

Those who underestimate him do so at their own fucking peril.

I will still see guards dispatched. Please concern the site.

The man himself appears.

Dominus!

Fetch the medicus, quickly!

Oh, fuck medicus!

I will bathe hard -fought wound in a river of farting wine.

Gabinius breaks words towards such a late admit?

He breaks words that shall elevate this house.

We stand blessed with position in this fucking gate.

And you, you fucking titan,

your part in this shall not soon fall to this cottage remembrance.

Wine. Where's the fucking wine? How did you approach subject with Gabinius? A

thing not required. He offered unprompted reward towards rescue,

and daughter.

And you maneuvered such towards advantage in the arena.

I maneuvered nothing.

Some strength to leave from mouth at the thought, but heart held it fast in

place. Veridia's life spared such reward enough to consume all desire.

The gods.

I hold no faith in favored, humble Asher.

And you as well, with unwanted task now removed.

Task?

Lowering yourself to imagine affection to gain opener's aid towards the games?

That preening little shit no longer stands of use.

It is a relief not to be forced into his company.

See, all within this loot is a formation.

Let us present glorious news.

A fucking ascension!

You expect burning days to set her aflame?

If I were so fortunate, surely my father would rush to extinguish blaze.

This house has given rise to story champions of lore and legends.

Yet all who have come before shall pale against what I have fought with blood

and bone to see opportunity presented.

And such.

have been secured.

We have gained position in the games of the loody Apollonaries!

And who shall grace the sands, Dominus?

Tarkon, Holtan.

The boys overcome by visions of glory.

Positions and placement have yet to be broached.

Yet know this.

We shall see the brothers Ferox to fucking grass for offense presented by

shit broccolins.

By the hand of the goddess of fucking death.

Fall to your beds and gather strength for coming days.

I will announce those among you who are for the arena. No, Minos.

Procession has been spotted up on the road towards Vela.

Our patron Crassus at last arrives.

Let him stand at all.

The fearsome offering of the house of fucking Asher.

Artorias, fall to my side and let us greet destiny with worthy embrace.

The ropes follow matter pleasing to eye.

We intend to welcome the man and present your ass for his pleasure.

His wagon drives.

Trading backs.

She owned pleasant disposition, yet cast gaze downwards to avoid catching eye.

Three steps linger in a pace.

Mighty Crassus, you honor us with your noble presence.

You mistake me, Therion.

Caesar.