Roman Identity (Book 2)

Role Play

Author Note: Chapter Updated 

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"You are exempt from all festive and academic duties. Tomorrow, your physical training will resume. So, get your rest because Cornelius is coming."

Those were my father's last words to me before I retired for the night.

My lessons at the Grammaticus were only a series of mental exercises. Today, it would be all physical. Instead of my wax tablet, I reached for my dagger hiding under my bed. Cornelius would come at any moment for my evaluation, so I wasted no time getting ready the following morning. He was a formidable man. The same man who trained sentinels in weaponry and self-defense was coming to supervise and direct our physical training. Considering that my brothers and I were princes, we never expected to become sentinels, a rank far beneath us. But Barbarius would have to lead them one day.

Growing up, I questioned why we needed military training. Being surrounded by seas was our natural defense. The only military we had were sentinels, and even then, they mainly patrolled the ports or the Hole where criminals were sent.

"Physical training builds character." That was the answer my father gave us boys when he made us take horse riding lessons. It was the same reason we would take trips to the gymnasium with Cornelius, who taught us hand-to-hand fighting in the palaestra that left us sweaty and bruised. Later, we would graduate to wielding weapons. My brothers and I already had experience with swords and bows. But the older two had more years of training than I did. Now I have to catch up.

After girding myself with a breastplate and a dagger, I stepped outside the house to wait for my instructor's arrival. A few men coming from the shed carried bows, javelins, and a bundle of rope. There could only be one reason for bringing out the weapons. They were for me. I eyed the weapons in their hands before they disappeared behind the tree line tucked far away from the road. But there was no sign of Cornelius along the winding road.

My eyes and ears flitted to the slightest of noises.

The songs of birds chirping from the olive trees clashed with the sound of metal striking metal. I watched the winged creatures take off in the corner of my vision.

Curious about the noises coming from west of the villa, I darted through the pastures, trampling the undergrowth beneath my sandals. I peeked through a grove of olive trees to see two male figures circle each other in the clearing, each wielding a longsword. I expected Cornelius, our physical instructor, to supervise this mock fight, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I knew these two young men. One of them was Barbarius and the young man he was fighting was his friend, Titus. Their positions constantly shifted in this intricate dance of moving feet and shifting stances. The two of them were about the same height, same sturdy build, and close in age. The only armor was the mail shirts draped over their knee-length tunics. It would be an even match. Unbeknownst to them, they had a spectator concealed in the trees. Me.

For a moment, both held their swords outstretched as if daring the other to make a move. Although they were friends, I could hear no friendly banter. Just two eyes locked in deep concentration, studying the other's weakness. Weakness was dangerous in this "game." I knew from experience.

Titus lunged forward, aiming for my brother's abdomen. Barbarius jumped back just as the tip of the blade nipped the metal belt around his tunic. He swung the sword at an angle, only for Titus to block his blow. Barbarius dove again, striking Titus in the shoulder. My brother retracted his weapon at the first sign of blood. Reddening, Titus swung his sword at my brother's throat. Barbarius ducked. As Titus retracted his failed blow, Barbarius aimed his next blow at his opponent's hands.