Chapter Text
Damiano was barely twenty-four summers old, but he felt ancient next to the vibrant youth in the legion, trotting around him like goatlings. His aching calves never failed to remind him about this, too. He felt like, after riding halfway to midday, he needed a good stretch and a long nap in the sun—information that he decided to keep strictly to himself to avoid Thomas’ snarky remarks. The last time he shared his afflictions with him, he called him "fussy" and continued joking around for a few more days about Damiano's delicate disposition. His blonde companion was what the old wives would call "born lucky". He was constantly in good spirits, in good health, and had a good appetite for his slender, light frame, which made him an incredibly agile fighter. He was like a bird, with weightless bones and tireless flesh that longed for the skies. He didn't seem to suffer from hangovers or a bad stomach, and Damiano didn't remember a time when he saw his friend sick or injured. Thomas was the closest thing to a real-life miracle the centurion had seen. This is precisely why he shouldn't have bet with him last night. Yes, he was still bitter over the loss of his gamble and his dignity, but most of all, he was angry at his own stupidity that prompted him to take on the challenge in the first place.
It was a night like any other, traveling from the campaign back home. The legion set camp around a sparsely wooded area along a riverbank—a place where you can wash up and unwind your tensed muscles in the cold water. The weather had gotten better; it was sunny and warm after a prolonged period of rainy days that slowed down their return home and made riding unpleasant, bordering on unbearable at times. Damiano feared that his breastplate would rust on top of him after withstanding so much torrent and that he would grow fungus on his skin because of the moisture. The mood in the legion lifted after the clouds did the same, and there were songs and jokes passed from mouth to mouth alongside the vessels of wine. With this cheer all around, Damiano forgot about his cursed fortune, and that same evening, when the chatter filled the camp and everyone started blabbing nonsense, he contributed to the foolishness with an innocent comment about the Primus Pilus' large family. Then Leo chimed in, saying that the leader had twelve children, and Thomas responded with a snicker, telling him that he was wrong and that the Primus Pilus had fathered only ten kids, which to Damiano sounded bogus because he strictly remembered being at a feast in the man's villa for the birth of his son the previous winter and that he had told him that this was his eleventh child. He was so sure, in fact, that he offered to bet on it. Thomas immediately agreed, but Leo scoffed and turned his attention to a game of tesserae happening nearby. The centurion, sure of his impending victory, sent one of the soldiers to ask Primus Pilus about the size of his family, and when the young boy returned with the answer, Damiano wished he could turn back time.
"He sired ten children." Said the lad with a grin of great accomplishment.
"Fuck! I should've known better." Damiano yelled, and Thomas couldn't hold back his mocking laugh.
"Yes, you should've, my friend, but you allowed your arrogance to cloud your judgment. Pride will be your downfall, Damiano," the blond said.
The dark-haired man frowned, reminded of the lesson his first commander had beaten into his head time and time again. "I surrender. What would you ask of me, Thomas? My brand-new sword? Some gold?" Damiano offered because he decided that if he put the idea of enough riches in Thomas’ mind first, he would be too diverted to think of anything else. This time, the strategy failed to do its job.
"No, of course not. Where would the fun be in that? I have enough coins, and I can buy myself a shiny new weapon when I get home. Speaking of home, it's Cerealia in a few days, and I would very much like to see you participate in the Ludi. Like when we were kids! Even an old man like yourself would remember those blissful, careless days! It would be a source of great enjoyment to see your ancient ass trying to keep up with the youngsters." Thomas suggested it, and Damiano's sides were reddened by the sheer idea of making a spectacle of himself for the Roman populus. He wasn't an adolescent anymore! Yes, he was a damn good fighter, but the summers were piling up, and he couldn't compete with the speed and resilience of puberty. This is precisely why he chose to be a strategist.
"Please have mercy on my old bones!" he pleaded, which made Thomas laugh even harder.
"Old bones? You are barely twenty-four years old. Some healthy competition will do you some good. It will bring back the spark in your aging soul. I swear, sometimes I feel like I am speaking to a senile veteran and not a man in the prime of his life." Thomas responded. "You will enjoy yourself. I will cheer for you!"
Damiano couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by Thomas's words. He knew he wasn't really that old, but he felt as though he had experienced a lifetime's worth of hardship. However, he couldn't deny the fact that the idea of participating in the Ludi was intriguing. It had been years since he had last competed in the games, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the thought of taking on the challenge once again. Besides, he knew that he couldn't back down from the challenge, especially after losing the bet. He couldn't risk tarnishing his reputation as a brave and skilled fighter as well as an honest man. And even if it meant making a fool of himself in front of the entire city, he was adamant about keeping his word. He made his decision and nodded his head in agreement with Thomas's proposal.
"Fine, I'll do it. But if I win, you owe me something equally embarrassing." Damiano said, trying to salvage his wounded pride.
Thomas grinned mischievously. "Deal."
Cerealia was a grand affair for Rome. It marked the opening of the festival season and the arrival of spring. The city really came alive after its winter slumber. The citizens were hungry for festivities and fun. The crowd was always the loudest. People arrived from all over the empire to take part in the feriae. The games were a festive occasion, a riot of color and sound, a bright cacophony of excitement and expectation.
Damiano had participated in the Ludi many times before and had won on a few occasions, but that was years ago when he was much younger and nimbler. His mind raced with thoughts of how he would keep up this time around. Thomas, on the other hand, seemed to be basking in the atmosphere, taking it all in with a wide grin on his face. He seemed to be relishing the thought of watching his friend's imminent failure.
The legion arrived in Rome three days later, led by Damiano and his fleeting relief to be back home. The people on the streets greeted them like champions, with large smiles and encouraging greetings, but the pride of the ordeal was stolen from him by the memory of that unfortunate bet.
"Stop sulking. You are home, and you are in one piece. All this Ludi thing is just harmless fun; don't take it to heart," Leo said as he rode past him. "It will be entertaining! Remember how you lit up once the weather got warmer? You used to train for days on end for the games. There was nothing more sacred for you than the Ludi."
"I was also sixteen summers and without a care in the world." Damiano reminded him.
"As supposed to now, you are so burdened with a wife and five children." the other man giggled. "What, are you scared that your stray cats will be embarrassed by you?"
Leo was somewhat right. Damiano was past the point of shaming his family. His mother and father lived a peaceful life in the village where he was born, living off the land; his brother was a merchant; and he and his wife had settled in Alexandria and were doing well for themselves. It was him and a couple of servants in his villa, and he doubted the helping hand would care much about his reputation.
Damiano couldn't help but chuckle at Leo's teasing. He knew that his friend meant well, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He had a reputation to uphold, both as a fighter and as a strategist, and he couldn't risk tarnishing it in front of the entire city. Nevertheless, he tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand: getting home and allowing himself the luxury of a home-cooked meal, a nice long bath, and a good night's rest in a proper bed.