Original subtitles

The past stands not who I am.

When will Crassus bless us with fucking presence?

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

And I shall storm Olympus to see you satisfied.

Word upon breeze has caressed ear

of the finest Egyptian linens arriving tomorrow.

- Seize them. - Viridia

You are safe now.

Cilicians.

It is well known that you desire entry to approaching games.

I shall see you well positioned.

We have gained position in the games of the Ludi Apollinares

We shall see the Brothers Ferox to fucking grass

by the hands of the goddess of fucking death.

Caesar.

Place abomination in darkest corner, far from fucking sight.

Noble wife need not trouble herself

with such base matter of the household.

Cornelia counsels her own desires,

as her father before her.

And she prefers house fit for Roman habitation.

All beneath my roof stand at your command.

I expect no less.

Apologies.

I would break words in private regarding pressing concerns.

Very well.

Let us discover wine upon the way

to better soften sharp conversation.

You...

what title do you hold in this house of shit?

I stand vilica of the House of Ashur

and personal body slave to its dominus.

Position of vilica stands less refined than in Rome,

yet I suppose one must make do.

- Yes, Domina. - Prepare bath,

so I may cleanse the stench of this house from body

in advance of it gaining permanent residence.

Ah

Oh, at least your wine doesn't taste of piss.

Only the finest offering in Capua were secured

in expectation Crassus himself would materialize.

I had thought of broaching subject towards

rebuilding the old arena...

The man remains encamped outside the gates of Rome

with his army, countering that of Pompey,

with thoughts far removed from Capua,

its citizens of slight concern.

Your presence holds equal value.

- Equal? - Uh...

more so, in many regards.

And honored arrival breaks upon heels of glorious news.

I have gained position in the upcoming games

of the Ludi Apollinares, hosted by Senator Gabinius himself.

Was such bounty presented in return for repelling

Cilician attack against beloved wife and daughter?

How has this word reached you so swiftly?

Did you truly hold the gods would smile

upon one as base as you,

absent guided hand beyond whim of divinity?

The Cilicians.

They stood your men?

Draped in manner and form plaguing the Republic.

Message placed you to retrieve freight

at appointed time and place.

Then whisper set upon gentle breeze

swept Cossutia and Viridia upon like hour.

Your men nearly had my fucking life.

Yet, here you stand.

And the will of Marcus Crassus well executed

towards securing the gratitude of good Gabinius.

Crassus...

set plot in motion?

If mind had been clever, you would have ingratiated self,

absent need of intervention.

Thankfully, a keener wit has now arrived to mold situation

- towards advantage. - What goal fixes upon intent?

Gabinius must be swayed in opposition of Pompey

towards your patron, Crassus.

And the man before you, of course.

Gabinius is mired in tradition

and not easily moved beyond rooted position.

By your tongue, no. I will break word with the man.

Take flight; secure an invitation.

Your will.

My hands.

Attend!

The games of the Ludi Apollinares fast approaches.

I would see you all blessed to position of victory,

honoring this house.

And who stands for the arena, Doctore?

You are chosen, Tarchon, paired with vaunted father.

Erato, Ephesius,

Dominus sees you to reward as well.

Achillia,

you are to be presented as champion of the House of Ashur.

You honor me, Doctore.

I but cast you to wolves.

Celadus, Tarchon, fall to my side.

Let us stand reflection of the Brothers Ferox...

and set Achillia to purpose.

Foul aroma permeates villa.

Born of failure and death,

mingled with cuisine of foreign origin.

Our presence a sacrifice, towards promised glory.

You've set the Syrian upon path?

Like mule upon road,

carrying burden unfit for human form.

How gauge you his men?

They do not all stand so firm of attribute.

He trains a woman?

Ambitions soar beyond training.

He presents her as champion of this fucking house.

Visit to Capua presents unexpected delights.

You see me to disadvantage.

I was told Crassus himself would grace our city.

Apologies. Assumption made in error.

Yet know in absence I stand his voice and will.

Oh. A title I thought laid claim by the Syrian.

It stands so,

when Caesar finds himself removed from Capua.

Hmm.

And what word carries from Rome?

Crassus seeks to erect a bridge,

spanning chasm between himself and noble senator.

My favor lies with Pompey.

A position widely known.

Yet was it Pompey the gods dispatched

when cherished wife and daughter were set upon

by the Cilician shits the Syrian informs me of?

It was not.

Yet I have recently petitioned Pompey

to remove himself from Rome

and quell fucking plague ravishing the Republic.

You would see him unmoored from his army

beyond the gates of Rome?

The man remains firmly tethered, unmoved by reason or duty.

Perhaps he would be spurred by appearance

of shifting loyalties.

He speaks for you or for Crassus?

In this, we are as one.

And how would such make itself known?

By the games of Ludi Apollinares.

I do not follow meaning.

If they were presented by Gabinius and Caesar,

surely word would reach Pompey's ear,

perhaps unseat him from his distant perch.

And...

coin towards venture?

Shared, should minor concession find agreement.

Give it voice.

Elevate Crassus' champion to the position of primus.

You mean the Syrian's champion?

Just so.

He has procured offerings of most unusual form,

certain to inflame the passions of the crowd.

And contest revisited with the Brothers Ferox

would see flames further ignited.

An alluring offer...

one I would see agreed upon.

There is but one concern left unaddressed...

the cena libera on the eve of the games,

a clutch of days hence.

Esteemed wife already sets to purpose in preparation of villa

- towards celebration. - Gratitude towards effort.

Yet I stand

apparition within Capua,

seldom of corporeal form within its walls.

You would honor me to see the cena libera held in my villa,

graciously borrowed from the Syrian for the duration of stay.

Coin to fall from your purse towards endeavor?

Crassus himself offers aid.

A sum of little note,

for one so blessed.

Hm.

Then let us see it so.

And bonds strengthened towards common cause of the Republic.

At last, words pierce fucking skull.

Speed is your ally.

The Brothers Ferox cannot kill what cannot be struck.

Again.

Glorious news. By artful maneuvering,

mighty Caesar

gains us fucking primus!

Break for midday meal and return to your training.

Ha ha!

It shall be a glorious spectacle,

to witness aged Gabinius' reaction

as a woman claims honored position upon the sands.

I do not hold trust in that fucking shit.

Nor I.

Yet Crassus embraces him, and we must follow...

for the moment.

She does not deserve to stand champion.

Nor has she earned position in fucking primus.

She...

proves her worth

to our dominus, our doctore

and to me.

I... should stand for the arena...

Yes!

...not you fucking shits.

If coin were offered to view shits fucking,

yes, you would stand champion.

Place thoughts from mind.

The Ferox brothers will soon cut the bitch from our concern.

Brothers...

what lies beneath your feet?

Opportunity!

Coin!

For our dominus, perhaps...

but we are fucking warriors.

Our dreams are not filled with visions of coin

and opportunity...

but with blood.

And glory!

So I ask again: What lies beneath your feet?

Sacred ground!

Watered...

with tears of blood.

Now is the time to pierce clouded thought

and embrace that those who bear the mark of the brotherhood

do not stand men.

Nor fucking women!

We stand gladiators!

His words are true!

Claim victory.

And see this house elevated from shit and piss.

What seizes mind, that you would comfort Nubian cunt?

You mistake intent. I would see her stand victorious

in the arena only to offer fatal blow myself.

Claim title of true champion of this fucking house.

See wine plenished towards cena libera,

weighted with vintage suited to Roman tastes. And I would have...

Apologies, Dominus. Cornelia has laid claim to preparations.

And what does the daughter of fucking Cinna intend?

She has not shared in her thoughts.

Cornelia.

You appear to have mistaken my quarters for your own.

I find this room more pleasant, if such a thing can be said

of this oppressive hovel.

Messia stands second only to trusted vilica.

- I would see her removed... - Gaius.

The Syrian would see cherished wife's appetites go unfed.

Her desires shall be indulged in all regards.

As would my own.

Crassus stands patron to us both, and I would see respect

extended under fucking roof bearing name of Ashur!

Aargh

Aargh!

Know your place, Syrian...

and become intimate with mine.

When I enter room,

you shall hail me not as imagined equal...

but as god...

upon mount.

Rise...

and bear witness to true power... levied.

Caesar oversteps.

To lay hands upon you in such manner...

A thing of no concern.

Honored guests arrive.

Ah Gabinius.

You bless this house.

Elevating humble venue beyond its worth.

The House of Ashur extends warmest of welcome.

Well received.

My wife, Cossutia,

and daughter, Viridia, too long absent from public eye.

The gods truly do honor us tonight.

Such divinity does not extend to all deserving such.

How did you come by such condition?

Unfortunate misadventure caused by a...

careless step.

Come... let us to food...

and wine.

Apologies for loathsome state of the Syrian's villa.

- Ha. - No amount of coin

could raise the dead,

nor this house towards level befitting present company.

Perhaps we should brighten her wine with the sting of piss.

Attend duties, and strike such thoughts from fucking mind.

It is not as it should be the way he speaks to you.

More gentle than touch of Roman hands.

Dominus bows and scrapes to them,

even in wake of how Caesar so roughly took you.

He does what he must.

Did you note concern the daughter of Gabinius expressed

towards him, and his reaction towards it?

Do as commanded, and fall to fucking duty.

Apologies...

for observing the obvious.

Ah, Caesar, I would introduce good Uvidus,

aedile of beloved city, recently from mourning.

Ah, yes. It rended heart to hear of your wife's untimely passing

at the hands of Cilician cutthroats.

- A blight upon our lands. - Gratitude.

They stand most hated.

Mother and I would have joined poor Horatia

upon the shores of the afterlife had host not bravely interceded.

I but did what any man would in defense of the Republic.

It is a gift your man Korris was afoot to lend aid,

else I fear we would be mourning the Syrian as well.

What news from Rome towards ending such blight?

A thought is firmly upon mind,

with Senate working towards resolution.

Let us place grave considerations aside

and revel upon moment, in hopes of troubled spirits lifted.

Desire shared. I will present the gladiators myself, and see...

Hold.

I would have a name carrying more storied legacy

command attention.

Citizens of Capua,

May the gods

grant favor...

and cleanse this villa, so...

rich in history of blood and betrayal...

by elevating name for but single night to the House of Caesar!

He seizes laurels rightfully yours.

As first act of such,

I call upon the lanistae

to honor the games of Ludi Apollinares,

generously provided for by Senator Gabinius...

...and Caesar!

House of Opiter,

step forth and present your men!

Let us next greet the House of Proculus and its offerings!

A fine showing.

Yet more is to be added to fearsome sum.

What wonders do we present, Syrian?

The finest in Capua...

and beyond.

And who stands, this night, champion of the House of Caesar?

A most rare and unusual offering.

From the savage lands of Kush comes a spectacle never

before witnessed in the Republic.

Behold!

Achillia...

the Goddess of Death.

You present fucking woman?

The aedile himself pressed to offer something novel...

Is this not your fucking house?

Caesar would disagree.

Fuck Caesar. You stand the man before me.

And affront claimed yours alone.

Apologies. In the reviewing of it,

I should have informed you of the nature of my champion

- upon earlier convenience. - Presentation has already been

made and expectations risen.

Let her death in the arena be the end of it.

And see much desired parting of ways between us.

Why did you confide intent of dispatching Pompey

towards confrontation with the Cilicians

well in advance of sharing same with Caesar?

Why did you not reveal such to Caesar yourself?

- Or noble Crassus? - It did not appear...

prudent.

You play a dangerous game, Syrian.

I am but humble piece upon a board,

given purpose by greater hands.

There are many words I would use to describe you.

Humble stands not among them.

Nor soft of fucking mind towards true intent

of embracing me... in confidence.

You divine test put upon you.

And actions fell accordingly.

Towards what purpose?

Of peace between Pompey and your patron, Crassus?

Or to see own name elevated beyond reasonable station?

The two need not stand... in conflict.

Ah. Words broken as true Roman.

Let us place unfortunate choice of your champion aside...

and move towards common goal.

This is the best

the House of Asses

could conjure?

A cunt with a sword,

yet stands a cunt.

The Brothers Ferox.

Reality fails to rise to imagined legend.

I would fill mouth with swollen intent,

and see words choked within throat.

A threat of little worry,

if cock is in equal proportion to what... cowers before me.

Part veil...

and witness proof the gods exist.

Proculus!

Reclaim errant children,

lest they fall to ill-gotten fate.

Satyrus,

return to heel.

I fall from sight...

yet shall return to fuck you in your dreams.

She stands a feast for the senses, does she not?

The Syrian shits upon tradition

and serves it proudly,

as tainted meal.

I would have thought one who spews such from mouth

would savor taste.

Viridia.

Cornelia has broached subject of interest.

Come.

Let us conspire.

Impossible child.

I find her insights most refreshing.

Cornelia has been regaling with tales of Rome,

especially those concerning men of worth,

untethered by responsibility of marriage.

- Mother. - She has intimate knowledge

towards suitable match.

A difficult thing to conjure, a man worthy of such rare beauty.

- Hmm. - Yet Quintus Minucius Thermus,

well known to my husband, fills thoughts towards such.

I fear subject erroneously broached.

I yet grieve for my husband,

fallen at the hands of Spartacus.

I hold deepest of sympathies.

Such sorrow can be all-consuming.

Until it simply no longer is.

You seek to avoid me.

I but attend my duties.

And what might those consist of, presently?

- Seeing to the fucking men. - And fucking woman...

a detail that slipped mind when petitioning me

to press for your cause in the arena?

Withheld towards reason, you still stand rival to this house.

And what do I stand towards you?

It is not disagreement,

I seek.

I should return to my duties.

Is there really nothing more you desire in life

than to serve at the whims of the Syrian

until age overtakes senses?

- You would not understand. - That you seek glory long past

through the actions of the men you train?

I would have you set eyes upon the future...

leaving past to remembrance...

as all who truly live...

must.

I should...

go.

And yet

you remain...

rooted in place.

Cock truly tilts body,

that you darken this house with your fucking shadow.

I but stand upon request of noble Gabinius

and honored Caesar. No other cause would so move

to lower myself into such...

- murky depths. - Hm.

Let us fall from word twisted in meaning

- and come to plain truth. - I welcome such diversion.

It was your man Fides who moved against my doctore,

guided by fucking hands...

before me.

If I was to move against you, Syrian...

be assured,

it will be my hand,

grasping blade.

I long for that day.

No more than I.

Hm.

Entertainment stirs approval?

The House of Caesar offers many revelations,

as does the man himself.

You appear of heavy mind.

Let us walk,

see it unburdened.

You assured no one would fall to harm.

The aedile's wife, Horatia, was known to me,

and considered friend.

I said no one of note would fall to harm... and was true to word.

You twist meaning to suit purpose.

Was purse not swelled with coin in return for maneuvering

Cossutia and her daughter to appointed time and place?

A decision now held in regret.

Oh.

Yet past is etched in stone,

impervious to meat and bone of desire.

And what of the desires of Crassus and Pompey,

how do they measure against your own?

The future yet to be revealed.

Perhaps one day we shall see Caesar ascend as a god,

through guile and fucking deceit.

It is a disappointment

I shall not find you among my worshippers.

Nor perhaps at all among the living.

See how they move,

father and son of singular mind and purpose.

Sympathies for their opponents, who shall find themselves fucked

into the sands in tomorrow's games.

Take food and wine as reward for welcomed display.

Dominus.

To share the sands of the arena with you,

a thing often dreamt of...

I shall rejoin you upon a moment.

I would have you remain by my side,

in favor of unworthy distraction.

I am not fucking child.

Nor shall be treated so.

Apologies.

- Caesar requests presence. - I bend towards greater name.

Your father casts disapproving eye.

Pay him no heed. The man stands stubborn

and overbearing of late.

Then you truly are his son.

What does Caesar require of me?

Well, your thoughts upon matter hold equal towards my own.

I've never broken words with the man.

You pull me from noble Roman as fat with coin as of belly,

- to what fucking purpose? - Shh.

One of pressing need.

You shall be the death of me.

Well, then I shall storm the shores of the afterlife...

to see you in my arms again.

How gauge you mood of guests towards Achillia?

As unwelcome shit in morning repast.

Gabinius stood same in response.

He does not favor straying from tradition,

yet the passing of days often sees hardened resolve soften

towards more reflective possibilities.

Wise counsel, to those in...

much need of it.

I should attend to the men.

Your doctore stands fortunate to find himself beneath roof

with one of such vision, gazing forward in favor of back.

Desire towards better tomorrow holds greatest hope.

Wise counsel returned.

Would I find you among us in the pulvinus for the games?

I came here tonight to show respect

towards the man who saved my life.

Yet it is a heavy thing to witness form and manner

of those who claimed my husband's.

Apologies. I did not pause to consider...

None required. You saw Spartacus to deserved end at great risk,

and, with his fall, rebellion crushed.

In the doing of such, you stand forever in highest esteem.

Risk gladly ventured a thousandfold...

if such leads to reward before me.

Mother will be frothing over falling from her side.

May Apollo see your champion to victory.

It is a blessing she will not attend the games,

the arena and the men within it

hold no place for such a... delicate thing.

Attend honored guests. And see this night to fucking end.

Fix mind towards purpose in the arena

and do not allow it to drift towards softer pleasures.

I am but for blood and glory.

Let us set past differences to faded memory

and embrace fortune

as father and treasured son.

You wander astray

into my cell, champion.

You have stood upon sands of the arena?

On many occasion.

What should I expect upon first entry?

The deafening roar of the crowd...

a quickening of pulse...

and the bitter sting

of blood in the air.

The gods offer no greater bounty.

How gauge you odds at survival?

Against the Brothers Ferox? Not in your favor.

Yet as men fully formed underestimate them,

so will the brothers...

underestimate...

a woman.

Many of the eyes that fell upon me during celebration...

were filled with certainty...

that my fall has already been written.

Only the gods know what is written.

And even they are often fucking mistaken.

If I am to face death

at the break of day...

then I would embrace life...

this night.

I long ago placed such entanglements aside...

towards glory in the arena.

Do not mistake intent.

There are none but men beneath this roof...

and you...

but stand the least

offensive.

Doctore warned against placing hands upon you.

Unwanted...

hands.

Then let us see them filled.

Mmm.

The gods bless you.

Opiter indeed stands much favored of late.

Viridia.

Arrival is most...

unexpected.

She does not favor the games.

Really? What, then, moves you to grace presence?

The House of Ashur presents novel spectacle.

One I could not resist bearing witness to.

We stand ripe with expectation.

- Claim seat adjoining ours. - Gratitude.

I prefer to be removed from violent contest,

- and threat of errant blood. - As do we.

The Syrian has never been allowed within pulvinus before.

I pray he does not shit himself from excitement.

Hilara, see honored guest to wine.

Pay her no mind.

She is of a mood.

See lesser contest announced to hasten arrival of primus

and conclusion of day's events.

Air grows...

unpleasant.

Glorious day graces us with an abundance of astonishments...

and we yet offer more...

in honor of golden Apollo.

Blood sacrificed,

towards favor of our mighty Republic...

fortifying against threat,

from without...

and within.

The crowd stands louder than imagined.

Their roar shall grow bolder still...

when the Brothers Ferox

present offering

of Nubian blood.

I have always wondered...

does a half-man bleed as abundantly as one fully formed?

Tarchon, Celadus, prepare yourselves.

In gratitude, I present offering from the House of Proculus...

enter...

Harbelex, murmillo, and Boriatis, hoplomachus

Honor this house

and see Proculus' men fucked from this world.

I would see you live...

- old man. - As would I.

And from the House of the Syrian...

Celadus, dimachaerus...

and his formidable offspring, Tarchon, thraex

Fuck the Syrian!

Begin!

Which do you favor?

Both.

Youth outpaces experience.

Tarchon but desires to draw first blood.

Desire denied.

Engage the murmillo!

Tarchon, cover

Youth prevails.

Yeah.

Behind you.

Aargh.

Yeah.

Yes.

Yeah.

Come on.

Come on.

Yeah

A surprising victory.

Only to those lacking faith.

You ply me with undeserved praise.

Modesty does not serve a man of your status.

Your house proves formidable opponent

and have rightly ignited the passions of the crowd.

Let us pray the mood does not sour

upon presenting a woman in the primus.

The House of Ashur stands victorious.

Yes.

Once more, you do not disappoint.

Achillia,

your time approaches.

- Prepare yourself. - For death...

you fucking cunt.

Upon close of games, I would see you and noble husband

to our villa to break meal, and continue intriguing conversation

- from previous night. - An invitation well received...

Hmm.

...yet regrettably declined.

I prepare for travel at break of morning sun.

Your departure hastens?

Upon wings of necessity.

I am for Sinuessa en Valle.

Sinuessa?

Towards what purpose?

To break much needed word with Pompey.

Pompey? He did not mention slipping from Rome.

An oversight, I am sure...

his mind yet weighted with more important matters.

Your absence will be keenly felt.

I shall linger in spirit...

embodied by...

cherished wife.

You remain?

The gods themselves could not pry me loose.

Hmm.

- Who announces the primus? - Let honor fall to Caesar.

His attention appears much in demand.

I am your man, then.

Citizens of Capua

I, Gaius Julius Caesar,

stand before you in place of Marcus Licinius Crassus...

detained in Rome upon vital interest of the Republic.

With his blessing, and that of honored Senator Gabinius...

...I present to you

the primus of the Ludi Apollinares!

And who shall step forth

to appease Apollo with blood and honor?

I present to you...

Achillia, Goddess of Death!

Is this fucking jest?

Rubbish.

Your champion stands well received.

As I feared.

Do not be swayed by braying mob,

so easily turned by imagined slight.

Good citizens of Capua,

you behold spectacle never before witnessed

within the Republic.

Yet who will step forth to face such unheralded offerings?

Do not kill her too quickly.

I would see her suffer.

From the House of Proculus...

I present to you

Ammonius, murmillo!

- Fuck! - No.

You steal fucking glory?

You deserve none, little man.

The gods betray us.

Yeah!

I shall fuck your corpse.

You alter match absent consent.

It was not my hand that commanded it so.

The fault lies with my own.

You boast of your champion's prowess,

I would observe such against opponent of proper proportion.

As would I.

Let the heavens tremble in anticipation of blood and glory!

Begin!

She finds advantage in speed, as instructed.

How does fucking contest unfold?

You stand fortunate you do not face the Goddess of Death.

See how she moves. I have never beheld anything its equal.

Nor anyone within the Republic.

Come on!

Aargh!

Aargh!

Boasted offering fails to quench thirst.

Yet promise of never before seen spectacle fulfilled:

a woman dying in the arena.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Neferet!

Yes!

Aargh!

A fine showing for a lesser house.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!

And now...

I fuck you!

Aargh!

Yes!

- Yes! - What?

What happened?

Huh? Oh.

Kill him! Kill him!

Not this day!

Yes!

Apologies, Syrian.

- Your boast proves true. - Ha.

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

- Yes! Come on! - Yes! Yes! Yes!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia! A-chil-lia!

A-chil-lia!

Sub extracted from file & improved by Se7enOfNin9 for addic7ed.com