Nights in the ludus had their own silence, a stillness filled with the snores of exhausted men and unspoken nightmares. Ulysses often used this time to think, mapping his moves on the increasingly complex chessboard.
That night, as he walked through the quiet kitchen area, he saw her.
Mira was alone, cleaning up the remnants of the nobles' feast. Her movements were efficient and silent, as they always were. But under the flickering torchlight, when she thought no one was watching, Ulysses saw it. The immense fatigue in her shoulders, which slumped for a moment. A blink that lasted a fraction of a second longer, hinting at an unbearable burden. Her stoic mask cracked slightly.
Ulysses approached with silent steps.
Mira immediately sensed his presence. Her body tensed, and the mask snapped back perfectly as she turned. Her eyes were cold and wary. "Ulysses," she said, her voice flat, just an acknowledgment.
Ulysses stopped a few paces from her. He didn't look at her body, but directly into her eyes. He didn't mention Naevia. He didn't mention Lucretia or her guests. He didn't mention the horrifying spectacle.
"The burden you carry," Ulysses said, his voice low and raspy. "Is heavier than any training stone in this yard."
A thick silence settled between them.
Ulysses saw it clearly. A small tremor at the corner of Mira's lips. Her eyes widening slightly in surprise. He saw the wall of defenses the woman had built over years tremble for a moment at a single sentence of acknowledgment. He didn't offer pity. He offered understanding.
Mira turned her face away, returning to her work, her hands rubbing a silver goblet with slightly too much force.
"We all carry our own burdens, Champion of The Pit," she replied, her voice still flat, but Ulysses, with his Basic Psychology, could hear the almost imperceptible tremor of emotion beneath it. It wasn't a rejection. It was a confirmation.
Ulysses said nothing more. He didn't push. He had planted his seed. He simply nodded slightly, a silent gesture of respect, then turned and disappeared back into the shadows.
Mira stopped rubbing the goblet. She stood still in the silence for a long time, alone with the echo of the words she had just heard. For the first time, someone in this hell saw her not just as a servant, but as a fellow human bearing a burden.
Ulysses's new reputation granted him a little more freedom within the ludus. The guards no longer bothered him, and the other gladiators gave him space. However, that freedom was merely an illusion. He knew his every move was still watched, his every action judged.
He needed allies. He needed eyes and ears in places he couldn't reach.
He spent the next two days patiently, observing Mira's rhythm of movement. He saw her work tirelessly, her face always displaying the same mask of serenity. But Ulysses, with his new understanding, could see the fragility beneath that mask. He saw how Mira always ensured Naevia ate, or how she took on extra tasks so Naevia could rest. She was a silent protector.
The opportunity came on the third night. Ulysses saw Mira emerge from the back kitchen, carrying a basket of clean laundry. She was alone. The corridor was deserted, lit only by a few flickering torches.
Ulysses intercepted her at a turn, appearing from the shadows. Mira flinched, almost dropping her basket. Her heart pounded, but upon seeing who stood before her, her expression of fear shifted to cold wariness. "Ulysses."
Ulysses wasted no time. He knew this moment was precious. "At the Magistrate's feast," he said in a very low voice, "the nobles whispered. About Dominus Batiatus and Praetor Glaber."
Mira's eyes narrowed. She glanced down the dark corridor, ensuring no one else was present. "Nobles always whisper," she replied, her voice flat.
"This whisper is different," Ulysses countered. "It feels like stepping on thin ice. I can feel it." He looked directly into Mira's eyes, using his Basic Psychology to read her reaction. He saw the tension in her shoulders. He saw how her breathing became slightly shallower.
He knew Mira understood what he was talking about.
After a long, felt silence, Mira stepped closer, her voice now barely audible. "Thin ice will break if you dance on it," she hissed. "The Domina hasn't slept soundly since Sextus returned from his last meeting with Glaber. She fears Batiatus will lose everything."
That was it. Confirmation. The information from Aemilia wasn't idle chatter. It was real. And Lucretia knew her husband was in danger.
Ulysses nodded slowly, an acknowledgment of the risk Mira had just taken by telling him. Now it was his turn to offer something. This had to be a two-way street.
"If you hear anything," Ulysses said, his voice serious. "Anything that could endanger you... or Naevia... tell me."
The offer surprised Mira. She looked at Ulysses, searching for lies or hidden agendas. But she found nothing but cold sincerity. For the first time, someone offered protection, not demanded something from her.
She did not answer. She simply gave a short, sharp nod. A wordless agreement had been made.
Mira then turned and walked quickly down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness, leaving Ulysses alone with his new and dangerous knowledge.
He now had an ally. And he had a weapon. Now, he just needed to wait for the right moment to use it.
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{Name: Ulysses (Thomas Vance)}
{Title: Champion of The Pit}
{Stored Essence: 63}
{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1)}