Item: Jade Antler Arrows (Legendary) — Damage: 16 per arrow. Deals 2× damage to animals, magical beasts, monstrous fauna, and faunal constructs. Ignores 30% of natural armor (fur, hide, scales, chitin).

  As he sheathed the arrows and the Trickster jumped up onto his shoulder, ready for their departure, a booming laugh shook the villa as Björn and Justus came back in. Karl could pick up on their smell from their play, along with Justus’s panting breath.

  “That last hit didn’t count,” Justus said as they came into the forge with the others.

  “No one keeps count in a battle,” Björn said, smirking. “Well, except for a few friends of mine back at home.”

  Thankfully, Constantia and Mýra had also finished getting ready with the help of their slave, though it only looked like they had just put more makeup on and nothing else. Karl was bewildered by how that took them so long to do that, but what he could understand was the reason for Constantia’s blushing and looking away from Sporus, who seemed oblivious to the teenage girl’s apparent crush on him.

  “Oh, and this is for you,” Kara said, directing Mýra to the Cryocoil frost light armor that she had made.

  Mýra was speechless as she approached the armor set, which looked pale blue and leathered, composed of woven frost silk reinforced with thin Cryocoil metal filaments. It wasn’t bulky or obtrusive. It was more like an armor set fit for an archer, light and flexible. White frost veins ran throughout the armor like living capillaries, pulsing slowly with cold light, while frost vapor constantly drifted from the seams and edges.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mýra said as she picked up the frost-weave hood, its blue color complementing her freckled skin.

  “Just thank me by keeping that oaf alive,” Kara said, looking at Björn.

  The Viking muttered something about how he could defend himself perfectly fine, but he was overshadowed by Justus, who shoved his face into the seams of the armor to get a cold blast of air on his lips, which turned frosty blue.

  “That’s so cool!” he said, his eyes wide as if it were Christmas and this was his gift.

  “Can we go now?” Constantia said, though she too looked impressed at the armor as Mýra quickly put it on.

  “Okay,” Sporus said, taking a deep breath as Felix bit his lip in uncertainty. “Let’s go get some pizza.”

  Just as Sporus warned, the streets of Rome were packed with foreigners as they descended the Aventine Hill. Even though the night was already descending upon the Eternal City, the streets were filled to the brim.

  As they wove past thousands of people enjoying the nightlife, steam vents hissed softly from the bronze grates sprinkled throughout the streets. Vendors—most of them Latin, though there were others from various cultures—shouted at them, selling olives, figs, bread, oil lamps, and a host of other small enchanted trinkets.

  They let Sporus and Constantia lead the way. Which was a comfort, but it was nearly impossible to keep everyone together, as there were just so many people. Karl felt kind of like a little kid going to a mall, having no idea of the layout and just being swarmed by the crowd.

  Justus continuously ran ahead of the group, spinning and pointing at everything with wonder, even as Constantia berated him to stay close so they wouldn’t lose him.

  “The pizza’s just around the corner,” Constantia said, still blushing as she looked at Sporus and pointed toward a cute little street that reminded Karl of a main street in modern Sweden.

  Before they could get to the pizza shop, however, a mob of citizens swarmed around Karl, asking him a thousand questions at once about his werewolf abilities, his archery skills, the Tentacle Bow, and more. Karl stammered, not knowing what to say, as someone grabbed his arm and tried to get an autograph. His Moonlight Meter instantly spiked as he felt like he was in danger. Someone shoved a cup into his hand as bodies pressed in, and he tried awkwardly to answer the questions.

  They must have been near a tavern, as Björn was similarly mobbed by a handful of Roman gladiators who slapped his back and pulled him to one of the tables just outside the tavern.

  “You fight just like your father!” one of them said, causing Björn to grimace as he chugged a cup of wine. Though his smile flickered back to life as a seductive courtesan, smelling of lavender and honey, came up and wrapped her arms around him, touching his cheek with her finger and whispering that she was expensive, but worth it.

  Björn’s eyes flickered to Mýra, who blushed a deep shade of red. Before Björn could reject the prostitute, Mýra stormed off.

  “You going to sign any autographs?” the Trickster said from Karl’s shoulder as the mob around him continued to press.

  “No, thank you,” Karl said, handing back the goblet of wine that had been placed into his hand, fearing possible drugging by assassins.

  His mind immediately went into overload as he searched for Kara, who was nowhere near him. Though immune to fear, his hand twitched toward his bow as his Moonlight Meter spiked closer to full capacity. It would not be good with urban guards patrolling the streets and lingering near the tavern alongside the courtesans.

  Despite this, Karl nearly activated his werewolf abilities anyway to slaughter his way through the crowd and save Kara. But the cherry on top came from Constantia, who, leading a rather worried Sporus by the hand, burst through the crowd in front of Karl and the Trickster.

  “Where’s Justus?” Constantia asked.

  19

  ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

  You can find them swiftly if you let me take over, Fenrir growled in Karl’s mind.

  The paranoia broiling in Karl’s nerves nearly made him do just that, especially since she wasn’t answering him in their Pack Link. It was extremely loud on the streets, but still, that didn’t solve Justus’s disappearance. By Sporus’s and Constantia’s worried faces, they would undoubtedly destroy Titus and Livia if they lost their son.

  Mercifully, he checked his internal parchment map before doing anything reckless. In his haste, he had almost forgotten it. It showed her antler icon, doing quite well, further down the street. His body relaxed, if only slightly.

  “Looks like you’re not getting awarded worst babysitter ever,” the Trickster teased, though even his voice sounded worried. They still had no eyes on the boy.

  “Excuse me,” Karl said, shoving past the horde of fans calling after him. Sporus and Constantia chased after him, while Mýra stayed behind to drag Björn from out of the tavern and away from the women of the night.

  Kara! Karl cried out in their Pack Link.

  Nothing.

  He was seconds away from unleashing the wolf within to clear the pedestrians when he finally broke through, receiving a handful of curses from various cultures. There, sitting on a marble bench next to a string of food vendors, were Kara and Justus eating skewered, savory meatballs.

  The commotion from the horde of people made it impossible for Karl’s voice to be heard until he was only a meter from them.

  “You better have saved some!” the Trickster lamented, seeing Justus take a generous bite from his skewer. The little boy shrugged his shoulders playfully, to which the squirrel muttered darkly.

  “You okay?” Kara asked, her mind sensing the panic in his heart.

  “I’m fine,” he replied, though it was a lie. “Just hungry.”

  “You’re in luck!” Justus shouted, his mouth filled with food. “The pizza shop is just down the street!”

  “How did you pay for that anyway?” Karl asked, seeing the hefty amount of skewers already stripped clean.

  “I, uh, just let him borrow some of our gold,” Kara explained, rubbing her arm thoughtfully while the others caught up. She didn’t elaborate, but he could see the memory she showed him of her keeping close tabs on Justus, feeling both a maternal instinct to protect him and a desire to stay away; though in the end, she folded when she saw how happy the meatball stand made him.

  As nerve-racking as that experience was, Karl couldn’t help but smile.

  Not far from where Karl found them was the pizza place so esteemed by Constantia. It was called Pistoria Panis et Caseus, which Constantia—after scolding her brother for running off like that—explained meant Baker of Bread and Cheese.

  It sounded better in Latin.

  Brass pipes ran along the exterior wall, feeding heat into the ovens inside. The smell of toasted dough made Karl’s stomach growl. Now that the worry for Kara and Justus subsided, he was starving.

  Inside, the room was warm and dimly golden. It was lit by oil lamps and the fire from the massive stone oven dominating the back, glowing white-hot. Dozens of wooden tables were scarred from knives and years of use. The benches were packed with locals and gladiators.

  Björn had finally rejoined them, though the wine was strong on his breath. There was visible tension between him and Mýra.

  They waited in line for close to an hour, given how popular the pizza shop was. When they finally reached the front, Justus and Björn ordered just about everything on the menu.

  “Do you think that’ll be enough?” Justus asked, eager, after ordering about a dozen pizzas.

  “I don’t know,” Björn said, chuckling. “What do you think, Karl?”

  Karl glanced at the prices, feeling anxious for a moment before remembering he had plenty of money.

  “I think that should be good,” Karl said, just before the Trickster spoke up and asked for another pizza, specifically for him.

  The moment the Trickster was done, Karl put a hand over the robot’s mouth and handed the pizza store owner all the gold that was required.

  About ten minutes later, they received something closer to a focaccia than a modern pizza. The dough was oval-shaped, thick yet airy, and crisp on the outside, with olive oil brushed generously across the surface, fresh sheep’s milk cheese, and a plethora of rosemary and oregano. Some of the pizzas had honey and figs, at Justus’s request.

  Justus scarfed his pizza down, burning his mouth in trying to out-eat Björn. Karl and Kara did the same, more so because they were starving. The Trickster did so as well, while Constantia, Sporus, and Mýra ate more slowly.

  It was probably the best pizza Karl had ever had.

  For a moment, he feared they hadn’t gotten enough. Considering the powerful effects of the pizza, he decided to buy enough for each of them to have some slices for tomorrow’s games.

  Item: Panis Solaris Focaccia x5 (Epic) — Instantly restores 20% Stamina and 10% Health on consumption. 15% Movement Speed from Sugar Rush for 15 minutes.

  Surprisingly, after all the meatballs and pizzas, plus a generous tip, he was only out of a small amount of gold. But maybe that was just because he was extremely wealthy now and had maxed out his Honor, giving him 20% discounts at any shop; had he also not been the Jarl of Visby and had a cash machine back at home, the cost might have stung.

  Wealth (-100): 11,047 Gold

  “You were right, Constantia,” Sporus said as he shoved another slice into his mouth. “This is truly the best.”

  Constantia blushed and thanked him.

  When they had finished, Karl’s stomach was so full that it was painful. It was one hundred percent worth it.

  He found Kara’s hand as they followed Constantia and Sporus from the pizza tavern toward the legendary library she couldn’t stop talking about to Sporus, who continued to nod politely at her unusual blabbering.

  As they walked through the swarming crowds, a little boy bumped into Mýra, smelling of ash and visibly shaking. Karl and Kara stopped, as did the rest of the group. He looked no older than Justus and had dark hair just like him.

  “Are you okay?” Mýra asked.

  The little boy tugged at his throat but didn’t speak.

  “Is he mute?” Björn asked, crossing his arms.

  “He must be a factory worker,” Sporus said, looking at the boy with sorrow. The boy remained speechless but glanced around anxiously, as if running from something.

  Mýra hesitated, not knowing what to do, but her hand fastened onto something around the boy’s neck. She seemed to grab at something in the air and tug at it. Karl wasn’t sure what was happening until the boy suddenly breathed easier and his voice returned.

  “Thank you,” he said, giving her a quick hug before running away.

  The smell of copper came from Mýra’s nose as a trickle of blood ran out. She wiped it away without saying anything. Kara noticed it too, but neither of them said a word.

  “How can a little one be working so late?” she asked as the group resumed their walk to the library.

  “It’s a common sight in Rome nowadays, unfortunately,” Sporus said, his face dark, even with the lamplight reflecting off the marble buildings.

  Karl briefly thought of the Industrial Revolution and how kids used to work in mines and factories. It was sad to see it here, too, though maybe not surprising; Rome was a slave state. It wasn’t that much of a jump to go from slaves in every part of Roman life to making a bunch of kids work in horrible conditions. There were slave children before the Industrial Revolution, after all. They even passed by a few slaves with brands on their heads as they walked the streets.

  “The library is just over there,” Constantia said, pointing to a cozy little building nestled beside a boutique shop and a bakery.

  “Hey, you, stop!” a loud voice shouted behind them.

  One of the city guards came running up, shoving pedestrians aside as his eyes locked onto Justus, whose smile faltered at the approaching guard. Björn and Karl immediately stepped in front of him, causing the guard to grunt in displeasure.

  “You’re harboring a runaway,” the guard accused, glancing at Justus with suspicion.

  “He is no runaway,” Sporus said, joining Karl and Björn.

  The guard shook his head, his visor creaking. “Hand him over, or he’s getting a dunking in the cauldron by the overseer.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Sporus said, crossing his arms. “That is the son of Titus, friend of the Emperor.”

  “That’s what they all say,” the guard replied.

  Karl felt anticipation rise, as if a fight were about to break out. Then the Trickster, rather unceremoniously, leapt onto the guard’s face, raised his tail, and unleashed a fart so devastating that the guard immediately passed out and collapsed onto the busy street.

  “Oh, that is unreal,” Karl said, pinching his nose and turning away. His eyes watered like he’d smelled a rotten onion.

  The Trickster burst out laughing, then hopped back onto Karl’s shoulder, glancing briefly at Justus with fondness before returning to his usual self. “Let’s go nerd out in the library!”

  Strangely, as they approached the library, the streets were less crowded, though there were more guards, especially at the entrance. The building had a white marble façade with tall columns lining the front, reinforced with steel bands and faintly glowing inscriptions of imperial Latin. Brass and glass lanterns hung between the columns, glowing softly.

  The guards, recognizing Constantia, allowed her through, although they gave a concerned glance through their glowing visors at Karl and the others as she led them inside.

  Karl was immediately hit with warm air and the smell of old parchment, leather, and ink. It screamed cozy vibes. Shelves stretched upward for multiple stories, reachable only by rolling ladders and spiral staircases.

  As soon as the door closed behind them with a solid thud, silence followed.

  The interior was dim but not dark, thanks to the soft oil lamps mounted on the walls and the steady fireplace in the back that gave off a comforting crackle. Bookshelves lined every wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, made of dark, aged wood. Each shelf overflowed with books packed tightly, many of them leather-bound codices and scroll tubes stacked horizontally. Some shelves bowed under the weight of the sheer knowledge contained within them.

  It was a bit overwhelming for Karl’s eyes. There were no labels or signs to clearly mark which shelf was which. How the heck did they find what book to read?

  Constantia immediately dashed deeper into the library, her eagerness coming off her in waves. Justus kept saying, “Wow,” spinning slowly as he looked up at the shelves.

  Björn and Kara were similarly perplexed; they must have never seen so many books in their lives.

  “This doesn’t look like the rest of the city,” Mýra noted as they stood at the front of the library.

  “That’s because knowledge isn’t so modern,” a voice said, causing Karl to jump slightly.

  An old lady, hunched over slightly with silver hair in a bun and wearing a Roman stola, walked slowly toward them. She descended from the upper floor, which was accessible by a narrow winding staircase in the back.

  With each step, her jewelry clinked together faintly.

  She carried a large book in one hand and, gracefully, a cup of tea in the other.

  “Aelia,” he said, nodding out of respect to her as she walked around the large wooden table in the middle of the room, draped with dozens of books and candles.

  “You haven’t come to kill me, have you?” she asked pointedly, eyeing Sporus with suspicion.

  “We’re friends of the Emperor,” Sporus said, holding out his hands to show they meant no harm.

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes softening.

  She placed her book down on the table, then walked slowly back to the fireplace, which served as a reading area where low couches draped with blankets sat nearby. Aelia carefully lowered herself onto one of the plush couches, her bones creaking as she settled next to the warm fire.

  Justus and Constantia ignored the adult conversation as they went traipsing about the library, along with the Trickster. The squirrel kept his distance from the kids but maintained a protective presence as he scrambled along the tops of the bookshelves. Björn and Mýra wandered too, looking at all the books.

  Karl, Kara, and Sporus approached the old librarian.