Sporus paused, his jaw tightening before he spoke again. “When he committed suicide after losing a power struggle, I could only celebrate for a breath, for I immediately became the plaything of another man who took his place. And like all tyrants, he too fell. But the third Emperor, who replaced him, wanted to make a spectacle of my death in the Colosseum.” He shook his head, looking deeply into the waters. “He wanted to reenact the Rape of Proserpina, or Persephone if you’re more familiar with the Greek version. I took my own life in the hypogeum before such a disgrace could happen.”

  In that moment, Karl was grateful that the Trickster was not around to make any jokes. He had thought his own life was rough—being violently transplanted into a systematized medieval world to fight Viking monsters and wicked foes—but all of that paled in comparison to Sporus’s previous life.

  Karl could feel that Kara felt the same, her gaze resting on Sporus with deep empathy. Sitting on Karl’s right, she leaned over and took Sporus’s hand beneath the water, where he sat on Karl’s left.

  Sporus looked at her in surprise. Kara felt awkward, which Karl sensed through their Pack Link, unsure of what to say. No one really could, so she simply squeezed his hand in comfort, earning a faint smile from Sporus before she pulled away and took Karl’s hand again.

  “Did you give that bastard what he deserved?” Björn asked, sipping from a goblet of wine handed to him by one of the courtesans, though Mýra had already directed the woman away from her husband. Sporus nodded.

  “It was Emperor Maximus who helped me take him down,” Sporus explained. “And Camilla, who was a close friend of the Emperor’s and, well, more than that to me.”

  Karl remembered Sporus mentioning the name before, though he never elaborated. It seemed to be a painful subject, and Karl wasn’t sure why. Whatever the case, Karl was glad Sporus had shared more of his past. Where there had once been unease and suspicion, Karl now saw someone broken like so many in Antiquitus, someone who had taken his darkness and turned it toward a greater purpose.

  The Trickster dashed across the marble floor and cannonballed into the hot water, splashing everyone. “Ah, what did I miss?” the metal robot said as they wiped water from their faces.

  “Not much,” Sporus said, pushing wet dark curls from his eyes.

  “I bet,” the Trickster replied, backpedaling through the pool and swimming near a group of old men. “Nothing beats the conversation from that fat industrialist over there.”

  Karl and Sporus turned to see who he meant. In a nearby pool sat a richly adorned, balding man in his sixties, rings on every finger, laughing greedily as courtesans surrounded him.

  Sporus froze at the sight. The women laughed uncomfortably as the man manhandled them, trying to hide bruises on their hips where he had gripped them.

  “I know him,” Sporus said, his hand instinctively reaching for a bow that wasn’t there.

  “Is he a friend of yours?” Mýra asked, curled against Björn, a sight Karl tried hard to ignore.

  Sporus laughed darkly. “His name is Gaius Verres. He’s the richest factory owner in Rome. He has taken full advantage of the Emperor’s plans to modernize the city.”

  “He looks like he uses child labor,” the Trickster said, gargling water before spitting it out.

  “That’s a fair assumption,” Sporus said with a nod. “I wouldn’t put it past him, given his past.”

  “Doesn’t the Emperor know?” Kara asked quietly. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “All I know is there have been unsettling rumors about his factory,” Sporus said. “Every time I investigated, thinking it was tied to the Cult of Eternal Night, I only found a normal factory with slaves working late into the night.” He tapped his finger against the marble edge of the pool. “Now he’s back from the Frankish territories, likely here to watch the games.”

  Verres boasted loudly about special payments from the Emperor and urgent work done outside normal channels. The women laughed along, but when one failed to please him enough, he struck her in anger, sending her fleeing toward the changing room. The others said nothing and continued trying to appease him.

  Karl saw the look in Sporus’s eyes. To him, Verres was no different from Nero.

  Sporus turned and met Karl’s gaze. “You up for a little stalking?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Karl wanted to say no, but seeing the looks on Mýra, Kara, and even Björn as they watched the man, he knew the right answer. He nodded.

  “I have a few tonics that might help his personality,” Mýra said, nestling against Björn’s chest.

  “Please do,” Sporus said with a wicked smile. “But first, let’s see what his factory looks like in the areas only he can access. I have a feeling that fat bastard is hiding something.”

  The System seemed to agree, as it prompted them with a quest immediately.

  New Quest: Verres Makes an Honest Living

  “Gaius Verres insists his factory is perfectly normal, just like his governship was of Sicily. The children, bruises, and imperial hush money suggest otherwise. Rome loves productivity—especially when no one asks how it’s achieved.”

  Primary Objective:

  Investigate Verres’s Restricted Factory Floors 0/1

  Rewards:

  Item: Rome Factory Tunnels Schematics (Epic) — Classified.

  Item: Punch-Clock Heart (Epic) — Once per day, instantly reset one exhausted ability.

  Optional Objective:

  Administer Mýra’s Infertility Tonic to Verres 0/1

  Bonus Reward:

  Item: Tonic of Sudden Spring (Legendary) — Instantly completes any viable pregnancy. Child is born healthy, fully developed, and infused with exceptional vitality, with a 50% chance of accelerating towards puberty at an abnormal speed.

  Karl raised his brow in surprise at the tonic Mýra had. Her teeth flashed in response. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve had to use that.”

  “No, I don’t,” Karl admitted, which made the whole group laugh darkly.

  “Enjoy your coffee tomorrow morning,” the Trickster warned before diving into the hot water near where a few courtesans were bathing.

  Karl shook his head in disgust, but his eyes caught Kara’s, who stared at the Tonic of Sudden Spring reward. Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He could feel she was excited at bypassing being pregnant so she could continue to fight and train as a Valkyrie. But on the other hand, she was nervous about having to be a mother much sooner than expected; it would thrust on her an entirely new set of responsibilities, which would change her as it had Livia.

  If we get the tonic, I’ll leave it up to you, Karl assured her through their Pack Link.

  Kara smiled, squeezing his hand. She relayed her relief to him via vivid memories of their marriage, which was probably not the best timing while nude in public.

  Thankfully, Verres rose from his decadence a few minutes later, redirecting his thoughts. Sporus nodded at the group as the fat industrialist had his prostitutes help him out of the pool, signaling it was time to start stalking.

  23

  BRING YOUR KID TO WORKDAY, FOREVER

  As Karl and his friends dried off and were attended to by the slaves in the changing room, Karl realized something awful: they didn’t have their armor. Titus was currently repairing and reinforcing it with the special ingots they had received from the Colosseum, but they were without their protection.

  The only solace was that they still had their weapons. That was essentially it.

  “Should we go back?” Mýra asked as each of them put on simple white stolas the bathhouse attendants had given them.

  “No time,” Sporus said, nodding quietly toward Verres. He was finally dressed, though it had taken the courtesans several tries to get his clothes over his fat rolls. The man was now leaving the bathhouse.

  “We’re going to have to be extra quiet then,” Karl said, trying to get the blood flowing through his very lethargic muscles. The Deep Soak Lethargy Buff was sure to make them slower.

  “That won’t be a problem for me,” Sporus said, turning invisible.

  “Come on,” Kara said, grabbing Karl’s hand. “He’s getting away.”

  Karl and his friends quickly left the bathhouse and began following the unpleasant scent of Verres, which was almost impossible to miss now that Karl’s nose was that of a werewolf’s. Since the man was very large and moved at a slow pace, they didn’t have to worry about him outpacing them on foot.

  But their fears were stoked when Verres got into a carriage waiting just outside the bathhouse. It would look extremely suspicious to chase the carriage in clean stolas through the night, and probably dangerous. Even though Rome was illuminated with gas-lit lamps, Sporus warned that crime was still prevalent at night, with criminals who also had divine blessings.

  “Trickster,” Karl said, pointing to the carriage as it began bouncing away. “Hang on to the carriage, and we’ll follow you.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” the Trickster said, shooting out a claw. It latched onto the carriage and pulled him toward it.

  “We can follow him through the parchment map,” Karl said, pulling out his Tentacle Bow, which looked sleek and moist in the moonlight. “Everyone, hold on.”

  He eyed an aristocrat’s house just beyond where Verres’s carriage would pass. His friends obeyed, and he Elf Leaped them to the top of the building.

  It would be wise to stay above the streets. So, Karl teleported them every ten seconds or so, going from rooftop to rooftop, avoiding patrols and sticking to the shadows. He was immediately grateful he had leveled up the ability without having to worry about a cooldown, especially giving how lethargic every movement was from the baths.

  As they teleported across Rome, the streets shifted from marble to cracked stone. The fine smells of perfume and food were replaced by smoke and oil. The air tasted thicker here, smog spewing from factories cropping up near the Tiber River. Sporus explained that most factories clustered there so they could ship goods easily along the waters.

  Verres’s carriage brought them to a factory squatting low and wide by the dark river. It was brick reinforced with iron ribs, and there was nothing beautiful about it as chimneys spewed a constant stream of smoke.

  Inside, a constant thudding cadence beat like a giant heart. Occasionally, sharp metal shrieks cut through the noise, and steam vented with a hiss like breath escaping tired lungs.

  Karl’s skin crawled as he and his friends crouched on the nearest rooftop overlooking the dark factory, which had surprisingly few windows.

  Two very large doors opened to allow Verres to pass through in his carriage, operated by a handful of burly men, before closing again. Karl was tempted to shoot an arrow through the doors to teleport them inside, but it was too quick, and he feared landing them in an awkward spot where they’d be revealed.

  He could see the Trickster was safe inside, but he didn’t seem to be moving from the carriage. Kara noticed too and rolled her eyes.

  “He’s probably just staring at the women,” she said.

  “Probably,” Björn said, nodding.

  “We need to get in quickly before he goes underground,” Sporus said.

  “Let’s see if there’s a way on the top,” Karl said, Elf Leaping them onto the metal rooftop.

  They snaked past dozens of chimneys coughing black smoke, searching for any way in. But the roof was completely sealed, as if hiding something. Strangely, the roof wasn’t that thick, and it bent slightly under their feet. It might have been cheaply made.

  “Can you cut through this?” Karl asked Björn, who held his Bifrost battleaxe.

  Björn pressed his foot into the metal roof, and it gave a little under his strength. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, kneeling.

  “You don’t have to make it a big hole,” Karl began.

  Björn drove the axe down anyway, carving a deep gash and peeling the metal back just enough for Karl to see through. Karl flinched, fearing the sound was too loud and would give them away, but the factory was so loud with machines humming and grinding beneath that those below remained oblivious.

  Karl and his friends peeked through the hole. Only a depressing sight awaited them.

  The overall layout of the factory was shaped like a rectangular basilica. It was long, and the ceiling was extremely high, supported by thick stone columns.

  Rows of columns divided the space into three main aisles. In the center were the largest machines, where some adult slaves—but mostly children—operated dangerous, fast-moving metal contraptions that Karl didn’t know how to name. Along the side aisles were auxiliary presses, conveyor belts, and storage areas stacked with boxes.

  Closer to the ceiling, dozens of bronze chains hung down to support the pulleys.

  Oil lamps hung evenly throughout the factory, keeping the space mostly lit, though deep shadows pooled almost everywhere.

  Looking more closely at the machines, Karl could see that most were steam-driven. Each stood the height of a two-story house, pistons thundering down onto glowing plates.

  The children operating these monstrous machines mostly had missing fingers, presumably from the violent pistons smashing into the plates over and over like a machine gun. The sound was so loud that Karl began to develop a headache. He couldn’t believe the kids down there fed hot, glowing metal onto conveyor belts all day long.

  “The man deserves to die,” Mýra said, though she kept rubbing her temple as if in invisible pain.

  “I agree,” Sporus said. “But we don’t want to draw too much attention to Verres, especially if he has a special deal with the Emperor.”

  Adult slaves were helping oversee the stations, using thick gloves to feed the glowing metal plates onto the conveyor belts with the children. But there were far more children than adults, many assigned to removing ash from beneath the pounding machines and cleaning the gears while they were still moving. The children wore thin tunics stained with ash and burned at the edges. Not a single one of them wore shoes as they wove in and out of the heavy machines.

  Both children and adults were ordered around aggressively by overseers who looked jacked on steroids, shoving them if they were too slow. Dark rings hung under every pair of eyes as they worked well into the night with no end in sight.

  “How long do they work?” Karl asked, horrified by the scene.

  “Sometimes up to eighteen hours a day,” Sporus said, glaring darkly at the overseers. “More commonly fourteen to sixteen.”

  “Verres is just a bit aggressive in his quota demands.”

  “He’s a monster,” Kara whispered. “Even for slaves, this is too much.”

  “That’s if they are slaves,” Sporus said. “I wouldn’t put it past him to kidnap children or lure them in with the promise of meager coin to get by.”

  Verres strolled through the lower floors with his hands clasped behind his back, courtesans trailing behind him and refusing to look at the children working. An overseer approached him and began updating him on the day’s quota.

  “We’re behind schedule,” Verres said, scowling. “Have them stay for another hour until it’s finished.”

  The overseer didn’t blink and immediately set to his master’s demand. As he barked out the order that no one was going home for another hour, a visible depression settled over the workers, adults and children alike, who looked ready to collapse.

  Verres continued across the factory floor until he reached a crude platform raised by chains to a stone gallery at the far end. It led to a private office complex elevated above the factory floor, with glass windows, warm lamplight, rugs, and decadent furniture from which Verres could oversee production.

  “We’ll need to get in there,” Sporus said as Verres was lifted up with his courtesans on the platform.

  Once Verres reached the top, there was only one door into the overseer’s office. That was the entrance they would have to use.

  “That door isn’t hard,” Sporus said. “I can briefly phase through it for a heartbeat. But there has to be an entrance to his lower levels somewhere in there. I just haven’t been able to find it.”

  Karl and Kara focused their Lunar Sight, searching for signs of lower levels. Immediately, they saw a long shaft accessible only from the back of the office, beneath the bed of all places.

  Kara let her gaze linger across the rest of the factory, where, beneath the first floor, hundreds more workers wasted away below.

  It’s hard to believe such evil exists, Kara thought through the Pack Link.

  I know, Karl replied.

  Karl relayed what they had seen to Sporus.

  “That explains why I couldn’t find it before,” Sporus said, nodding grimly.

  The Trickster appeared beside them, dangling from a grappling hook claw anchored to the ceiling. “Are you guys going to do anything?” he asked.

  “We’re working on it,” Karl said, snatching the squirrel and tossing him onto his shoulder.

  Verres finally reached the top as the elevator platform settled. He slid a key into the door, and his courtesans held it open as he lumbered inside before shutting it quickly behind him.

  For a dreadful second, Karl feared they would have to witness something unseemly as Verres moved toward the bed with the women. Thankfully, the moment Verres flopped onto it, a mechanism clicked behind the frame.

  The bed began to lower, carrying him and the courtesans down the mine shaft.

  “A weight trigger,” Sporus muttered. “Clever. We need to move.”

  Karl acted instantly, drawing a jade arrow and firing it to land just in front of the door where five guards remained to prevent pursuit. Karl and his friends teleported directly in front of them.