Although he wasn’t a huge fan of being reminded of how much he now resembled Fenrir, the ability wield a bow as a werewolf—which would add tremendous power to his draw weight and damage—far outweighed the negatives.

  You make for an intriguing host, Fenrir said, for the first time genuinely pleased.

  Another System message appeared before him, which the kids must have seen too.

  System Message: “Mythic Mounts Unlocked. Claim one Mythic Mount, which can be summoned anywhere by Moonlit Beam.”

  “Mythic mount?” Justus asked, holding his robot unicorn toy. “Does that mean you can choose any that’s ever been?”

  “I think so,” Karl said, which made Titus and Livia laugh.

  “Can you make it a robot unicorn like this?” Justus asked, holding up the glowing spectral toy.

  Karl cleared his throat. “Well, I think I might⁠—”

  It was too late.

  With a shower of sparkles and Moonlit Beam, a robot unicorn appeared exactly like the one in Justus’s hand. It had a metallic sheen, rivets along its neck, and a glowing rainbow mane and tail. It whinnied with pride.

  Justus and the other boys screamed with delight.

  “I want to ride it!” Justus shouted, jumping onto the unicorn.

  Karl couldn’t help but laugh, as did Kara.

  “I’ll show you how it’s done,” the Trickster said, gleefully leaping onto the unicorn’s mane as the other boys climbed onto its back.

  “Just be careful,” Livia said, casting a stern look toward the Trickster.

  “That’s what Trickster means,” Ratatoskr said, snickering to himself.

  The robot unicorn kicked off and flew into the sky, leaving a rainbow trail behind it. The image was so absurd that he neatly missed the female squirrel running on the garden tree branch to watch the Trickster fly. Strangely, she was carrying two baby squirrels, undoubtedly Ratatoskr’s.

  As gross as that was, and though Karl had no idea how a robot could procreate, he was happy for the little devil. Maybe he could rebuild the life he once had.

  “How manly,” Sporus said, suddenly appearing beside them and breaking Karl’s thoughts.

  “Back from Pluto!” Titus cheered, clapping the thin archer on the back.

  “Glad you’re back,” Livia said, motioning for the head slave Felix to bring him some refreshments. Sporus thanked Felix and settled onto the couch with Karl and the others.

  “Are you going to tell us how you’re alive?” Karl asked, taking a cup of coffee and a cookie from the endless jar Felix held.

  “Certainly,” Sporus said, pointing his cookie at Karl. “Your comment about the globe being hollow is how I survived.”

  “We saw you get vaporized,” Kara said, her hand resting on Karl’s.

  “I’m able to phase through objects for a heartbeat, remember?” Sporus said, giving her a wink. “I phased right before the lightning struck. I ended up inside the globe, which, like the other floors, descended into the heart of the Colosseum. I was able to get out of it, but I found myself trapped in another nightmare.”

  Sporus looked down at his uneaten cookie, lost in thought.

  “I still hardly understand what I saw,” Sporus said, flipping the cookie gently between his fingers. “But the best way I could describe it was a massive forge, fit only for a god.”

  Sporus looked up, his eyes far beyond tired. “All of the glory that you noticed, Karl, was being sucked down into the forge, which glows a brighter gold than the sun itself. I could hardly look at the anvil it was connected to. It grew brighter with every single floor that was completed. And it wasn’t until you called the solar eclipse that a magical surge completed its empowering.”

  Sporus shook his head, snapping the cookie in his hand. “There were so many children down there, who worked for days on end, helping to shovel the screaming ash that continuously flowed down from the arena.”

  “But why use kids specifically?” Karl asked.

  Sporus smirked darkly. “Because they complain the least. They’re the easiest to control. And they’re small enough to fit in between the large refinery machines that took in all of the glory dust. Those machines move violently and quickly and need constant upkeep. Little fingers and small bodies are best for their maintenance.”

  “He has lost his way,” Titus said, staring at his folded hands in his lap. “That’s not the man that I know. It’s hard not to believe that we’re still stuck in the Orb of Morpheus, and this is just some dark dream that’s tormenting us.”

  At the word dream, Livia perked up. “Perhaps he isn’t so lost after all,” she said thoughtfully. “It was the Emperor himself who came to me in my dream last night, warning me to stay away. From what you told me of the violence in the arena with the audience and the enchanted bread, he most definitely spared us from being trampled or destroyed while trying to kill you.”

  Karl hadn’t considered that. It only muddied what the Emperor had done. A part of Karl wanted to see what the Emperor saw, or what had pushed him to such lengths. He had no idea what the ends were, but there were no means justified. Choices had to be moral regardless of their context, right?

  If not, they were simply monsters depending on their circumstances, which only made for a more pessimistic world.

  “I’m not sure we’ll ever know what the purposes of the Colosseum Tower were for,” Sporus said, finally eating the cookie, though it seemed more from desperation after not eating for several days. “But I have a feeling we’ll see its purpose soon.”

  That was a troubling thought. But then another occurred to Karl. “What about the kids?” he asked.

  Before Sporus could answer, Titus cleared his throat. Livia did as well.

  “We’ll take them,” they both said at the same time, surprising each other as they exchanged a glance.

  “Wait, how many were there?” Mýra asked.

  “Several hundred,” Sporus said.

  At that, Titus and Livia leaned back in their chairs in quiet contemplation.

  “We’re going to need a lot of Denarii,” Titus said.

  “We’ll probably have to sell the house,” Livia added, though she didn’t look daunted by the idea. “Real estate in Rome has become very expensive.”

  It felt wrong to place such an enormous responsibility on them, even though they wanted it. Karl glanced at his wealth and the wealth from Visby, seeing that it had grown tremendously by 6,000 gold.

  “Will this help?” Karl asked, withdrawing gold after combining Visby’s with his. A heavy sack appeared thanks to the System, and he placed it on the table.

  Wealth (-17,000): 0 Gold

  Titus looked inside. “It’s not Denarii, but gold holds weight here,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Thank you, brother.”

  Karl shook it as a System notification appeared, his Honor surging so violently that his tattoos pulsed with a holy white light.

  Honor (+2,000): 5,400

  They decided to stay at Titus and Livia’s house one more night before leaving early the next morning on the flying robot unicorn, which Karl still could hardly believe.

  When Constantia and Sabina returned inside, and Constantia saw Sporus, she shrieked, abandoning all decorum as she ran up and kissed him on the cheek. She looked just as shocked as he did, and he—still pale—began to blush as red as an apple.

  She and Sabina ran off to her room, more than likely to discuss what had just happened.

  Sporus was extremely awkward after that, but it was good to see him less gloomy and depressed.

  That evening, Livia and her slaves cooked a massive Roman banquet: a roasted pig stuffed with sausages, honeyed wine, exotic fruit, bread, olives, cheese, and leftover slices of the kids’ cake. Livia and Titus had limited the children’s portions that day, unlike Karl and his friends, who had scarfed them down during the battle.

  While they were eating, a female squirrel holding two baby squirrels approached the edge of the garden near the house. The two babies were crying and looked surprisingly cute, though Karl had no idea what the squirrel was squeaking about.

  “Oh, excuse me for one second,” the Trickster said, finishing tying the shoelaces of Marcus and Quintus together—without either of them noticing.

  The Trickster scurried over to what appeared to be his wife and began trying to soothe her.

  “Do you understand what she’s saying?” Björn asked Mýra, who sipped her wine slowly.

  “No, but I’m curious to find out,” Mýra said. She made a quick movement with her fingers toward the female squirrel, snatching a magical thread from its being and tying it together in a strange-looking bow.

  “Nucifera,” the Trickster said, trying to calm his wife. “I’ll be back later tonight. I’m sure you can handle the kids right now.”

  “It is time for you to take the night shift!” Nucifera said, handing both screaming babies to the Trickster, who accepted them slowly, looking shocked that her words were audible to everyone. “Velox and Fractilla would do well to have their father rock them tonight, don’t you think?”

  The Trickster mumbled something about it being the woman’s job, but he happily took the babies and scurried back with his wife up the tree.

  It’s good to see him be a father again, Kara thought to Karl.

  “I agree,” Karl said, before they turned back to their meal and devoured several plates.

  They stayed late that night with Titus and Livia, leaving nothing on the kitchen table, especially the cakes. They then said goodbye to Justus, Quintus, Marcus, Tullus, and Sabina, as the orphaned children thanked them for saving them from the factory.

  As a show of gratitude, Sabina handed Karl a steel watch that looked like something out of a steampunk dream, filled with gears and a complex face. “This was our father’s,” she said. “Titus reforged it for us after it stopped working when he died. I pray it serves you well.”

  “Thank you,” Karl said, hugging her as they wished the children goodnight.

  Justus slammed into Karl with a bear hug, thanking him repeatedly for letting him ride the glowing robot unicorn, which was currently eating flowers in Livia’s garden and occasionally farting glitter, much to the gardening slave’s delight.

  “Here, my dad bought you another one,” Justus said, handing Karl a miniature robot unicorn. “You can have it since you’re officially my favorite superhero.”

  Karl chuckled as he took the strange little item. “Thank you, Justus,” he said, hugging the boy.

  Constantia stepped forward next and surprised Karl by handing him her child-sized bow, the one she had practiced with when they first met. “For your kid,” she said with a smile, though her eyes kept flicking to Sporus, who sat on the couch, fingering the amulet she had given him.

  “Thank you,” Kara said. “Continue being a good big sister, okay?”

  “I’ll try,” Constantia said, giggling as she and Sabina ran back to their room.

  And that was the last time they saw the children.

  They woke early the next morning to prepare for the flight back to Visby. Karl had slept wonderfully beside Kara, enjoying the fruits of their love despite their exhaustion.

  Strangely, the Emperor had not provided any magical return tickets to send anyone home via the well they had used to get here. Karl realized with a dark chill that he had never intended any of the gladiators to survive, save for them.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had gone exactly according to the Emperor’s plan, whatever that plan was.

  Titus, Livia, and Sporus met them at the edge of the home, where the glowing robot unicorn stood ready to fly them all back, hopefully in no more than a day, depending on how fast it could travel.

  “We packed extra food for you, just in case,” Livia said, handing them a sack of warm baked goods—cookies from the endless cookie jar, sausages, and every snack Karl could imagine.

  “And a few gifts for the little one,” Titus said with a smile as he handed Karl a mobile of the twelve gods, with tiny rotating statues of the Roman pantheon to hang above a crib. There was also a Romulus and Remus rattle, and a brass-reinforced oak cradle with gentle piston rockers engraved with laurel leaves.

  “It’ll rock anytime the baby cries,” Titus said proudly.

  Karl briefly wondered how all of it would fit, but it slid magically into his Dwarven Bag, which was already close to bursting.

  “Oh, and don’t forget these,” Livia said, handing them roughly a hundred cloth diapers.

  “Oh, right,” Karl said as Kara thanked her. “I guess there were no disposable diapers in the old times.”

  “What’s that?” everyone asked.

  Karl explained how, in the modern world, people used diapers and wipes that they could throw away instead of reusing them. Judging by their expressions, the idea seemed absurd.

  “That would be nice,” Livia said, smiling as she held Titus by the waist.

  “Oh, and take this,” Livia added, handing Mýra a small marble statue of a beautiful goddess holding fruit in one hand. “This is Ceres. Should you choose her as your patron, you will be successful in producing children anytime you mate.”

  Karl blushed at the strange gift, but Mýra—and especially Björn—thanked Livia sincerely for her generosity. For the first time, Karl realized they had been suffering from infertility. Now, they would not.

  As Karl and his friends loaded up on the robot unicorn, the Trickster brought along his wife and two children, who nestled atop Karl’s antlered helmet, which he didn’t mind.

  Titus, standing beside Sporus, mumbled something about forgetting something and went back inside before returning with what looked like a war horn.

  “This is for you, Björn,” he said, handing the Viking the horn. “I don’t know what your plans are exactly for this coming raid against England, but should you be separated from your friends, they will know instantly that you require their aid.”

  “Thank you, friend,” Björn said, clasping arms with the mighty Roman once again.

  “May Thor’s Fortuna bless you in your efforts,” Livia said, as Titus stepped back to hold her in his arms.

  Sporus, still holding Constantia’s amulet in his hand, spoke up. “I may have need of you again very soon,” he said, looking with determination into Karl’s eyes. “The Emperor’s sight is long and distorted. I cannot shake the feeling that our worlds will collide again soon.”

  “Me neither,” Karl said. And though he didn’t want to promise a return to Rome or another encounter with the Emperor, he knew that if the need came, it would be the right thing to do. “I’ll be there if you need me.”

  “May the gods bless you and your family,” Sporus said, stepping back as the robot unicorn whinnied and launched into the sky far above Rome.

  Karl and his friends waved goodbye to the Romans, who quickly disappeared from view. It felt strange soaring over the industrial realm as it whirred to life with the start of a new workday. There was a sense of finality mixed with the beginning of something new that Karl couldn’t quite name.

  Whatever the future held, he was holding Kara, who wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. She was alive, they were going to have their baby, and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

  There was nothing sweeter than that.

  They passed the Colosseum from the air, leaving behind a trail of rainbow light. The Colosseum Tower had returned to its normal height, making it seem as though the violence and trauma they had endured had never happened.

  Then the red dragon Umbra appeared over the morning horizon, shattering any lingering doubt. Atop the dragon sat the Roman Emperor, his ethereal, dreamlike cape fluttering behind him as he rode at a distance.

  Karl and his friends stiffened at the sight of the Emperor in black armor. He said nothing, only watching them with a knowing gaze before turning Umbra back toward his palace.

  “Can this thing go any faster?” the Trickster said from atop Karl’s helmet.

  Karl kicked the robot unicorn’s metal ribs, sending it surging faster away from Rome, and silently thanked the gods.

  When Visby came into view by day’s end, light snow was falling over their blessed town.

  Seeing their home glowing with warmth felt surreal, with people in the streets cheering and celebrating their return. Flowers and garlands decorated nearly every longhouse, music played, wine flowed, and baked goods were everywhere.

  Even after devouring Livia’s snacks, Karl and Kara’s stomachs growled.

  “How did they know we’d be back today?” Karl asked aloud.

  “Probably the map,” Kara said. “Glær must have seen us coming and told everyone.”

  As they descended near Hof Visbýr, surrounded by the scent of rich foods, Egil came lumbering out of the great hall with Sigrid wrapped in the Werebear’s arms.

  “Ah, that mounted elk was right,” Egil said, raising an ale horn to toast their arrival. The entire town erupted in cheers.

  “We made a special meal for you,” Sigrid said, beaming as she and Egil helped them dismount the robot unicorn.

  “A strange choice for a steed,” Egil added, eyeing the metal creature with curiosity.

  “We have a lot to fill you in on,” Karl said, shaking hands with Egil and Thorstein. The robot unicorn whinnied at the insult.

  “I take it you won,” the Werebear said, shouting over the noise of the celebrating townspeople.

  “What gave it away?” Björn asked, holding Mýra tightly.

  “There’s a massive fleet of ships in our docks now,” Egil said, his face flushed red with wine, matching his wild hair and beard. “Looks a bit Roman, in my opinion, but it’ll do.”

  Karl had almost forgotten about the fleet. He wasn’t sure what to do with it yet, but the possibilities stirred excitement—more adventures, or raids, if the quests demanded it.

  “Come. You can tell us about it as you fill your stomachs,” Sigrid said, shooing away villagers who pressed too close and guiding Karl and his friends into Hof Visbýr.