Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 5. My Armor

The days before Victor's debut as a jester flew by. I blinked—and found myself in a small prep room off the tunnel leading to the main arena of Fidelium. We were in the warm-up weeks before the first great games of the season, the Sacred Night of the Behemoths, so I put Quintus on the quad for his first taste of the sand. He almost went cross-eyed trying to take in Laurentius, his shield-wall, Junius and Didius—his swordsmen—and me at the same time with his gaze. It shone so bright, we could use him as a signal fire on the walls.

The Colosseum screamed above our heads, impatient to be entertained. The noise was distant, monolith and rhythmic, like the storm calling to the old sailor on the dry land. Everyone had rested since the Saturnalia, was in great shape, and eager to demolish the opposition.

"Are we ready? Or are we ready!" I bet my eyes lit up no less than Quintus'.

"Ready!" Laurentius boomed over Junius, Didius and Quintus, who yelled the same on top of their lungs.

I didn't hear Victor's voice in the cacophony, so I turned to him. "Ready?"

He didn't reply, but he was kitted out for his exit like everyone else.

My old armor hugged his shoulders. Boiled leather must have screeched a few times in protest, then relaxed into his oiled skin. The metal segments settled at just the right distance from the collarbone and all the way to the end of each shoulder without restricting his arms' movements.

For me, this set used to provide a fearsome contrast with my bronzed complexion.

For Victor, it was hard to tell the difference between the man's rock-hard muscles and the local metal. Where the metal was polished, it was the same blue as the barbarian skin, with the same sheen, since Victor's arms and legs were oiled.

I drew my hand experimentally along the edge of his bracer—yes, seamless. If I hadn't seen him before in plain cloth, he could have told me he was born in this segmented shell of leather and metal, and I would have bought it... Nah, I'm not that naïve. But, Senators, the fit was flawless!

We didn't polish away all the rust from the etchings on the buckles to underscore the vigor of his flesh. Some beasts—might have been lions, might have been mythological—scowled from Victor's collar. The matching buckles on the leather straps that hang from waist to the knee to protect the money-maker had the same decoration.

I tested the armor's chest laces, feeling the pulse of energy flow into my fingertips. These lions fought with me many times. I fed them with the blood of my opponents until their metal maws turned red or indigo. It streaked my body too until the smell of salt and metal became the taste in my mouth. These beasts and I tasted victory together while the Colosseum roared around us like a distant storm.

I jerked my hands away from the armor and took a step back, as if I needed to inspect my jester from a distance. My head bobbed on its own in an approving nod. Before me stood my dream, a perfect champion... ah... a champion of jesters. "Good. Everything's good. You're ready."

"It fits like a beetle's wings on a behemoth," Laurentius grunted behind my back.

"If only you remembered my instructions so well, you'd be worth your weight in gold by now," I replied. I knew he would be bitter about the armor, but he wasn't worthy of it. He had to earn something a Champion of Champions had worn by working far harder than he did, or at least understand that he had to.

Victor was different. He was born a champion, and so my armor suited him as is, even though he pretended he didn't want it.

Laurentius scrunched his broad face in search of a witty repartee, but had to content himself with slapping his winged helmet on. He shoved past Victor, making the shoulder buckles on their armor clink on contact. "Like a beetle's wings on a jester, bah, when it could bring us luck in battle. Waste, what a waste!"