Page 25 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

C assius

The dining hall occasionally erupts with raucous laughter as we gather for our evening entertainment. It’s become a tradition of sorts, these game nights. A way for us displaced warriors to unwind and connect with each other and the staff in a more relaxed setting.

I sit across from Diana, a wooden chess board between us. As she explains the rules, her hands move with confidence as she points out each piece.

“This one’s the king,” she says, holding up a carved figure. “He’s the most important piece, but also the weakest. Your whole goal is to protect him while trying to capture your opponent’s king.”

I nod, studying the board. “It’s a bit like latrunculi ,” I muse, the word slipping out before I can question where it came from.

Diana tilts her head, curiosity lighting her features. “ Latrunculi ? What’s that?”

“It’s… a Roman game,” I say slowly, trying to grasp the wisps of memory. “A game of military maneuvering. We used colored glass pieces instead of these carved figures.”

“That’s amazing, Cassius!” Diana exclaims. “Do you remember how to play it?”

I shake my head, frustration coursing through my veins. “No, just… fragments. The name, the pieces. Nothing solid.”

Diana reaches across the board, squeezing my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. That’s still progress. Now, let’s see how you do with chess.”

We begin to play, the familiar-yet-foreign strategy of the game tickling at something in the back of my mind. As I move my knight, avoiding Diana’s trap, the world around me blurs.

Suddenly, I’m no longer in the dining hall. I’m in a lavishly decorated study, the air heavy with the scent of incense. Across from me sits a man—I’m now almost certain he’s my father—his face stern, but his eyes warm with approval.

“Well played, Cassius,” he says, his voice rich and authoritative. “You’re learning to think ahead, to see the bigger picture. This skill will serve you well in the Senate.”

I feel a swell of pride at his words. “Thank you, Pater. But surely direct confrontation would be faster?”

He shakes his head and looks at me with affectionate indulgence. “In politics, my son, direct confrontation is often the quickest path to defeat. You must learn to manipulate, to nudge your rivals into positions of weakness without them even realizing it.”

He stands, pacing the room as he speaks. “Think of it like a game of latrunculi . Each move you make should set up not just your next move, but your next ten moves. Your rivals are the opposing pieces. You must anticipate their movements, guide them into traps of their own making.”

I listen intently, allowing every word to soak in. “But how can I predict what they’ll do?”

“By understanding their motivations, their weaknesses,” he replies. “Senator Gracchus, for example, has a fondness for young slave boys. A whisper in the right ear, a well-placed bribe, and suddenly he’s too busy defending himself against scandal to oppose your proposals.”

“Cassius?”

Diana’s voice pulls me back to the present. I blink, disoriented by the sudden shift. The chessboard swims into focus, my hand frozen above my bishop.

“Are you okay?” Diana asks, concern etching her features. “Having another flashback?”

I nod, trying to clear the lingering images. “I… I remembered something. But it doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

I struggle to find the words. “I saw myself… in luxury. Manipulating people, playing political games. But how can that be true? I was a gladiator, a retiarius . How could I have been both?”

Diana’s brow furrows in thought. “Could it have been from before? Maybe you were a patrician who was enslaved?”

The suggestion sends a chill down my spine. It fits, in a way, but something still feels off. “Maybe,” I concede. “It felt so real, so natural. As natural as fighting with a trident.”

I gaze at the chessboard, at the pieces arranged in complex patterns of attack and defense. It reminds me so much of the political maneuvering I just witnessed in my memory.

“It’s like I’ve lived two completely different lives,” I murmur, more to myself than to Diana. “One of power and politics, and one of combat and survival. How can both be true?”

Diana reaches out, her hand warm on mine. “I don’t know, Cassius. But we can try to figure it out together, okay? Whatever your past holds, it doesn’t change who you are now. Here.” She presses the flat of her hand over my heart.

I nod, grateful for her support, her belief in me. But as we return to our game, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something important. These fragments of memory are pieces of two different puzzles. Neither of them paint a picture of a man I recognize.

Who was I really? A cunning politician or a skilled gladiator? Or somehow, impossibly, both? The questions swirl in my mind, unanswered and unsettling.

As I move my queen across the board, I find myself applying the strategies from my vision. Anticipating Diana’s moves, setting up long-term plays. It comes as naturally as breathing, this game of tactics and foresight.

When I finally declare “Checkmate,” Diana’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wow,” she breathes. “Your first time… Are you sure you’ve never played before?”

I stare at the board, at the intricate web of moves that led to this victory. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I admit quietly.

As the night winds down and she leaves for her cabin, I’m left with more questions than answers. My past, it seems, is a puzzle far more complex than any game of chess or latrunculi . And I’m only just beginning to uncover its pieces.