“In Rome, it is every Emperor’s priority to keep the public happy,” Titus explained. After a lunch consisting of a few meaty meals that caused the pegasus to give the humans weird looks, the three of them were once again set down the streets of Rome to see the races.
And like this morning, Captain Lightning Bolt was flying next to the chariot, asking the senator what his job in the Empire was. “How do you keep the citizens happy?”
“Either through conquest or construction projects,” Senator Cato explained. “In recent years, Emperors usually build something impressive to either improve Roman lives or keep them entertained. One of them, Emperor Nero, bankrupted the empire to reconstruct the capital after it was burned to the ground. He covered every street in marble and art.”
“But why?” the pegasus inquired. “The Princess Celestia I know would probably commission some kind of construction project every once in a while, but you make it sound like your lives are on the line or something.”
“That’s because they are,” Titus corrected him as they turned a corner. “For instance, as of now, I’m not exactly popular with the people ever since a fire mountain destroyed a few towns south of here, costing the treasury millions in relief. And if the people or the Senate don’t like me, I could be killed because they think I haven’t done everything in my power to improve the Empire. You’d be surprised how many Emperors have been stabbed to death underneath a few assassin’s knives.”
The pegasus’s eyes widened. “That… sounds really dark. What do you plan to do to keep your neck off the chopping block?”
Caesar Titus smiled. “There’s some building that’s been going on for some time now. My father had commissioned it but I plan to finish it.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Right over there.” The thin senator pointed over to a tall, circular-like building made entirely of pearl-white marble with levels of wooden platforms surrounding it. To Bolt, it reminded him of the great arena in Cloudsdale. It looked similar in shape and design too, with its towering arches and columns. He saw the humans carrying tools, slabs of stone, and rope as they went about the expansive building like ants on a hill. Indeed, this cylinder-like building was taller than any of the builds he had seen so far.
“Is that an arena?” the pegasus asked.
The Emperor nodded. “It’s close to completion. Once it is finished, I’ve planned its premiere to be unlike anything anyone has seen before.”
“Okay, so what will that place be used for?”
“Gladiatorial games, Lord Jupiter,” Cato said with a sense of pride. “They’re quite popular among our citizens.”
“Don’t worry,” Titus grinned, “once the races are over, you’ll get to see the games up close. I’ve heard that it’s going to be a good one today.”
Curious, the pegasus followed the Emperor until they stopped before a tall wooden structure. From where they stopped, he saw two kinds of banners. On the top of this building that seemed to stretch about a mile long were flagpoles that waved flags in several colors of red, pink, blue, green, white, brown, and yellow. Below and hanging off the side every several hundred feet or so was an enormous red banner that bared in bright yellow an olive branch that encompassed the initials “SPQR.”
Following the two other humans and his guards in red, the pegasus was led to a particular box that was made out of stone instead of wood. Once he stopped on the platform, it began to elevate above the spectators, granting him a good view of the enormous racetrack.
The Imperial box was nearly set in the center of the elongated oval track. Wooden rafters that were a couple levels tall seated, to Bolt’s eyes, enough room for half of the population of Equestria to sit in. In the center of this universe of a track was a line of monuments, featuring small buildings and statues. But in the very center was a tall, sandy obelisk that had a series of carved pictures that the pegasus didn’t quite understand.
When the Emperor and “Jupiter” both stepped into the box where everyone could see them, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Most of them lifted their right arms into the air while crying “hail Jupiter!”, much to Titus’s disappointment.
“Impressed, Sire?” Cato Felix inquired of the Solar Guard.
“It’s huge, I’ll give you that.”
“Trust us,” the Senator sat down, “you’ve seen nothing yet.”
Trumpets sounded, setting forth four sets of racers, each of whom were being driven by four horses. They trotted around the track while their drivers saluted, waving to the cheering spectators. While this was going on, Lightning Bolt overheard the Emperor talking to the senator. “That one there in blue, Tarquinius, I’ve heard he’s pretty good.”
“But do you see the one in white,” Senator Felix pointed. “That’s Publius. Why I’ve heard that he’s never lost a single race.”
“Yet, Tarquinius is the most skilled in this arena,” Titus pointed out.
“Publius has the swiftest horses.” He grinned. “How much you want to wager that my racer will cross the finish line before yours?”
“Five hundred, and you?”
“Seven hundred, and a new slave girl from Gaul.”
“Done!”
Once the racers made one slow lap around the track, all four lined up before the Emperor’s box. Titus stood up and was handed a white piece of fabric that he lifted up in the air. It would seem to the pegasus that everyone held their breath until Titus dropped the cloth and the stadium erupted in total chaos.
Suddenly, the racers whipped at their horses to go into a full gallop. In what few races that Bolt had seen and participated in, he’d never in his life seen anything close to what he saw. Seven times around the titanic track at high speeds, riders whipping their team horses and sometimes at each other, where a few times, a rider would try to bump the other chariot off the track, making them fly into the dirt. Sometimes a horse would trip over, sending the rest of them to the ground before having to be whipped to continue. Other times riders would throw their helmets at the other drivers in hopes to knock them off.
As far as Bolt could see amongst the savagery, there were no rules whatsoever except to win. He had no idea what to make of this. If he had tried to pull off even a fraction of what these riders were doing to each other, he would be disqualified immediately, and yet, these Romans were cheering at every crash, every rider being trampled over and at every horse that stumbled.
The pegasus couldn’t tell if he should find this horrifying or exciting at the sheer unrestricted violence of it all.
“Ha!” Titus exclaimed when his chosen rider zipped across the finishing line, turning to the senator. “I believe you owe me seven hundred and a new slave.”
“Yes Caesar,” he grumbled.