Page 22 of Thawed Gladiator: Lucius
“Is that a yes?” I barely dare to hope.
“I will need to speak with Varro and Laura about arrangements,” he says, rising from the bench. “But yes, I believe it is.”
As we walk back toward the main buildings, a strange lightness fills my chest. This isn’t how I imagined things would go—not a straightforward documentary about a death priest turned gladiator, but something potentially more meaningful. A true collaboration that honors boundaries instead of exploiting them.
For the first time in years, I feel like I’m doing something genuine rather than performative. I’m not just crafting content for an audience, but creating something with actual integrity. Norris might not get what he wants, but he’ll get something real.
As I head back to my motel to respond to David Norris, I’m filled with both excitement and trepidation. Opening my laptop, I craft a carefully worded email:
Dear Mr. Norris,
I’m thrilled by your interest in expandingBeyond the Veilinto a documentary series. Your vision aligns perfectly with my goals of exploring death traditions across cultures with authenticity and respect.
I’ve secured an expert historical consultant who can provide unprecedented insights into ancient Roman death rituals. Their knowledge will elevate our content far beyond typical paranormal programming. However, my consultant requires anonymity and will serve in an advisory capacity only.
Our series will focus on the traditions themselves—examining how different cultures have processed death throughout history, creating a truly educational experience while maintaining the compelling elements that draw viewers.
I look forward to discussing this approach in person at the New Orleans conference next week.
Best regards,
Raven Vaughn
The response comes within minutes:
Raven,
Excellent news about your historical consultant! While we certainly hoped for on-camera participation from your “unique connections,” we understand the sensitivity required. That said, I’m confident once production begins, your consultant may become more comfortable with a featured role. Your personal connection to these gladiators is precisely what caught our attention. It offers something no other creator can provide.
Looking forward to meeting you in New Orleans to discuss how we can maximize this extraordinary opportunity.
Best,
David
His meaning is crystal clear—he expects me to eventually deliver access to the gladiators, specifically Lucius. He’s just giving me rope and expecting me to use it to lasso my consultant onto camera.
My stomach sinks as I close my laptop. I’ve made promises to Lucius I fully intend to keep, but Norris clearly has other expectations.
To carry this off, I’ll need to dance on the edge of a razor.
Chapter Ten
Lucius
The small bag sits open on my bed, containing only the essentials for our journey—clothing selected for its ability to shield my sensitive skin, the protective items Raven brought, and a few personal effects from my time in the sanctuary. Travel still feels strange—another modern concept to adapt to, not that Romans didn’t travel, but the ease and distance of it remains jarring.
As I pack, my fingers brush against the two small leather pouches tucked into the bag’s inner pocket. The familiar weight grounds me, connects me to who I was before the ice, before this strange new world. Inside the first rests my ritual knife and the chalk mixture I’ve carried since my arena days—herbs and minerals combined with protective oils, designed to shield both body and spirit. The second pouch contains a small templeamulet I recreated here at the sanctuary. It’s a piece of carved bone and bears Pluto’s two-pronged bident symbol, blessed according to the old rites.
The urge rises unexpectedly—to perform the ritual that once prepared me for combat. Not because I face a physical battle now, but because this journey into the wider world carries its own kind of danger. The ritual would center me, remind me of my boundaries as I venture beyond the sanctuary’s protection.
A soft knock at my door interrupts these thoughts. Raven stands in the hallway, excitement and nervousness radiating from her.
“Varro says our car will be ready in an hour,” she says, stepping inside when I gesture her in. “I’m hoping to be on the road by seven. Laura’s arranging some special documentation for you since travel is…” she hesitates, searching for the right words, “complicated for someone without modern records.” I notice she’s already wearing her translator, as am I.
Her gaze falls on the leather pouch in my hands, curiosity evident in the slight tilt of her head. “What’s that?”
For a moment, I consider deflection—this ritual has been mine alone since awakening in this century. The gladiators understand without explanation, having witnessed my preparation before battles. But Raven? She exists in this space between stranger and confidant, her interest in death rituals giving her an unexpected framework for understanding.
