Interlude – Whispers of Rome
The Senate chambers in Capua were tense, the air thick with incense and fear. Senators argued in raised voices, scrolls and goblets rattling on marble tables.
"Spartacus grows bold," one spat. "He storms our very arena! He mocks our power before the eyes of thousands!"
Another leaned forward, face pale. "Not only Spartacus. There is the boy."
"Boy?" a third sneered.
The senator's voice dropped, as if speaking of a curse. "Sea-green eyes. Black hair. Twin blades that cut through a dozen men as though they were reeds. He wears the arena's blood like armor. They call him Gemina Ferrum."
A hush fell.
"They say Spartacus inspires men. But this boy—" he shuddered. "This boy terrifies them. Even Romans whisper his name in the streets. He fights as if the gods themselves breathe through him."
Glaber rose, jaw tight. "Then we shall break the legend, as we will the man. Boy or not, his blood will soak the sand soon enough."
But the silence that followed spoke louder than his words. For the first time, Rome was not only afraid of Spartacus. It feared the storm in the shape of a boy.
---
Chapter 6 – Chosen Path
The rebels camped in the hills, their numbers swelling with every freed slave. What began as dozens had become hundreds — a tide of the desperate, armed with whatever steel they could steal.
But with numbers came division.
Around the fire, arguments flared. Some demanded immediate war, a march on Capua itself. Others begged to flee north, to vanish into distant lands.
Crixus slammed his fist into the dirt. "We are gladiators! Rome bleeds when we strike! Every day we delay, we waste strength!"
A farmer, freed only weeks past, shouted back. "And what of our families? What of those who cannot fight? You would drag women and children into Rome's jaws?"
The camp rippled with fury.
Then Ivar stood.
The boy's voice carried above the noise, calm and sharp. "If we march blind, Rome destroys us. If we flee like dogs, Rome hunts us until nothing remains. Neither path is freedom."
The firelight flickered in his sea-green eyes as he went on. "Rome thrives on fear. Let us feed it. Strike their supply lines, vanish into shadow, bleed their coin and their pride until they tremble at every whisper of our name. When they are starved and desperate, then we strike."
The words fell like hammers into the silence.
Spartacus nodded slowly, approval in his gaze. "The boy sees truth. Our blades must cut where Rome cannot heal."
Crixus growled, but said no more.
---
The First Test of Fear
That night, Ivar put his strategy into motion. Captured Roman soldiers were bound before the rebels. Some clamored for their deaths.
But Ivar crouched before one of the prisoners, his voice low, almost kind. "You will live. You will walk back to your commanders. You will tell them of shadows in the hills. You will tell them of Twin Steel, who drinks blood and breathes storm. You will tell them freedom spreads like fire, and Rome cannot quench it."
The man trembled, wide-eyed. He was released into the night, stumbling away like a hunted animal.
Crixus scoffed. "Better he bled on the ground."
Ivar shook his head. "A corpse tells no tales. Fear sharpens faster than steel."
---
Aftermath
By morning, whispers ran through the camp. Some rebels looked at Ivar with awe, others with unease. The boy was no longer simply a fighter. He was shaping the war itself.
And beyond the hills, in Roman camps, soldiers muttered of Twin Steel. Of a boy who killed like a man and spared like a god.
The legend was growing teeth.
---
⚔️ Do you want me to continue into Chapter 7 (Episode 7 – Sacramentum) where betrayal strikes the rebels and Ivar nearly loses control of his powers, or pause to expand this moment with a scene between Ivar and Oenomaus (Doctore) — the old warrior beginning to acknowledge that Ivar is becoming something even he doesn't fully understand?