Lucius's return to normal ludus routine happened without ceremony. After a week of gradually intensified training, his body had recovered most of its former strength. Sessions with Atticus and Metilius occurred daily, always on the secondary field, isolated from more curious gazes.
On the morning of the tenth day after his recovery, Lucius trained with other gladiators in the main courtyard. The session, focused on shield blocking techniques, was conducted by a veteran trainer of notoriously explosive temperament.
"Higher with the shield, you pile of dung!" shouted the instructor, striking the edge of a recruit's shield with his rod. "That way you protect your knees, not your throat! The Germans will gut you like a fish!"
The recruit, a robust young man captured in some eastern province, adjusted shield position with trembling hands, his face red with shame and barely contained anger.
Lucius observed while executing his own series of movements, deliberately maintaining himself at average level — neither so skilled as to draw unnecessary attention, nor so poor as to merit correction. He had learned that calculated mediocrity frequently provided best cover for observation.
"Hey, Mordus," called Gallus, a middle-aged gladiator with prominent scar dividing his face. "Is it true you drink snake blood to get stronger? My cousin knew a gladiator in Capua who did that."
Lucius shrugged, without interrupting his movements. "Not that I remember."
"Bah, you must do something," insisted Gallus, approaching while instructor was distracted shouting at another recruit. "Nobody survives cicuta poison without some protection from gods. Or maybe you have amulet? My mother had one that protected her against all poisons."
"Just luck and good physician," replied Lucius, keeping voice neutral.
Gallus snorted, clearly dissatisfied with mundane response. "Luck? Nobody has that much luck. I bet you made some pact with underworld gods. My uncle met man who—"
"Gallus!" Instructor's shout cut through air. "If you have breath to chatter like old woman at market, you have breath to run ten laps carrying shield and full armor!"
Gladiator cursed under breath, casting last curious look at Lucius before moving away to fulfill punishment.
These interactions had become common since his return. Other gladiators, mostly simple men with limited education, sought supernatural explanations for his survival. Some avoided him, fearful of some curse or divine mark. Others, like Gallus, bombarded him with increasingly elaborate theories about magic potions, protective amulets, and divine intervention.
Lucius let them think what they wanted. The more fantastic the circulating stories, the less people looked for real explanations.
While session continued, he noticed Flavius limping along courtyard's edge, clearly directing himself toward him with purpose. Marcus's assistant rarely appeared during regular training sessions.
"Lucius," called Flavius when close enough. "Marcus requests your presence in administrative office. Immediately."
Some nearby gladiators exchanged curious glances. Such summons were uncommon during training.
Lucius nodded, handing his equipment to assistant and following Flavius without unnecessary comments. While walking, he noticed subtle tension in man's shoulders.
"Any problem?" he asked in low voice.
"Important visitors," replied Flavius simply. "Arrived without prior warning. Quintus is... agitated."
When they reached administrative complex, atmosphere was one of frantic activity. Servants ran carrying wine jugs and food trays, while Quintus, dressed in his most elaborate toga, gave orders in all directions.
"Ah, finally!" he exclaimed upon seeing Lucius. "Quick, go wash yourself. Change. Nothing of sweaty training tunics. Marcus, provide adequate clothing for him."
"What's happening?" asked Lucius, maintaining respectful tone.
"What's happening?" Quintus seemed almost hysterical. "Only Senator Cassius himself deciding to visit my humble ludus without any warning! Arrived with retinue of at least twenty people! And wants specifically to see you!"
This was unexpected twist. Senator wasn't supposed to appear until official games, still weeks in future.
"Why?" Question escaped before he could contain it.
"Why? Why?" Quintus gestured frantically. "Who am I to question senator's motivations? Now go prepare! He's inspecting main facilities first, but soon will want to see you. Go!"
Lucius was quickly led by Marcus to side room where tub with warm water awaited. Servants had already brought clean tunic of superior quality — clearly not originally intended for gladiator.
"Whose tunic is this?" he asked while washing rapidly.
"Mine," replied Marcus dryly. "Considering circumstances, I make sacrifice."
While dressing, Lucius mentally organized his options. This unexpected visit represented both opportunity and risk. Direct interest from such powerful figure could catapult his prospects, but also meant intensified scrutiny.
"Any guidance on how I should behave?" he asked, adjusting tunic that was slightly short for his height.
Marcus considered for moment. "Respectful, naturally, but not servile. Senator Cassius despises obvious flattery. Answer what's asked, nothing more. And..." he hesitated briefly, "perhaps moderate your... usual intensity."
"Intensity?"
"That calculating way of observing everything and everyone," explained Marcus. "Could be interpreted as... disrespectful by someone of elevated position."
Lucius nodded, understanding perfectly. His tendency to analyze everything clinically sometimes showed through his external behavior. Useful reminder to strengthen his social masks.
"Understood," he replied simply.
When he emerged from room, adequately dressed and clean, clamor of approaching voices signaled senatorial retinue's arrival at administrative building. Quintus seemed about to faint from nervousness.
"Remember," he hissed to Lucius, "you're crown jewel of this ludus. Gladiator who survived poison. Prodigy who impressed even Metilius. Don't shame me."
Main doors opened, and retinue entered. At front, easily identifiable by his toga with wide purple stripe and posture of absolute authority, walked Senator Lucius Cassius Longinus.
He was middle-aged man, shorter than Lucius had imagined, but with presence filling space. His face, marked by lines of experience and power, bore slightly bored expression of truly powerful. Beside him, Tribune Cornelius seemed almost subservient, leaning slightly while speaking in low tones.
Behind them came procession of assistants, scribes, personal guards and what appeared to be other members of Roman elite — possibly other senators or wealthy equestrians, judging by their garments.
Quintus advanced with deep bow. "Senator Cassius, what incomparable honor to receive you in my humble establishment! If I had known of visit in advance, I would have prepared reception more adequate to your—"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Senator with impatient gesture. "Cornelius already showed me your installations. Adequate, considering provincial location. Now, where is this exceptional gladiator I've heard so much about?"
Quintus gestured frantically for Lucius to approach. "Here he is, Venerable Senator! Lucius Mordus, our most recent and promising acquisition."
Senator Cassius studied Lucius with clinical interest, like man evaluating racing horse. His eyes, surprisingly penetrating, traveled him from head to toe.
"So this is man who survived cicuta poison and so impressed our friend Metilius," he finally commented. "Approach, gladiator. Let me look at you more closely."
Lucius advanced with perfect balance of trained fighter, maintaining respectful posture without servility. He stopped at appropriate distance, neither too close to suggest familiarity, nor too far to indicate fear.
"Interesting," murmured Senator. Then, louder: "Tell me, gladiator, is it true you killed three men before even officially entering arena?"
Lucius perceived trap in question. "No, Senator. I only participated in training combats with experienced veterans."
"And defeated them."
"I had fortune to do well in those exercises," replied Lucius, carefully moderating any trace of pride or arrogance in his voice.
Senator smiled slightly. "Modest. Uncommon for gladiator." He turned to Quintus. "Does he fight as well as Cornelius claims?"
"Even better, Venerable Senator!" exclaimed Quintus. "Natural abilities I rarely saw in thirty years managing gladiators. With special training he's receiving from Metilius, he'll be truly exceptional for games in your honor."
"Hmm." Senator returned attention to Lucius. "And this... incident with poison. Truth or provincial exaggeration?"
"It happened, Senator," replied Lucius simply. "I survived thanks to Servius's medical skills."
"Modesty again." Senator seemed almost amused. "Cornelius tells me you have uncommon mind for gladiator. Educated, perhaps?"
This was most dangerous question so far — invitation to reveal too much about his fictitious past.
"I have only memory fragments before arriving here, Senator," replied Lucius, staying close to official story. "Any education I might have received is mostly lost to me."
"Convenient," commented Senator, but without evident hostility. He turned to Quintus. "I want to see him fight. Not tomorrow at public games — now. Arrange something adequate."
Quintus's face visibly paled. "Now, Venerable Senator? But he's recovering from—"
"I'm perfectly capable, my lord," interrupted Lucius, recognizing opportunity presenting itself. "It would be honor to demonstrate my abilities, if Senator so desires."
Quintus cast him look of gratitude mixed with warning. "Naturally! Marcus, immediate arrangements for demonstration on main field. Perhaps against Drusus? Respectable veteran who would provide adequate exhibition without—"
"No," interrupted Senator again. "I want to see something more... revealing." His eyes swept room before fixing on someone at entrance. "Ah, arrived at good moment, Metilius. I was about to request your opinion on adequate opponent for our promising talent here."
Metilius, who had entered silently during conversation, inclined head in acknowledgment. "If you permit me to suggest, Senator, perhaps something unconventional would be more informative."
"Elaborate," ordered Cassius.
"Individual combats demonstrate only certain qualities. More complex situations reveal additional aspects." Metilius made measured pause. "Perhaps three opponents simultaneously? Not full veterans, but competent intermediates."
Murmur ran through retinue. Even for demonstration, facing three opponents simultaneously was exceptionally challenging. Quintus seemed about to protest, but restrained himself seeing growing interest on Senator's face.
"Three against one," repeated Cassius, evaluating Lucius again. "That would truly reveal your potential. Would you accept such challenge, gladiator?"
Lucius maintained neutral expression, though internally calculating rapidly the implications. It was significant risk, but also extraordinary opportunity to consolidate Senator's interest. Alternative — appearing hesitant or fearful — would be disastrous for his long-term ambitions.
"I'm at Senator's disposal," he replied simply.
"Excellent!" Cassius seemed genuinely animated for first time. "Let's go to main field then. I want to see for myself what this man is capable of."
While retinue reorganized to direct itself to training field, Lucius caught Metilius's evaluative gaze. Man observed him with impossible-to-read expression, but something in his eyes suggested this "challenge" had been planned in advance.
Another test, concluded Lucius internally while following group. Not just of physical abilities, but of behavior under unexpected pressure.
When they emerged onto main courtyard, now bathed in strong midday light, Lucius began mentally preparing for what would come. This wouldn't be just exhibition combat — it would be crucial performance that could determine his future.
Calibrated demonstration, he decided while directing themselves to armory for adequate equipment. Impressive enough to guarantee continued interest, without revealing complete capabilities. Control, not absolute domination.
Game continued, stakes increased, and every movement needed to be calculated with even greater precision.