““On the ship, I saw something in you.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “And that was?” “The absolute need to fight. To be free. That’s something I can understand.” I wasn’t so sure he could. “Some years ago,” he continued, “there was a revolt. A gang of slaves—gladiators, in fact—rose up and challenged the might of the Republic. They fought the legions for a very long time, and they very nearly won. But it took one man—a man named Spartacus—to ignite the spark that turned to flame. I’ve always admired him, even though he went against everything I’m supposed to fight for as a soldier of Rome. I thought, on the ship, that I saw that same kind of ember glowing in your eyes. I suppose I wanted to see if it was still there.””
