Chapter 27: The Eagle Match

Chapter 27: The Eagle Match

The first eagle struck at dawn.

A golden-feathered monstrosity, its talons fitted with razor-edged caestus gloves, dove from the sky and snatched the ball mid-dribble from Marcus's feet. The crowd in the Campum Ludus gasped as the bird soared upward, dropping its prize straight into the waiting arms of Nero's new striker—perched on a twenty-foot platform in the center of the pitch.

The system's alert blared:

[Imperial Edict Enacted:

- "Aerial Football" Rules:

- Goals scored from platforms count double

- Eagles may intercept passes (but not players)

- Any player "touched" by talons is benched for 5 minutes

Nero's Motivation: "Because birds are majestic!"

Threat Level: High (to eyes, dignity, and general safety)]

Lucius shielded his face as another eagle screeched overhead. "This isn't football. This is war."

Nikias, already bleeding from a talon graze, spat. "At least in war, they ask before they train raptors to kill you."

The Subura Wolves huddled in the locker room, their usual streetwise swagger replaced by grim focus.

Marcus chalked a desperate plan onto the wall:

1. The Butchers would wield meat hooks to "discourage" eagle dives.

2. Livia*l would exploit the "no talons on players" rule by riding an eagle (maybe).

3. The Kitten—now the size of a small dog and twice as vicious—would "supervise."

The system's assessment was bleak:

[Tactical Viability:

- Meat Hooks: 40% effective

- Eagle Riding: -10% (physics says no)

- Kitten Factor: Unpredictable (but leans toward chaos)

Survival Odds: 3:1 against]

Vulso cracked his knuckles. "I'll take those odds."

What followed was neither sport nor spectacle—it was avian anarchy.

- First "Goal": Nero's striker backflipped off his platform, kicking the ball midair into the net. The crowd booed until the emperor declared it "aerobatically valid."

- First Casualty: A butcher lost his helmet (and some hair) to an overzealous eagle.

- First Rebellion:Livia, denied her eagle ride, scaled the platform and drop-kicked the striker into the moat.

The system's live commentary grew increasingly unhinged:

[Minute 30:

- Eagles Neutralized: 2 (via meat hooks)

- Players Benched: 5 (talon-related)

- Nero's Delight: 100% (he's feeding grapes to a bird)]

Then—the kitten struck.

The tiny feline, spotting Nero's prized golden eagle preening on a goalpost, pounced.

What ensued was a whirl of fur and feathers, culminating in the eagle fleeing the stadium, kitten clinging to its back like a fuzzy, vengeful jockey.

Nero's scream was piercing. "MY EAGLE!"

The Vestal acolyte covered her face. "That's sacrilege."

With the avian threat reduced, the Subura Wolves fought back:

- Marcus scored by volleying a meat hook deflection.

- Vulso headbutted a Praetorian-ref into awarding a penalty.

- Livia "accidentally" set Nero's platform on fire with a misplaced oil lamp.

Final score: 4-4—a moral victory.

Nero, sulking over his lost eagle, conceded through gritted teeth:

"Fine.No more birds. But next time—lions versus gladiators!"

The crowd groaned.

That night, a Carthaginian merchant delivered a crate to the People's League headquarters. Inside:

- A dozen pristine footballs (too perfect).

- A scroll labeled "For the Victorious."

- A stench like rotten eggs.

The system's scan was instant:

[Bio-Hazard Detected:

- Carthaginian Plague Strain (airborne)

- Delivery Method: Burst on impact

- Antidote: None (Decimus's signature cruelty)

Recommended Action: Burn it all]

Livia grabbed a torch. "Wait—look."

Beneath the balls lay a map—to Decimus's hidden stronghold in Sicily.

A trap? Absolutely.

An opportunity? Potentially world-ending.

As Lucius prepared for Sicily, the kitten brought him a "gift"—a dead bat with a message tied to its leg.

The system translated:

[Intercepted Missive:

From: Decimus's Sicilian lieutenant

To: Imperial spy network

Content:

- "Eagle distraction successful"

- "Main force ready at Mount Etna"

- "Plague balls x100, primed for Rome"

Implication: The eagle match was a diversion]

Lucius stared at the kitten. "You're spying for us now?"

The feline yawned, then stole his dagger.

The strike team boarded a smuggler's ship at midnight:

- Lucius, Marcus, Vulso (for muscle).

- Livia (for Vestal fire tricks).

- The Kitten (because it invited itself).

The system's mission preview was grim:

[Mount Etna Stronghold:

- Defenses: Mercenaries, ballistae, lava moats (yes, *lava*)

- Decimus's Last Stand: Likely suicidal

- Kitten's Role: Hopefully distracting

Survival Odds: 15% (optimistic)]

As the ship cut through black waves, Lucius watched the horizon.

Somewhere ahead, Decimus waited.

Somewhere behind, Nero plotted.

And in Rome? Football teetered on a knife's edge.

The People's League thrived in Lucius's absence:

- Matches now drew thousands, played under fair rules.

- Nero, temporarily appeased by a kitten-eagle truce, composed bad poetry.

- The Crowned Lion held "court" in the Forum, settling disputes by licking the innocent.

But the system's final alert was a warning:

[Unfinished Business:

- Decimus's Plague Arsenal: Still operational

- Nero's Next Madness: "Gladiator Football Hybrid"

- The Kitten: Now demanding a senate seat

Prepare for:

- Sicilian fire

- Roman betrayal

- Small, fuzzy chaos]

As the stars wheeled overhead, the kitten purred—a sound like a blade being sharpened.