Chapter 3: The Rise of the Slaveholder Army

James walked out of his villa, with Angela following closely behind. The warm Roman sun bathed the estate in golden light, and the smell of fresh earth and ripening wheat filled the air. In the distance, his male slaves worked tirelessly in the fields, plowing and harvesting, their backs glistening with sweat.

"The first step to power… is order."

James scanned the fields, his sharp gaze taking in every movement. Some slaves were diligent, working in perfect rhythm, while others dragged their feet, lazily avoiding work when they thought no one was watching.

His lips curled into a cold smile.

"A strong army needs discipline."

"Angela, gather all the male slaves here. Now."

Angela nodded obediently and ran to the fields, calling the men back to the main courtyard. Twenty muscular slaves stood before James, some visibly nervous, others indifferent.

Silence fell.

James took a step forward, his presence commanding.

"I'm not a cruel master," he began, his voice calm yet firm. "I feed you well. I allow you rest. I treat you better than any other Roman noble would."

His eyes narrowed.

"But I will not tolerate laziness."

The air grew thick with tension.

James turned toward a particularly tired-looking slave, one who had been moving sluggishly earlier. "You. Step forward."

The man hesitated, but under James's piercing gaze, he obeyed.

"What is your name?"

"Lucius, Master," the man answered, bowing his head.

James nodded. "Lucius, are you tired?"

Lucius swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, Master."

James suddenly lashed out with his fist, striking Lucius squarely in the stomach! The slave collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

The other slaves flinched, shocked by the sudden violence.

James crouched down, gripping Lucius by the chin.

"Do you know why I'm punishing you?"

Lucius coughed, then forced out a reply: "Because I was lazy, Master."

James smiled. "Good. You understand."

He stood up, looking at the rest of the slaves.

"Strength is everything in this world," he declared. "And I will make you all strong. I will make you warriors, not mere laborers. But strength must be earned. From now on, if you slack off, you will be punished. But if you excel, you will be rewarded."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

James stepped closer.

"Do you want better food?"

The slaves hesitated, then nodded cautiously.

"Do you want better clothes?"

The nods became more enthusiastic.

James smirked. "Do you want freedom?"

Silence.

The slaves exchanged glances, hesitant. Was this a trick?

James chuckled. "No slave is ever truly free in Rome. But… those who are most loyal, those who prove their worth, will be treated like soldiers, not cattle. You'll get better weapons, better training, and the right to fight alongside me."

One brave slave finally spoke up.

"Master… you mean, you'll make us warriors?"

James's golden hair shone under the sun as he crossed his arms.

"Not just warriors." His eyes burned with ambition. "You will be the most feared force in Rome."

The slaves exchanged excited whispers. No master had ever treated them as anything other than animals. But James was different.

"Work hard. Train hard. Prove your loyalty." James looked over them one last time. "And you will rise alongside me." 

As the slaves returned to work, their attitudes visibly changed. They worked faster, harder, and more efficiently. Fear played a part, but more than that—hope had entered their hearts.

Angela stood beside James, her eyes full of admiration.

"Master, your words were incredible… I've never seen slaves so eager to work before," she whispered.

James smirked. "A man works hardest when he believes in something greater than himself."

Then, his expression grew serious.

"This is only the first step. I need money—lots of it—to buy more slaves. More land. More weapons." His eyes gleamed. "And I know exactly how to get it."

Angela looked at him curiously. "Master, what do you mean?"

James turned, his gaze fixed on the distant city of Rome.

"We're going to the arena."

The Colosseum didn't exist yet, but gladiatorial combat was already a massive part of Roman entertainment. Betting on fighters was common, and those who owned strong gladiators could make fortunes.

James had a new plan.

Instead of buying and training traditional gladiators, he would use his own slaves.

With the system, he could boost their loyalty, ensuring they fought to the death for him. And every victory would bring him gold, fame, and influence.

"If I can dominate the arena… I can dominate Rome itself."

Angela's breath caught as she realized James's ambition.

"Master… you're going to turn our slaves into gladiators?"

James grinned.

"Not just gladiators," he corrected. "Champions."