The Real Victory
The men grappled in the hard-packed dirt, their flesh nearly invisible under a slick layer of dust, sweat, and blood. Weapons had long been cast aside—they fought with bare hands and knees, no rules, the desperate grunts reaching high into the stands where the elite lay breathless, watching in their silken glamour. Sylvia lay on her side, pillows propped at her back. Pure white skin, in contrast with her rich green tunic, stretched the length of her body, and she matched the robe with the...