It was an invitation few gladiators ever received—an exclusive munus held in the private gardens of a senatorial villa on the Palatine, where Rome’s wealthiest patrons sought novelty beyond the public arenas. As the Republic’s old traditions blurred into spectacle and indulgence, such private exhibitions became fashionable: controlled violence, close enough to smell the iron and sweat. Drana of Scodra was brought out at dusk, torchlight glinting off bronze and tattoos, the murmuring crowd falling into an uneasy hush as she stepped onto the sand laid over marble.

She rolled her shoulders once, eyes lifting to the ring of silk-robed figures watching her like collectors appraising a rare blade.