The circus was always a place of uncertainty for Nikos. One could never be certain if the tables would turn in one's favor, if the tidal wave of thundering hooves would carry a man to victory or drown him in its dust.



As Nikos entered the empty arena, blanketed in the cool darkness of the early dawn, he inhaled the stench of the sweat and blood that had soaked into the packed dirt floor over generations of sporting. It was a familiar scent, a welcoming air of nostalgia that brought back memories of the many losses he had incurred here as a boy and a younger man. He could count his number of wins on one hand thanks to the work of Zacharias; only in the few instances when he was absent from a race did Nikos ever have a viable chance at victory. Although, since the Prince's death, coupled with the absence of Stephanos, he might actually stand to improve his rankings in the near future.



The thought of Zacharias and the subsequent tragedies that had befallen the Mikaelidas family since his death brought Nikos to a halt just outside the silent track. The death of Zenon and his son had occurred merely months before, but the whirlwind of battles, accusations, and escapes that followed had done nothing to cool the rising tensions that have befallen Taengea. It felt like years had passed since he last stepped foot in the rink, since the cheers rung out from the stands, since there was life in the arena. Arguably, the circus had morphed into some sort of hallowed grounds since the gruesome display of the royals' deaths, and it had remained mostly silent since the last cry of terror faded. Now only ghosts raced laps here, on the blood of Taengea's king and crown prince.



It wouldn't be long before the races resumed, however. It would be an understatement to claim that the senate had been preoccupied with much more pressing matters since Zenon's death than the organization of a race or festival in the very place that still reeked of death in the people's minds, but it was only a matter of time before these sentiments faded, stability was restored, and the ghosts of the past faded into wisps of memory. Their blood churn in the dust just as well as any of the men of the rink. They would not be the first nor the last to die here.



Nikos gripped the railing encircling the track and exhaled the breath he had been holding. The echoes of the past did not bother him; it's not like he had harbored amiable feelings for either man while they were alive, gods forbid his sentiments change since they had from departed the world of the living. It had been weeks, perhaps even a month since he had last held the reigns of his team, and a congenial challenge was precisely the way to ease back into a sense of normalcy.



He had arrived earlier than the meeting time of the missive had outlined, but he was eager to fit in a good warm-up and to meet his challenger. The note had arrived several days ago, proposing a friendly (perhaps even flirty) match between he and a mysterious fellow known only by his signature of L.E.. Nikos had accepted, of course, partially because he loved to race and partially because he couldn't resist the temptation of a bit of coquettish excitement. Lord Emilios, perhaps? That would be surprising, albeit it wouldn't be the first time he'd been caught off guard because of false assumptions. Or perhaps a foreigner, a secret admirer? Nikos allowed his thoughts to overtake him as his servants soon arrived with his team. The invitation made clear that this would be a friendly competition, so he dressed himself and his chariot plainly. A few ribbons here, a bit of gold there, not nearly as ornate as he would have dressed himself or his team if this were to be a real challenge. Besides, the less he had on, the easier it would be to "celebrate" after the race if it came down to it....



Nikos mounted his chariot and began a few laps around the track, slow and steady. He wanted his horses to be primed and ready by the time his opponent arrived. He had dismissed his servants, save for a couple that waited just outside the arena in the back to walk the team home afterwards. He wanted to be alone for the race.

He cleared his mind and settled into the steady rhythm of horse hooves thumping over the packed dirt as he awaited the arrival of his opponent, his only company being Helios as the morning glow began to spill over the walls of the arena, two chariots of gold chasing the ghosts of the past back into their shadows.