Cato had a feeling that something was off. The imperial stand was no longer full - often this meant that the emperor had just gotten bored with the show or had gotten something more pressing to attend to. Undoubtedly he'd hear everything from Falco after returning to the estate - after all Rome's Greatest Lawyer had his spies everywhere. The greek added in his thoughts that the word 'spy' was a rather impolite term, used for informants that made all sorts of shady and sometimes even downright evil things - ofcourse some of Falco's informants could be counted as spies as well.

Whatever was going on in the stands at the moment wasn't Cato's problem however - or what was going on in the sands for that matter. He had already participated in a bout today and his presence was no longer needed. Still he chose to remain under the arena in the case some younger gladiators would need encouragement or would wish to hear a story or two. Silently the greek seated himself against one of the walls and shook his head slightly. Was he really getting too old to fight?
______

In Rome word travels quickly - it travels even more quickly when someone dies. There are always people who just can't seem to keep their mouths shut. That was both a good and a bad thing. There had been some commotion in the stand of the Emperor - that much was certain. Falco had recieved the honour of speaking with the emperor earlier during the day. The former consul had voiced his thoughts about the lax security of the arena rather vocally, but the emperor had been trusting enough on the skill of his praetorian guards so the matter was swiftly pushed aside. There was no certainty about the happenings of the stand yet, but Falco was determined to find what had truly taken place there. If the emperor was indeed dead there were only two options for Rome. Becoming a republic once again - which was an idea Falco detested quite much - or remaining an empire. However that would mean the elections of a new emperor - assuming that the emperor had not chosen a successor.

In public Falco always made sure that he seemed like he was slowly losing his grasp on sanity. He mumbled to himself and glanced warily around as if constantly expecting attack. He also walked like a man badly out of shape - with his back slighlty hunched and with a noticeable limp. His closest friends and political allies knew however that it was all just an act and that M. Cornelius Falco was still as sharp - if not even sharper - than before. Now Falco was again putting his act in to great use whilst leaving the stands. He mumbled about the weather to few of the arena guards - whom decided to humour the former consul with a little chat, mostly to ease their own nervousness. They assured Falco that the emperor had just eaten something slightly off and had to retire for the day. The older man nodded and humbly asked for the guard to have his condolences sent to the emperor and wishes that the emperor would be well soon.

The guard nodded and assured Falco that the emperor would be informed and politely offered to escort the former consul to his estate. Falco politely refused the offer and shuffled out of the guard's sight. The very moment there were no people around he straightened up and smirked "Just a bit ill? By Juppiter's gilded cock I've never heard quite so obvious lies..." He shook his head slightly and smiled "I need to get to the bottom of this. Also I need a word with Cato..."
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"So, there I was, like Achilles facing Hector - or rather the other way round. The Ithacan with his boar's head helm was a rather fearsome sight. It was just the two of us standing at that point." Cato smirked as he was again telling one of his many stories to a couple of younger gladiators. "Now mind you. This was long before I gained the moniker 'Sword of Mars'. It was in fact one of my first bouts on the sands. I was actually quite nervous." The greek rolled his eyes in a rather lewd manner. "Then again who isn't nervous when a man twice your width is coming at you whilst brandishing his spear." Cato had always enjoyed telling stories - all of his stories were true, but he had a habit of slightly exaggerating his tales. Though there was no real suspense in most of the stories - after all Cato was sitting there in front of the others telling a story about himself.