Dragon's Tale 64

“Peirous, Peirous, Peirous!” shouted the hundred thousand Roman citizens that filled the seats of the Colosseum as I stood in the arena once more, stabbing the last of the dozen crazed lions that had been arranged for my latest challenge. 

I raised the bloodied spear, earning their endless, bloodthirsty cries of approval, each move earning their cries as I left the arena. However, not everyone shared the enthusiasm of the audience.

Particularly, the members of the Bestiary School on the other side of the arena, their glares colder than a mountaintop in the middle of the winter. Hardly a surprise considering I had killed their heir, who was supposed to inherit the school.

And just to make the insult even worse, my public show of taking down the Nemean Lion without killing it damaged their reputation significantly, not only showing that they couldn’t properly control the beast, but also, after using the beast as a core aspect of their prestige, a single gladiator taking it down. 

Without even killing the beast. 

It wasn’t just their reputation that had been damaged. From what I could gather from the gossips, there were already discussions about limiting the number of dangerous creatures they could keep in the borders of the city in case of another breach. 

I doubted such a law would pass, as Gladiatorial schools had a very important part of the city, but that didn’t mean they could have ignored the law. They had to call a lot of favors and spend a fortune in bribes to make sure that it wouldn’t actually pass. 

“Great work,” Pico said after I finished cheering the crowd and retreated back into the tunnel, leaving my place for the next gladiator, not even a scratch on me. 

Today’s appearance was nothing more than an appetite-wetter, something Antonius arranged to tap into the stories of me fighting against the Nemean Lion. I had no doubt Bestiaries school hated the idea of sending lions against me, a bitter reminder of my earlier victory, but with their political standing…  

With the beast was under the control of the Dacian School, it wasn’t hard to guess what end game Antonius was building toward. A great show, me against the Nemean lion, that would end up in me killing the beast, likely with a magical weapon strong enough to break through its skin, in a moment where the seats were filled with the noblest guests possible. 

Likely in a day sponsored by one of the great generals or senators that was trying to make their mark in the political scene, as, in Rome, a public spectacle might actually be more effective than a victory in a distant battlefield. 

Too bad for Master Antonius and his likely supporters, I had other intentions for the fate of that beast. 

“That’s what I do,” I answered to Pico with a shrug as I threw the spear, and before it hit the floor, a servant grabbed it, probably to prepare it as a memorabilia, to be purchased by an upstart noble with little battle achievements in their name. 

I was about to leave the arena, when Pico gestured me toward a side corridor, the one that led toward a primitive yet comfortable room that more precious gladiators used between their bouts. “Huh, I thought I only have one bout today?” 

“Well, you have a different kind of bout that is waiting for you,” Pico said with a dirty smirk as he elbowed me in the ribs conspiratorially. 

Clearly, Antonius didn’t waste a second before monetizing my newfound reputation. Though, Pico’s smug smirk confirmed that it wasn’t an old noblewoman that was trying to spice up her retirement, or even a plain noble girl trying to spice up her life. 

No, if he was that enthusiastic, there was no doubt a beautiful woman that was awaiting me. With my latest boost to fame, she also had to be rich enough. Not one of the Patrician houses, though, at least not unless our mysterious guest wanted to keep it hidden for a reason. They wouldn’t abandon the comfort of their estates without a very good reason. 

Maybe Atia, I thought with a smirk. She seemed too shy to arrange a party like Olivia did in her own estate. 

However, when the door opened, putting me face to face with a familiar olive-skinned beauty, I was surprised. 

“Long time no see, Theodora,” I said with a smirk after I pushed the door close — and cast a detection spell to alert me in case someone tried to eavesdrop on us magically. “It seems that you’re doing well, if you can afford to have a meeting with me.” 

“It wasn’t easy,” she murmured, trying to give a regal, impressive view. Admittedly, if it wasn’t for her flickering expression and growing blush, she would have been successful. Unlike the last time I had seen her, wearing nothing but rags and dirt, she wore a tasteful green dress, silk, the hue chosen to perfectly compliment her light olive skin, a few careful cuts enough to give a glimpse of her beauty without being too revealing. 

And her face, beautiful even when covered with dust and dirt due to her incompetent attempt to escape, was certainly benefited from the careful application of soft makeup, elevating her beauty to a higher level. 

I said nothing as I took a step forward to close the distance, putting my hand on her cheek, only for her attempts to look confident fold immediately. Her reaction was understandable despite her noble raising. 

In her eyes, I was the hero that saved her from a lifetime of slavery where she had been displayed as a trophy. 

I chuckled at her sudden silence before sitting down on the only bed in the room, not neglecting to pull her on my lap in the process. “N-no,” she stammered, shocked by the sudden escalation, though her body seemed to disagree if the way her hips shuffled to find a better seat. 

“In case someone decides to check,” I whispered into her ear. We both knew it was just an excuse. What she had purchased naturally came with privacy, but she was more than happy to let that detail slide. Her reaction showed that I had been a part of more than one dream for her. “So, why don’t you tell me what have you been up to since our last meeting.” 

“I have-“ she started, only to stammer as my hands caressed her stomach over her dress, its thin silk fabric barely doing anything to blunt the impact. “I have managed to sell almost half of the materials you have managed to give me, and rented a decent estate outside the city, posing as a rich daughter of a minor noble, making their mark as a merchant. I tried to pose the daughter of someone more influential at first, but after a couple close calls, I had to settle for a lesser role,” she explained, getting tenser as she reached the end of her explanation.  

I understood the source of her reticence. Roman society was hardly an equal opportunity environment, and merchants, even the rich ones, were always treated as the lower class, even if they had the noble title. According to the tradition, there were three acceptable ways to make money for a proper Roman noble. Farming — through slaves and plebeians, naturally — killing people, and, weirdly enough, receiving bribes.

Not exactly logical, but I had long stopped trying to make sense of the way Roman society worked. The reasons had always been a mystery for me, even when I had learned every intricacy to make sure I could survive. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s even better for you to be a merchant,” I whispered into her ear even as my fingers slid down, caressing the lower parts of her thighs, where her dress failed to properly cover. The moan she let out in response was delicious and filled with anticipation, suggesting that she had more than one heated evening where she dreamed about me. 

“Really?” she asked even as she leaned against my chest freely, enjoying my muscles. “But disguised as a merchant, even a noble one, I can’t actually connect with the Patrician families,” she explained. It was unnecessary considering as a bastard noble, I was more than aware of the hierarchy between the various aspects. 

Though, Theodora still assumed I was a genius barbarian warrior with some magical talent, hence her attempt to explain. 

As much as I was impressed by the loyalty she was showing to her promise despite her obvious highborn roots linking to Empire and Constantinople — something I was not tempted to poke unless there was a reason to do so  — she had proven herself through a real challenge before I could open up to her more. 

“Don’t worry about the Patrician families, I managed to arrange a contact with them,” I said, then with a temptation, I added. “A sexy one, even.” 

“Oh, really,” she murmured, anger flashing in her beautiful eyes even as jealously invaded her tone. Which was fun, even though the touch of danger it implied. A jealous woman was dangerous unless her jealousy was directed carefully. 

“Really,” I said, not bothering to hide my amusement even as my hands traveled up, slipping under her dress. 

Luckily, I was an expert on managing such jealousy.