“We were just unlucky this time,” Lucianus replied. “A man who was humiliated by me sent those bandits as revenge.”
As he sheathed his short sword, the man openly stared at Lucianus, sizing him up. Lucianus found it unpleasant to be stared at like an object, and he didn’t like that the man had essentially called him “weak” earlier either.
“What are you looking at?” Lucianus asked, making his tone more forceful.
“I was just thinking that nobles know no manners,” the burly man replied. “Isn’t it customary to thank the person who saved you first?”
Lucianus was annoyed by the insolent words, but he couldn’t refute such sound logic. There was no reason for him to complain, and he suppressed his vexation as he expressed his gratitude.
“Thank you for saving me. I appreciate it,” he said.
“Have you injured your leg?” Kaira asked. The servant worriedly approached his master, noticing that Lucianus was trying to protect his right leg.
“I only twisted it a little,” Lucianus replied as he tried to walk ahead.
“You mustn’t,” Kaira replied. “This district forbids us from bringing a carriage, so I shall go find a palanquin for you.”
“No need. A palanquin is a vehicle for women.”
“But it will take longer to heal if you keep pushing yourself.”
“You can’t trouble your guard here,” the man with a stubble butted in.
Every word he spoke struck a nerve with Lucianus.
“Keep out of this,” Lucianus snapped. “It has nothing to do with you.”
The man ignored these words and turned to Kaira. “Is there anything I could do to help? I’d love to do what I can.”
Kaira looked relieved. “You’re too kind! Then I shall take you up on that offer. Would you please call for more servants? You can find House Carusso in Tenino District, on Montierre Street. If you’re in the vicinity, most people will know where that manor is—”
“There’s no need for me to call for help, is there? I’ll carry this wealthy son, and that will resolve matters much quicker. It’ll be easier to carry his slender frame than it is to hold a piglet.”
“How insolent!” Lucianus grumbled. He didn’t take kindly to those words. He was infuriated to be called a “wealthy son,” and he was even angrier that his physique was being mentioned. He’d always been slender, and he couldn’t put on more weight no matter how hard he tried. Even into adulthood, he disliked how he still had the petite frame of a young boy and it was secretly one of his deepest insecurities. And now, he was being ridiculed by a man who was his polar opposite, boasting a burly, masculine physique.
“I didn’t mean to insult you. Forgive me,” the man offered.
While Lucianus was stunned by how easily the man apologized, the brawny stranger approached the noble and easily scooped him up as one would do to a child.
“L-let me down!” Lucianus cried.
“Hey, don’t make a fuss,” the man replied.
“Don’t cradle me! I’m not a woman or a child. Carry me on your back.”
“What a noisy, wealthy son.” The man let Lucianus down, then lowered himself to one knee to offer his back. Lucianus frowned, but entrusted his body to the man’s wide back.
“Hang on tight,” the brawny man said.
Lucianus reluctantly wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, and the man stood and started walking ahead. His footsteps were firm and stable. The glistening muscles on his body were more apparent when Lucianus was touching them directly. This helpful stranger didn’t seem like a soldier, but his body was refined and splendid.
“Er, are you perhaps Sir Dominatus the gladiator?” Kaira asked.
“I am,” the man, Dominatus, nodded.
Even Lucianus, who rarely listened to rumors, had heard of Dominatus the gladiator. He was the best fighter around and very popular.
“I knew it!” Kaira exclaimed. “Your recent battle against Danakan was simply magnificent!”
Lucianus rarely visited the colosseum as he wasn’t interested, but Kaira occasionally saw a match or two. The servant was unable to hide his excitement when faced with a popular star gladiator and continued to eagerly praise Dominatus’s battles. Dominatus himself was a man of few words, but he nodded along with a faint smile dancing on his lips.
Kaira was still showering the gladiator with praises when they arrived at Carusso Manor. Dominatus crouched to let Lucianus down in front of the manor, and reached for the noble’s sprained ankle.
“It’s starting to swell up,” Dominatus observed. “Best if you cool it for a while and wrap the ankle tightly with a bandage. You should sleep for three days with your leg raised, and from the fourth day onward, make sure to keep your ankle warm. The pain and swelling should subside sooner that way.”
Dominatus’s rugged fingers gently brushed against the injury. He was only inspecting the ankle, but his touches were so surprisingly tender that Lucianus felt his heart start to race. In hopes of hiding his confusion, Lucianus swiftly turned to his servant.
“Kaira, offer this man my gratitude,” he ordered.
“I need no reward,” Dominatus said. “I’m making more than enough money and don’t require anything from you.”
“I never asked for your salary, did I? It’d do you no good to refuse a person’s gratitude. I suggest you obediently accept it.”
Upon hearing Lucianus’s stubborn retort, Dominatus inexplicably grinned and stood up. “If you wish to reward me so badly, I don’t want money. I’d like something else.”
“Oh? And what would that be? Tell me.”
“Will you come to my next colosseum battle?”
Lucianus furrowed his brow, unable to understand the intention behind the request. “The colosseum? But why?”
“Do you know of the statue of Shanora, the Goddess of Victory, on Terimos Hill? You’re the spitting image of her. If you cheer for me, I’m certain that my fights will go well. You’ll be a symbol of good fortune.”