What nonsense is he saying? Lucianus thought. He was aware of the stone statue, but he knew that he didn’t resemble her at all. Besides, it was surely curious for a man to resemble a goddess. It made no sense to him.
“I don’t like the colosseum,” Lucianus frowned.
“I’m surprised to hear that a Dyna citizen holds disdain for the place,” Dominatus replied. “You’re truly eccentric.”
“Feel free to call me so. When I was a child, my father took me to the colosseum multiple times, but I had no fun at all. I cannot understand why the audience is so eager to watch such a barbaric and cruel form of entertainment.”
It was more forgivable if these gladiators died in battle, however, even if the loser of the bout fought splendidly without a scratch on him, the audience would shower him with insults, and he would be killed on the spot. It didn’t matter who made the request; Lucianus refused to attend an event where people’s executions were used as entertainment.
“I agree that gladiator battles are silly; there’s no denying that,” Dominatus said, his voice flat. “But gladiators are risking their lives for the people’s entertainment. They’re all fighting desperately so that they can live to see another day. I suppose the son of a noble has never learned of suffering, so I doubt you’d ever understand.”
With that, he turned and walked away. As Lucianus stared at Dominatus’s receding back, he was tempted to cry out that it was all a misunderstanding. Lucianus wasn’t scorning gladiators.
When asked who were the worst kinds of people, the citizens of Dyna would all agree that for the men, it was gladiators, and for the women, prostitutes. Indeed, people normally mocked gladiators and no parent wanted their own child to choose that profession.
Almost all gladiators were either slaves selected by showmen or criminals who had been given the death sentence. They were forced to undergo strict training every day, and required to regularly enter gladiator battles. None of this was voluntary. These gladiators had no right to refuse.
Lucianus may have pitied these people, but never did he feel aversion. But because he didn’t properly explain himself, Dominatus had misunderstood the noble’s intentions. It was regrettable, but there was nothing Lucianus could do. Kaira removed his master’s outdoor shoes and replaced them with indoor cork sandals. Grubo, one of Lucianus’s slaves with a black eyepatch over his right eye, arrived to welcome his master.
“Carry Lord Lucianus to the sofa in the sunroom,” Kaira ordered.
Grubo easily carried Lucianus in his arms. Dominatus was a large man, but even he looked small when compared to a towering giant like Grubo. The slave hailed from a southern continent across the sea, and had been in a gladiator school when he was young. Grubo had lost vision in his right eye from an injury that occurred during training, and even his legs gave way as time went on. Having lost his use, he was put up for sale, and was purchased by Lucianus’s father.
Lucianus was carried out of the front hall, through the inner courtyard with a fountain, and lowered onto a sofa in the sunroom.
“Thank you, Grubo,” Lucianus said.
Grubo only nodded before he retreated. When Lucianus was a child, he often played atop the giant’s shoulders, but since he became an adult, he was seldom carried. It’d been a while since Lucianus was in the arms of his slave, and Grubo’s warmth gave a sense of safety. It was completely different from Dominatus. For some odd reason, Lucianus felt restless when he was with the gladiator. I wonder why…
Kaira brought a jug of water and a damp cloth to cool Lucianus’s swollen ankle.
“Do gladiators make a lot of money?” Lucianus asked.
Kaira raised his head, his gaze gentle. “You’re still bothered that your token of thanks was rejected, I take it?”
It was as though he read his master’s mind. Lucianus could never keep any secrets from Kaira.
“I just don’t like him one bit,” Lucianus said angrily. He frowned in an attempt to hide his awkwardness. “It’s rather bold for a gladiator like him to lecture me, don’t you think?”
“Sir Dominatus is no longer a slave,” Kaira replied. “He’s claimed numerous victories throughout the years, and was freed three years ago.”
“He was awarded his freedom, and yet he remains a gladiator?”
“Quite so. A small fraction of people do just that. Normally, one would retire and use the money they gained to start their own business, but Sir Dominatus chose to remain a gladiator.”
Lucianus simply couldn’t understand why Dominatus would continue to challenge himself to these fruitless fights, all for the entertainment of the people. Did the gladiator not find his own life to be precious?
“I assume he cannot let go of the applause and praise he gets after every battle,” Lucianus said.
“Perhaps so,” Kaira replied. “But his battles have spurred his popularity, and Sir Dominatus is acclaimed to be the gladiator of all gladiators. Ah, and to answer your earlier question, if one becomes the highest-ranking gladiator, a single fight will easily surpass a year’s worth of my pay.”
Lucianus thought that he paid Kaira a handsome salary, and he couldn’t hide his shock to hear that a single fight had such a high payout. He had no idea just how many fights a gladiator would enter a year, but it was easy to see that they made more than a downfallen noble did.
“And yet, his clothes were simple,” Lucianus said.
“There are rumors that he uses a majority of his money to help cities in poverty,” Kaira replied.
The servant continued to praise Dominatus with no intention of scolding his earlier audacious attitude. It made Lucianus grumpier, but he couldn’t quite understand why he was so annoyed. He usually wasn’t quick-tempered—why was he so fixated on Dominatus’s words and attitude? Why was Lucianus so agitated?
A slave called Miyana appeared with a glass of wine mixed with some honey. She brought it to her master. Lucianus sipped his drink and tried to calm himself down, but his mind remained occupied by that impudent gladiator.