Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 44 44

Marcus stood up slowly, dragging the clanking fetters as he walked out of the cell.

The soldiers led him through a maze-like underground passage, up a flight of stairs, and arrived at the ground level of the arena.

This was no longer the prison. It was the arena's attached building — the banquet hall.

The mont the door opened, noise and heat waves rushed over.

The banquet hall was terrifyingly large. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, shining so brightly they dazzled the eyes.

Silk curtains hung on the walls, and thick carpets covered the floor.

Long tables were filled with food and drink — oil-glistening roasted suckling pigs, tender stewed lamb, fresh dripping fruits, various exquisite pastries, and barrels of wine. The aroma of wine mixed with the sll of at, drilling straight into the nose.

Guests in luxurious togas and long dresses gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing.

The air was filled with perfu, roasted at, and the sll of alcohol, hot and stuffy.

This was the nobles' "victory banquet."

And Marcus, wearing fetters and handcuffs, covered in blood and filth, stood there like a beggar who had wandered into heaven by mistake.

All eyes "swish" focused on him at once.

Low murmurs buzzed around.

"Is this the Marcus?"

"I heard he killed three people by himself today…"

"Doesn't look that impressive though."

"Why did Batiatus bring him here?"

Marcus's face showed no expression. His gaze swept across the hall.

He saw Batiatus — sitting in the most prominent position at the main table, clinking glasses with a middle-aged man in a purple toga.

The man was about forty, with a cold and stern face and sharp eyes like knives. He looked like soone who had long held high position.

Gracchus.

The newly appointed commander of the Roman Senate (the sudden rise of the rebel army had elevated Gracchus's status), Batiatus's "business partner," and also… Ilithyia's husband.

Ilithyia sat beside Gracchus. She was wearing a deep blue silk long dress today, with a low neckline revealing a large expanse of snow-white cleavage.

Her hair was carefully pinned up with pearl hairpins, her makeup exquisite. She half-covered her face with a peacock feather fan, but her eyes were staring straight at Marcus.

That gaze held curiosity, amusent, and… a trace of barely noticeable excitent.

Batiatus saw Marcus and smiled, waving him over with an extrely affectionate look.

"Co, co, Marcus, co over!"

His voice was loud. "Let introduce our distinguished guests — the great hero of today's performance match!"

A soldier pushed Marcus.

He dragged his fetters with a "clank clank" and walked to the front of the main table.

The sound of iron chains scraping the floor was harsh, but at this mont no one spoke. Everyone was staring at him.

"This is Marcus,"

Batiatus stood up and patted Marcus's shoulder — the action looked affectionate, but the force in his hand was heavy. "He survived the whipping rack, killed an overseer with one punch, kicked Crixus down with one foot, and today single-handedly took care of three gladiators from Nodis! How about that? Isn't he a true warrior?"

The guests let out "oh oh" sounds of admiration, though it was hard to tell if they were sincere or fake.

Gracchus put down his wine cup and looked Marcus up and down.

"Indeed not like an ordinary person,"

He spoke, his voice low and magnetic. "Where are you from, Marcus?"

"The East."

Marcus said.

"The East?"

Gracchus raised an eyebrow. "Syria? Judea? Or… even farther?"

"Even farther."

"Interesting,"

Gracchus smiled. "A warrior from a distant land shining brightly in Capua's arena. Is this the arrangent of fate, or… sothing else?"

There was a hidden aning in his words.

Marcus didn't respond.

Batiatus quickly took over: "No matter what it is, he is now my property! Today's victory in the performance match proves his value! I plan to 'cultivate' him well. Who knows, he might beco Capua's gladiator star in the future, or even… go to Ro!"

Go to Ro.

This word made Gracchus's eyes flash.

"Quite ambitious, Batiatus."

"All for serving the honored lords!"

Batiatus smiled fawningly. "By the way, Marcus, why don't you salute Lord Gracchus? You were able to survive today thanks to the lord!"

Marcus frowned: "What do you an?"

"It ans," Batiatus lowered his voice, but loud enough for those around to hear, "the two guards with crossbows in the performance match were bribed by Nodis! According to the rules, they should have been executed! But Lord Gracchus said today is the Founding Festival and it is not appropriate to see too much blood, so… he spared their lives."

He paused and looked at Marcus: "And spared your life too. After all, if you had killed the guards, even in self-defense, it would have been a serious cri!"

So that was it.

Marcus looked at Gracchus.

This newly appointed commander was calmly cutting a piece of roasted at, as if what he had just said was only a trivial matter.

"Thank you, my lord."

Marcus said.

"No need to thank ,"

Gracchus didn't raise his head. "I only did what I should. However…"

He put down his knife and fork and looked up at Marcus: "I heard you originally planned to escape today?"

The banquet hall suddenly fell silent.

All eyes "swish" focused over again.

Batiatus's face changed, but he quickly forced a smile: "My lord is joking! How could Marcus try to escape? He just won the performance match and is about to gain his freedom. What reason would he have to run?"

"Is that so?"

Gracchus looked at Batiatus. "Then why did my guards catch him at the side door of the arena? Along with two other gladiators — Octavius and Saxa. Oh right, and there was also a female gladiator? Truly… an interesting combination."

Cold sweat broke out on Batiatus's forehead.

"This… might be a misunderstanding,"

He forced a smile. "Marcus and the others just… just wanted to celebrate! Yes, celebrate!"

"Celebrating while wearing fetters?"

Gracchus smiled, his smile very cold. "Batiatus, do you think I'm easy to fool?"

"I wouldn't dare! I wouldn't dare!"

Batiatus hurriedly waved his hands. "Lord Gracchus, I absolutely didn't an that! It's just…"

"Just what?"

Batiatus gritted his teeth, suddenly turned around, and "slap!" slapped Marcus across the face!

The sound was crisp.

Marcus's head snapped to the side. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"Speak!"

Batiatus roared. "Why did you try to run?! Was I not good enough to you?! I gave you the best treatnt, gave you the chance to fight, promised you freedom! And this is how you repay ?!"

He was acting.

Marcus saw through it.

Batiatus was playing the role of a "heartbroken master who was betrayed," trying to shift all the bla onto him.

"Speak!"

Batiatus raised his hand for another slap.

This ti Marcus didn't let him hit.

He dodged to the side and looked coldly at Batiatus.

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