Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 63 63

Returning to the training ground, it was already the second half of the night.

Marcus had no sleepiness at all and sat alone in the office.

The scene of receiving the goods kept spinning in his mind like a revolving lantern.

Sothing was wrong. Definitely wrong.

Gracchus was the commander. Getting so iron ingots shouldn't be that difficult. There was no need to be so secretive.

Unless…

A flash of inspiration hit him.

Unless these iron ingots were just a smokescreen! The real "goods" had already been transported away by another route long ago. This batch of iron ingots was purely pulled out to attract attention!

If that was the case, who was Gracchus guarding against? Valerius? Sextus? Or… everyone?

While he was pondering, there was suddenly a knock on the door.

It was very light: knock, knock, knock — three tis.

Marcus was startled — this knocking rhythm was not the habit of anyone in the training ground.

"Who?"

The door was gently pushed open.

A figure wearing a dark cloak flashed in, then closed the door behind them.

The person removed the hood, revealing a beautiful but tired face — it was Ilithyia, Gracchus's wife.

The woman who had looked at him with that direct, intense gaze in the banquet hall.

"My lady?"

Marcus stood up abruptly. "How did you…"

"Don't worry, no one saw ,"

Ilithyia's voice was very low but calm. "I had the carriage stop two streets away and walked over myself."

"This is too risky!"

Marcus quickly walked to the window, lifted a crack and looked outside. "If Lord Gracchus finds out…"

"He won't know,"

Ilithyia walked to the desk, her slender fingers unconsciously tracing the tabletop. "He's arguing about the tariff proposal in the Senate tonight. It won't end until dawn."

She raised her eyes and looked at Marcus. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

"I'm waiting for you to say it."

"Two things,"

Ilithyia raised two fingers. "First, thank you for saving Mira and taking care of her. That child… quite likes you."

"Mira has helped a lot. I should be the one thanking her."

Marcus said.

"The second thing…"

Ilithyia paused, her voice becoming even lower. "I heard that you helped Gracchus transport a batch of 'goods' today?"

Marcus's heart tightened.

The news spread really fast!

"Yes, my lady."

"Iron ingots?"

"On the surface."

The corner of Ilithyia's mouth curved, and there was an indescribable mockery in that smile.

"He loves playing this kind of trick. The real goods arrived three days ago and are hidden in the underground chamber of a pottery workshop in the south of the city. Those iron ingots were just pulled out to dazzle people's eyes."

As expected!

Marcus's heart sank. "What is the real goods?"

"Arms,"

Ilithyia spat out two words. "Fifty legion-standard short swords, one hundred standard square shields, and twenty sets of chainmail. They are all old stock 'phased out' from the northern legions, but maintained… almost like new."

Marcus sucked in a cold breath.

Private stockpiling of military equipnt!

This was a capital cri in Ro, punishable by beheading!

"What does Gracchus want to do?"

"He wants to raise a private army that listens only to him,"

Ilithyia walked to the window and looked at the sparse lights in the training ground outside. "Once the tariff proposal passes, his power in Capua will reach the sky. But can that old thing Valerius accept it? The other senators won't sit idly by either. He needs a knife in his hand to feel at ease."

"Can the Senate allow him to do this?"

"So it has to be done secretly,"

Ilithyia turned around, her gaze landing on Marcus's face. "Just like how you built that 'Shadow', except his appetite is bigger and his tools are more complete."

She took two steps closer. "Do you know why he specifically chose you to transport the goods?"

"Because I'm considered his man?"

"No,"

Ilithyia shook her head. "It's because if sothing goes wrong, he can throw you out to take the bla at any ti, saying you acted on your own. If it succeeds, all the benefits are his. No matter how you calculate it, he doesn't lose."

Marcus was silent.

He had actually thought of this point long ago.

"Then you… why are you telling all this?"

He raised his eyes and looked directly at Ilithyia.

"Because I hate him,"

Ilithyia said straightforwardly, even with so gritted teeth. "I married him at sixteen. At the ti, I saw that he was ambitious and treated well. I didn't hesitate to fall out with my father to marry him."

"But now he has long lost interest in . He spends his days outside raising mistresses and playing with slaves. In his eyes, I am just a pretty vase, a decoration to show off."

She walked back to the desk, placed both hands on the tabletop, and leaned forward to stare at Marcus.

This posture suddenly brought the two of them very close. Marcus could sll the faint lavender scent on her body, mixed with a trace of imperceptible sorrow.

"I don't want to be a decoration for the rest of my life. I want my own life, my own… choices."

"What does my lady want to do?"

"Help ,"

Ilithyia said word by word. "Gracchus trusts you now — at least on the surface. I want you to stay by his side, help catch his handles, accumulate evidence of his cris. When the ti cos, we will together… bring him down."

"And after bringing him down?"

"After that…"

Ilithyia straightened up and tidied the hair at her temples. "After that, you can get what you want — money, status, even…"

She paused, her voice lowering. "Even ."

These words were spoken calmly, but Marcus heard the resolute determination in them, like burning one's boats.

"My lady, do you know what you are saying?"

"I know,"

Ilithyia smiled, a smile tinged with desolation. "Marcus, I am no longer so naive little girl. Over these years, I have seen too many dirty deals and hypocritical faces. Although you ca from a gladiator background, at least you live authentically, at least… you dare to act and take responsibility."

She reached out, her fingertips lightly touching Marcus's cheek. They were a little cool, but exceptionally soft.

"That day in the arena, you were covered in blood, but those eyes of yours… were like a wolf's, unwilling to submit, unwilling to accept fate. Even if you died, you would bite a piece of flesh from your opponent. At that ti, I thought… how good it would be to have such a man."

Marcus held her hand and did not let go.

"My lady, is this a transaction?"

"It is a transaction, and also…"

Ilithyia hesitated for a mont. "It is also the path I chose myself. Do you dare to take it?"

Marcus looked at her.

This beautiful, lonely woman with ambition in her heart had delivered herself to his door.

Refuse?

That would make him a fool.

"I accept,"

He said. "But there is one condition."

"Speak."

"From now on, you must listen to ,"

Marcus stared into her eyes. "Not to Gracchus, not to your own montary impulses, but to ."

Ilithyia's eyes brightened.

"Good."

"The first thing,"

Marcus released her hand. "Tell the exact location of the pottery workshop and the detailed situation of where that batch of military equipnt is hidden."

"Number 7 on 'Potter's Street' in the south of the city. The workshop owner is called Marcus, a distant relative of Gracchus. The entrance to the underground chamber is hidden behind the kiln. There is a secret door."

"The second thing,"

Marcus continued. "Starting tomorrow, you must return to normal. Continue being the commander's wife. Don't take risks coming to the training ground again. It's too conspicuous. If there is any news, pass it through Mira."

"The third thing…"

Marcus paused. "If I need you to cooperate with sothing, you must do it without hesitation."

"Including sleeping with you?"

Ilithyia raised an eyebrow, her tone carrying a hint of teasing.

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