Dragon's Tale 72 (Patreon)

I was curious about the identity of the mysterious healer, and not just because of the ease she was able to overcome the magical defenses I had created to trick a healer. I hadn’t been expecting those tricks to defend against a sorcerer, not for a long time, at least. However, the ease she had shown was something else. Yet, she was not only a prisoner, but also she was being forced to work — not entirely willingly as well, if the attitude of her guards was any indicator. 

Forcing a sorcerer to work was not something I expected. House Junia was even stronger than I gave them the credit for. Pity that rejecting the request of a patrician family was impossible to reject for a little gladiator, especially this late. 

So, I followed the guards, who seemed unwilling to talk. Not just with me, a slave from their perspective, but also with each other, their gaze alternating between our surroundings and the carriage, their alertness not decreasing even for a second. 

A shocking level of discipline in a bunch of guards during a routine mission, even for a patrician house. The guards that defended Olivia’s house, for example, lacked that discipline. If they had been even half-alert, I wouldn’t have been dared to sneak into their library. 

I felt the stirrings of disappointment, even when I was about to enjoy the lovely presence of a few very — or several — sexy ladies. I desperately needed the information, and losing the opportunity to visit the library was bad enough, but also I had to deal with someone knowing my secret. 

However, as we continued to walk, I noticed something else. The lack of talking was fine, but their expression stayed blank the whole way, their attention unwavering, to the point that I started to get uncomfortable near them. 

There was something unnatural about them, and a house filled with them was a scary thought.  

Then, we arrived at our destination. I saw the other guards when we finally arrived at the huge residence — which was closer to the city than Olivia’s, occupying the top of a large hill as if it was declaring its superiority compared to other patrician houses — and luckily, they lacked the tenseness my escorts showed during the journey. 

“Take him to the party,” one of them finally spoke. Two of the gate guards dashed forward fearfully while they moved deeper into the estate along with the carriage. 

“Follow us,” said one of the guards. “The party is about to start, and they want you to be prepared decently.” 

I nodded, focusing on the area that surrounded me, both the layout of the buildings and the magic that was bubbling around, strong enough to almost take a physical presence. Sieging this place by force was near impossible without an actual army — which was impossible considering it was walking distance from the capital. 

This place was as close to impenetrable as it was reasonably possible. 

“I hate those creepy guys,” the guard murmured, though only after they had disappeared into one of the side buildings, surrounded by stronger wards — and unlike other buildings, those wards were not there to prevent people from entering, but leaving. 

It had been easy to find the prison for the healer. All I needed was to break in and learn what she wanted in exchange for keeping my secret. And maybe, just maybe, get her help suppressing my condition from an actual expert rather than trying to cobble together a solution.  

“Who are those silent guys?” I asked, which earned an angry glare from the guard that didn’t mumble in annoyance. 

“You can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” he murmured to his friend before looking at me. “Just keep your mouth shut and ignore them,” he said to me sharply. 

That was not ominous at all, I thought even as I nodded. 

“Yeah, people bothering them has a nasty habit of disappearing,” the other murmured, once again earning the ire of his friend, this time a slap to his shoulder. “For the sake of Mars, you moron, keep your trap shut.” 

I just smirked as they led me to the central building, and delivered me to the hands of another servant, this time an old woman with a serious expression. “Quick,” she ordered. “The party is about to begin.” 

She led me to a room that held a huge rack of clothing, with a couple of tailors waiting on the edges to make alterations. “Try this…” she started as she threw a ripped, ruined tunic at me, while another servant already walked to me, putting some warpaint to my face. My smirk widened as I touched the fabric, its texture soft and smooth, the kind that required a great deal of gold to purchase. 

Only the filthy rich would have used that fabric to create a barbarian costume for a party. 

An hour, and a great deal of effort later, I looked like one of the wild kings of old strong enough to threaten Rome, wearing linen and fur, my face covered in war paint. I even had a fancy sword tied around my waist, albeit blunted, completing the view. 

Rather ironic, I thought even as I was led by servants once again, this time to the inner courtyard. The crowd was already there, a drove of nobles, each more self-important than the last, trying to subtly pose against each other even as they watched the dancers in the middle of the courtyard, providing a spectacular show. 

Since the party was already ongoing, I didn’t expect my entrance to be notable, though I still straightened my back and put on a sharp expression, doing my best to look like a dangerous gladiator, even using the same magic trick I had used during my party appearance to add a touch of wildness to my aura, making my presence more domineering. 

Still, I wasn’t expecting Olivia to turn to me the moment I entered, with a big smile on her face. “The vanquisher of a Nemean lion, and more importantly, the savior of my gold twice, the great gladiator Peirous is here, and more importantly, alive!” 

And just like that, the crowd turned to me. Admittedly, their gaze was hardly intimidating after I got used to a hundred thousand people filling Colosseum seats, standing in front of a crowd didn’t even register as a challenge, even with their exalted background, each able to mobilize a small army with a word. 

I was curious about the savior part of her statement, but that didn’t last long, when she turned to Marcus with an amused expression. Marcus, on the other hand, looked shocked as he looked at me, struggling to process my presence. 

I had seen people less shocked after being stabbed. 

“You were supposed to be dead,” Marcus murmured, shocked. 

Olivia’s just smirked, her expression leaving no doubt about the target of her words. “Sorry about that, Marcus. I forgot how much it might hurt you after losing two bets,” she said, not even bothering to hide her victorious expression. And suddenly, I had an inkling about who exactly was on the other end of the bet Marcus had lost after my victory. More importantly, the mention of a double bet, combined with the focus on me being alive, made it easier to guess the second bet. 

He clearly bet that I would be dead after the ‘devastating’ wound I had received, hoping to make up for his losses. I had no idea how big was the bet, but to make Olivia actively happy, there was no chance that it was a small amount. 

And if the mixture of pitying looks and snickers he was receiving from the rest of the crowd, it didn’t seem like a well-hidden bet either. I could see his reputation collapsing in real-time. 

Very pitiful.  

He looked at me, shock and anger battling against each other, with a generous dose of regret mixed in. An adequate reaction to the death of his social reputation. Clearly, the only reason he dared to visit the party in the first place was that he had assumed I would be dead, which would mean he had recovered his losses and his reputation simultaneously. 

“It’s not a problem, just spare change,” he managed to say, but with his face scrunched like he had been smelling something nasty. 

“Are you sure? It’s not a small amount you have lost. I can’t imagine your father being happy with it. Maybe I should forgive your debt.” Then, she chuckled. “Some of it, at least.”  

“Not necessary,” Marcus managed to grunt in anger, which surprised no one. Accepting her mercy in such a public location would have delivered a deadly hit to not only his public reputation, but also his family never to be resurrected. “I can handle it.”

Still, the dynamic between them was interesting.  

I had assumed that Marcus was just another low-ranking noble, trying to integrate himself into a more important cycle as a passerby, even hoping to somehow seduce Olivia in the process. However, the glee in Olivia’s tone, along with her sharp expression suggested a different balance. 

It seemed that Marcus was closer to his objective than I had first assumed, until I had burst into the scene and ruined his little plan. I might have even pitied him if he didn’t try to arrange for my assassination, making my plans much harder to implement even with his failure. 

Instead, I decided to twist the knife deeper. “I’m sorry to hear that you have lost a lot of money betting on me, master,” I said with a soft tone. “Maybe I should just slit my throat the next time, making your job easier.” 

It wasn’t a particularly good insult. However, the fact that it was a slave, daringly mocking a noble made it much more insulting. The guests looked at me in shock, some scandalized at the slave of a daring, while others were barely suppressing their snickers — and a couple of chuckles reaching my ear suggested that not all guests succeeded in that.  

Which didn’t help Marcus’ anger any. “How dare you, you filthy slave!” Marcus growled as he drew his dagger. 

I didn’t bother reacting, not when I saw Atia’s anger. “How dare you, daring to pull a weapon in my domicile,” she said, her voice surprisingly sharp, reminding me that, despite her calm demeanor, she was still from a patrician house, with all the training and authority that was implied. “Who do you think you are!” 

It just me more enthusiastic about the private party that would inevitably follow this one. 

“I - I don’t…” Marcus stammered, realizing he had screwed up pretty badly. 

“I don’t care, get out,” Atia said, kicking him out of the party, which, as far as the social reputation went, was a deadly blow, much worse than the spectacle about the bet. Admittedly, Marcus’ actions weren’t enough to make such a radical move necessary, but with her friendship with Olivia, I wasn’t surprised Atia acted a bit too enthusiastic. 

The party started faster than I expected.