Dragon's Tale 73 (Patreon)

With the exquisite show resulting from my entrance, the party’s atmosphere took a weird, heavy turn. More than two dozen of noble that consisted the audience found themselves unable to say anything, shocked by the decisiveness of Atia. 

Their shock was understandable, as everything I had seen about Atia suggested that she lacked the decisiveness to act such sharply. When she was with Olivia, she had such a low presence that I had been shocked to learn that she was from another Patrician house, let alone one of the strongest, if not the strongest house. 

Yet, she had reacted decisively to kick Marcus out of her party after her friend Olivia finished fleecing him. 

I received the angry gazes of the nobles that surrounded me, but they didn’t worry me for two reasons. First, Atia’s move had displayed that she would brook no attempt to punish me despite my station. 

Second, and more importantly, no one actually blamed me for it. 

They were looking at me angrily, but what could they do. Show their shock by glaring at Atia, who had enough power to ruin their lives if she wished. Combined with her sudden willingness to use that, they didn’t even dare to talk to her, afraid of triggering her before they could get a better understanding of her new temper. 

I hadn’t known Atia for long, of course, but there was one great advantage in a night of unrestricted fun. I had seen a great number of expressions dancing on her beautiful face during the night we shared, allowing me to get a better sense of her emotions. And, despite the sternness on the surface, I could see panic growing in the depths of her heart, clawing to be free. 

She was clearly overwhelmed by her own daring. 

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one that was able to notice the small details of her expression. Olivia also noticed it and took a step toward her. “Come on, Atia, suppress your anger, he’s already gone,” she whispered as she grabbed her arm. 

Of course, her panicked whisper was ‘accidentally’ too loud, allowing it to be heard by some of the closer guests, while her touch made Atia turn away from the crowd, hiding her expression as she started to tremble. 

Respect, I thought even as I watched her movements. Not only did Olivia realize that her friend was on the edge of a collapse, but just a couple of seconds she had managed to conceal her nervous breakdown as an overflow of anger. 

I decided to help. While Olivia continued to whisper with a growing display of alarm to distract the guests, I took a step toward Cera, the lady that had gone through a lot of ‘trouble’ during our last party to provide entertainment — before the rest joined, of course — and without saying anything, took her wine goblet off her hand and drank it in one long gulp, letting some of it dribble down my chin. 

Rude, daring, messy. In other words, the perfect way to pull the attention away from the two lovely ladies that had made my previous party such an enjoyable evening. 

The gaze of the guests turned to me even as I threw the glass on a nearby table dismissively, shattering it. Daring, considering it probably cost more than a peasant family would make in a year. 

The exalted party guests hardly appreciated it, of course, especially the male half, and their distaste was hardly about the expensiveness of the glass. More than one of them had been glaring at me angrily, their hands stiff like they want to take action to teach a slave how to behave in an illustrious party. 

Too bad that after what happened to Marcus earlier, none of them felt brave enough to take action. 

The female half of the party had mixed results. Some of them shared the gaze of dismissive outrage of their partners, of course, but there was more than one familiar face from the earlier party, their outrage only a fake layer to hide their anticipation and arousal. 

What could I say, I delivered a memorable service. 

However, interestingly, I could see an expression of anticipation on the face of some of them despite them being absent from the previous party, suggesting the ladies hadn’t been as tight-lipped as I had been expecting. 

Before I could think about the implications of it, however, Olivia and Atia joined the main crowd. “Such a rebellious slave. You’re lucky that you have earned me a couple of coins to keep me in a good mood,” Olivia said, however, the teasing tone she had used was enough to quench the angry displays of the rest of the guests. With her treating it as a joke, no one other than Atia had any right — or power — to complain. 

And since the cute blonde was keeping her mouth shut, there was nothing else to be said. 

I didn’t bother hiding my smug grin as the men that surrounded me forced me to swallow their words. I couldn’t say hiding myself as a slave was the most comfortable fake identity, but it was hard to ignore the perks. Acting like an uncultured swine to annoy the Roman elite while acting unaware of the implications of my actions was certainly one of them, especially for a bastard like me who had grown suppressed and despised everyone other than my grandfather, whose attention could hardly be classified as a positive despite all the skills he had allowed me to develop during the torture sessions he had termed as training. 

For a moment, no one said anything while I grinned at the male half of the party and leered at the female half, before Atia made a simple gesture. The music started again as the servants hidden in the corner started playing their instruments once again, and fun returned to the party.

Or what passed as fun at the initial stages of a stuffy noble party. 

“It’s time for you to work for your food,” Olivia as she slapped on my shoulder, gesturing me at the center of the room, where I noticed a couple of restriction wards were already set up. Nothing serious, of course. A mediocre mage could easily shatter them, let alone a Sorcerer, so I walked there. 

And acted surprised when two glowing chains appeared suddenly and wrapped around my legs. “What’s going on!” I growled in loud anger, giving the act of an angry barbarian perfectly even as I pulled my blunted sword. 

Even that was enough to make everyone take a step back in fear, who clearly expected my reaction with their familiarity with me. It was amusing to think that just seconds ago, those men were trying to intimidate with their gazes. 

Weaklings. 

Of course, it would be more accurate to say everyone with the exception of Olivia and Atia took a step back, clearly prepared. Olivia looked satisfied, while Atia was already showing signs of arousal. Clearly, my previous ‘services’ left a very good impression. 

“You’re going to give us a little show, of course,” Olivia said without skipping a beat. “My cousin is almost here, and he needs some entertainment.” 

The reaction of the rest of the crowd at the mention of her cousin had been quite interesting. I would have expected a simple acknowledgment from the rest of the crowd, or maybe some pleasant anticipation if the said cousin was particularly famous or important, which was possible considering her position. 

What I hadn’t expected was a thick mixture of fear and shock. How interesting, I thought even as I tensed, curious just what kind of figure that could earn such a response from a bunch of high-ranking yet sheltered nobles. 

Pity I wasn’t able to think about that, because, with Olivia’s mention of entertainment, eight people walked in, holding a variety of weapons, from spears to nets. Luckily, they were not only blunted, but also I could sense a subtle enchantment wrapped around them to further reduce the damage, as even a blunt weapon could be really dangerous if used wrongly. 

Olivia and Atia went through all the trouble to prevent an accident from happening. To me, at least, as interestingly, my own weapon lacked such protection. I wondered whether it was because they didn’t think I could pose a threat with all the handicaps forcing me, or they cared less about the safety of their own guards than my safety. 

It was equally likely. 

“Let’s see if great Peirous could resist such a difficult challenge,” Olivia said as eight guards attacked me simultaneously. 

There was no chance I could actually resist them without resorting to magic, of course, not with one against eight while my mobility was limited with a magical chain that prevented me from moving more than two feet away from the center. 

But the guards didn’t attack me as a group. One of them took the point, and attacked me with a cry, while two others used their spears to limit my already weak mobility further. 

However, one of the spear attacks was mistimed, allowing me to step to the side and deflect it first before parrying the main attack, forcing the raging figure back. 

Only for him to stumble several steps back, two more than my relatively gentle push required. The first could be dismissed as incompetence, but the second was clearly prepared. It was just an excuse for me to create a big show without any risk, even more fake than some of the choreographed gladiator battles. 

Olivia was smart to arrange such simple yet effective entertainment. It was exaggerated, but still, it was a good way to make me show off, which would serve to make a good entrance to the said cousin. And if another noble had sprung that on me without a warning, I would have made them pay by ruining the show, but luckily, when the subject was Olivia, I had more interesting ways to make her pay later, in private. 

So, I focused on providing a great show, displaying my exaggerated abilities as a famous gladiator to the limit, giving a show that would be exceptional even in Colosseum. 

Yet, that didn’t prevent the crowd from looking panicked and nervous, and a couple of minutes later, I heard several soft gasps as they turned toward the entrance of the courtyard, losing all interest in the show. 

I looked there, curious what I would find. A bloodthirsty general, maybe, the kind that wrote his name on the battlefield with blood. Or maybe another Sorcerer, power radiating off them in waves, threatening to drown everyone close. 

So, it would be a lie to say when I wasn’t surprised when the anticipated guest arrived, only to reveal a frail-looking man in his forties stumbling forward, his gray hair underlining his lack of a physical ability even further. Even more interestingly, I couldn’t sense a drop of magic from him. And since there was no point in hiding his strength with the same tenacity as me, it wrote off being a dangerous mage as well. He even lacked the aware, cautious gaze of a military man, making it clear that he wasn’t involved in the military as well. 

Yet, as he walked forward, the crowd slowly shuffled, like they feared to stand next to him. If it wasn’t for Olivia and Atia’s combined political weight, they might as well be running away. 

I couldn’t help but watch him curiously. What could make him such a feared man?