Chapter 238: Brewing Fire

Standing behind his desk with his arms behind his back, Justinian looked out at a group of his servants, each identical in appearance, with collars around their necks. "All of you." Each one stiffened up upon hearing his voice. "Today, you all have one task. To search Isis’s room. Strip it bare and find anything that is out of place. Hidden items, secret letters, weapons- it does not matter; anything you find, make a note of and place back where it was found. Now, despite your search, she must not know her room was ever invaded like this. Everything touched and moved must be placed back exactly where it was found."

The servants bowed and, seeing he had nothing more to order, left, knowing to wait for him to leave with Isis. Narrowing his eyes, his smile fell. Knowing Seth had some involvement in the statue, he needed to know if Isis was somehow involved as well. After all, the damage had only been spotted soon after the two were allowed to meet. If it was a distraction for her to leave, or something else, there would be evidence.

’Let’s hope they are not incompetent.’ Although his own Lesser’s, trained by his people, there was the nagging feeling in his mind. Grabbing the bell reserved for the freemen who worked in his care, he rang it, and another maid, much older, looking to be in her sixties, arrived and bowed. Her wrinkled appearance and grey hair, however, could not mask the deep wisdom in her eyes and refinement in her movements.

"It’s you today, Priscilla." The old Lady smiled but rolled her eyes and rose, knowing she didn’t need Justinian’s approval to.

"Young Master, you know our timetables already; why do you pretend to be surprised?" Justinian gave a warm smile before placing his hand on his chest and pretending to be hurt.

"You always found it adorable when I was a child."

"And now you are an adult. It is hardly adorable." The two were silent for a second before sharing a light chuckle. Taking a deep breath, Priscilla’s expression turned cold and stern. "What is it you require, young master? It is not time to eat, and your work should be finished by now." Justinian could hear the complaint hidden in her words as she wondered if her time was being wasted. Had it been anyone else, bar his head butler, he would have instantly fired them, but the woman before him was one of the few who helped raise him, including being the one to take charge of his lessons.

Unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his hands, seeing her raise an eyebrow at him, getting lost in his thoughts again, able to feel the cane hitting his knuckles once more. "Sorry. Anyway, I have given Maria and Felix a task, but you know how they are. Can you keep watch over them and make sure they do it properly?"

"How many?" Priscilla asked.

"Eight."

"And what is the task?"

"Search Isis’s room and then leave it as if no one had entered." Priscilla nodded and placed a hand on her chest.

"Will that be all?"

"Thank you, Priscilla." With another smile, the woman rolled her eyes at him, trying to be cute, but Justinian caught the smile, breaking her cold expression the moment she began to turn.

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"So what is going on?" Isis asked, seeing the approaching Colosseum, their carriage getting stuck in the swarm of people heading towards it.

"Well, you may not have known, considering how anti-social you are, but I am actually hosting an event in the Colosseum: a few fights, a race, a dance, and so on. The moment a war truly begins, public mood is on a steady decline. Now news of victory or plunder brought back home can cause a spike in public mood, but no matter what, it will always drop until there is a call for war to end, either done civilly or through revolution."

"And this is to make people’s mood better. The march only began a few days ago. Has a battle even occurred yet?"

"No, but that is beside the point. Augustus is far better at swaying public opinion than I ever could be, but he made that stupid promise, which means every day he is here and people see him, they will wonder why he has yet to fulfil what he said he would and eventually begin to question everything else. But whilst I may not be good at public speaking, I can certainly pay another to do it for me." Isis looked out the window and couldn’t help but frown.

"I thought you would have used the majority of your money to deal with Cras." Justinian snorted, almost unable to believe she would have thought of something like that.

"Please, you think I would use my own money until bankrupt. The majority of it is via loans, old debts or donations from the good master around the city." Smirking, Isis could see the smugness in his eyes as he thought about it. "I will not say people in this city are stupid, but they are... blinded. Of course, I have used some of my own wealth, but the majority of what I put forward that was shown was debts I collected or loans from the bank in Fargo."

There was smugness and arrogance in the way he explained, almost as if he couldn’t help but tell someone, likely because he couldn’t say it without angering others. She however was safe, afterall, who could she tell without Jusitnian ever finding out. "So you started a war on debt."

"I will make my money back," he confidently said.

"But what if you lose the war?" He stayed silent for a second before nodding at the question.

"Well, there is no chance Cras can take this city; that much I am sure of so they can’t claim a complete victory over us. As for reparations. Any request they make can be made up in human resources rather than material wealth. I mean, a slave city would very much love that. As for the bank, well, I have enough wealth in my name to pay half back and be fine, and that doesn’t include my auction house nor the little amount of interest on the loan anyway. If we lose, it will take seven years, perhaps a little longer, to pay it back in full. A very acceptable length of time for the Farsagon bank."

Isis nodded and narrowed her eyes. ’Even for a war, he has contingencies in place. He is far too cautious; how the hell would I even get about poisoning him?’ She had been wondering for a while now when she would have a chance. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to overpower him and pour the poison down his throat, and even if she could, there would always be a guard or servant to stop her.

Nor could she get close to his food. Either he had already had it prepared before she arrived at meals, or he would make it himself. If she even dared request to make the meal, it would be like announcing to the world what she wanted to do. ’I need to ask Seth about this. He may know or have a way.’

"We’re here." The carriage door opened, and like always, Justinian got out first, holding his hand out to her to help her down. Walking in, it was sunlit when she first went inside to see what the place was about. Gone were the narrow hallways she had to take to find a seat; instead, there was now plenty of room to stretch and pass another person. They weren’t stuffed with people either, only the occasional person dressed in silks and jewels.

Climbing the steps up, the deafening roar of the crowd got louder as cheers and boos echoed, until sunlight hit and she found herself in a comfortable box separated from the normal seating where only the richest could go. Justinian found his seat at the centre of the box, the chair next to him free.

Lazily watching, the two gladiators danced around one another, desperately trying to force an opening in their opponent’s guard, throwing a flurry of attacks every few seconds, each precisely blocked and countered, while making sure not to leave an opening. Back and forth they went until one fell and the other placed a blade on their throat. As always, they turned to the crowd and called for mercy or blood.

A fury of cheers echoed, fighting to be louder, some calling for blood, the majority calling for mercy, with many boos overlapping for the winner. Eventually, mercy won out, and the gladiator raised their sword before holstering it, holding their hand out to the fallen warrior, lifting them before embarrassing them by kneeling them in the gut when the rose made them fall. The crowd screamed in hate at the man who simply bowed and bathed in their contempt, parading himself like an unbeatable god of war.

It was a show, one with a villain and a hero between fighters and sitting through them all, Iiss noticed the themes in the next few fights. All the fighters had a personality they likely played up for the crowd. Some were noble, some scum, some reckless and others charming. All of them, however, were experts in captivating the crowd both via their fights and their presence of character.

Finally, the fights ended, and Colosseum staff entered the centre, setting up a large stage, the crowd clearing from the stands in the small break to eat and drink or simply walk and stretch.

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"Are you ready?" Within a room hidden in the Colosseum, David asked, taking his mask off to show his face. Looking down at the man hunched over on a bench, he saw him shake with anticipation and look up, his unruly, bushy beard unkempt, as a burning fire in his eyes brought out a madness in his appearance.

"That question is better for you. Are your people in place?" David nodded, getting a smile from the man as he rubbed his neck, digging his fingers underneath the collar he wore.

"The city seems to know we are going to do something, but it matters not. They are ready."

"Good."