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The court evening was over, the various nobles in the last dregs of drifting out; the royal presence (as much of it as had been present) had already given their leave of their sycophants and enemies alike.
"You. Gladiator."
Lesley nodded respectfully to the guard commander, ignoring the spike of nervousness at being singled out from the others less than half a watermark before he'd expected them all to be paid and dismissed.
"Sir."
He came over to the man beckoning him, and gave his name at the demand for it. He got a raking glance up and down, and a firm nod in return.
"You'll do."
Lesley relaxed, though his expression remained calmly quizzical. Some extra duty, then, and not his escapades catching up with him. "May I ask what for, sir?"
The Athenian Guard shrugged, and turned, beckoning him to follow. "Her Highness Circenia simply asked me to bring her the 'likeliest-looking' of the gladiators we'd hired tonight. I've no idea whether she meant best fighter or prettiest but you seem likely enough for both."
"I can confirm the first," Lesley replied, covering his real reaction with tastefully dry humour. "The second seems safest to leave to the lady's own judgement." He'd felt an odd mix of hope and nervousness at the first two words, both immediately scrubbed at the confirmation the man meant the other princess, leaving him with the earlier willing but mildly annoyed conclusion that there was some other task that was going to delay his finding his bed this morning, and then his heart sank as the other finished.
What other conclusion was he to draw from that, but that Circenia of Stravos had something of a kink? Well, one couldn't very well refuse her. Unfortunately, there was only one way that he could reliably perform in bed, and there was no way he was stupid enough to hit a royal princess. With any luck whatsoever, the guard was simply teasing him.
They came to a smaller room set up to receive both business and social guests more intimately than the great hall, and Lesley stepped inside and bowed as he was annouced. Properly; he actually knew his etiquette, and he had no interest in annoying this woman.
"How may I be of service, Your Highness?"
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The court evening was over, the various nobles in the last dregs of drifting out; the royal presence (as much of it as had been present) had already given their leave of their sycophants and enemies alike.
"You. Gladiator."
Lesley nodded respectfully to the guard commander, ignoring the spike of nervousness at being singled out from the others less than half a watermark before he'd expected them all to be paid and dismissed.
"Sir."
He came over to the man beckoning him, and gave his name at the demand for it. He got a raking glance up and down, and a firm nod in return.
"You'll do."
Lesley relaxed, though his expression remained calmly quizzical. Some extra duty, then, and not his escapades catching up with him. "May I ask what for, sir?"
The Athenian Guard shrugged, and turned, beckoning him to follow. "Her Highness Circenia simply asked me to bring her the 'likeliest-looking' of the gladiators we'd hired tonight. I've no idea whether she meant best fighter or prettiest but you seem likely enough for both."
"I can confirm the first," Lesley replied, covering his real reaction with tastefully dry humour. "The second seems safest to leave to the lady's own judgement." He'd felt an odd mix of hope and nervousness at the first two words, both immediately scrubbed at the confirmation the man meant the other princess, leaving him with the earlier willing but mildly annoyed conclusion that there was some other task that was going to delay his finding his bed this morning, and then his heart sank as the other finished.
What other conclusion was he to draw from that, but that Circenia of Stravos had something of a kink? Well, one couldn't very well refuse her. Unfortunately, there was only one way that he could reliably perform in bed, and there was no way he was stupid enough to hit a royal princess. With any luck whatsoever, the guard was simply teasing him.
They came to a smaller room set up to receive both business and social guests more intimately than the great hall, and Lesley stepped inside and bowed as he was annouced. Properly; he actually knew his etiquette, and he had no interest in annoying this woman.
"How may I be of service, Your Highness?"
The court evening was over, the various nobles in the last dregs of drifting out; the royal presence (as much of it as had been present) had already given their leave of their sycophants and enemies alike.
"You. Gladiator."
Lesley nodded respectfully to the guard commander, ignoring the spike of nervousness at being singled out from the others less than half a watermark before he'd expected them all to be paid and dismissed.
"Sir."
He came over to the man beckoning him, and gave his name at the demand for it. He got a raking glance up and down, and a firm nod in return.
"You'll do."
Lesley relaxed, though his expression remained calmly quizzical. Some extra duty, then, and not his escapades catching up with him. "May I ask what for, sir?"
The Athenian Guard shrugged, and turned, beckoning him to follow. "Her Highness Circenia simply asked me to bring her the 'likeliest-looking' of the gladiators we'd hired tonight. I've no idea whether she meant best fighter or prettiest but you seem likely enough for both."
"I can confirm the first," Lesley replied, covering his real reaction with tastefully dry humour. "The second seems safest to leave to the lady's own judgement." He'd felt an odd mix of hope and nervousness at the first two words, both immediately scrubbed at the confirmation the man meant the other princess, leaving him with the earlier willing but mildly annoyed conclusion that there was some other task that was going to delay his finding his bed this morning, and then his heart sank as the other finished.
What other conclusion was he to draw from that, but that Circenia of Stravos had something of a kink? Well, one couldn't very well refuse her. Unfortunately, there was only one way that he could reliably perform in bed, and there was no way he was stupid enough to hit a royal princess. With any luck whatsoever, the guard was simply teasing him.
They came to a smaller room set up to receive both business and social guests more intimately than the great hall, and Lesley stepped inside and bowed as he was annouced. Properly; he actually knew his etiquette, and he had no interest in annoying this woman.
"How may I be of service, Your Highness?"
It had been a long night.
Convening Court was an exhausting task in itself, even without the threat of civil war hanging over their heads. But with it… Circenia of Stravos let out a profound sigh, absently swirling the wine in the glass she held. It had not been an easy endeavor, keeping a room full of nobles under control, especially when at least half of them would happily see her family dead. But the evening had gone well, her son performing his duties admirably in the face of adversity. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more proud.
But now, there were other matters to attend to. Other considerations to take in. The fact was that the princess could not be everywhere at once, no matter how much she might wish that were the case. She was a meddlesome creature and had her hand in many pies, but the one that concerned her the most was Xanthos. With Persephone effectively out of the picture, that left Emilia as the heir to the throne, and therefore a threat. Eyes must be kept on her at all times, eyes that were loyal to the Stravos, or at least eyes that benefitted from the Stravos. For enough coin, she found most eyes could be made amenable to even more questionable tasks.
When the guard entered the room with her requested gladiator in tow, Circenia rose to her feet with a gracious nod to them both. “Thank you,” she told the guard, gesturing toward the door. “That will be all. Leave us.”
Waiting until the man was out of earshot, she looked over her companion with a calculative eye. Was this not the same man she’d seen Vasia conversing with hours before? And had he not been spotted around Emilia in days past…? Though, actually, that seemed to make him the perfect choice for what he had in mind. At least she knew he had connections.
“Gladiator,” she greeted him, taking another swallow from her glass. “Thank you for coming.” As if he had a choice. “Please, feel free to have a seat. Wine?” she offered, gesturing to the nearby tray which held a chilled decanter and three glasses. Normally, she would not deign to share cups with someone so far beneath her station, but special circumstances called for special measures. “I can’t imagine you’re any less tired than I am after today’s events.”
A shrewd pale gaze took him in from head to toe like a farmer would livestock, searching for perceptible imperfections. What she wanted of him did not necessarily require brute strength, but it wouldn’t hurt, either. One never knew when things might go south, and it was always better to be prepared than not.
“I have a proposition for you, one for which I guarantee you’ll be well compensated,” she finally said. “Are you interested?”
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It had been a long night.
Convening Court was an exhausting task in itself, even without the threat of civil war hanging over their heads. But with it… Circenia of Stravos let out a profound sigh, absently swirling the wine in the glass she held. It had not been an easy endeavor, keeping a room full of nobles under control, especially when at least half of them would happily see her family dead. But the evening had gone well, her son performing his duties admirably in the face of adversity. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more proud.
But now, there were other matters to attend to. Other considerations to take in. The fact was that the princess could not be everywhere at once, no matter how much she might wish that were the case. She was a meddlesome creature and had her hand in many pies, but the one that concerned her the most was Xanthos. With Persephone effectively out of the picture, that left Emilia as the heir to the throne, and therefore a threat. Eyes must be kept on her at all times, eyes that were loyal to the Stravos, or at least eyes that benefitted from the Stravos. For enough coin, she found most eyes could be made amenable to even more questionable tasks.
When the guard entered the room with her requested gladiator in tow, Circenia rose to her feet with a gracious nod to them both. “Thank you,” she told the guard, gesturing toward the door. “That will be all. Leave us.”
Waiting until the man was out of earshot, she looked over her companion with a calculative eye. Was this not the same man she’d seen Vasia conversing with hours before? And had he not been spotted around Emilia in days past…? Though, actually, that seemed to make him the perfect choice for what he had in mind. At least she knew he had connections.
“Gladiator,” she greeted him, taking another swallow from her glass. “Thank you for coming.” As if he had a choice. “Please, feel free to have a seat. Wine?” she offered, gesturing to the nearby tray which held a chilled decanter and three glasses. Normally, she would not deign to share cups with someone so far beneath her station, but special circumstances called for special measures. “I can’t imagine you’re any less tired than I am after today’s events.”
A shrewd pale gaze took him in from head to toe like a farmer would livestock, searching for perceptible imperfections. What she wanted of him did not necessarily require brute strength, but it wouldn’t hurt, either. One never knew when things might go south, and it was always better to be prepared than not.
“I have a proposition for you, one for which I guarantee you’ll be well compensated,” she finally said. “Are you interested?”
It had been a long night.
Convening Court was an exhausting task in itself, even without the threat of civil war hanging over their heads. But with it… Circenia of Stravos let out a profound sigh, absently swirling the wine in the glass she held. It had not been an easy endeavor, keeping a room full of nobles under control, especially when at least half of them would happily see her family dead. But the evening had gone well, her son performing his duties admirably in the face of adversity. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more proud.
But now, there were other matters to attend to. Other considerations to take in. The fact was that the princess could not be everywhere at once, no matter how much she might wish that were the case. She was a meddlesome creature and had her hand in many pies, but the one that concerned her the most was Xanthos. With Persephone effectively out of the picture, that left Emilia as the heir to the throne, and therefore a threat. Eyes must be kept on her at all times, eyes that were loyal to the Stravos, or at least eyes that benefitted from the Stravos. For enough coin, she found most eyes could be made amenable to even more questionable tasks.
When the guard entered the room with her requested gladiator in tow, Circenia rose to her feet with a gracious nod to them both. “Thank you,” she told the guard, gesturing toward the door. “That will be all. Leave us.”
Waiting until the man was out of earshot, she looked over her companion with a calculative eye. Was this not the same man she’d seen Vasia conversing with hours before? And had he not been spotted around Emilia in days past…? Though, actually, that seemed to make him the perfect choice for what he had in mind. At least she knew he had connections.
“Gladiator,” she greeted him, taking another swallow from her glass. “Thank you for coming.” As if he had a choice. “Please, feel free to have a seat. Wine?” she offered, gesturing to the nearby tray which held a chilled decanter and three glasses. Normally, she would not deign to share cups with someone so far beneath her station, but special circumstances called for special measures. “I can’t imagine you’re any less tired than I am after today’s events.”
A shrewd pale gaze took him in from head to toe like a farmer would livestock, searching for perceptible imperfections. What she wanted of him did not necessarily require brute strength, but it wouldn’t hurt, either. One never knew when things might go south, and it was always better to be prepared than not.
“I have a proposition for you, one for which I guarantee you’ll be well compensated,” she finally said. “Are you interested?”
The gladiator stepped into the room, stopping at the appropriate difference given their relative ranks, and bowed politely. Not entirely an uneducated lower-class boor, then, though not from a military background, either. He carried his weapons easily, almost with an air that he'd forgotten he had them. The quick glance around the room even before the other man had been dismissed was an assessing one, though, rather than curious. No matter what manners he wore, this was a man who was always, instinctively prepared for a fight.
A quick flicker of quiet surprise crossed his face at the invitation to sit, and he managed, "Thank you, Your Highness, but I feel that would be presumptuous even with an invitation..." He would if she insisted, of course, but he really was much more comfortable standing. He knew how to be formally polite to noblewomen. Informally polite... he could manage with a soldier, regardless of rank, but a woman like Princess Circenia? Far too intimidating. The only women he really knew how to deal with were shopkeepers and whores - and whores didn't much like his manners. He shook his head at the second offer. "No wine, thank you. I never drink when I'm expected to be polite." A glass of wine to wash down a meal was one thing, but tired and on an empty stomach? It'd go to his head, and then he'd want another, and the night could easily end very badly for both of them. At least he knew himself well enough to make that decision. "And I am not tired enough to worry about, Your Highness. I was given sufficient breaks over the night."
He looked comfortable under her assessing stare. Twelve years as a slave - one learned to ignore being looked over like a horse taken to auction. This one was certainly politer than some other looks he'd endured over the years.
The mention of a 'proposition' got a twitch of his eyebrow, but from her manner he was fairly certain it wasn't the one he was worried about. "In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady," he informed her dryly. "I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?" He managed to contain his smile to a slightly wry look.
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The gladiator stepped into the room, stopping at the appropriate difference given their relative ranks, and bowed politely. Not entirely an uneducated lower-class boor, then, though not from a military background, either. He carried his weapons easily, almost with an air that he'd forgotten he had them. The quick glance around the room even before the other man had been dismissed was an assessing one, though, rather than curious. No matter what manners he wore, this was a man who was always, instinctively prepared for a fight.
A quick flicker of quiet surprise crossed his face at the invitation to sit, and he managed, "Thank you, Your Highness, but I feel that would be presumptuous even with an invitation..." He would if she insisted, of course, but he really was much more comfortable standing. He knew how to be formally polite to noblewomen. Informally polite... he could manage with a soldier, regardless of rank, but a woman like Princess Circenia? Far too intimidating. The only women he really knew how to deal with were shopkeepers and whores - and whores didn't much like his manners. He shook his head at the second offer. "No wine, thank you. I never drink when I'm expected to be polite." A glass of wine to wash down a meal was one thing, but tired and on an empty stomach? It'd go to his head, and then he'd want another, and the night could easily end very badly for both of them. At least he knew himself well enough to make that decision. "And I am not tired enough to worry about, Your Highness. I was given sufficient breaks over the night."
He looked comfortable under her assessing stare. Twelve years as a slave - one learned to ignore being looked over like a horse taken to auction. This one was certainly politer than some other looks he'd endured over the years.
The mention of a 'proposition' got a twitch of his eyebrow, but from her manner he was fairly certain it wasn't the one he was worried about. "In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady," he informed her dryly. "I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?" He managed to contain his smile to a slightly wry look.
The gladiator stepped into the room, stopping at the appropriate difference given their relative ranks, and bowed politely. Not entirely an uneducated lower-class boor, then, though not from a military background, either. He carried his weapons easily, almost with an air that he'd forgotten he had them. The quick glance around the room even before the other man had been dismissed was an assessing one, though, rather than curious. No matter what manners he wore, this was a man who was always, instinctively prepared for a fight.
A quick flicker of quiet surprise crossed his face at the invitation to sit, and he managed, "Thank you, Your Highness, but I feel that would be presumptuous even with an invitation..." He would if she insisted, of course, but he really was much more comfortable standing. He knew how to be formally polite to noblewomen. Informally polite... he could manage with a soldier, regardless of rank, but a woman like Princess Circenia? Far too intimidating. The only women he really knew how to deal with were shopkeepers and whores - and whores didn't much like his manners. He shook his head at the second offer. "No wine, thank you. I never drink when I'm expected to be polite." A glass of wine to wash down a meal was one thing, but tired and on an empty stomach? It'd go to his head, and then he'd want another, and the night could easily end very badly for both of them. At least he knew himself well enough to make that decision. "And I am not tired enough to worry about, Your Highness. I was given sufficient breaks over the night."
He looked comfortable under her assessing stare. Twelve years as a slave - one learned to ignore being looked over like a horse taken to auction. This one was certainly politer than some other looks he'd endured over the years.
The mention of a 'proposition' got a twitch of his eyebrow, but from her manner he was fairly certain it wasn't the one he was worried about. "In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady," he informed her dryly. "I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?" He managed to contain his smile to a slightly wry look.
Circenia shrugged, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a swallow. What did she care if he sat or stood, if he drank or not? She’d been polite enough to offer, and if he wished to refuse, that was on him. They weren’t here to exchange niceties, anyway. This was business, pure and simple.
In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady. I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?
Her lip curled in a smirk at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down. He wasn’t a fool, then. That was good, though she hoped he wasn’t too intelligent, either. Spies were only useful insofar as they stuck to the agenda they were being paid for. If he started going off course…
Ah, well. There were still ways to deal with that, too.
“What a promising answer,” she purred, settling back in the kline she lounged on. “What I’m asking isn’t entirely illegal, and has only the potential to be dangerous, so I don’t think it will be a completely unwelcome proposition, hm?”
The princess considered the gladiator for another long moment before she spoke again, mulling over the best way to word her offer. Breaking the silence, she finally said, “The Princess Emilia needs protection, someone we can trust to keep a proper watch over her. A confidante, even. There are things I’m sure she won’t feel comfortable telling me or my children, even if they are things we need to know.”
Raising her glass again, one fingertip gently tapped against the side. “So what I’m proposing is fairly simple. Keep a watch over her young highness, where she goes, who she goes with, and make a weekly report back to me of these things. Anything interesting she says, even anything uninteresting… these are things I’d also be very keen on knowing.”
Slowly sliding her finger around the rim of her glass, Circenia’s eyes remained on the gladiator’s with a razor intent. “It’s only to keep her safe, you understand. Xanthos has many enemies in these uncertain times, and without her parents or her sister to watch over her, someone else must take up that task. As her aunt, I’ve only been too happy to do it myself; if, gods forbid, something ever happens to me, I would hope someone else would do the same for my daughters. But, on the same note, I also know I cannot always be around her. For the times that I’m not, it would put my heart at ease to know that someone else was there to pick up my slack.”
With a thoughtful tilt of her head, the princess inquired, “So? Are you interested? As I said, you will be well-paid, far better compensated than any fighting pit. The Stravos do not neglect their friends. And we do not offer such friendship lightly. Especially when family is involved.”
It was true. And if that friendship turned out to be one-sided, well… the Stravos were also very good at making false friends disappear.
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Circenia shrugged, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a swallow. What did she care if he sat or stood, if he drank or not? She’d been polite enough to offer, and if he wished to refuse, that was on him. They weren’t here to exchange niceties, anyway. This was business, pure and simple.
In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady. I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?
Her lip curled in a smirk at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down. He wasn’t a fool, then. That was good, though she hoped he wasn’t too intelligent, either. Spies were only useful insofar as they stuck to the agenda they were being paid for. If he started going off course…
Ah, well. There were still ways to deal with that, too.
“What a promising answer,” she purred, settling back in the kline she lounged on. “What I’m asking isn’t entirely illegal, and has only the potential to be dangerous, so I don’t think it will be a completely unwelcome proposition, hm?”
The princess considered the gladiator for another long moment before she spoke again, mulling over the best way to word her offer. Breaking the silence, she finally said, “The Princess Emilia needs protection, someone we can trust to keep a proper watch over her. A confidante, even. There are things I’m sure she won’t feel comfortable telling me or my children, even if they are things we need to know.”
Raising her glass again, one fingertip gently tapped against the side. “So what I’m proposing is fairly simple. Keep a watch over her young highness, where she goes, who she goes with, and make a weekly report back to me of these things. Anything interesting she says, even anything uninteresting… these are things I’d also be very keen on knowing.”
Slowly sliding her finger around the rim of her glass, Circenia’s eyes remained on the gladiator’s with a razor intent. “It’s only to keep her safe, you understand. Xanthos has many enemies in these uncertain times, and without her parents or her sister to watch over her, someone else must take up that task. As her aunt, I’ve only been too happy to do it myself; if, gods forbid, something ever happens to me, I would hope someone else would do the same for my daughters. But, on the same note, I also know I cannot always be around her. For the times that I’m not, it would put my heart at ease to know that someone else was there to pick up my slack.”
With a thoughtful tilt of her head, the princess inquired, “So? Are you interested? As I said, you will be well-paid, far better compensated than any fighting pit. The Stravos do not neglect their friends. And we do not offer such friendship lightly. Especially when family is involved.”
It was true. And if that friendship turned out to be one-sided, well… the Stravos were also very good at making false friends disappear.
Circenia shrugged, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a swallow. What did she care if he sat or stood, if he drank or not? She’d been polite enough to offer, and if he wished to refuse, that was on him. They weren’t here to exchange niceties, anyway. This was business, pure and simple.
In my experience, when the offer of payment comes before the description of the job it usually implies something either illegal or dangerous, my lady. I assume that coming from yourself the first is irrelevant, and the second sounds delightful. What can I do for Your Highness?
Her lip curled in a smirk at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down. He wasn’t a fool, then. That was good, though she hoped he wasn’t too intelligent, either. Spies were only useful insofar as they stuck to the agenda they were being paid for. If he started going off course…
Ah, well. There were still ways to deal with that, too.
“What a promising answer,” she purred, settling back in the kline she lounged on. “What I’m asking isn’t entirely illegal, and has only the potential to be dangerous, so I don’t think it will be a completely unwelcome proposition, hm?”
The princess considered the gladiator for another long moment before she spoke again, mulling over the best way to word her offer. Breaking the silence, she finally said, “The Princess Emilia needs protection, someone we can trust to keep a proper watch over her. A confidante, even. There are things I’m sure she won’t feel comfortable telling me or my children, even if they are things we need to know.”
Raising her glass again, one fingertip gently tapped against the side. “So what I’m proposing is fairly simple. Keep a watch over her young highness, where she goes, who she goes with, and make a weekly report back to me of these things. Anything interesting she says, even anything uninteresting… these are things I’d also be very keen on knowing.”
Slowly sliding her finger around the rim of her glass, Circenia’s eyes remained on the gladiator’s with a razor intent. “It’s only to keep her safe, you understand. Xanthos has many enemies in these uncertain times, and without her parents or her sister to watch over her, someone else must take up that task. As her aunt, I’ve only been too happy to do it myself; if, gods forbid, something ever happens to me, I would hope someone else would do the same for my daughters. But, on the same note, I also know I cannot always be around her. For the times that I’m not, it would put my heart at ease to know that someone else was there to pick up my slack.”
With a thoughtful tilt of her head, the princess inquired, “So? Are you interested? As I said, you will be well-paid, far better compensated than any fighting pit. The Stravos do not neglect their friends. And we do not offer such friendship lightly. Especially when family is involved.”
It was true. And if that friendship turned out to be one-sided, well… the Stravos were also very good at making false friends disappear.
The startled look that crossed his face when Emilia's name passed the Stravos lady's lips was perfectly excusable, he decided, as he schooled his features back to patient attentiveness. It was not the sort of job offer a man of his station ought to expect.
Confidante? Interesting. The princess didn't have friends, or her friends weren't willing to spy on her? Not a question that needed answering tonight. The assurances that Circenia had no motives beyond those of a doting aunt were unnecessary, but oddly, seemed at least partly sincere. If he hadn't already been skeptical, he might have believed it. Then again, if someone was going to understand wanting the best for someone and at the same time being perfectly willing to harm them, it was probably Lesley.
"That seems straightforward enough," the gladiator said carefully, "though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage." He gave her a cautiously assessing look, trying to judge exactly how much she meant by 'well-paid', and how open she was to haggling. He might be willing to do the job, but he was also interested in getting as much as he could for it. He'd made friends with nobles before, and while it was far preferable to the opposite and he wasn't fool enough to scoff at it, he also wasn't fool enough to assume it would do anything to put food on the table at home.
"I feel the need to ask, though, why choose me to make the offer to? Or was your man being honest when he suggested he'd simply picked one of the temporary guards mostly at random?" He was thinking out loud as he added, "It seems odd that you would assume she would confide in a random new guard." Yet - maybe not an odd assumption for one who knew the girl. She had struck Lesley as remarkably naive and trusting. Odd, for a noble.
He didn't want to seem too skeptical, though. If Circenia thought he thought he couldn't do it, the job offer would doubtless dry up. He didn't want to say anything that could hint at why he found this conversation ironic to the point of feeling a bit unreal, but... "Not to say that, ah..." There was a trick, to putting a bit of tension in the jaw, such that it made you look like you were trying hard not to blush. He'd learned it as a teen, faking interest in girls. Then he shrugged, with something of an oh, hell with it expression. "You want to know what she's up to, sure, let's start here. Were you aware she likes coming down to the Arcus to watch us train?"
An explanation for if Emilia did immediately choose to cling to him, a reason why he had hesitated to immediately mention already having met her, and a way for Circenia to claim more knowledge than she had if she was the type to feel better-inclined towards people she could easily impress, all in one. If anything was going to make Lesley feel like an awkward teenager again, it would have to be the effort of convincing someone that more hanky-panky was going on in his life while not actually saying anything that could later be contradicted by either evidence or the claims of the lady herself. While also juggling the need to bee seen as a go-getter masculine type on the one hand, with not getting in trouble with the girl's family on the other.
Not noticeably more difficult than any other part of the job, but certainly less fun. And if his vague suspicions were accurate, the fun part of the job might not manifest at all.
He definitely wanted to be well-paid for this.
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The startled look that crossed his face when Emilia's name passed the Stravos lady's lips was perfectly excusable, he decided, as he schooled his features back to patient attentiveness. It was not the sort of job offer a man of his station ought to expect.
Confidante? Interesting. The princess didn't have friends, or her friends weren't willing to spy on her? Not a question that needed answering tonight. The assurances that Circenia had no motives beyond those of a doting aunt were unnecessary, but oddly, seemed at least partly sincere. If he hadn't already been skeptical, he might have believed it. Then again, if someone was going to understand wanting the best for someone and at the same time being perfectly willing to harm them, it was probably Lesley.
"That seems straightforward enough," the gladiator said carefully, "though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage." He gave her a cautiously assessing look, trying to judge exactly how much she meant by 'well-paid', and how open she was to haggling. He might be willing to do the job, but he was also interested in getting as much as he could for it. He'd made friends with nobles before, and while it was far preferable to the opposite and he wasn't fool enough to scoff at it, he also wasn't fool enough to assume it would do anything to put food on the table at home.
"I feel the need to ask, though, why choose me to make the offer to? Or was your man being honest when he suggested he'd simply picked one of the temporary guards mostly at random?" He was thinking out loud as he added, "It seems odd that you would assume she would confide in a random new guard." Yet - maybe not an odd assumption for one who knew the girl. She had struck Lesley as remarkably naive and trusting. Odd, for a noble.
He didn't want to seem too skeptical, though. If Circenia thought he thought he couldn't do it, the job offer would doubtless dry up. He didn't want to say anything that could hint at why he found this conversation ironic to the point of feeling a bit unreal, but... "Not to say that, ah..." There was a trick, to putting a bit of tension in the jaw, such that it made you look like you were trying hard not to blush. He'd learned it as a teen, faking interest in girls. Then he shrugged, with something of an oh, hell with it expression. "You want to know what she's up to, sure, let's start here. Were you aware she likes coming down to the Arcus to watch us train?"
An explanation for if Emilia did immediately choose to cling to him, a reason why he had hesitated to immediately mention already having met her, and a way for Circenia to claim more knowledge than she had if she was the type to feel better-inclined towards people she could easily impress, all in one. If anything was going to make Lesley feel like an awkward teenager again, it would have to be the effort of convincing someone that more hanky-panky was going on in his life while not actually saying anything that could later be contradicted by either evidence or the claims of the lady herself. While also juggling the need to bee seen as a go-getter masculine type on the one hand, with not getting in trouble with the girl's family on the other.
Not noticeably more difficult than any other part of the job, but certainly less fun. And if his vague suspicions were accurate, the fun part of the job might not manifest at all.
He definitely wanted to be well-paid for this.
The startled look that crossed his face when Emilia's name passed the Stravos lady's lips was perfectly excusable, he decided, as he schooled his features back to patient attentiveness. It was not the sort of job offer a man of his station ought to expect.
Confidante? Interesting. The princess didn't have friends, or her friends weren't willing to spy on her? Not a question that needed answering tonight. The assurances that Circenia had no motives beyond those of a doting aunt were unnecessary, but oddly, seemed at least partly sincere. If he hadn't already been skeptical, he might have believed it. Then again, if someone was going to understand wanting the best for someone and at the same time being perfectly willing to harm them, it was probably Lesley.
"That seems straightforward enough," the gladiator said carefully, "though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage." He gave her a cautiously assessing look, trying to judge exactly how much she meant by 'well-paid', and how open she was to haggling. He might be willing to do the job, but he was also interested in getting as much as he could for it. He'd made friends with nobles before, and while it was far preferable to the opposite and he wasn't fool enough to scoff at it, he also wasn't fool enough to assume it would do anything to put food on the table at home.
"I feel the need to ask, though, why choose me to make the offer to? Or was your man being honest when he suggested he'd simply picked one of the temporary guards mostly at random?" He was thinking out loud as he added, "It seems odd that you would assume she would confide in a random new guard." Yet - maybe not an odd assumption for one who knew the girl. She had struck Lesley as remarkably naive and trusting. Odd, for a noble.
He didn't want to seem too skeptical, though. If Circenia thought he thought he couldn't do it, the job offer would doubtless dry up. He didn't want to say anything that could hint at why he found this conversation ironic to the point of feeling a bit unreal, but... "Not to say that, ah..." There was a trick, to putting a bit of tension in the jaw, such that it made you look like you were trying hard not to blush. He'd learned it as a teen, faking interest in girls. Then he shrugged, with something of an oh, hell with it expression. "You want to know what she's up to, sure, let's start here. Were you aware she likes coming down to the Arcus to watch us train?"
An explanation for if Emilia did immediately choose to cling to him, a reason why he had hesitated to immediately mention already having met her, and a way for Circenia to claim more knowledge than she had if she was the type to feel better-inclined towards people she could easily impress, all in one. If anything was going to make Lesley feel like an awkward teenager again, it would have to be the effort of convincing someone that more hanky-panky was going on in his life while not actually saying anything that could later be contradicted by either evidence or the claims of the lady herself. While also juggling the need to bee seen as a go-getter masculine type on the one hand, with not getting in trouble with the girl's family on the other.
Not noticeably more difficult than any other part of the job, but certainly less fun. And if his vague suspicions were accurate, the fun part of the job might not manifest at all.
He definitely wanted to be well-paid for this.
That seems straightforward enough, though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage.
The look she gave Lesley was just as assessing as the look he gave her, though Circenia’s face was well-practiced in hiding her intent. Did he mean to negotiate with her? Perhaps he was smarter than she thought. A good thing and a bad thing in a potential hire. Hopefully, this one would lean more toward the good.
“Three hundred drachmae a week,” was the princess’s smooth offer, her cool gaze never leaving his. Raising her wine to her lips, she took a slow swallow, waiting to see if he would contradict her. If he wanted to haggle, she wanted to see how far he was willing to go with it. The Stravos were just starting to regain their wealth, but in times like this, funds needed to be directed carefully. Keeping tabs on their enemies was a priority, and if this was what it took to do that, so be it.
When he asked why she’d chosen him in particular, Circenia’s lips curled in a brief smile, one that was hidden behind the rim of her cup. Taking another swallow, she set it off to the side, then turned to regard him again. “Forgive me if I do not reveal all of my reasoning at once,” was her reply, spreading her hands in a brief gesture of (insincere) apology. “But I will say this. Anyone who knows Emilia at all knows she has a soft spot for attractive men. Throw on a few muscles, and the girl’s practically drooling. I’ve no doubt if you start flashing her a smile here and there, she’ll be like clay in your hands.”
Of course, there was more to it than that; Circenia had other eyes on Emilia that she didn’t intend to tell Lesley about. Servants and guards she’d bought out, mostly, and it wasn’t very hard to get their tongues to wag. The Stravos matriarch had ears all over the Court, ears and mouths willing to whisper about those Emilia spent her time with. She knew the girl had met Lesley before, and she was interested to see which way his loyalties truly ran.
As the gladiator went on to tell her of the young princess’s fondness for watching them train, Circenia’s smile widened. He was already revealing information for her? Good, that was a positive sign. More and more, she was sure she’d made a good choice, and the fact that he hadn’t left yet worked in his favor, as well. There were those who would always staunchly serve Xanthos out of some misplaced devotion, no matter the obstacle, but it seemed this Lesley was a little more willing to have his allegiance bought.
Circenia did love a man with an eye for gold.
“Interesting, though not surprising. I did just mention her fondness for muscular men.” Thoughtfully tapping her lip, the princess’s head tilted to the side. “Does she seek to learn how to wield weapons herself? Or does she simply watch?” Circenia couldn’t really imagine Emilia with a sword in her hand, but stranger things had happened. The girl was practically a cornered animal, after all, and such beasts were notoriously unpredictable. She needed to know just how short of a leash she should keep on this one.
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That seems straightforward enough, though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage.
The look she gave Lesley was just as assessing as the look he gave her, though Circenia’s face was well-practiced in hiding her intent. Did he mean to negotiate with her? Perhaps he was smarter than she thought. A good thing and a bad thing in a potential hire. Hopefully, this one would lean more toward the good.
“Three hundred drachmae a week,” was the princess’s smooth offer, her cool gaze never leaving his. Raising her wine to her lips, she took a slow swallow, waiting to see if he would contradict her. If he wanted to haggle, she wanted to see how far he was willing to go with it. The Stravos were just starting to regain their wealth, but in times like this, funds needed to be directed carefully. Keeping tabs on their enemies was a priority, and if this was what it took to do that, so be it.
When he asked why she’d chosen him in particular, Circenia’s lips curled in a brief smile, one that was hidden behind the rim of her cup. Taking another swallow, she set it off to the side, then turned to regard him again. “Forgive me if I do not reveal all of my reasoning at once,” was her reply, spreading her hands in a brief gesture of (insincere) apology. “But I will say this. Anyone who knows Emilia at all knows she has a soft spot for attractive men. Throw on a few muscles, and the girl’s practically drooling. I’ve no doubt if you start flashing her a smile here and there, she’ll be like clay in your hands.”
Of course, there was more to it than that; Circenia had other eyes on Emilia that she didn’t intend to tell Lesley about. Servants and guards she’d bought out, mostly, and it wasn’t very hard to get their tongues to wag. The Stravos matriarch had ears all over the Court, ears and mouths willing to whisper about those Emilia spent her time with. She knew the girl had met Lesley before, and she was interested to see which way his loyalties truly ran.
As the gladiator went on to tell her of the young princess’s fondness for watching them train, Circenia’s smile widened. He was already revealing information for her? Good, that was a positive sign. More and more, she was sure she’d made a good choice, and the fact that he hadn’t left yet worked in his favor, as well. There were those who would always staunchly serve Xanthos out of some misplaced devotion, no matter the obstacle, but it seemed this Lesley was a little more willing to have his allegiance bought.
Circenia did love a man with an eye for gold.
“Interesting, though not surprising. I did just mention her fondness for muscular men.” Thoughtfully tapping her lip, the princess’s head tilted to the side. “Does she seek to learn how to wield weapons herself? Or does she simply watch?” Circenia couldn’t really imagine Emilia with a sword in her hand, but stranger things had happened. The girl was practically a cornered animal, after all, and such beasts were notoriously unpredictable. She needed to know just how short of a leash she should keep on this one.
That seems straightforward enough, though I will claim that I earn quite a lot in the fighting pits. Especially if you count it as an hourly wage.
The look she gave Lesley was just as assessing as the look he gave her, though Circenia’s face was well-practiced in hiding her intent. Did he mean to negotiate with her? Perhaps he was smarter than she thought. A good thing and a bad thing in a potential hire. Hopefully, this one would lean more toward the good.
“Three hundred drachmae a week,” was the princess’s smooth offer, her cool gaze never leaving his. Raising her wine to her lips, she took a slow swallow, waiting to see if he would contradict her. If he wanted to haggle, she wanted to see how far he was willing to go with it. The Stravos were just starting to regain their wealth, but in times like this, funds needed to be directed carefully. Keeping tabs on their enemies was a priority, and if this was what it took to do that, so be it.
When he asked why she’d chosen him in particular, Circenia’s lips curled in a brief smile, one that was hidden behind the rim of her cup. Taking another swallow, she set it off to the side, then turned to regard him again. “Forgive me if I do not reveal all of my reasoning at once,” was her reply, spreading her hands in a brief gesture of (insincere) apology. “But I will say this. Anyone who knows Emilia at all knows she has a soft spot for attractive men. Throw on a few muscles, and the girl’s practically drooling. I’ve no doubt if you start flashing her a smile here and there, she’ll be like clay in your hands.”
Of course, there was more to it than that; Circenia had other eyes on Emilia that she didn’t intend to tell Lesley about. Servants and guards she’d bought out, mostly, and it wasn’t very hard to get their tongues to wag. The Stravos matriarch had ears all over the Court, ears and mouths willing to whisper about those Emilia spent her time with. She knew the girl had met Lesley before, and she was interested to see which way his loyalties truly ran.
As the gladiator went on to tell her of the young princess’s fondness for watching them train, Circenia’s smile widened. He was already revealing information for her? Good, that was a positive sign. More and more, she was sure she’d made a good choice, and the fact that he hadn’t left yet worked in his favor, as well. There were those who would always staunchly serve Xanthos out of some misplaced devotion, no matter the obstacle, but it seemed this Lesley was a little more willing to have his allegiance bought.
Circenia did love a man with an eye for gold.
“Interesting, though not surprising. I did just mention her fondness for muscular men.” Thoughtfully tapping her lip, the princess’s head tilted to the side. “Does she seek to learn how to wield weapons herself? Or does she simply watch?” Circenia couldn’t really imagine Emilia with a sword in her hand, but stranger things had happened. The girl was practically a cornered animal, after all, and such beasts were notoriously unpredictable. She needed to know just how short of a leash she should keep on this one.
"Mm." Lesley, clearly, was unsatisfied by the offer, but not offended enough to walk out. But she was willing to answer his questions, and he considered her words carefully, deciding how much of a pain in the ass this particular employer was likely to be, and how much he wanted to be compensated for that. He shook his head at her followup question. "She's never expressed an interest in anything but watching, my lady." Then he changed the subject before she could double-check whether he was referring just to fighting.
Unfortunately for Circenia's coin, Lesley was a man who knew his own worth, and he was a merchant's son. Riona had struggled not to let herself get taken advantage of when she had opened her shop, but by the time Lesley had been released and able to help her, she was able to set a solid example, and on his part any traces of anxiety had long since been burned away.
A street rat learned early not to hesitate when presented with an opportunity - but also when to abandon ship at the first hint an opportunity was turning sour. There were a lot of advantages to this job, not just the coin, but start whittling that down and he was fully willing to walk out, which gave him a fairly solid base to negotiate from. "And also..." The gladiator knew exactly how much free time soldiers were given, too, and he knew himself. If he took this job and didn't have time alone to deal with the crap that invariably built up in his head, or wasn't able to find the sort of outlets he needed - well, nobody wanted that. That wasn't the sort of thing one explained in an interview, though. "I get my coin, and I get time to enjoy having it. I'm no longer a slave, and I won't be treated like one." On that, he wasn't going to budge.
Luckily, Circenia wanted to hire him about as much as he wanted to be hired, and he nodded, satisfied at the agreement they eventually reached.
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"Mm." Lesley, clearly, was unsatisfied by the offer, but not offended enough to walk out. But she was willing to answer his questions, and he considered her words carefully, deciding how much of a pain in the ass this particular employer was likely to be, and how much he wanted to be compensated for that. He shook his head at her followup question. "She's never expressed an interest in anything but watching, my lady." Then he changed the subject before she could double-check whether he was referring just to fighting.
Unfortunately for Circenia's coin, Lesley was a man who knew his own worth, and he was a merchant's son. Riona had struggled not to let herself get taken advantage of when she had opened her shop, but by the time Lesley had been released and able to help her, she was able to set a solid example, and on his part any traces of anxiety had long since been burned away.
A street rat learned early not to hesitate when presented with an opportunity - but also when to abandon ship at the first hint an opportunity was turning sour. There were a lot of advantages to this job, not just the coin, but start whittling that down and he was fully willing to walk out, which gave him a fairly solid base to negotiate from. "And also..." The gladiator knew exactly how much free time soldiers were given, too, and he knew himself. If he took this job and didn't have time alone to deal with the crap that invariably built up in his head, or wasn't able to find the sort of outlets he needed - well, nobody wanted that. That wasn't the sort of thing one explained in an interview, though. "I get my coin, and I get time to enjoy having it. I'm no longer a slave, and I won't be treated like one." On that, he wasn't going to budge.
Luckily, Circenia wanted to hire him about as much as he wanted to be hired, and he nodded, satisfied at the agreement they eventually reached.
"Mm." Lesley, clearly, was unsatisfied by the offer, but not offended enough to walk out. But she was willing to answer his questions, and he considered her words carefully, deciding how much of a pain in the ass this particular employer was likely to be, and how much he wanted to be compensated for that. He shook his head at her followup question. "She's never expressed an interest in anything but watching, my lady." Then he changed the subject before she could double-check whether he was referring just to fighting.
Unfortunately for Circenia's coin, Lesley was a man who knew his own worth, and he was a merchant's son. Riona had struggled not to let herself get taken advantage of when she had opened her shop, but by the time Lesley had been released and able to help her, she was able to set a solid example, and on his part any traces of anxiety had long since been burned away.
A street rat learned early not to hesitate when presented with an opportunity - but also when to abandon ship at the first hint an opportunity was turning sour. There were a lot of advantages to this job, not just the coin, but start whittling that down and he was fully willing to walk out, which gave him a fairly solid base to negotiate from. "And also..." The gladiator knew exactly how much free time soldiers were given, too, and he knew himself. If he took this job and didn't have time alone to deal with the crap that invariably built up in his head, or wasn't able to find the sort of outlets he needed - well, nobody wanted that. That wasn't the sort of thing one explained in an interview, though. "I get my coin, and I get time to enjoy having it. I'm no longer a slave, and I won't be treated like one." On that, he wasn't going to budge.
Luckily, Circenia wanted to hire him about as much as he wanted to be hired, and he nodded, satisfied at the agreement they eventually reached.