Chapter 6c

“I had Plovus Knoss here earlier complaining about the unruly behaviour of the residents of the Pit. What's he expect? Silly little fairy. They're bloody fighters! I don't know why he came here but I sent him off in the direction of the Military buildings.” Faust rolled his eyes. “They all demand gladiators and all demand to be entertained by them, yet they expect them to suddenly transform into aristocrats once they leave the arena! They should damned well leave them alone if they don't want a fighter's attitude in return.”

“You have a lot of sympathy for the gladiators don't you? It's not my idea of entertainment, I have to admit. I've never been to the arena in my life.” Ben said.

“I've only been once or twice and that was while on duty. Not my idea of fun either. No, not sympathy for them Ben, respect. I have the utmost respect and admiration for those people and I always have. In all their sad and tragic existence here they've never gone under and never bowed down to the upper crust of Azoria, despite the way they've been treated. They were thrown into the arena as a way of controlling their numbers while providing entertainment and revenue for Azoria. Dispensable playthings Ben, that's all. They refused to be dispensed of, then they flourished. Respect. They deserve every shred of it.” Faust drew himself a mug of ale and joined Ben. “They're actually playing the government now and the government don't even see it. Our parliament and our government maintains their place of employment for them, provides smiths and armourers for them and lets them do more or less as they please in their own village. They're hardly ever checked on or looked into in anyway, including revenue. The percentage of wagers on gladiators has never been revised Ben, but the wagers have increased and so has the number of them. The gladiators are bloody loaded and none of them are taxed one coin!” Faust laughed.

“So why do they still live in such slum conditions? If they're that wealthy then why don't they buy decent accommodation, or improve the general standard of the Pit?” Ben was also aware of the situation regarding the gladiators.

“Matter of priorities.” Faust shrugged. “Material possessions just aren't highly valued among the gladiators. The Military are very similar so we should be able to understand that. I'm not short of a coin or two myself yet look at this place. It isn't exactly palatial Ben.” Faust's home consisted of one room only with a wooden floor and partitioned areas for sleeping and cooking. “They've had no choice but to value their lives and well-being above all else and that still stands today. A gladiator would spend money on a dull, weatherproof tunic, but never a fine silk shirt, no matter how stylish it was.”

“Speaking of silk shirts, the Villa will be full to the rafters with them later.” Ben heaved. “Boring farts. I remember my parents holding such events just because it was expected of them. Neither of them liked them and always tried to slope off unseen mid way through them.” Ben laughed. “My mother had so many 'sudden headaches' that needed my father's ministrations that I'm surprised she was never institutionalised for lifelong research.”

“How are your parents?” Faust smiled too. He'd met Lord and Lady Astrella on quite a few occasions and thought very highly of both of them. It wasn't difficult to see why Ben had turned out so well with such agreeable parents.

“Both absolutely fine, or at least they were three months ago when I was in Tibrae. My mother's flair for the Ambassadorial is quite phenomenal, so much so that she actually uses the title of Ambassador rather than Lady. Lord Astrella will always be Lord Astrella, however.” Ben rolled his eyes. “He passed comment on turning over all his trousers to my mother and adopting skirts as his standard dress.” Both men laughed loudly. Lily Astrella certainly was a spirited woman, often driving her down to earth and steady-paced husband to distraction. A loud hammering set Faust off swearing again as he winced when he stood up. This time it was a young cadet by the name of Rowan.

“What is this? Divisional barracks?” Faust boomed and the cadet flinched. “Close the door, you're causing a draught.” He made his way back to his chair and lowered himself stiffly back into it. “Huh?” Faust looked from the closed door, to Ben. No cadet. “For shit's sake. Is the absence of a brain a Military qualification now? Go let him in Ben, he'll stand out there all day. Imbecile.”

“General Faust.” Rowan nodded his respect to the retired soldier. “General Astrella, Sir, the crossroads at Lord's Lane and Brewery Road became congested Sir.” He said smartly. “As being everyone decided that the main street would be busy so therefore to take the alternate route of Lord's Lane, all at the same time.”

“Rowan I'm sure Governor Toller won't miss a few men if they go and redirect traffic for a while.” Ben said patiently.

“Well they can't Sir on account of the fire.” Rowan looked at the ceiling.

“The fire?” Ben said carefully. “And this fire would be where?”

“At the crossroads of Lord's Lane and Brewery Road Sir. Angus Maxis set blaze to Heddus Perret's cart Sir on account of it being in his way.” Rowan explained.

“For Pity's sake.” Ben heaved. “Where's Captain Lorette?” Rand wasn't far behind Ben in the military progression ranks. A few more months and he'd be a General, as Ben had been for eighteen months.

“He's arranging flowers Sir.” Rowan replied promptly and Faust snorted a laugh from behind Ben. “For the table arrangements, you understand.”

“No, nor do I want to.” Ben shook his head and heaved a sigh. “No wonder you retired.” He said dryly to Faust before following Rowan out of the house.