With the dawn's radiance beckoning him from the depths of his slumber, a wave of exhilaration quickly washed over Christopher. This was his most anticipated and feverish day so far: it was finally time to visit the slave market.
When returning from their trip yesterday, he had unveiled his intentions to Alejandro, who had been visibly taken aback. He had clearly not anticipated this abrupt shopping change, especially after his procurement of crystals. However, Christopher was quick to allay his concerns, clarifying that his primary goal was to enlist additional assistants and guards rather than earn the unsavory reputation of a ruthless merchant trading in disposable manpower. This reassured the gatekeeper, which made the engineer realize that his counterpart was against these practices. Following this, Alejandro had then prepared him for what he was bound to witness, hinting at the blatant inhumanity of it all. He had refrained from delving into too many details, but his cryptic words were sufficient to make the scientist cognizant of the fact that Gruzia, while seemingly progressive in some aspects, bore the undeniable stains of a regressive state in others.
After finishing his routine and dressing up, he then went to Alexander's room where he found the latter training, or rather restlessly swinging and slashing away without a worry in the world. He of course didn't want to disturb him, instead deciding to see his progression.
"System, show me Alexander's status page."
[Command confirmed.]
[Alexander the Great (32) — Human (Capped at 20%). Progression 1/5: 53%.]
This development sent a surge of adrenaline in his veins. Alexander was making astonishing strides, and given his relentless dedication and propensity for courting danger, there was little doubt that he would maintain this pace.
"Is it time?"
After completing his series of slashes, the General had turned towards him, to which he answered with a nod. Without further delay, they then left their chambers before navigating the labyrinthine hallways and arriving at the lobby. But just as they expected another uneventful morning, they were intercepted by a small throng of people led by a man he dreaded: Thomas Wixton.
"Merchant Lloyd! What a coincidence meeting you here!"
Thomas' voice dripped with undisguised contempt, his lips curling into a sickening smile that twisted his otherwise plain features into a grotesque mask of scorn. The nearly bald man was once again accompanied by his two guards, their sneering expressions mirroring their patron's arrogance. Meanwhile, their sight and attitude triggered an instinctive reaction from Alexander, his hand nearly reaching the hilt of his sword. Luckily, Lloyd intervened quickly, preventing the situation from escalating any further. After all, he was sure that the former King had slaughtered for offenses that were far more mundane.
"If it isn't Thomas! How have you been?"
His answer was terse and dismissive, showing that he refused to be bullied any further by such scum. If he was going to be blatantly confronted anyway, there was no point in holding back. His spirited retort seemed to appease Alexander while clearly stinging Thomas, who was now forced to restrain his anger and respond with a veneer of civility.
"I've been well. I heard about your bodyguard's victory at the training grounds yesterday. You should know that it's been quite the talk in a few circles."
He became excessively loud, which made his voice resonate through the grand hall while silencing the morning buzz. His words, an open and obvious challenge, set the room on edge. This was taking a turn for the worse, and he was still not done.
"With this impressive result, I thought it fitting to extend you an invitation to the Gladiator Showdown happening tomorrow. It's an event where the greatest fighters from all over Gruzia meet, and where the winner reaps all the spoils."
Christopher could feel the blood drain from his face. So, this was how he'd enact his revenge…
He had to say that his method was cunning, as it maintained his public image while strategically cornering him. He essentially absolved himself from their earlier confrontation while extending a poisonous olive branch. The worst part of this ordeal, however, was the unknown. Despite his faith in Alexander's abilities, the prospect of pitting him against unknown warriors was daunting, especially with the broad nature of the competition.
The public fashion in which Thomas had announced this also put a spotlight on him and Alexander's skills. To say that the situation had become untenable would be describing it lightly…
Meanwhile, the room had fallen into a solemn silence, the tension almost tangible. As he was gathering his thoughts and formulating a plan, the sound of clapping began to echo throughout the hall, followed by a voice he immediately recognized.
"What a grand proposition!"
It was none other than Gregory's.
But compared to when the manager had first saved him from Thomas, this felt different. His tone just now had been… off.
When the scientist swiveled around to face him, he was met with the burly man brandishing a chilling smile and sinister expression, laying bare his morbid curiosity for the unfolding drama. His demeanor was also as icy as it was detached, the earlier pretense of camaraderie abandoned in favor of the cold rationality of his strategic mind. It was obvious he had let go of his civic facade. What truly shook him, however, was the meaning that carried such actions. From Alejandro's tale, the sordid man answered to one, and only one, party: the Emperor.
The air around him started to feel suffocating, as he realized that there was no way out. They were completely and utterly trapped. Even as he replayed their journey in his mind, he couldn't pinpoint a different course of action that would have averted this. After all, he barely had any control over the General, who had been the wildcard causing a lot of these issues.
In the meantime, the manager's sudden intervention had served to fuel the gossip circulating around the room, with the nobles being well aware of the weight standing behind his words. But just as Christopher began to contemplate a possible escape, a weighty hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.
"This should be entertaining."
Alexander's aura had taken on an ominous undertone, its influence rapidly spreading throughout the hall. Thomas, whose smug attitude had worsened following the manager's backing, suddenly faltered when locking eyes with the monster before him. Even his guards, which had obviously seen their fair share, were affected as their hands instinctively reached for their weapons.
When he saw that the atmosphere was degrading, Gregory's mood soured. It was time to end this.
"Now, now! I guess it's settled! Everyone, go back to your business."
Alexander took the hint and swiftly backed down, the sudden reprieve causing Thomas to stagger slightly, his hand clutching his chest.
"I guess we'll see you tomorrow."
Christopher's final quip was concise and carried a note of defiance he owed to Alexander's support. He was acutely aware that the General had chosen to align with him, not because of loyalty, but because he refused to be a pawn in their game. Or so was his thought, at least.
When the pair walked past Thomas' group, the latter let out a derisive snort, but not before hissing a venomous threat in their direction.
"I'll make you regret ever crossing a Wixton…"