No one in, no one out — that was the strategy
The colosseum currently held over sixteen hundred slave gladiators, and with the slave servants and female slaves added in, the total exceeded two thousand. Yet after scouring every corner of the place, they had managed to find barely four hundred pieces of weapons and equipment, most of them confiscated from Imperial Guard Corps soldiers and gladiator instructors. Aside from Fatty Shi and the other
Lorist had slipped back to the Flame and Blood Tavern from the colosseum because he wanted to see whether they could procure weapons and equipment from the outside. Most of the thousand-plus slave gladiators had already awakened their combat force, and if they were fully armed, they would form a considerable fighting force. Somewhere deep in Lorist's mind, a faint feeling lingered — perhaps these slave gladiators could play a major role in the battle to capture the royal capital. He just hadn't figured out how yet.
El returned to the Flame and Blood Tavern around midday, unhurried and casual. When the tavern owner asked with idle curiosity where he had been, he replied sheepishly that he had twisted his ankle while practicing swordwork at the colosseum a couple of days ago. Fortunately, one of the gladiator instructors knew a bit of massage, so he had stayed there for two days. The changing of the guard shifts had led to some confusion among the Imperial Guard Corps sentries, which caused the misunderstanding. It wasn't until he stepped out that morning that he learned from the guards the Commerce Association had sent someone looking for him, and only then had he hurried back.
After satisfying the tavern owner's curiosity, El pulled Lorist to a corner booth, ordered some food and drink, and they ate and talked. What El brought back was Fatty Shi's inventory report. After leading a team to inspect all the colosseum's supplies, Fatty Shi had found a severe shortage of medicinal potions, weapons, and food. The Kingdom of Hanayabata was currently at war. The Imperial Guard Corps had marched out, and while that had reduced the number of guards watching the colosseum, the security measures imposed on the slave gladiators remained just as strict.
In addition to the lack of weapons and equipment, their food reserves had nearly run out — enough for just over two thousand people for three days. They could only manage two meals of thin porridge a day, made mostly from moldy old wheat. If they hadn't found the reserve granary in the guards' and instructors' dormitory section — which was meant exclusively for those personnel — they might have run out of food entirely today. But even that granary didn't contain much quality grain; if they ate their fill, it would be gone by tomorrow. On top of that, healing potions were desperately scarce. Two or three hundred slave gladiators were wounded, and Fatty Shi hoped to get his hands on a batch of healing potions.
Lorist rubbed his temples, his head throbbing. This was Hamidas — the enemy's royal capital. Even if they could somehow get their hands on large quantities of food and weapons, there was no way to smuggle them openly into the colosseum. Setting everything else aside, the Imperial Guard Corps camp right in front of the colosseum alone was an impassable obstacle. Although the Imperial Guard Corps had already marched to war, the so-called Redemption Legion being assembled there still numbered over twenty thousand. Most of them might be drunks, but there were plenty of sharp-eyed men among them too. The slightest hint of anything wrong, and the two thousand-odd people in the colosseum would be forced to hunker down in the underground cells with no food and no weapons — completely unable to escape.
"My lord, what if we launch a raid tonight?" El said in a low voice. "On my way back, I passed by the Imperial Guard Corps camp up front and noticed the defenses were extremely lax. I even went inside and had a look around. Their granary and armory are both at the back, separated from the colosseum by just a single wall. If we catch them off guard at night and hit them with a surprise attack, we could buy ourselves enough time to strip their granary and armory bare..."
Lorist shook his head. "It won't be as simple as you think. You're forgetting that those thirteen hundred-plus slave gladiators are nothing like our family's well-trained soldiers who follow orders. If we take them on a raid, they'd very likely get bloodlust in their eyes and ignore every command we give, fighting until they're completely spent — only to be swarmed by enemies who've rallied or woken up to what's happening. For these slave gladiators, the hatred buried in their hearts is a volcano. They carry bone-deep resentment toward the people of this royal capital. Once that hatred erupts, it will either destroy their enemies or destroy themselves..."
El had no words to offer. He knew Lorist wasn't mistaken. That morning when he'd left the colosseum, he'd still overheard some slave gladiators loudly demanding weapons so they could fight their way out — kill one to break even, kill two and they'd come out ahead. If not for the Great Swordmaster Hughes and those gold-ranked slave gladiators forcefully suppressing them, the vengeful gladiators might very well have rushed up to seize weapons from the family soldiers' hands.
"Oh, El, you're back?" A cheerful voice rang out. It turned out to be Tagle, who had just woken up and come downstairs. Seeing El and Lorist sitting together, he was quite delighted.
"Those bastards kept drinking until the middle of the night before they finally quit. I was made to throw up twice, and my head's still spinning..." Tagle grumbled loudly as he walked over and sat down, then called for the tavern owner to bring him something to fill his stomach.
"My lord, did you find Knight Shrade and the others?" Tagle asked softly. Despite looking like he hadn't recovered from his hangover, his eyes shone with a shrewd glint — he was very eager to hear about the results of Lorist's nighttime reconnaissance of the colosseum the previous evening.
Lorist gave a slight nod. After the tavern maid brought the food Tagle had ordered and left, he briefly and quietly recounted the events of the previous night's infiltration of the colosseum. At first it was nothing special, but when he mentioned that he had already helped the slave gladiators seize control of the entire Royal Capital Colosseum, Tagle — who was in the middle of raising a cup of wheat ale to his lips — sprayed it right out.
"What an unexpected..." Tagle exclaimed with admiration.
"Unexpected my ass. I've got a splitting headache right now and I don't even know what to do next. Sure, having these thousand-plus extra slave gladiators gives us an additional boost for the siege, but the problem is how to preserve and hide this fighting force until the family's armed forces attack the royal capital." Lorist rapped his fist against his forehead, showing that he couldn't come up with a solution either.
El stepped in to describe the predicament currently facing the slave gladiators inside the colosseum.
Tagle pondered for a moment and said, "My lord, you want to leave these slave gladiators inside the royal capital, and when the family's forces launch the assault, have them serve as a surprise unit — a dagger thrust into the heart of the enemy. Coordinating from within and without to conquer this royal capital, is that it?"
Lorist nodded.
"But the current problem is that the colosseum lacks food, weapons, equipment, and supplies. Even if we obtained these things, there's no way we could openly transport them inside, right? In fact, we can't even procure them within the royal capital. So El is absolutely right — the only way for us to get these supplies is to raid that Redemption Legion camp ahead of us."
Tagle turned the copper wine cup in his hands, brow furrowed. "My lord, you've forgotten a very important piece of intelligence. Yesterday, didn't Dre say that once the Redemption Legion finishes mustering, Luther the Third plans to host a grand gladiatorial spectacle — all the slave gladiators split into two factions fighting to the death as a sacrifice to Sigwa, the God of War, in prayer for victory? In that case, no matter how we try to conceal things, we can't stall the slave gladiators inside the colosseum until the family's forces storm the city. Once the Redemption Legion is fully formed, what's happening in the colosseum will be exposed.
There's also the matter of food reserves inside the colosseum being so low that supplies must be restocked every two or three days at most. On top of that, we have no idea whether the Imperial Guard Corps soldiers guarding the colosseum rotate with other squads. If any of these contingencies occur even once, the fact that the colosseum has been seized by the slave gladiators will be discovered immediately. We can't delay for two or three days."
"Are you saying we should strike preemptively while we haven't been found out yet — secure enough food, supplies, weapons, and equipment for the slave gladiators? You agree with El's proposal to raid the slaver teams and mercenaries at the Imperial Guard Corps camp ahead?" Lorist asked.
"Yes, my lord." Tagle glanced around and lowered his voice. "Either way, once the Redemption Legion finishes mustering, they'll be sent to reinforce the Imperial Guard Corps against us. If we can inflict heavy casualties on them first and strip them of their combat effectiveness, that will eliminate the threat to our family's armed forces. It will also let them reach the royal capital sooner, putting pressure on the enemy and reducing the danger we face inside the city. Right now, all we need to think about is how to preserve the slave gladiators' combat strength and inflict as many losses on the enemy as possible."
An image flashed through Lorist's mind — the drunks sprawled haphazardly across the alley, passed out cold — and he blurted out, "If only everyone in that camp were dead drunk…"
It was a pleasant thought, but utterly unrealistic. The Redemption Legion now had nearly twenty thousand men, and Lorist had no plausible reason to buy massive quantities of wine and food and deliver it to their camp to get them roaring drunk.
The tavern door opened and four soldiers in city garrison uniforms walked in. After exchanging a few words with the tavern owner, they headed straight for Lorist and his two companions.
"Sorry to bother you," said the garrison soldier in the lead. "Do you know a man called Kalik?"
"Hm?" Tagle stood up. "Yes, Kalik escaped back to the royal capital with us. He's a friend of ours. He went out last night and hasn't returned yet — did something happen to him?"
"So here's the thing — your friend showed up drunk last night in the noble district, making a scene and shouting about how Viscount Timbar was an ungrateful bastard who forgot old loyalties and whatnot. The servants at the viscount's estate beat him up good, and then the city guard hauled him off and tossed him in a cell. This morning, once he sobered up, he asked me to come find someone named Tagle to get him out. Said he'd make it worth my while…" The city guard soldier held up his thumb and forefinger and made a rubbing motion.
"So that's how it is. I'm Tagle — thanks for bringing the news." Tagle fished out a gold Fordis and pressed it into the soldier's hand, then turned and loudly called for the tavern owner to bring a fine spread of food and drinks for the four city guard soldiers, putting it on his tab.
The guard soldier's eyes lit up at the gleaming gold Fordis in his palm. He quickly stuffed it into his pouch.
"Brother, how do I go about getting Kalik out?" Tagle asked.
The guard soldier grinned. "Spend a little money, or they'll send Kalik off to the arena. His Majesty has issued an order — everyone who fled back from Nubite Port is to report to the Shame Redemption Corps. Someone like him who hasn't shown up and gets caught gets demoted to slave. Deserters get sent straight to the arena. The more you fear death, the faster it comes. Nobles are exempt, of course."
"Then do me a favor, brother — let's go get Kalik out first, shall we?" Tagle asked. Seeing the guard soldier glancing at his three companions still waiting at the table for the serving girls to bring the food, Tagle smiled and said, "Brother, when we get back, I'll set up a whole separate table for you — guaranteed to satisfy. And if this trip goes smoothly, there'll be extra on top."
At the mention of extra, the guard soldier patted his pouch, licked his lips, and replied, "Alright then. I'll make the trip with you."
Kalik followed behind them, his clothes torn to shreds and his body covered in bruises. By now, Dreya, Chelva, and several other mercenaries who'd gotten drunk the night before had come downstairs. They were standing around with mugs of ale in hand, bragging in front of El and Lorist. The moment they spotted Kalik, they burst into laughter, saying he'd been a fool to think he could cling to Viscount Timbar's coattails — look where that got him. Good thing Tagle was generous enough to spend money to get him out, because if he'd been sent to the arena, he'd have been done for.
The mockery drove Kalik into a fury, and he finally snapped: "What's wrong with wanting to climb onto Viscount Timbar's coattails? He fled to the royal capital the same route as me, for heaven's sake! All he had to do was say one word and I could've avoided being sent to the Shame Redemption Corps to die on the front lines…"
Tagle had ordered another round of food and drinks for the accompanying guard soldier before walking over. "Kalik's got a point. One word from Viscount Timbar and he wouldn't have to report to the Shame Redemption Corps. But I did some asking around — last night the viscount didn't return to his estate. His elder sister, the Grand Consort, kept him at the palace. So Kalik just had terrible luck. He went charging over when the viscount wasn't home, got drunk, and started making a racket. Who else were they going to beat up?"
Well… that set everyone roaring with laughter, and Kalik's face turned crimson as he fell silent.
Tagle shook his head. "Kalik has to report to the Shame Redemption Corps today, or he'll be treated as a deserter. Chelva, you're old friends with him — look after him so he doesn't get the short end of the stick. But don't worry, Kalik. I'll head to Viscount Timbar's estate this afternoon and deliver our trade guild's calling card. If the viscount has returned by then, I'm sure he'll have someone escort us over, and I'll put in a word with the viscount to see if I can pull all of you out of the Shame Redemption Corps before you end up on the front lines. You're the only friends I've made in the Kingdom of Hanaiabad this time around, and I don't want anything to happen to any of you."
Those words didn't just move Kalik to tears of gratitude — even Chelva, Dreya, and the other mercenaries were full of praise for Tagle's loyalty and righteousness. After a few modest replies, Tagle had the tavern keeper set out a fresh table of food so Kalik could fill his stomach. In the end, Kalik got thoroughly drunk again and was half-dragged, half-carried off by Chelva to report to the military camp.
The tavern finally got some peace and quiet, and Tagle returned to El and Lorist's table. El glared at Tagle with ill humor and cursed under his breath: "Is this how you spend the funds your family gave you? What good does buddying up to a bunch of losers do?"
Tagle smiled and ignored El, then said softly to Lorist: "My lord, let's change our clothes and go pay a visit to Viscount Timbar. That city defense soldier just told me the viscount returned at noon. I have an idea that can get us out of the mess we're in."
Lorist raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"We can use Viscount Timbar's name to transport large quantities of wine and meat into the camp. Under the pretense of boosting morale, we'll let those Shame Redemption Corps soldiers eat and drink to their hearts' content. Once they're passed out drunk, we send in the slave gladiators for a surprise attack — not only does that maximize casualties against their fighting forces, but we can also seize a huge haul of weapons, equipment, and the grain and supplies we need…" Tagle made a discreet throat-cutting gesture.
Lorist's eyes lit up. "The key is convincing Viscount Timbar to lend us his name…"
Tagle said: "I can use the excuse of making a name for the Peterson Trade Guild and pitch the business to Viscount Timbar — he wouldn't even have to spend a dime. I'm sure the viscount would be more than happy to do a favor for his brother-in-law and sister…"
Lorist stood up. "No time to lose. Let's go visit Viscount Timbar right now."
……(To be continued.)