Day broke.
The sunlight streaming in through the window was much gentler, but Riyan's body was still not fully recovered.
Even so, Riyan groggily got up, washed lightly, and stood before the mirror.
Still white. A fair amount of time had passed since he had come into this body, yet its looks still didn't feel like his own.
After touching his hair a few times, Riyan soon mussed it up and turned his attention elsewhere.
His upper body, now fairly firm, still bore the deep blue bruises that had been stamped onto it before. They still throbbed whenever he moved, but they wouldn't be a big problem.
‘It's not like I'm going out to fight.’
Turning his head, Riyan looked at the uniform hanging on the rack.
After talking with Haral, who had barged in drunk last night, Riyan had asked to go out, and Berka, upon receiving the report, had provided it.
A uniform for a slave.
At first glance, it was an ill-matched combination, but there was a reason for it.
To a school, gladiators were assets that drew enormous sponsorship. If such a precious resource roamed the streets in rag-like clothes, it could never draw the interest of refined nobles.
“Hm.”
First, he put on a linen shirt, then donned a leather breastplate dyed with ink over it and tightened the straps.
A short groan escaped him at the pressure on his injured ribs, but he silently put on a coat, likewise dyed black, over it.
Glancing at the mirror, he saw his white hair and pale skin standing out against the black uniform.
Taking a small breath, Riyan nodded lightly.
“Let's go.”
***
“Oh, Riyan! You can move already?”
Berka, whom Riyan had come to see to report his outing, broke into a broad smile at the sight of him.
Instead of his usual overbearing, violent look, his eyes glistened with greed and delight.
“Yes, more or less.”
“Hahahah! You monster! So, you want to go out into the Imperial Capital?”
“It's stifling just lying in bed.”
“Of course, of course that's understandable. Above all, a gladiator who delivers results deserves a fitting reward. Let's see.......”
Berka came over and walked in a circle around Riyan.
After looking over Riyan's attire, Berka grinned.
“The wenches of the Imperial Capital are going to go wild.”
“......Is that so?”
“Of course. Do you know how expensive that uniform is? Of course, the hanger matters too. Anyway, just don't go ripping it somewhere. And.......”
Pausing, Berka took a leather pouch from inside his coat and held it out.
It jingled, suggesting it held no small amount.
“A few silver coins, and the rest are copper. Since you're going out anyway, spend it generously. It won't come up short.”
At that, Riyan smiled bitterly.
What face would he make if he knew Riyan had thirty gold coins on hand right now?
But there was no need to poke a hornet's nest. Riyan accepted the pouch and bowed his head.
“Thank you.”
“I'll send Haral with you. It's not to watch you, exactly. A slave gladiator going out alone is...... the procedures are a bit tricky. Seemed like you wanted to get out quickly yesterday, so just put up with it for now.”
“Understood.”
“And this. Wear it.”
Berka fastened the bracelet, presumably that restraint, around Riyan's wrist.
“I'm begging you, please don't cause any trouble. You're smart, so you know what I mean, right?”
The answer to Berka's repeated admonitions came from behind.
“Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him so he doesn't try anything funny.”
Haral, who had sauntered over, let out a huge yawn and shrugged.
Frowning at the sight, Berka let out a booming shout.
“You're the one I'm most worried about, you bastard! You were wandering around the school blind drunk yesterday, reeking of booze. Great job.”
“It's not like it's the first or second time.”
In a shirt, a leather jacket chosen more for practicality than style, and a sword at his waist, Haral jerked his head in his casual attire.
“Let's go, White Wolf.”
“......Let's.”
Hearing Haral, Berka tilted his head.
“White Wolf?”
“Go outside and see. Everyone on the streets of the Imperial Capital is calling him that. The White Wolf, or something.”
“Oh, that's a good one! We'll have to center our promotion on that from now on!”
Unable to stand the goosebumps prickling on his arms, Riyan went outside, and Haral followed after him.
As they headed for the school's main gate with Berka seeing them off, Haral let out another jaw-cracking yawn.
“My head's splitting, damn it.”
His hangover was apparently no small one.
Shading his eyes against the hot sun with the edge of his hand, Haral cast a glance over.
“So, where are you headed? You don't seem to be in good shape. You all right?”
“I have no trouble walking, for now.”
“Yeah? Good, then.”
“First...... there's someone I'd like to meet.”
“Someone you'd like to meet? You can't have any acquaintances in the Imperial Capital. It's not like you've got friends...... ahem.”
Seeing Haral swallow the rest, apparently remembering his broken arm, Riyan smiled faintly.
“I have no acquaintances, but there are people I've come to know of. That aside.......”
Riyan looked around at the school grounds for a moment. In the distance, an instructor was bellowing and the gladiators were dying under it.
Other than that, it was fine weather, with nothing but warm sunlight and a gentle breeze.
But was it just his imagination that he felt a chill in one corner?
“It's directly under the Imperial Inspector, you said?”
“Hm? What? Ah, the Secret Intelligence Bureau.”
“Last night, you said they'd put someone on me.”
Apparently remembering his drunken conversation from last night, Haral awkwardly scratched between his brows.
“I did.”
“And that they didn't seem particularly hostile. Though I suppose it depends on how I act from now on.”
“Right. But there's nothing to worry that much about. The things that'd bother them are things you shouldn't be doing as a slave gladiator in the first place. Which also means I'll stop you, right here beside you with my eyes wide open.”
Hearing Haral, Riyan nodded.
He set his own standard for what would count as a problem, then made a plan that wouldn't cross it.
“First, I'd like to meet a gladiator I saw before.”
“A gladiator?”
“Yes, the Rose Gladiator.”
The Rose Gladiator.
The owner of those striking looks whom Berka had pointed out on the way to the Colosseum for the Victory Streak Match.
Apparently remembering him, the furrow between Haral's brows grew deeper.
“Why him all of a sudden?”
“Well, I have a few things to ask him.”
“Don't tell me you.......”
At the sight of Haral sidling away crabwise, Riyan sighed.
“I have no interest in men. And even if I did, you'd be excluded, Instructor.”
“You brat, what's wrong with me? I'm still young and firm.”
“That's quite the confidence for a retired mercenary past thirty.”
“You bastard, surviving is proof of strength. And women are naturally drawn to strong men.”
Haral grinned, and Riyan chuckled too.
“Anyway, I don't know where the Rose Gladiator is either. What do I care? I'm not some noble lady. And tracking him down at his school is hard too. It's on the complete opposite side of the city from us. Even by carriage, it'd take more than half a day.”
“Half a day? How is that possible?”
“You country bumpkin. You think the Imperial Capital's some open field? You'd faint dead away if you saw the central avenue jammed with carriages.”
“Then.......”
After thinking for a moment, Riyan nodded.
“There's a hint in what you said, Instructor.”
“A hint?”
“The place where noble ladies and young ladies gather the most. If I go there, I'll be able to find out where the Rose Gladiator is.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you want to find a bee, you go find the flowers, don't you? It also seems likely I'd meet someone who keeps company with that gladiator.”
“Ah...... I see.”
It seemed plausible, for Haral nodded.
“There are a few places that come to mind, but.......”
Lost in thought, Haral only shook his head after they had passed through the school's main gate.
“No, the more I think about it, the less I like that plan.”
“Why is that?”
“The place that comes to mind is a salon, but.......”
“A salon?”
Salon.
The salons of the Imperial Capital were the center of a closed high society where noble ladies gathered to exchange information.
A refined place that invited artists and men of letters to explore aesthetics...... under that surface reason, it was a place where women's political schemes ran rampant, according to Haral's explanation.
“......In other words, it's not a place for a slave gladiator like you to set foot in. Getting in itself might be possible, of course. If you had to pick the hottest topic in the Imperial Capital right now, you'd be on the list.”
“So getting in isn't the problem.”
“Right. They'd let you in out of curiosity, if nothing else. But there are still a few problems. First, I at least don't know where it is. And of course, I don't know anyone who'd know.”
“Is there more?”
“Yeah. Even if you found out where it was, Berka would probably try to tear you apart. No, you'd be lucky if it ended there.”
Imagining that hulking man charging at him roughly, Riyan frowned.
“Why?”
“You brat, I don't want to keep bringing it up, but are you going to make me? Why? Because you're a slave!”
So that was it.
When Riyan chuckled, Haral let out a sigh of exasperation.
“This brat gets hyped up a little and now he doesn't know how scary nobles are. If you slip up with a single word in there, it's off with your head. You think the nobles in the salons are some drifters who came up from a backwater provincial estate? Every one of them's a member of a prestigious family rooted in the Imperial Capital!”
“Well, it just means I shouldn't give them any excuse, doesn't it?”
“Oh, my head.”
Already suffering a headache from his hangover, Haral pressed his temples with both hands.
“You think noble etiquette is like haggling at a market stall?”
At the sight of him about to have a fit, Riyan let out a faint smile.
He understood Haral's worry. He wasn't foolish enough to ignore such risks either.
But there was clearly a need to go there. With a tail on him anyway, doing anything else that might be misunderstood would put him in a tough spot.
But a salon was a different story.
What was the purpose of a gladiator's existence in the first place? Wasn't it to make the arena the center of conversation and create a cycle of wealth through the enormous sponsorship of noble houses?
Showing his face in high society and searching there for the Rose Gladiator's whereabouts wouldn't have much effect on the Empire's surveillance.
‘At most, they'll treat me as a bee buzzing around for sponsorship.’
If anything, it would reduce suspicion rather than add to it. It would look like he was simply following the very nature of gladiators they had seen countless times.
And Riyan intended to hide his true goal within it.
‘It's hard to grasp everything from books alone. To understand the system more realistically and carve out a way forward, I need to step directly into their world.’
That was why he had set out to find the Rose Gladiator, and why he had concluded he would head to a salon to do so. Though for the moment, he was facing fierce opposition from Haral.
But Riyan had something to rely on. The memory of the one who had been with him in his past life.
‘The sword may be wielded by the body, but mastery of that body springs first from an upright spirit. And for cultivating that spirit, there is nothing like disciplined etiquette.’
Those were Eldred's words as he taught him etiquette.
At the time, he had wondered what on earth he would use such things for in the middle of a war, but who knew a time would come when it would be so useful?
“The point is, all we need is certainty that I won't make any mistakes there.”
“What? Wait, where are you going?”
Riyan nodded and strode off, and Haral scowled.
Since they had left the school and headed into the city, the main road was quite crowded.
Among the crowd, Riyan chose a target.
A woman in suitably luxurious clothing, who looked old enough to have married without any trouble.
Having confirmed she was strolling down the street in an elegant dress with a parasol, accompanied by three or four servants, Riyan approached her.
“Hmm?”
The woman, wary at someone suddenly approaching, soon smiled softly upon seeing Riyan's neat appearance.
“Is there something you need?”
Having made his presence known and stopping at a suitable distance that wouldn't feel imposing, Riyan then, as naturally as flowing water, drew his right foot back and bent his knee.
At that, the hem of his uniform coat fell toward the ground in an elegant curve.
Then, with his left hand placed over his heart, he met the woman's gaze from the lowest point and spoke.
“How could the wild grass bowing its head upon the parched earth dare keep silent before the noble breeze that blows its way?”
“My goodness!”
The woman fumbled with her parasol as if flustered, but she couldn't hide the red blush spreading across her cheeks. She even began twisting her legs.
“.......”
And Haral, who had watched the whole thing, froze where he stood and began letting out strange groans.