Four Stewards

Seeing that Harrot did not interrupt him, Hark continued.

"First, there's 'Fatty.' He's a noble, though his title isn't very high. But he was Count Sarik's follower since childhood and kept following Count Sarik afterward, so he's fairly trusted by the Count."

"At first, he managed the Gladiatorial Arena all by himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't capable enough. Under his management, not only did the Gladiatorial Arena fail to make money, but it also caused quite a few problems."

"Count Sarik was disappointed in him as well and wanted to find someone more capable. During one inspection of the Gladiatorial Arena, he took a liking to a gladiator who fought fiercely."

"That gladiator left the Gladiatorial Arena as Count Sarik's subordinate. Less than half a year later, he was sent back and began managing the Gladiatorial Arena in Fatty's place."

"We all call him The Bald Man. That guy was incredible. Not only was he absurdly strong, but he was also sharp as a whip. And since he used to be a gladiator himself, we all respected him."

"After taking office, he divided the gladiators into ranks and established several kinds of matches. The audience enjoyed themselves more, while the gladiators' death rate dropped significantly. Before long, the Gladiatorial Arena's earnings had multiplied several times over."

"Come to think of it, we really should thank him. Building a separate Training Ground for elite gladiators and proposing the Ten Wins for Freedom challenge rule were both his ideas. Without him, us gladiators would have had it much worse than we do now. I probably wouldn't have lived this long."

By this point, Harrot was basically certain that The Bald Man Hark spoke of was the bald uncle he had met earlier. No wonder the man had not treated him like a slave. The Bald Man had once been a gladiator himself.

As for Ten Wins for Freedom, Harrot could more or less guess what it meant. Win ten matches, and one would be released. It could stir up the gladiators' fighting spirit while reducing the risk of them causing trouble.

"The Bald Man taking office made Fatty very dissatisfied. But he didn't dare oppose Count Sarik's wishes, and he knew that he truly couldn't manage the Gladiatorial Arena, so he came up with another approach."

"Though he wasn't good at management, he wasn't entirely useless. He was extremely skilled at running gambling operations. The betting pools he set up always made a fortune, no matter how a gladiatorial match ended."

"Of course, he handed the largest share of the profits to Count Sarik, which earned him the Count's trust again. After that, The Bald Man handled the Gladiatorial Arena's operations, while he oversaw the betting. The two occasionally worked together, but generally stayed out of each other's way."

"That period was also when gladiators had it easiest. Not only was the death rate far lower than before, but we didn't have to stay locked in the cells all day. Unfortunately... sigh..."

Harrot noticed the pained expression on Hark's face as he sighed. He guessed that Hark had already been a gladiator back then, and that the next two stewards were probably not pleasant characters.

"Later, two more stewards arrived. The first, The One-Armed Man, wasn't too bad. He had originally been a Knight under Count Sarik. Once, while following Count Sarik into battle, he took a blade for the Count and lost his right arm, leaving him unable to fight any longer."

"He didn't want to manage farms or ranches, so Count Sarik sent him here to retire."

"That guy basically never interfered with the Gladiatorial Arena's operations. Every day, he just watched matches and placed bets. He truly was here to retire. But his status was very high. Whenever Count Sarik came to the Gladiatorial Arena, he always sought him out first to ask about the situation. The other three stewards didn't dare offend him."

Understandable. He was an old veteran who had taken a bullet for the boss. If he hadn't lost an arm, he might have had a chance to receive a noble title.

An ordinary Knight without a title stood between Commoners and nobles in status. If he rendered great merit, he could have a chance to rise into the nobility, though he would generally only become a non-hereditary honorary baron.

"The last steward is Scarface. Hmph, that guy really is a beast. There isn't a single gladiator who doesn't hate him."

"He used to be a slave trader. Later, no one knew how he managed to ingratiate himself with Count Sarik. It was also his own suggestion that he be sent here."

"That guy had special channels and could always find highly dangerous monsters and magical beasts. The gladiators who fought those things always suffered terrible injuries. Worse still, quite a few gladiators who lost were directly eaten alive!"

"Even The Bald Man couldn't do anything about him. Ever since that guy arrived, the Gladiatorial Arena's reputation had risen day by day. Especially when fights to the death between monsters and men were held, many nobles from other places came specifically to watch. The spectators were even more generous, throwing money around like mad."

"Fortunately, those monsters cost a great deal to buy. The Gladiatorial Arena was unwilling to spend too much money frequently purchasing new ones, so matches involving such creatures were generally only held once or twice a month."

"Usually, gladiators only had to fight ordinary beasts or magical beasts, but that was still far more dangerous and terrifying than fighting people!"

As Hark spoke, he was clearly gritting his teeth. Harrot understood. The fear and pressure brought by fighting monsters far exceeded those of fighting fellow humans.

Hearing this, Harrot suddenly recalled the painful memory of being sent flying by a single blow when he had first crossed over. At nearly two hundred and fifty pounds, he had been knocked more than thirty feet away. No matter how he thought about it, that was rather unbelievable.

But if a monster had done it, then everything made sense. After all, this was a fantasy world. Creatures with ten times a human's strength were everywhere.

After explaining the four stewards, Hark did not continue. Instead, he asked Harrot, "Come to think of it, brother, you're not a prisoner from the prison, are you? How did you end up here?"

"My former lord deceived me and sold me to slave traders. The slave traders then resold me here."

Was he trying to probe my background? Harrot did not want to say that he had once been an ordinary farmer, so he altered a few details and told his story. It was not really a lie, since what he said was true.

The old man clicked his tongue after hearing this, as though he felt sorry for Harrot. He sighed. "Ah, brother, then you really got a raw deal. Most of the other gladiators in this Gladiatorial Arena committed crimes, so coming here is what they deserve. But you were truly wronged!"

Harrot said none of that mattered anymore and asked Hark to explain the Gladiatorial Arena's gladiator rankings, gladiatorial matches, and the exact rules of Ten Wins for Freedom.

After hearing Harrot's reply, Hark had already begun imagining a melodramatic story: Harrot had once fought and bled for his lord, only to be betrayed and sold to the Gladiatorial Arena. Though he possessed great skill, he could only entertain others, while secretly vowing to carve out a path to survival through bloodshed.