The crowd's cheering still echoed faintly in the background when Caesar leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into a wry smile.
"The round was animated enough," he remarked, his voice carrying that familiar note of superiority, "but far too easy for Spartacus, as one might expect. What I did not anticipate, however, was the other slaves choosing to fight together."
Across from him, the Pope inclined his head with a calm, measured expression. "Is it so surprising? To them, Spartacus has become more than a gladiator. They look at him as a model—a symbol of defiance, the man who once dared to challenge the might of Rome."
"Model?" Octavius scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain as his lip curled. "Do not make me laugh Lord Pope. You call him a model, when he was crushed utterly by Emperor Crassus himself? Some model of failure."
