Gaius Octavian was trying to win Little Caesar over with words, take the roundabout route to save face, and subtly belittle Night at the same time.
What he didn't know was that Caesar trusted Night far more than Octavian could ever imagine.
If you've never witnessed that blood-boiling violence with your own eyes, you can't possibly understand the raw, overwhelming sense of power it carries.
No ordinary legion could ever give you that feeling..
Born into nobility, Caesar had seen Roman armies before.
The soldiers gave him a sense of danger, yes, but their presence was nothing compared to Night's.
If even this man was interested in this Thracian, how could it be an ordinary Thracian?
Night, standing off to the side, heard every word Octavian said.
He only wore a relaxed smile and never once bothered to interrupt.
In the original history, Gaius Octavian did become a governor later and earned great merit suppressing Thracian tribes, eventually being granted the title of general in Rome.
The man did have talent, and he did exactly what he was boasting now.. enslaved a whole group of Thracian warriors and used them in battle.
But that was all.
If this were a purely historical world, an army made of Thracians would indeed be strong.
Even Spartacus facing multiple powerful countrymen at once would have no chance of victory.
But this was a mythical world.
Spartacus's strength was on a completely different level from his ordinary kin.
In a world where even regular warriors had to rely on bloodline and heritage to become strong, that man.. through nothing but innate talent and relentless effort.. carved out his own legend in mythical Rome, becoming famous for his terrifying combat prowess..
That was a natural-born powerhouse!
Night no longer paid any attention to this clown, but Gaius Octavian had no intention of letting Night off the hook.
He shouted loudly at Caesar.
"I'll show you who the real clown is, Lord Caesar!
If you trust me, my friends over there are running a betting pool.
Put some money down with me on the King of Storms to win.. how about it?
I promise you'll make a nice little profit."
Hearing his words, however, Caesar frowned.
To be honest, he was starting to find this Octavian incredibly annoying.
Just as he was about to drive away this overconfident idiot, a sudden thought struck him, and he casually asked:
"Who's running the betting pool?"
"It's Lord Pompey. The eldest son of the Pompey family."
Pompey?!
Another familiar name.
Night's attention shifted slightly.
If nothing went wrong, this Pompey had to be one of the future First Triumvirate, the same generation as Caesar.
Right now Pompey was much older than Caesar, had joined the army long ago, and was already building a reputation.
At the moment he was working under Sulla and beginning to stand out militarily, one of the leading figures among the younger generals.
Originally, Little Caesar had zero interest because Gaius Octavian's friends were all random nobodies he'd never even heard of.
But the moment he heard "Pompey," he perked up.
Just then, Attia, who had been watching from the side, couldn't take it anymore. "Bet with them, brother! Put everything on that Thracian to win for me!!
I'll give you all the money I brought today!"
Julia also spoke. "Count me in too.."
Hearing his sister's words, Caesar spoke. "Fine, let's play along.
You two don't need to spend a coin; Mother gave me plenty of pocket money.
Lord Lista Night, are you joining?"
The entire Caesar family was betting on the Thracian just because of one sentence from Lista Night?
Gaius Octavian instantly looked like he'd swallowed shit; his face went black.
Especially those two Caesar sisters.
The way they were puffing up in anger made it crystal clear: they wanted to vent for Lista Night.
They didn't care who was actually stronger. They'd happily lose money if it meant backing him.
Even if... the so called King of Storms really won and cleaned out the whole Caesar family's cash, Gaius Octavian would still feel like he had already lost.
A little betting money meant nothing to a noble like him.
What he truly wanted, friendship with the Caesar family and the beauties themselves, was now being pushed even further away because of this.
How could Gaius Octavian not be furious?
Yet he still had to pretend to be magnanimous and keep up appearances. "Lord Lista Night, was it..
A-are you joining as well?"
He was still genuinely scared of Lista Night, terrified the man might suddenly give him another two slaps if he said the wrong thing.
He hadn't brought any household slaves when he went out today and had never imagined some lunatic would dare hit him directly.
Otherwise he would've had someone teach this Lista a lesson first.
Right now Gaius Octavian felt worse than if he'd lost money; having to grovel before his love rival was pure torment.
Night spoke calmly. "Sure. I'll play a little. Twenty talents on Spartacus to win."
At this moment, everyone present (except Night) actually believed that Spartacus had no real chance of winning.
Even the Caesar family hadn't bothered to remember Spartacus's name; they just called him "that Thracian warrior."
From this alone, it was clear they didn't care about some slave gladiator at all.
After all, a mere gladiator wasn't worth remembering.
But when they heard Night was actually putting that much money on Spartacus winning:
"You've lost your mind?!! T-twenty… talents?" Gaius Octavian stammered, eyes bulging in disbelief.
He thought he must have misheard.
Even Little Caesar and the Julia sisters beside him were stunned.
They were, at least, born of a divine family and thought themselves fairly worldly.
Yet right now, they felt like they were meeting Night for the first time.
Their young hearts were utterly shaken by this extravagant display.
Especially Attia: the usual good girl had rebelled hard today.
Her watery blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared at Night; her gaze had completely changed.
If before she had only felt a little fondness, now her eyes were locked on him, unable to look away.
When is a man at his most handsome?
When he's spending money…
"Do you even have that much money?" Gaius Octavian blurted out.
"Of course. Go tell Pompey the bet is backed by my family name.
He'll accept. The three syllables 'Lis-ta' are worth twenty talents."
Night flashed a brilliant smile.
Anyone who knew him well (like Strabo Pompey, the father of the young Pompey currently running the betting pool) would have slapped their son across the face the moment they saw that smile.
Of all people, you had to provoke this jinx?
Last era you couldn't resist showing off and got extorted for twenty talents.
Now you're rushing to hand over more money?
Night's eyes were deep as the starry sky, carrying an almost magical pull.
His overwhelming presence and grace made people instinctively believe those outrageous, insane words.
If anyone else had said it, Caesar and the others would never buy it; they'd think it was just some bankrupt minor noble talking big to save face.
But Night: they believed him!
.
.