An hour later, Lops entered the gladiatorial arena to receive his number card.
Every day, Marinburg Arena might offer different variations; for example, cavalry lance duels, group confrontations, magical duels, as well as free-for-alls and shooting contests. There are a multitude of ways to play, but death matches are strictly prohibited.
The Marinburg Arena has been in existence for several hundred years. In recent years, as this large city has continued to develop and become increasingly prosperous, the citizens' demands for entertainment have grown higher and higher. Under such circumstances, the arena has gone through one renovation and expansion after another. Nowadays, the Marinburg Duel Arena covers tens of thousands of square meters, has a diameter of over two hundred meters, features tens of thousands of seats, and boasts walls several tens of meters high. From nobles to citizens, everyone can enter to watch the exciting gladiatorial performances and bet on their favorite gladiators.
The arena also provides a venue for resolving personal vendettas erupting within the city. Some strong people come to this place to duel, not only to get rid of their enemies but also to earn some extra money.
In such a situation, the arena requires a large number of gladiators to serve the wide public. Due to the empire's system limiting the number of slaves, free gladiators have become the main component of the arena.
Keeping Laine's advice firmly in mind, Lops entered the arena's interior with composure.
A man in a hemp garment and a straw hat immediately approached: "Sir, are you here to buy a ticket? Or?"
"I want to sign up to become a gladiator. What is today's gladiatorial event?" Lops immediately indicated he was here to register as a gladiator.
"Ah! Sir, you've come to the right place today! Today's gladiatorial event is a chain battle!" The man in the straw hat, whose skin was dark and emitted a foul smell from both his mouth and body, said: "The registered gladiators will enter the arena one by one. The limit in the arena is ten people; whenever someone is defeated, a standby gladiator will join. The last person standing will be the gladiatorial champion of the day."
"...Is that so?" Lops, young and impetuous, didn't take his opponents seriously: "I want to register."
"Then I'll take you inside." The man in the straw hat was delighted and immediately led Lops inside.
After simply completing the gladiator registration procedures, this was Lops' first impression of the interior of the arena basement.
The basement was dirty and devoid of sunlight. A group of muscular men crowded in the narrow basement, changing clothes, eating the simplest and cheapest vegetables and black bread, and drinking dirty water. There was plenty of feces in the corners of the basement that no one bothered to deal with.
This is where the slave gladiators stayed.
Although Lops had already been a free gladiator several times, it was his first time in such a place. The wandering knight swiftly walked past, suppressing his nausea as he did so, and a portly steward approached: "Is that you? Lops? Are you here to participate in the gladiatorial contest again today?"
"Yes, Mr. Klaus!" This steward was Lops' acquaintance, and he had many slave gladiators under his command.
The steward looked at Lops with a smile plastered across his face: "If I may say so, as an elite middle-tier wandering knight, it's unlikely that you will have much problem winning this chain battle, so the commission we pay you will be slightly less than those new gladiators, is that alright?"
"No problem. Oh, Mr. Klaus, I want to ask you something." Participating in the gladiatorial event as an elite middle-tier was somewhat overbearing. After multiple gladiatorial contests, the betting odds on him would sharply decline, and hence the commission would be accordingly lower.
"Are there any strange people recently? Particularly skilled gladiators showing up here?" Lops seized the opportunity to directly inquire, keeping Laine's advice in mind.
"Particularly... skilled? Recently?" Klaus fell into thought.
Outside the Marinburg Arena. Read complete version only at novelꞁire.net
"You trust him that much?" Veronica asked curiously as she walked with Laine toward the arena interior.
"Lops is the son of Lord Heide of Mosheen. He was formally trained in military skills from a young age, and his abilities are not bad. Moreover… he shouldn't be too foolish." Laine hesitated slightly on the topic of being too foolish, but he felt that since Lops was out traveling as a wandering knight, he should know how to adapt to circumstances.
Veronica wanted to say something else, but immediately a dwarf came toward them from inside the arena, shouting: "Heavens! Heaven! A great hero has arrived at the arena! Mr. Laine, welcome to your arrival!"
The approaching dwarf stood about 1.4 meters tall, but his head accounted for a third of his height. His long beard, styled in various thick braids, covered his big belly and legs and nearly reached the ground. The dwarf's face gleamed with sheen, and his beard and hands were adorned with various gold and silver jewelry, indicating a person of wealth and prosperity.
"Hello, Long-bearded One." Laine shook hands with the dwarf: "Your beard is truly beautiful!"
"Oh! I like that compliment!" The dwarf contentedly stroked his beard: "I spend two hours every day grooming my beard."
The dwarf's beard is a symbol of age and status. A dwarf does not shave since birth but waits patiently for the beard to grow longer and longer. A longer beard means the dwarf is older. To discern whether a dwarf holds a high status, one can look at his beard—wealthy and powerful dwarves have more time and resources to maintain their beards, which are frequently washed and become sleek and oily. If a dwarf's beard is messy and unkempt, it only indicates his low status and strength.