The workers picked up the dead bodies from the arena and piled them up onto a wagon. The crowd had left the amphitheatre, left a few drunkards still drinking and laughing at their podium. Those are some of the rich freemen of the empire.
“He left with the Elders!” A man told Seneca. He was a servant to Spiculus.
“Where were they heading to?” Asked Seneca.
“I’m not sure. My master asks me to go home alone. And he did not leave me further instructions.” The man replied.
Frustrated with the answer, Seneca left the man, his mind is flooded by questions and he needed immediate answers.
While hastily walking away, he bumped into a group of large men. The gladiators.
“Hey, old hag! Watch your step!”
What a rude man! He must have a problem with his own eyesight for calling a well dress
