The Next Generation by D.J. Manly

Author:D.J. Manly [Manly, D.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2011-10-09T21:50:39+00:00

Passions Misplaced

The sounds of my father shouting at the top of his lungs at Petorio did not distress me. In fact, it pleased me to see that little snake put in his place.

What pained me was the look on Samson’s face, who seemed to be in agreement with my brother this time, although they were motivated by different reasons.

“You don’t give a rat’s ass about this, Petorio,” Gold pointed out, “because you have no idea what it’s like to be a slave. You were raised a free man with many privileges. All you can think about is how much money there is to be made off the backs of slaves. It’s despicable. I am ashamed of you.”

“You are not thinking correctly, Uncle,” Petorio began. “We are doing a service to—”

“How dare you tell me that I don’t know how to think! We are doing no service for anyone but ourselves!”

“They are prisoners,” he grumbled.

“Yes, prisoners who will serve their sentences and then be free once more.”

“Why not serve it here, with the chance to gain glory? We can set them free in five years or more…reward them for their hard work.”

“I will not be a slave owner—for you, for Sparta, or even for those Roman dogs!”

“Gold,” Samson said, “I don’t see that we have a choice. It’s the king and we know his orders are coming from Rome. They never liked the idea of a free school here and—”

“We will close it down then. Close it all down for all I care.”

Petorio threw up his hands. “That’s not the solution.”

“It’s my solution.” Gold glared at him. “And as long as I draw breath, my solutions are the only ones that count!”

“And you”—Petorio looked at me for the first time when he was not brave enough to counter my father—“what do you say to this?”

“I see both sides,” I said. “There could be a compromise, couldn’t there, Father?”

Samson looked hopeful when Gold actually gazed at me. “What compromise?”

“You accept only prisoners slated for execution. You save them from death. In return, they are trained here as gladiators but they are not slaves so much as free men who serve time. If they are deemed sufficiently rehabilitated at the end of their sentence, they earn their freedom. If not, they are sent back.”

“It is a play on words,” Gold muttered, but he seemed to be thinking about it.

“But not slavery,” I persisted, “at least not to us. The king may call it what he likes.”

My father sighed.

“Gold,” Samson said, “consider what Nico says.”

My father nodded and walked out of the room.

“He is stuck in his opinions and deaf to reason,” Petorio announced. “He is a tyrant.”

Samson gave Petorio a sharp look. “Watch yourself. Show some respect. He is your uncle and the master of this house.”

“Yes, and the master is about to bring this house down all around our heads.”

Samson looked ready to issue the proper admonishment but Petorio stormed from the room. Samson motioned to a servant to pour some wine. He drank deeply from the goblet then said, “Thank you, Nicolaus.

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