Swedish-artists

As soon as Phaeton had laid his eyes on Ciscian, he waved the young man over. "Get dressed! Quickly!" he ordered the gladiator. "You and I and this young lady are going for a walk." Ciscian's face turned several nuances of paler. "I didn't do anything wrong," he protested. "No, not you, but our friend Fyligia," Phaeton shook his head. "She seems hell-bent on screwing up the games." Bu that, he turned to Valente. "You can leave that blade here, you won't be needing it anymore." With a sigh of relief, Valente dropped the gladius on a bench that held similar arms. Then she took the chance to move over to a commode with a tap and splash some cold water in her face, getting rid of most of the grime and blood clinging to her face. Meanwhile, Ciscian was not late to jump into a pair of baggy sky-blue silk pants and a light grey tunic, putting his feet into sandals, and then Valente and Ciscian followed Phaeton trough another side corridor. It was dark and dingy and 'decorated' with an