To Kill a Unicorn by Matthia
Genre: BL, Fantasy
Novel Status in Country of Origin: 9 chapters
~~~~Brought to you by ExR~~~~
Gladiator Warrior Hazma the Lion, was sold to a lord. The lord, in order to get Hazma ready, sends him to the red-light district Boss, Anes, to learn the ins and outs of pleasing one’s master. But these two don’t realize what they have gotten themselves into.
Chapter 1: Hamza the Lion
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Sulo and UA
The arena was boiling, and everyone was cheering for ‘Hamza the Lion’.
That afternoon, he killed five barbarian slaves alone and defeated the last Gladiator champion. Finally, the arena released a hungry lion. This was a life and death test for Hamza, as long as he could survive, he could get rid of his status as a slave and receive a large amount of money. He may even be paid by some minister.
The two lions fought until dusk. Finally, the beast was killed, and Hamza stood by the huge body, raised his bloody hands, and roared into the blood-red sky. The men in the audience yelled wildly for him, while the ladies threw flowers or handkerchiefs. Hamza laughed with tears. Not only had won great wealth but also won respect and freedom.
The capital of Bola held a slave gladiator arena every month. Today, Hamza was not participating in an ordinary competition, but a life and death performance called a ‘Bloody War’. As long as he lived to the end, he could win back everything he had lost in his life. If he died, the next slave would continue the challenge immediately.
The ‘Bloody War’ was held every six months. No one had survived every battle in the past decade. Since it was too dangerous, the arena owner had to bully and lure the slaves to participate, otherwise many would rather be whipped than join. Hamza came to the Gladiator field only a month ago. He was not threatened, but signed up voluntarily. The boss and slave coach were very surprised.
Hamza was not from Bola. He was blonde, blue-eyed, pale, tall, from the north of Cantari. A few months ago, the Bola army triumphed over in the north. The brave soldiers offered a large area of land and three cities to the king, and brought back many prisoners of war and slaves. The owner of the arena, who had a personal relationship with a soldier, picked out the ‘goods’ before the auction and bought Hamza for a good price.
Normally, arenas rarely bought their own slaves. They were more willing to work with rich owners and send slaves to training, competitions, and then used them to earn money. The boss bought Hamza just to keep up appearances. Hamza was handsome and charming, and his appearance was far better than that of the other slaves. This kind of person would attract countless eyes when standing in the arena. Even if he was not very nice, noblewomen would invest a lot of money for him.
Hamza’s bravery was beyond everyone’s expectations and hebecame the first ‘Bloody War’ winner in ten years. The boss had mixed feelings of happiness and sorrow; he was glad that he could also get a large bonus, but what worried him was that he had to let go of such a good slave within a few days.
The boss thought that maybe he could talk to Hamza and let him stay to be a slave coach and make him appear in public several times. Whilst as he was thinking about this, a servant ran over and whispered a few words. The boss was surprised and sighed deeply: it seems that the arena can’t keep the lion. As soon as the Bloody War was over, a generous buyer had eyed the beast.
That evening, the arena held a celebration banquet for ‘Hamza the Lion’. Slaves and religious leaders put down their swords and spears, took off their leather armor, and wantonly enjoyed the rare wine and food. The money came from Hamza’s bounty, but while the party was held inname in his name, he simply sat in the corner like a low-key guest, eating silently without touching his glass. During the dinner, the arena owner personally found him and asked him to come with him. Hamza didn’t ask what was the matter, wiped his mouth, and followed.
The boss took him through the corridor, away from the busy banquet, to the area where slaves were not allowed to approach. They stopped at a door, and the boss looked back at Hamza from head to toe, “You’re famous, you’re free, and you’ve made a lot of money. What are you going to do next?”
“I don’t know.” Hamza’s voice was also very good, thick, magnetic, and his skill in speaking Bola was good too. It is said that he was from the border and people there could speak both Bola and the North’s language.
The boss said, “Since I took over this arena, I haven’t seen anyone leave the Bloody War with my own eyes; you are the first. You can choose to leave the arena, or stay here to be a coach or something. However, I have a better place to recommend to you. Would you like to live a good life?”
Hamza nodded, “Yes, I want to if I can.”
“You didn’t ask me where it is.” The boss laughed and said, “A big man wants to hire you. He took a fancy to your bravery and wants you to be his personal guard. Not to buy you, to hire you, understand?”
In fact, it was no different from buying. As long as Hamza was sold, the boss would make a generous amount from his life. Hamza had no expression, but just nodded, and didn’t know whether he was happy or not. Seeing that he was willing, the boss opened the door with ease and took him to see the messenger sent by the Lord.
In the study-like hut, two messengers sent by the ‘Lord’ were waiting for Hamza. The messengers were wrapped in dark cloaks, and the boss chatted with them. Hamza sat in a corner without candlelight, asleep. After a while, an emissary came up to Hamza and handed him the same black cloak.
“Put this on, and come with us,” said the messenger, “and take the next bundle, which is full of deposits for you. The master will give you more in the future. Come with us first, and I’ll introduce you to the host on the way.”
Hamza obediently put on his cloak and picked up the package. When he went out, he nodded to the owner of the arena. The boss was busy counting the money from the tickets received, and didn’t look at him.
A large carriage was waiting outside the arena. After getting on, the emissary asked Hamza if he knew about ‘Lord Ilfayi’, who was known as ‘The great wizard’ in Bola. Lord Ilfayi was the astrologer and privy Minister of the Kingdom, and the king’s most trusted right and left hand. He was not only very powerful in Bola but also well-known abroad. It is said that he’s not only good at strategy, but also good at witchcraft. Because of his presence, Bola’s army was able to win all battles.
Hamza was going to be Lord Ilfayi’s personal guard. For Bola nobles, a ‘private guard’ was different from ordinary guards, it was a very noble job. A private guard not only had to protect the safety of the master but also accompany and take care of him, and become a part of his life.
The carriage stopped within a short distance. Different from the other side of the arena, night time in this area was very lively, with lights flickering outside the windows, and music and laughter coming from buildings from time to time.
The messenger said, “You are a slave. You have to be trained first. One month with the master should be enough.” After that, they urged Hamza out of the carriage. The three were standing next to a small stone building with a courtyard. The gate was open, lanterns hung everywhere on the door and the walls, and the garden was full of roses. The stone pillars beside the gate of the courtyard were marked with the words ‘Niao Luo street, Golden Bough Hotel’.
In the arena, Hamza heard from the slave leader that the Niao Luo Street was the most famous for pleasure-seeking places in the capital of Bola. There were beauties as noble as princesses, and there were also cheap street warblers. Obviously, this courtyard called ‘Golden Bough’ was not just a hotel.
At the gate of the courtyard stood two young waiters, each holding a basket of flowers, red roses on one side, and white roses on the other. Hamza did not know what this meant and had no chance to ask. The two messengers took him around the back door and gave a secret signal. The guards respectfully welcomed them in.
There was a sweet smell all over the building, which made Hamza blink. In the hall, there were warblers and singers. The young girls were only covered in gold and silver jewelry and various colors of gauze, the clothes of these beautiful young people were more exposed than a Gladiator’s. When passing through the curtain and the open door, there were all kinds of sounds that would make people blush, and their heartbeat quicken. It was Hamza’s first time coming to such an environment, and he was in a daze. He did not know how many turns he had made, how many steps he climbed, until he was led dizzily all the way to the highest terrace of the hotel.
There were no strong sweet fragrances here, and the fresh night-wind woke him up. The two messengers in black stood by the stone fence, talking in a low voice with a tall and slender man. After a while, the man turned around, and Hamza was reflected in his emerald eyes.
“I’m Anes.” The man walked up with a smile and looked at Hamza. “During this time, I will be your Teacher.”
Anes had a typical Bola look. Honey skin, green eyes, black satin-like long hair, and a slender body, just like the mountain spirit in the old legend. He was dressed differently from the men and women downstairs, in a loose linen robe with a button that tightly held it all on the small collar around his neck. He did not wear any jewelry on his hands or feet, only a small gem the same color as his was embedded in one ear lobe.
His name was Anes and he was really good-looking, Hamza was full of this idea. Whatever Anes said, Hamza just nodded. He didn’t give his name, but Anes probably knew his name from long ago.
The messengers and Anes exchanged a few words, before they left the terrace in a hurry, leaving Hamza standing in his original place with his bundle of belongings in his arms. Anes poured him a glass of wine, and he shook his head; he never drank. Drinking wine makes people lose their spirits.
“Good habit.” Anes took a sip of cider and pointed to the two cane chairs on the terrace. “Come on, let’s sit down and have a good chat. What did they tell you? Tell me.”
Hamza repeated what both the messengers and the arena owner had said’s words. When he heard about the “personal guard”, Anes’s shoulders trembled with laughter. Hamza looked at him in disbelief. “The people who are in charge of official affairs always talk in a roundabout way, it’s not decent for them to say something directly. Your name is Hamza? Do you know what you’re here for?”
“I’m here to train.”
“Yes. What kind of training you are here for, do you know?” Anes looked even better when he laughed, and Hamza stared at him.
“I don’t know…”
“Do you know what the Golden Bough Hotel is?”
“It’s a brothel.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re here to learn?” Anes questioned. “You should be proud. Lord Ilfayi likes you. He took a fancy to you and wants you to be his bedmate. But you are not a male prostitute. You are a gladiator slave, so he sent you to me to learn how to serve men in bed.”
Hamza nodded. Some men just liked to have sex with men, just as some noble ladies played with maiden slaves.
Anes stared at him, “You’re not surprised?”
Hamza still had no expression, “I am a little surprised. I’ve always been a slave. I was a slave when I was in Cantari, and I wasn’t a Gladiator at that time. My life was not as good as it is now. So, let me do anything. It’s better than being in the arena.”
Anes sighed and poured out a dark purple liquid from the gold inlaid crystal bottle, “Here you are, it’s not wine, it’s grape juice. You can’t stop drinking water at all. Your lips are a little dry and cracked. It’s not good.” Hamza took the juice and finished it in a few gulps under Anes’s watchful eyes. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen a lot of your reactions. You’re a little nervous.”
“Somewhat.” Hamza looked at the empty glass, avoiding the emerald eyes.
“Don’t be nervous.” Anes held out his slender finger and gently laid it on Hazma’s stout forearm. “Why don’t I just tell you everything so you know what to do? Lord Ilfayi’s situation is very special. He can only be pleased by men.”
Hamza frowned, “Does he hate women?”
“No, I mean…” Anes took another sip of the wine. “He can’t ‘do’ anyone else. He can only let people do him. And he likes it. He likes to be served.”
“Can he not…”
“He can. He’s not disabled, it’s just that it’s not easy to use. You don’t have to worry, you’re not going to serve an impotent old man. Have you met Lord Ilfayi? Oh, you are a slave, you must have never seen him. In fact, he’s beautiful. Really, I won’t lie to you.”
“How old is he?”
“Under forty, but he looks much younger than that. You’ve heard that Lord Ilfayi can do witchcraft. There is a mysterious charm around him, and his appearance is very beautiful.”
He looks good. Hamza kept that in mind.
“Now I’m the manager of this place, but when I was young, I was just like the girls and guys downstairs. This business has made me know a lot of great people, including Lord Ilfayi. I’ve served him before, and I know his preferences, so I’ll train you so that you don’t make him unhappy.”
Hamza asked, “So, what exactly am I going to learn?”
Instead of answering immediately, Anes asked, “Have you ever had sex with a man?”
“No,” Hamza stared at the floor.
“Are you being honest with me? Do you think you can do it? Do you reject it?” Anes put his elbow on the small round table and looked at Hamza as he rested his cheek on his palm. Hamza raised his head and met his green eyes. For a moment, he felt that there was a kind of innocence in these eyes that should not belong there.
“I don’t know,” Hamza replied honestly, “I’m a slave who can accept anything, but, after all, I haven’t tried…”
“Yes, I see.” Anes stood up, put down his glass, and went back to the room. “Come with me. You go and take a shower first, and I’ll get things ready.”
Anes stood on the soft carpet in the room, his beautiful finger pointing in the direction of the bathroom, “After your bath, come straight to bed with me.”