Neverwinter Forest night of the hunter

Perhaps, the once-Roman considered, there was merit to her words. He had been molded, tempered to think only one way: exactly how the Amazon women had wanted their Gladiators... their slaves to think. To give his life for them — not that the Amazon women needed protectors, the truth of it was hardly so romantic, but even so in the face of immediate danger that they would not be able to get themselves out of without their death, it was the duty of the men of the Rise to step into danger's path and give their life so that the women might live on. To think that there had been choice in such a thing: the choice to ghost forward to face death, or to flee, albeit not something that Five had even once considered doing, was to deconstruct his view. Perhaps to her there had been a present choice, but he had been conditioned painfully to sacrifice himself would the need ever arise without fear or hesitation. It had been basic, taught instinct that had driven him to near the venomous serpent, as to which had not felt like much of a choice to him. “As you say, my lady,” Five conceded humbly, banishing every and all forbidden thoughts of arguing. It was a moot point. He had done what he had done and she was grateful though she did not need to be. He could not tell her how to feel any more than he could change his genetics. The Gladiator allowed silence to take him, curious as to if this was where they would part or if she might inquire further.