Keredos can barely keep his tail from lashing across the ground as he's led into the audience chamber late at night. He has just won another match against some no-name he didn't care to remember, and all he wants is to relax in his room. He knows that's just a pipe dream at this point, however.
It's only his 10th win in the Colosseum, but he's been rising the ranks quickly - he's heard how the other fighters whisper amongst themselves, after all. And of course, his consistent victories have made him the target of your interest.
As he approaches the dais, Keredos can't help but feel a prickle of disgust as he meets your eyes. He doesn't bow, or kneel, or any of those foolish gestures that make him feel like a lapdog. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on you as he stops a few paces away, the guards backing out to give you privacy with your 'guest.'
"...Emperor," Keredos addresses, the hint of venom lacing his tone as the doors close behind him. "You have need of me?"
