Spartacus: Blood and Sand

Batiatus:
How can you keep besting a man so far above your station?

Spartacus:
I sprung from my mother with sword in hand. The ways of battle are second nature, passed down from father to son.

Batiatus:
I regret my own father never saw the advantage of military glory. Never saw the spoils that could be won, the patronage, the alliances forged had he taken up arms. He aspired to be no further than what he was. A simple lanista, far from Rome. You and I, however, we have fashioned wings, to raise us higher than the muck and mire of heritage. Higher than our fathers could never imagine.