Face ClaimAllen Leech
It certainly was a step up from any military camp either of them had lived in during their unique service, though there was some pleasure to be gained from sleeping under the stars. It was one more thing to miss amidst the ceaseless noise and torchlight of the city, but something he'd grown used to by now. He could hardly care what the people who lived on the ground floor were living like; to him the fourth floor would always have a unique spot in his heart. After all, it was his. He didn't have to submit it to an inspection every other day or make sure that it was cleaned to a certain standard (Although he didn't expect Aia would let him off the hook there). He was renting it, sure, but as long as he paid his dues and didn't put a hole through the wall it was their own little slice of Rome.
Taking a moment to admire the contents of the room, bare as they were, he turned to face the two as their conversation drifted towards the topic of their personal arrangement. Admittedly he'd first perked up at the mention of a bed, but that certainly wasn't worth mentioning. "I could probably build one if you gave me enough time; spend less that way."
Keeping their presence here as uninteresting as possible was one of the highest priorities, at least in Decimus's mind, to dealing with any one of their new neighbors. He figured it would be better for the both of them if he were as vague as possible, though he certainly couldn't deny the fact that they were involved with one another. Sure, this 'Alexius' would know their names, but it wasn't as if Claudia would send her agents of the night to beat his door down to try and discover some sort of romantic scandal.
"We've traveled a lot together, but this is our first time renting. We've probably spent more time around a campfire than a hearth." he'd say, wrapping his arm about her affectionately.
"I hope I can rely on you to tell us about the area, Alexius. Anything we should know about the other tenants? No screaming babes I hope."
Decimus truly hoped that he never sounded too pompous whenever he revealed his line of work. Of course it was no secret to anyone that the guard knew how to fight quite well, but he hoped that his pride wouldn't eventually turn into arrogance as time went on. He dreaded the thought that he might one day be a fat old quartermaster who boasted of his swordsmanship and high status to anyone that might care to listen.
"Aren't too many of us," he'd begin, shrugging matter-of-factly, "Gaul's good country; mind you I've only ever walked the roads, though. The forests were nice."
Honestly it was strange to think about the fact that he'd never truly gotten to experience the countryside of such a vast province. His lot had always been to travel through the great expanse of fields and forests towards the hotbeds of action that had dominated the news-reader's tablets in recent memory, though there were always rumors of uprisings in the lands tamed by Caesar. At any rate, he was still young. There'd be more than enough time to wander the world once he was out, or better yet, the state might pay him to do it as a bodyguard.
"I think it's best that you surprise me. I'm sure you know what you're doing with those things, and I've no eye for fashion."
This was exciting now! He could only imagine what the man might do that may be otherwise unexpected to him, but beings that he had cut his hair in the same way for most of his life it was quite reasonable to think that nearly any variation might impress him.
"Why'd you leave Gaul then? Not enough customers?"
The guardsman would nod in greeting to Alexius as Aia presented him and wave a hand so as to indicate that he should follow Aia up the stairs while Decimus would follow the both of them. He was quite content to let Aia question the man during their ascent, for he was quite occupied with glancing into the rooms that they passed at each landing. Some doors were open, but most were closed; nevertheless, he couldn't say that what he'd seen so far looked bad.
The stairwell was fairly clean, or as clean as one might expect, but what really grabbed him was the mix of aromas that wafted around the building. Of course there was the occasional fowl smelling moment, but these were overshadowed by the lovely aromas of home-cooked meals. Sometimes he heard laughter, other times he'd hear a shout from one of the apartments below, but there was a certain calmness in the chaos. Perhaps he was only idealizing the place, after all they'd only been here for a few minutes.
One might hope that he wouldn't be called upon to join in on the conversation until they'd reached the room. He'd hate to have to admit that he'd been daydreaming while they were walking up.
Decimus smiled and nodded in agreement with his love, though he did appreciate the man's offer. He was well built, that was for certain, and for a moment he thought to ask whether he was a legionary man; something about the way he carried himself seemed to hint at the fact that he wasn't, though.
"I take it you live here, friend?"
A safe bet. It would be much more of a surprise if this was just a good Samaritan trying to gain favor with Fides. Either that or he was a pickpocket. It might not have been good of Decimus to pass so many judgements on the man just by giving him a once over, but perhaps he'd grown to become a bit of a cynic towards the virtuosity of the average citizen.
The very thought of living the "home life" had always been a distant thought in Decimus's mind. When one lived and breathed the army for a dozen or so years the real world was thrust away by the cornu's blare and the thunder of marching men. It was something that he'd noticed when he'd been allowed to travel back to his home upon his transfer orders coming in. He'd rise long before the dawn and spend his days (which were probably intended for some form of vacation) diligently performing the more menial tasks that his family hadn't gotten around to. Perhaps that was why he'd been so excited to go about moving into the insula, however humble it might seem. He liked to imagine that beginning this new chapter of their lives together would bring a fresh perspective to life. Also, it sure beat the hell out of sleeping at the Castra.
The insula had proven to be a fairly affordable option and the owner seemed kind enough so, overall, he was optimistic. The business of traveling light for most of their lives had left the both of them with little to bring to the place at first, but he was sure that as the years grew on they'd find the time to fill it with baubles and knick-knacks like proper citizens before too long.
"Oh, I can hardly wait." he'd say with a smirk. "Do you think they'll bring us our songbirds and pork before or after the silk and jewels?"
As for the tenants that passed them on their ascent to their new home, well, they looked fairly average. Standing amongst courtiers and stuffy old men hadn't caused him to gain an ego, thankfully, and he'd still always prefer an honest working man to a prim and proper senator.
Decimus watched with some interest while the man rooted through his various vials and jars for the right scent. When the vial was finally held to his nose he took in a short whiff to confirm that it wasn't something too obnoxious, but he recognized the familiar, if not rather simple, smell of lavender almost immediately.
"That'll do fine." he'd comment, looking straight on as he supposed he ought to.
He certainly wasn't dressed in any sort of fancy clothing. He wasn't going about in his toga, and the tunica draped about his person was certainly not the sort of rag that one would see a prole wandering about in. Plain white with a light blue trim about the edges made it one of his favored articles of clothing, but that certainly wouldn't have done much to indicate what he did for a living.
"I serve Caesar as a Praetorian." he replied, still quite proud to say it. "I don't live like a Senator but it's better than hoofing it around Britannia for the regular rate."
He'd joke about it, of course, but in all honesty it was quite a bit a better than what he'd been making in Britannia. Honestly when he'd gotten a look at his new rate in palace service he'd almost thought it had been a clerical error! Of course there was also the raw honor that came from the posting. Very few of his countrymen could ever hope to see Caesar up close, let alone work in his home.
Decimus sat patiently while Barbatius had the water brought forth, though he hardly knew what he might ask for in a scent. It wasn't because he was simple, or that he had never once thought of adding a scent to his body. He'd wager any sensible man wouldn't get very far in society if he took no care for his appearance or, indeed, the way that he smelled. Of course the common staple of all grooming in the camps had been oil as it was simply the easiest thing to get your hands on and most of them were well accustomed to that scent. He'd started out using oil on his skin and, eventually, had taken to dabbing it into his hair whenever he thought he might need to smell a little less like a barn when on the march. This practice had given way to taking advantage of various plants in the north that he'd thought smelled nice. Of course he didn't know what the bloody things were called and he'd never thought it so important that he should seek someone out for their proper name. At any rate, it wouldn't do him any favors to ask this professional for, 'Those blue flowers that grew by the pond near Causennis'.
"What have you got from up north?"
The question was certainly very open ended, but it was meant to be. He couldn't think of anything substantially unique about that territory in terms of smells, but he did know that Aia might well appreciate a smell from her past like that. Perhaps the needles of a northern pine? Maybe he'd surprise the poor girl by coming home smelling of bear fat. It all really depended on what Barbatius had in stock.
"Anything from Gaul?"
If he spoke any more he was sure that the man might think him a barbarian of some type, and the comment about compensation for the service had not left his mind since the man had reminded him of that integral part of their interaction. Luckily for Decimus, he never found himself light on coin these days. While Barbatius took the time to think of an answer, he'd pull a purse from his belt and give it a few shakes before letting it rest on his thigh.
"Don't worry for the coin either, friend." he'd offer with an amused smile, "Rome pays me handsomely but give's me no time to spend any of it."
If Decimus appeared somewhat apprehensive it was for no other reason than the fact he'd never set foot in this sort of shop. Upon hearing a friendly voice he was content to come in and have a look around, and what he saw didn't disappoint him. He didn't know why, but for some reason he'd expected that these sorts of shops would be able to accommodate more than one chair. Indeed, he felt quite privileged that he could expect to receive the full attention of who he could only assume was the proper barber and not some apprentice or other servant. In military life a haircut was as simple as one of the slaves running a razor about your head a few times before you were sent back to man your post, though there were some among his number that did sport some impressive dos once in a while.
"Oh... Thank you!" he'd manage, moving towards the seat.
It was a wonder, all the little bottles! There was quite a collection sitting on the table and one could only imagine all the different uses he might have for them. In the back of his mind he obviously expected that the majority were to be used on the hair of women. A man's hair, at least in his mind, was extraordinarily simple compared to the long locks that a woman would maintain. And among the finest and most impressive he'd seen came from women of status! Images of Flavia Juliana, and even Claudia came to mind as he made himself comfortable on the seat.
A nod of thanks would accompany that order to Manus, though he hardly knew if he'd be greeted with water or wine. The barber himself was a handsome enough looking man. He seemed to be about the same age as Decimus, though one could hardly be sure of a thing like that on first glance.
"I could do with both of those actually."
Had he been an optimist, Decimus might have thought that the city would receive some sunlight on the tail end of autumn. For the better part of the week the city had received naught but cloudy skies and a few brief showers of rain. One would think an eternity on an island cursed with fog and dreary days would have hardened him to the dull winters of the peninsula, but Decimus had never grown too fond of this type of environment. Yet, despite the oppressive grey skies, he was in a rather good mood.
Aia and he were seeing each other somewhat regularly and they'd decided to make some significant steps towards living with one another, though he knew it wouldn't be as easy as that. He'd had the opportunity to bring up the matter to Claudia a few times, but those brief moments never lasted for long. A slave would enter or she'd be speaking with someone and he'd always decide that the matter could be solved on another day. It was now, in one of these famous interludes of anxious avoidance, that he'd decided to walk the city to clear his head.
Old habits died hard and if he couldn't walk through the forests of an unknown land, then the streets would have to do. Of course he'd been doing it for some time and the familiar sounds of an awakening city were now as well known to him as the singing of the robins had been back in Britannia. Generally his practice of wandering the city for exercise usually ended when he reached a wall or other sort of landmark, but today he'd decided to take a more relaxed approach and just... wander.
This was how he came to be in front of the home of Marcus Barbatius, though he knew nothing of what that name meant or what deeds that man had performed. To Decimus, the sign that indicated that this was indeed some form of barber's shop was only an intriguing oddity. He'd never made use of them, for someone was always willing to cut the simple styles that would keep the Centurions away from him for a few pieces of copper. Shops like this had always seemed like a luxury when he'd seen them in Camulodunum, but as an older man with significantly more coin he was beginning to have an interest in these sorts of services that had been hitherto unknown to him.
With casual interest he passed through the doorway and made himself known as his eyes adjusted to the interior of the shop.
He'd smile as her soft lips met his cheek, continuing to revel in what short time in paradise they had left. The question she asked was one that had kept him up many nights, but he still didn't really have an answer to it. It was not as if he could just go in to the Princess's chambers and nonchalantly ask her for that sort of permission. Or perhaps he could? Though there were certainly a long list of precedents and good legal reasons that they technically couldn't marry, he had saved the girl's life. He wasn't one to push his luck when it came to asking favors of the imperial family, but this reason in particular might find ground to stand on with Claudia.
"I would too. I'll ask soon enough, but don't go and think that she'll grant it just because we almost died with her. There are rules, after all, and I'm not even sure how this whole thing will work."
As he rolled onto his back to contemplate the whole mess, a concerned sigh would escape his lips.
"Next time I see her I will ask for permission. Maybe just to live together at first, but the Princess isn't stupid, she'll know what we're really after. If that fails we can get married under the auspices of the sacred trees or however your people do it."
The latter part of his promise was almost surely made in jest, as he knew that she would never grow tired of his quips about her heritage. Or so he thought, anyways.
Topics I Participated In
The insula was definitely not as fancy a living space as a villa, but it was a step up from a military camp, and a lot less awkward than the Castra. After long months of meeting at taverns and hidden places, Aia and Decimus finally concluded that they needed their own place inside the city, even if neither of them could permanently move in just yet. Eventually, they would have a house. At least, Aia had her eyes set on a house now that she was to be a proper Roman wife. But for now, and insula apartment would have to do. And they found one for rent, in a place that was not horribly suspect.
Honestly they did not have a lot of stuff to move in. But Decimus had a day off from his praetorian duties, so Aia was excited to spend it together, exploring their new apartment. And hopefully making it more comfortable. Maybe breaking in the bed. Who knew.
The two of them stood at the bottom of the stairs of the building; Aia was carrying a basket of some pots and utensils and food, while she had passed on a larger bundle of bedding and cleaning supplies to Decimus. People were coming and going. Some of those people were likely their future neighbors.
"Well... let's see what it's like on the inside, shall we?"
Early November, 75 AD
Today was just yet another ordinary day in the life of Marcus Barbatius, one of countless professional barbers in Rome. Some just had their shops in the street, but Marcus had his very own shop and insula just above it. Quite a nice insula too. One bedroom for himself, another for all the slaves, a small cooking area, a tablinum and a triclinium. And a few spare rooms for storage and other things. Then there was the shop. Large enough to hold a chair for clients in the middle of the room and shelves and tables and many little pots and flasks with salves and oils and everything else he needed for the business.
And then the box with all the knives and razors in it. The key hung steadily around his neck and Aculia would have to ask, if she needed a knife to cook with. He once had a slave cut his own throat, which he had absolutely no right to, so Marcus had to keep the knives locked up at all times, so it would not happen again. The slaves were his property. They had no right to take their own lives while he was their master.
But luckily, that was already years ago and life went on. Even with what he did recently, to that girl. Yet that was also in the past now and all he had was the lingering memory of her and her blood. He was thinking about that when he opened the shop this morning, which put him in a good mood and he was even whistling when he opened the door.
His head slave or favorite slave, Manus, was already busy getting the shop ready for the first client. Now all they had to do was wait for someone to walk in the door.
Decimus watched with relief as the young man finally left the tavern to seek entertainment elsewhere. In truth it was a godsend, he'd hate to sit at the bar for a few more hours while the love of his life was a few meters away. As soon as the last trace of the boy's fine garb drifted through the threshold back out onto the street, Decimus stepped from the bar with mug in hand to finally reunite himself with the love he'd not seen for damn near a month.
He wasn't too showy about it, strolling rather casually over to the table and pausing to look about for a moment before setting himself down in the seat once occupied by that nobleman.
"Hope you don't mind if I sit." he'd say, giving her a coy smile as he pulled another swig from his mug. "Who was that anyways? You got friends in high places now?"
Of course he knew it could have been anyone that lived in the house of Flavia, though he couldn't begin to guess who he might have actually been. It was either that or she was mixing and mingling with nobles on the side, and Aia hardly seemed the type to truly enjoy that sort of company regularly.
Back in the forests of Britannia, in the middle of Rome's latest conquest, in falling snow and frozen dirt, never in a million years would have Aius imagined living in Rome one day. Sure, she had dreamed of visiting many times, and listened to the stories of soldiers who were born there or had been there, but back then, for the merchant's daughter - turned - interprex those dreams seemed too far fetched to come true any time soon. Occupied with the immediate issue of survival without being discovered, she did not exactly have much time to contemplate her future.
Until she was discovered.
And now, by some strange and mysterious will of the gods, she was not only in Rome, but as a woman - walking the hallways of the beating heart of the greatest empire in the world. Aius, former auxiliary Interprex Britannorum, tutor to the children of an imperial household, walking in a palace. Allowed to walk inside a palace.
Being completely bloody lost.
Flavia Juliana traveled to the city, taking her entourage with her, for some kind of a family visit. At first, Aia did not even thing that she was included in that plan, but then suddenly she found herself traveling along, and before she had the time to gape, they were already at the Palatine. She was housed with the other servants of the family in a small room, and yet, small room aside, she was in a palace. Jupiter's balls, the change of scenery was making her head spin.
Once things settled down for the evening, she decided to take a short walk to clear her head. Many parts of the palace were off limits to people like her, including the gardens, but she figured just pacing a corridor before she went back to bed would not be too suspicious. She felt jittery, both from excitement and from nerves. Wearing a woman's dress, she felt more exposed than she had on scouting missions, even though she was inside one of the most secure buildings in Rome. Maybe it was because of all of that that she turned a corner one too many while pacing. And now, she was turned around.
Aia huffed in frustration as she once again turned a corner to an unfamiliar corridor, and kicked the corner of the wall.
"Dammit to Tartarus..."
Decimus Rutilus Atellus
34 | July 20th, 38AD | Male | Plebian | Praetorian | Hetero | Allen Leech
Decimus was raised with a strong and healthy respect for the gods as well as Roman society. Reared on the tales of Scipio Africanus and other great heroes, his father was quite successful in rooting latin ideologies in the young boy. Being a strong supporter of the Roman state, Decimus often acts towards what he sees as the greater goals of the Empire; even if those goals aren't necessarily to his benefit. He has always loved his family and is very much a kind-hearted individual. The man is quick to greet others and does his best to make a good impression.
The soldier has a somewhat discouraged view of romance, often thinking of what it would be like to start his own family. For decades the possibility of settling down and finding love had been a distant dream, but with a more permanent posting, he's allowed himself to warm to the idea. The chief issue lies in the fact that he's inexperienced in the ways of courtship, not to mention seduction.
Though kind enough in good company, years of professional soldiery have left their mark on him. Initial encounters with Decimus are often met with brisk responses, hearty as they may be, and only after some conversation can one expect to find the man beneath. In leadership, he is firm but fair; finding unnecessary cruelty to be a tool of men un-adept at leadership. Being a man of virtue, he's generally despondent to any form of skullduggery and detests the thought that he might one day fall to the corruption of the Empire's darker circles. The loyalty of this man cannot be bought, giving cause to his current posting at the side of the Emperor's niece.
Decimus has always maintained a short brown hair cut modeled after his father's. His body is muscular and well toned, like most in his line of work. His legs strong, shaped by years on the march and a general love for hiking through nature. His skin is usually tanned in part because of his origins and of course his daily rituals which often find him underneath the sun.
Under normal circumstances, Decimus can usually be found in a simple tunica of varying colors, though he does prefer shades of blue and green to brighter yellows and reds. On the job, his uniform no longer consists of the armors worn by dedicated soldiers, but rather the simple toga of men in service to the Emperor. Simply designed, this can be considered his "working" wear.
Quintus Rutilius Atellus, 61, Alive
Claudia Atella, 51, Alive
Brother- Quintus Rutilius Atellus Minor, 38, Alive
Sister in Law - Valeria Atella, 21, Alive
Decimus was born second and with much approval of his father who had desperately hoped for another son to join his line. His birth was uneventful in terms of disaster or illness, and his family celebrated and gave a sacrifice of a white lamb to give thanks for his good health. His father was not present at the birth and had since earned his citizenship through means of military service. Upon hearing of his second son's birth, he was already on his way back from Northern Gaul and out of the legion for good. The efforts of his father would pay off in making Decimus and his family legal citizens of the Empire, and securing for his family a proper and fair life.
His childhood was much like any other, and he was quite keen on exploring the wilderness with his brother and several other local boys, including his best friend Flavius. Flavius was the son of their neighbors, and though they were far from his own family's property, they still made their best efforts to visit whenever possible. One day, the family was hosting a party for several families of the region, and he and Flavius had left out of sheer boredom. They had decided to explore the small cave on the edge of the property, and it was in this cave that Decimus would receive his first true scar of life. They approached the cave with carefree curiosity and Decimus crawled in on his hands and knees to investigate the low lying overhang. The ceiling was not so much rock as earth packed tightly and he thought for a few moments that this may be the burrow of a large creature that of course, he must find. He called to Flavius who began to crawl in, but he was lost in a swirl of dust and rock as the ground began to shake and tremble with the fury of one thousand drums. It was an earthquake, and Flavius had been crushed under the entrance of the cave while Decimus had luckily only been trapped in a pocket of air. He could see nothing but utter blackness, and it frightened him to the core as he choked on the dust that had been turned up by the sudden activity. It was not until several hours later that his father pulled Flavius from the mound of dirt as a corpse, and ferociously dug on to save his son who had barely survived. He would never forget this moment of his childhood, and the families found it hard to speak after the incident.
TEENAGE TO EARLY ADULT [50AD-57AD]:
As he entered his adolescence, he had already been helping his father on the farm for a few years and he had been accustomed to the constant tasks of weeding and plowing alongside the family oxen. The slaves barely spoke to him, but this was not out of spite but by warning of his father. Decimus's father saw it as a personal offense for a slave to speak to his son, and they were careful to avoid him in the fields. He always saw this as strange, and as time went on, he would speak to the slaves behind the eye of his father and he developed a few relationships, but they were quickly cut off if his father was told by another servant. What little slaves the family had were devoted to field work and so they were a necessity which Decimus enjoyed. It did mean less work for him after all. It was also at this time that his father began to teach him the multiple areas of manhood that would help ease him on in the next steps of his journey towards leaving home. Swordplay was his strength and he learned quickly. It took many more months to teach him the multiple techniques of using the shield, as Decimus nearly always dropped it in favor of the added mobility of wielding only the sword. After a few years, he was ready, and he waved goodbye to his family, friends, and the rolling fields of Hispana. He was off to the Legion.
The journey to Tarraco was long and tiring, but he was able to keep up with the other boys that had been sent from the village. Rolling hills fell into flatland, which turned into ridges and hills once more, and soon they were upon the city. The towering walls were awe-inspiring to one who had barely left the farm in his youth, and it is here that he first grew to appreciate the full glories of Rome. The sights and smells of the city were overpowering and at every corner, there was the symbol of the Empire that had made it all possible. Tall red banners stood in the form of the city and peoples of all regions and creeds flocked around the packed streets. Slave merchants, wine merchants, cattle drivers, patricians, they could all be found in the city. Their destination, however, was on the other side of the city, and on the outskirts, and it took them nearly the whole of that day to navigate the streets to find their destination. On leaving the other side of Tarraco, the small party was amazed at the Castra which would serve as their home for the next few months. A tall walled compound that hummed with the activity of soldiers that his father had told him of. Here, he would begin his own legacy.
He enjoyed the training at the Castra a great deal, and he soon learned many valuable skills that would keep him alive on battlefields across the known world. The tightly knit units made for great friendships, and he would learn to trust and rely upon those other members of his cohort. He was assigned to a seasoned Centurion that had returned from a campaign fighting rebellious factions in Egypt that had threatened the grain supply of Rome, and for this, he was awarded a safer post, training the casual villagers that would need to become legionnaires. He was a stern man, yet fair, and Decimus took many of his virtues from the instructor who instilled a great deal of discipline in them with a wooden rod.
It would not be for many more months until he had been fully trained and sent off the far north and mysterious land of Britannia. He had heard many stories from his father about the land across the channel, but he had never been there himself and could have hardly known anything about the peoples there. It was common knowledge by that time that the legions of Rome had invaded the land and continued to wage war against its people, though Decimus had little idea of what he would face. The march to the staging area in Gaul was relatively uneventful, however, on the way across the channel they suffered through some rough seas which nearly split their vessels in half against huge white cliffs that bordered the sea. It was on the trip over that Decimus first began to despise traveling by sea. Upon landing, it could be seen that the Romans had been entrenched for a while. Formal military camps had been set up and supplies seemed to be flooding through the docks as fast as they could be carried from the ships. There was something else that served as an eye opener for him in his early days on the island as well... The vast assortment of wounded men. It appeared as though these barbarians did not fight the way they did, but preferred a more guerilla style of warfare, much like the dreaded Germans did at Teutoburg. Decimus was soon assigned to his cohort within the legion and found them entrenched on the front lines of the fighting. Before too long, he found himself facing these blue faced madmen known as the Britons. They fought with a savagery of crazed murderers and seemed to prefer their blue warpaint to armor. In one particular skirmish, Decimus found himself and his comrades faced with an impossible number of the enemy in a small section of woodland. The terrain was unforgiving and the battle fierce, but at the end, Decimus counted nearly one hundred Britannic bodies in front of his section of men, and the Centurion of his Centuria took note. Through many smaller skirmishes, he eventually rose to the rank of Optio, standing side by side with the leader of his Centuria.
Over a period spanning ten years, Decimus had continued doing his part in the seemingly endless campaign in Britannia. Though many years of losing comrades and friends in the fields of battle have certainly taken their toll on his optimism, the Centurion had learned to cope with these losses as his new position demanded, finding a comfortable medium with his men, though he had certainly stopped being their friend in most senses of the word. Though it had been many years since he had last seen the rolling hills of his homeland, he was well aware of the pride and honor that he had brought to both his father and his family as they so claim in their letters. Fortune has smiled on the man as of late. After finally coming to Rome to represent his legate, Decimus was granted a new assignment. This assignment was one of great honor and responsibility; the position of as a Praetorian guardsman. It's here that he now finds himself surrounded by marble statues of heroes long past. Only fate knows what will be in store for him.
Sains | EST | Discord