Sarah

Tiberius, dressed in a gleamingly white toga over a tunic edged in gold and purple, was sitting quietly as his twin sister chatted with her friend, watching the comings and goings around them. One could learn a lot by watching whom people did and didn't speak to. He was accompanied only by Tigris, an older man who was his body slave, and the usual Praetorian guards that surrounded the Imperial presences. Claudia asked about the upcoming bout, and from the nearest seats a Senator he recognised spoke up. Aulus had been a staunch supporter of their uncle, Caesar Quintus, for much of his life, so the trusted position of his family, so close to the Imperials, had been well earned. "Thank you, Senator." He smiled politely at the man, taking the list and passing it to his sister so that she could peruse it, before handing it back. "One trusts that your return to Rome has been pleasant." He said to Aulus, with a glance and a faint smile of acknowledgement for his lady wife. The man had been governing in the provinces, if Tiberius recalled correctly. An honour, but he was was quite likely slated for greater things still. @Anna@Chris@Sharpie@Gothic

The water boy brought him wine at the behest of his ever dignified mistress, and Spurius nodded politely in acknowledgement in Titinia's direction, before taking a sip. It was a good vintage, the madame was gracious to serve it, but that was something that he'd observed about her. Perhaps it was a front that went with the elite clientelle, but then he was no different with his own salesman's face. But she was pleased with Justinia, which was well. The girl seemed just as pleased, even as Titinia lamented the tendency of her best slaves to earn their way to freedom faster than she'd like. Well, she didn't have to free them, but her slaves seemed to respond well to the possibility. Certainly Justinia seemed positively delighted with her current circumstances. "Only a problem if she wishes to leave." He observed, voice deepening slightly in amusement, accompanied by a humoured twist of the lips, as he glanced at the young lady in question. She was exquisite, as Titinia described her, and had flowered further with access to the arts and wiles of the brothel, turned out in a manner that brought out the best of her beauty. "What would you do, if you were free?" He asked Justinia on impulse, carefully lowering himself into one of the available chairs, using his staff for support. Even as he asked he observed Gaia out of the corner of his eye, aware that she had been a slave herself once, though he would not be so crass as to draw attention to the fact. She had also been the wife of an Imperial. A person's fortunes could change, in the blink of an eye. He was all too aware of that. Right now Justinia's seemed to be rising. Even Spurius's might be said to be positive, surrounded as he was by three beautiful and confident women. Definitely the thorn amongst the roses. @Gothic@Anna@Sydney

Tiberius laughed and held up his hands to ward off any further playful blows. "I never said more than you!" He protested, amused at what his sister read, or pretended to read, into his words. The idea of jewellery and other ornaments was to compliment the wearer. And if one saw a striking slave, the next question was, who owned them? And Cynane was striking; it wasn't like Tiberius hadn't noticed. He had a young man's sincere if undiscerning appreciation of good-looking women, though his nature meant that he generally kept his observations of the ladies at court to himself. Likely if Cynane was his slave she'd have been well harassed with questions about her origins. "You should." He agreed. His slaves weren't quite so exotic. "Not so much." He admitted, trying to think if there were any interesting stories amongst his mostly Roman-born slaves. "Old Tigris has been to Judaea, all the way to Petra, where he says great temples, tombs and government buildings are cut into the very rock of the hills, rather than built." Which sounded fantastic, yet also somehow practical, if one had strong cliffs to work with. "That would be something to see." He mused. Glancing around the room, the young Imperial sipped his wine. "I wonder what mischief we're in for tonight." He mused, eyeing both the slaves and the nobles who took their ease amongst them. These were, of course, only the trusted inner court. Likely things in the city would become far more raucous, if stories were to be believed. @Gothic

I'd love to write this thread too!

We have, I've just been super busy IRL, but getting back into posting now. Definitely up for that thread @Sara! I'd love to see the Claudias (Caesaris and Corinthia) together but that would be boring for @Gothy to write, since they're both hers. Certainly would love to see Corinthia interact with more of the Imperials.

Absolutely, I can imagine that having been a slave Julia might not be particularly fond of slavers, and I had considered the difference in social status. It would be interesting to have them interact and see how they react to each other. I haven't really thought about how Spurius feels about former slaves. It might provide a growth opportunity for both of them. @Jenn

So I know he's not the imperial ally that you asked for (at least, not yet) but I was wondering whether Spurius Antius Claudus might be of interest? If not as a potential husband then maybe as a friend or paramour? He's a plebian but quite well off, he's been a successful slave trader for some time now. There is the definite potential for him to become ambitious in politics, with the right motivation. He's close to Julia in age, never been married (prefers to pay the tax, the source of some speculation), used to be a soldier but came back injured and walks with a distinct limp. I just thought I'd throw him out there. @Jenn

The torchlight outlined Aeneas's barbarian features, the high cheekbones and pale skin of his race. Perhaps the wine was making him a little reckless, he wasn't used to drinking heavily any more, and he rarely spoke of what he had left behind, after that admission on their first meeting. She knew, he knew she knew and did nothing about it, what point was there in saying more? But she had asked. He was at last accepting that he wasn't going home and, feeling cut off from the life he knew, was feeling a little fatalistic. The wine definitely wasn't helping that. But he'd never been a maudlin drunk. As he tossed back the last of the wine in his cup, he felt the subject was done; what could be said had been. Her stern tone was something that he had become accustomed to; he thought of it as part of her mask, and had started listening more to her words than her tone. You will stay here with me. Not 'you will protect me' or 'you will serve me', just 'you will stay with me'. Those blue eyes, twilight dark in the light of the torches, watched her as he nodded slowly, seriously. It was the answer, he knew, but the fact of his remaining in Rome had taken time to accept. She refilled his cup, her thumb for a moment rubbing against his fingers as her tongue ran across her lips, before the clarification that he'd been expecting came. Protect, serve, her words said the expected things, her actions something quite different. Against his will he felt his pulse quicken. He listened to her words of course, but also to the things she didn't say, hinting at things she couldn't say. And the surprising reassurance. She would protect him in turn. He thought for a moment of the red-headed slave who was head of Gaia's household, and his privileged position in it, and he thought of his mistress, who at times seemed a mature woman and at others a girl playing at being one. Beautiful, headstrong, but also fragile in a way that he was still fathoming. And he was the first that was hers and hers alone. He couldn't pretend that she didn't bring out protective instincts in him, and something more, something he tried to ignore when she stroked his hand with her thumb. She was, in her own odd way, fascinating. Those deep-set blue eyes were focused entirely on her as he reached out and gently stroked his long fingers along her tanned forearm, a gesture that might have been meant to be reassuring, or something else. "I protect you." He assured her intently. "Who try to hurt you, Domina?" He asked. He wanted to know their enemy. @Gothic

It wasn't what he'd ask, but it was perhaps more than many slaves got. Especially gladiator slaves like him who were virtually disposable. Trust had to be earned, and that went both ways. She would do what she could for him, she said. What that might mean, he didn't know. But he would do what he could for her, at least until he learned more of her ways and motives. That would take time, but he did not intend to act rashly. Instead he simply nodded in acknowledgement, waiting on her pleasure with the easy patience of one with nothing better to do. Did she want anything else from him? Those dark eyes seemed to scrutinise him, even as he watched her in turn, trying to fathom her nature. He did not shy away from her scrutiny; let her look, he had nothing to hide. Unlike, it seemed, his new mistress. @Gothic

Tiberius Claudius Sabuchius is 18 (nearly 19); is that old enough? It could be an interesting intoroduction to the more social aspect of Senatorial life.

"Indeed." He agreed with a slight nod, blue gaze scanning the room quickly for any threat to his charge. But all seemed well. And there were a number of bodyguards watching. He returned his attention to his companion when she introduced herself, and nodded politely in acknowledgement. Her next question was perhaps to be expected, though the addendum was much less so. He nodded in the direction of the young lady with the tanned skin, perfect coiffure and make-up. "Claudia Corinthia." He supplied, then gave a faint, amused smile. "No, no trouble." He lied. "She is imperial family." Though presumably due to the death of her father, didn't live at the palace. "And yours?" He asked the blonde warrior. Who was she she here to protect? Was it someone who might be of interest politically to Corinthia? His own mistress was, he knew trying to cement the standing expected for one of her bloodline. And if her fortunes rose, so did his. @Atrice

Gaia's giggles were a warm reward, telling him that despite his poor mastery of Latin, the intended joke had been understood. The struggle to communicate was a constant one, but he worked daily to improve his skills in the strange language, to be able to speak to those around him. Perhaps to forge some sort of connection. Gaia was one of the more sympathetic listeners. The doctore didn't seem to want to let him go, a contrast to some of the trainers who were quite happy to get him out of their hair if his mistress wished it. Perhaps he'd had something specific in mind this morning. Aeneas was more than happy for an excuse to get out of the rigorous training for a few hours, expecially if it meant the company of those who didn't treat him like some short-lived creature, and involved a drink. If he had to be back by midday then they didn't have too long. "Is a domus publica west of ludus entry gate, three streets walk." He recalled, not knowing how good a quality the drinking establishment was. "Guards say watchers go often." At 'watchers' he indicated the seats above, where the audience might observe the gladiators practicing. No doubt dealers came there to buy and sell as they observed. Aeneas suspected that the guards frequented the pub as well. @Gothic@Atrice

He sold a lot of slaves, and whilst he generally remembered the Roman ones, at least vaguely, he never really expected to see them again, except possibly in passing. There were a few exceptions, household slaves for wealthy customers where he would take his wares to them, and the occasional troublesome return, but the majority moved through his care and onwards, to whatever life held in store for them. Thus he wasn't expecting the additional greeting when the blue-clad whore entered the room and greeted her mistress, before turning to him. He looked her up and down, hazel gaze noting that she looked well indeed, and seemed to have taken to the life that chance and he himself had thrown her into. That was well. And yes, he remembered her, the obedient slave who's only real need had been some consistency in her life. "Justinia." He acknowledged, with a slight inclination of his head. He hadn't intended to visit the Domus Venus or see the slave he'd sold, but Fortuna was obviously in a whimsical mood. "You are looking well." It was an odd feeling. As one who handled slaves every day, the turn-about of Saturnalia left him feeling slightly discombobulated, the usual social expectations overturned. What did one say to a slave who was one's equal on this night of nights? Perhaps it was doubly so because he wasn't accustomed to slaves he'd sold being quite so pleased to see him. He settled for, "I'm glad the Domus suits you." Not without a glance at Titinia; did she suit the Domus? That was always the more pertinent question. @Sydney@Gothic@Anna ((My turn to apologise! Had an attack of real life.))

I also tend to find it easier to write male characters than female. No idea why.

Seated amongst the other backbenchers as was appropriate to one still learning, Tiberius watched as his family members assumed the more central seats. His uncles and of course Quintus Caesar himself. Yes, theirs was an influential family, and it was important to remain so, which was why he was here. But he was not alone, as his cousin and adopted brother climbed the steps, though the process took some time as Titus paused to greet everyone, the far more garrulous of the two. And the more popular. Tiberius was more than happy for Titus to have the limelight, and greeted the other young man with a warm smile as his cousin settled, only to ask quietly if he was looking forward to the Senate meeting. "I am." Tiberius replied, realising that he meant it. "And you?" Though he suspected he knew the answer. Here was where the policies that drove the fate of the empire were decided. That was far more important to him than social good will, though he was still learning that that and political sway often went hand in hand. There was no time for further conversation as the Princeps Senatus called the session to order, opening it and the floor to the matters that would be discussed this day. Caesar - looking very official and rather more distant in this formal setting - rose and introduced the subject for discussion. Tiberius was immediately interested, it was something he and Uncle Octavius had discussed last year, now seemingly ready to come to fruition. Older men, more experienced Senators, rose to speak each in their own turn, raising points for and against, concerns and support, and Tiberius listened with interest, mentally categorising those who were likely to be in favour of the proposal, and those who might be against. They spoke of lightening the future burden these children could pose, and the burden of cost such an effort could now bring, of ways and means and the limited supply of funds, of the poor future left for these children if nothing was done. All valid points, and not all mutually sustainable. And then suddenly it was his turn. Rising to his feet, Tiberius took a deep breath as he felt the eyes of the majority of the Senate on him, for the first time, in this space. This was what he had trained for, and he either took his place among them, or forever wondered what he might have become. Perhaps it helped that this was a subject about which he felt strongly. "Honoured Senators." He began, lifting his chin to counter the urge to swallow nervously. "Ten years ago the heart of the Empire was decimated, and she is still recovering. This is an opportunity to treat her remaining wounds. Many children were left orphaned in those dark days." The urge to swallow or stutter was suddenly gone, subsumed by a cold, suppressed anger; he was one of those children. "Some of us were fortunate enough to be adopted into the houses of our kin," he bowed politely in Quintus' direction, "others had no kin to turn to. The eldest of these are already grown, and with no skills or education may well have turned to thievery or charity to survive. If so, these people are a drain on society, and on the Empire's coffers. Lets not make that mistake with the younger ones." "Certainly, let us try different methods. Perhaps a tax incentive might be offered to families to adopt orphans. Or houses built that will shelter many children, making efficient use of one cook, one tutor per house. Let the brightest move on to grammaticus, and the others be indentured to a trade. Let there be a tax of repayment when they can earn a living, if needs be. But let us not do nothing." His voice was firm, the blood of his line showing though. "In another ten years the orphans of the strife will be all grown, and the need will be less; it is up to us to decide whether they shall be a valuable part of the Empire, or the millstone around our neck that we did not care to remove before it grew heavy. Consider; the children we save today could well be the men who lead us tomorrow." He gave a faint smile, and for a fleeting moment looked very much like his father. And as quick as that, the attention of the Senate moved on, another rising to their feet even as Tiberius resumed his seat. @Liv

I hear you. Life has been busy for me too, but I love when I find time to play. I've also modded other games and I know how it can eat your life. Games should be fun. If they're not, there's something wrong. It sounds like you're doing the right thing.

Aeneas would have preferred some breeches, but none had been supplied. He was still learning Corinthia's mercurial moods, judging the right time to ask for things. Though perhaps she simply liked showing off his long if somewhat hairy legs; he understood that to Romans slaves could be as much ornamentation as practical. He could only assume from her outfit that the tall woman was also serving as a bodyguard, presumably for one of the female attendees, which made a certain sense. Where he came from women didn't go raiding or onto the battlefields, but there wasn't one who wouldn't pick up a sword or an axe if another clan raided their village. She greeted him civilly enough, though they were both cautious. He inclined his head slightly as she suggested he might want a drink, though he was aware he was on duty, keeping one eye on Corinthia as she circulated. "Little one." He allowed. His Latin was far from fluent yet, and his accent was still very much present, sounds of the north of Britannia. He fielded a mug of beer from one of the slaves carrying drinks and took a mouthful. "Aeneas." He said after a moment, jerking a thumb at himself. It was the name he'd been given. @Atrice

To be able to fight because he wanted to, not because he was told; now there was a dream. And presumably to go home afterwards, assuming one survived. It was something that he'd dreamed of achieving himself, when he'd first heard that a slave could gain their freedom in the arena. Once he'd given up hope of escaping of course. Lately however he'd found himself torn, by a girl on the verge of womanhood who wanted - demanded - a bodyguard. In that role he was less likely to get killed, he thought, but also less likely to ever see freedom. And he had to choose, he knew that. He couldn't follow both paths. Then again, even as a gladiator, would Corinthia ever set him free? It was true that having been a smith gave him some insight into the quality of the weapons they were offered; he nodded in agreement. "Romans make good iron, not know why they have such tiny swords." He said with a smirk. In truth he had observed how frighteningly efficient the Legions were, at close range. It was an experience he hoped never to repeat. But it helped form his views on weapons, one one was a distrust of anything he hadn't seen in battle. The trident and net were showy, but they were also a great way to get yourself killed if you didn't know how to use them. He'd gleaned hints of Gaia's story from the household slaves, but did not expect the full tale, let alone that her husband had been an Imperial. Perhaps that explained something of his mistress's attitude, caught between the two extremes of society. He decided that it would be best not to comment on the more personal revelation of her less than successful marital life. "Greece." He said instead. "Like Theodorus." He revealed. "Ludus Medicus." He added, as they probably didn't know who Theodorus was. Even more surprising than her personal revelations was Gaia's suggestion. Perhaps it should not have been, he wasn't sure, but Aeneas was still working out the Roman social structure. Both Gaia and Lexus were now free, even though they had been slaves. He was a slave still. Perhaps he might hope that they saw him as one who might one day be freed? "I come, Domina. If doctore permits." He glanced over his shoulder, but the trainer was already focused on someone else. @Gothic@Atrice

June 74AD, Emporium Magnum Whilst a lot of the more select sales occurred either in the buyer's residence or out of the large warehouse he owned that doubled as a human stables, it always paid to maintain a presence in the market itself, especially when the slave auctions were happening. People were here looking for slaves, and so the slave traders were out. Spurius was naturally amongst them, notable for his height and the tall staff he carried, much like an oversized shepherd's crook, complete with hook. It wasn't meant for sheep, though it was rare that he actually had to use it. With the war in Britannia over the supply of barbarians what could be sold wholesale for the gladiatorial games had dwindled to it's usual trickle, though Spurius had made the most of it while it lasted. Those he could wrangle and shift quickly in bulk, but today he had a more refined selection. Only one of them was a chalk-foot, and she was a strikingly beautiful black-skinned woman all the way from Aegyptus, and probably beyond. He doubted that she'd be here long. She didn't have much in the way of skills but she'd be snapped up for her looks alone. The placard hung around a young girl's neck declared that she was versed in make-up and hair, not as experienced as she would become but cheaper for it, very affordable to an upwardly mobile Plebian or Equite lady. A youth with experience handling animals, an older man who could read, write and do arithmetic - suitable as a clerk or tutor and thus worth a pretty denarius - and a woman who'd served as a general house slave and could cook and sew. Her back wasn't what it had been, though a few days on light duties had seen a marked improvement. See and be seen, that was what was important. One never knew when a customer might come looking for just what he had to offer. And if he didn't have it on show, there might be something suitable back at the warehouse. And he had his sources if the customer was after something very specific. He aimed to please, it lined his pockets. @Chevi

July AD77, Circus Maximus The chariots rounded the curve for the last time, two neck and neck whilst others trailed behind. This was always when the race was at it's most exciting. The charioteer with the chestnut horses had the advantage of the inside of the curve, but the bay team were pressing him hard, and for a moment it looked as though they might actually force the chestnuts into the inner wall. But the team fought back, and the two charioteers thundered towards the finish to the applaud of the crowd, the chestnut team beating the bays by a mere nose. From where he sat under a shading awning, Tiberius raised a hand and gestured to the winning charioteer, symbolic indication of Caesar's favour, since he was here in his uncle's stead. Handing off the reins to his slaves, the charioteer approached the imperial seating area, even as the adjudicator came forward with a laurel wreath to place on the young man's head. Not a golden one of course, but one woven of leafy bay twigs, since these were only the heats. The grand competition, still some weeks away, would see the presentation of the gold wreath by Caesar himself, or his designate. For the moment Tiberius could simply sit back and watch. This was more Titus' scene than his, his boisterous cousin loved these kinds of competitions, but Tiberius recognised his duties as important to the Empire. To be present, to be seen, to support those entertainments which so captured the plebians' imaginations, and thus be seen as being in touch with the populace. He personally found the conversations around him more interesting than the racing, and listened whilst watching the race. @Atrice

Aeneas - 23 - Sarah Tiberius Claudius Sabuchius - 17 - Sarah Spurius Antius Claudus - 41 - Sarah

For the moment Lexus had Aeneas's undivided attention, and he soaked up the man's words, his confirmation that he fought, and survived, to win his freedom. If Lexus was looking to inspire hope in the gladiator, he succeeded. The pale-skinned man nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You must fight well." He said with a sudden smirk. Good for him. Perhaps one day Aeneas might do the same. The training was hard, but not impossible. No doubt the determination that Lexus spoke of helped. Was he a warrior before he was captured? Obviously not enough of one. "All men warriors," and some of the women, "but I not war-band." He tried to explain. He wasn't one of the chieftain's close fighters; in many ways he had been more crucial to their battles. "I smith." He said. "I made sword for warrior." And without good weapons they wouldn't stand much of a chance. "Also pot, knife, saw. All things iron." Then on impulse he pointed to the burn scar on his right forearm. "I marked by fire." And he'd made the blood-and-iron pact, that gave him master over metal and even the ability to ward off the baen sidhe. Gaia had turned to watch the other gladiators as they talked, an odd expression crossing her features for a moment before she turned back. He was the slave here, yet he didn't want her to feel left out of the conversation. "You not from Rome either, Domina?" He asked, pretty sure that he knew the answer, given her exotic, dark looks and what the other household slaves had told him. @Atrice@Gothic

He didn't usually allow the slaves he sold much freedom of speech, but Justinia had proven largely obedient and he saw no harm in humouring her; she might even see it as reward. Had they not been alone he most likely would have refused, but there was no one present to get wrong ideas. Still, he reserved judgement on his own decision until he heard what she had to say. Her words, when they came, were unexpected, though he didn't let surprise show on his horsey features. Instead he responded with a slight nod, inclining his head in acknowledgement. Her words only confirmed what he himself had determined over time. Slaves, like horses, dogs and children, benefited from routine and from knowing what was expected of them. Many of their behavioural problems were brought on by their own masters. It was hardly surprising that they responded poorly to a cruel master, when nothing they might do brought reprieve, or a mercurial master, one who might lavish praise one moment and beat them the next, for there was no obvious cause and effect. In a way Justinia had suffered the latter, beloved by her Domina but used and despised by her Dominus, and no doubt for the same behaviours. Who could blame her for being confused and anxious? Spurius himself had no time for those who could not control their passions and tempers. He maintained a stable environment in what was already a stressful and uncertain process for the slaves involved, and very clear rules. Good behaviour was rewarded with peace, warmth, food and a very limited freedom. Bad behaviour was punished, but even the latter had no malice. Punishment was delivered with the intention that it be learned from, and not require repetition. And it was amazing how many 'bad slaves' responded well to the firm but fair approach. And indeed appreciated it. That hazel gaze held Justinia's dark one for a long moment, before the corner of his mouth quirked in the suggestion of a smile. "Your best thanks to me will be to serve your new mistress well." He said simply. Titinia also understood the importance of handling one's slaves properly; Justinia would likely flower under her guidance. "If you do, you will probably never see me again." Meaning she would not need to be re-sold. He wasn't accustomed to slaves declaring that they would miss him, but he suspected it was simply that she would miss her first stable home. "Go now, you may continue with your chores. Indoors only, I want no blemishes on your skin before I take you to the Domus Venus." It was clear that he considered the interview to be over. @Sydney

He wanted to travel and see the Empire, but like his sister he also wanted to be where he could best serve Rome. If the two combined then that would be very well, if not, he would be where he was needed. "Maybe one day." He said simply. She already knew he had itchy feet, no need to bore her with the same. "Well, I guess that makes sense." The gladiatrix could go where women went and men were forbidden. He wasn't entirely sure about it himself, and she still seemed an odd purchase for their straight-laced uncle, but when put in those terms he could see why. "And do you trust her?" He asked quietly, more from curiosity than from any real suspicion. The majority of the Imperial household was served by slaves who were either Roman or Romanised, so the exotic woman was intriguing. "You have to admit, she turns more heads than a piece of jewellery." He whispered. But she wasn't a piece of jewellery. She was a barbarian, who had once lived a very different life, before being brought to the comforts of Rome. A life that had taken place in some of the distant lands he longed to visit. "Have you ever asked her about where she came from?" No doubt her point of view would be very different to uncle Octavius'. @Gothic