Sarah

Her words drew laughter from Aeneas, not at her, but in delight and amusement, accompanied by a rare grin. Always that front, that carefully sculpted manner of power and control, and he was perhaps one of the few who ever saw behind it. Because her words had only come after a long pause, a deep draught of drink, a glance away. Had no man ever said such to her? There was also that oddly endearing innocence, usually hidden behind her haughty manner, revealed in a moment. But always the self-assurance, the control.

Still looking entirely too pleased, Aeneas turned away for a moment, the fabric of his tunic shifting across his broad shoulders as he reached out, and turned back with a handful of dried peaches in his grasp. He held out his broad hand to her, palm flat, that she might take one first. And all the while he watched her, blue eyes darker in the light of the torches. He thought he understood better now how Corinthia worked, but not yet why.

"What you want, Domina?" He asked her quietly, his tone gentle. "What you want from... all." He gestured around them, not having the words for the abstract concept he wanted to express. What drove her, guided her; what did she seek for in life? "If I know, maybe I can help." He suggested. Especially as her bodyguard, where he would watch and listen and learn from others. Who knew what opportunities might be out there? And in here.

@Gothic

Aeneas listened as Corinthia explained his duties slowly to him. To serve and protect, at the expense of his own life if necessary. Well, that seemed to be the lot of a slave, whether that life was many years or brief. He was interested to note that she stressed obedience a second time; had she been disobeyed in the past? Or was she so insecure in her control of her slaves? She was, he reminded himself, young, however marked her poise.

Clearly she was expecting something a little more than 'yes mistress'. "I protect, Domina. I serve. I obey." He assured her evenly, as his blue gaze watched her face, trying to fathom the thoughts behind her words. No doubt time would bring understanding. Whether or not the word of a slave was worth anything was for her to decide. How did Romans feels about assurances given under duress? His own people certainly accepted them.

"What mean, 'wag your tongue'?" He asked then, cocking his head slightly in query, not familiar with that particular expression.

@Gothic

One thing that Spurius wasn't, was quick to judge, though he could make a rapid business assessment if needed. He preferred to make a full assessment of a situation, find the best angle, and that included his wares. He noted the southern accent, almost a dialect, as Rufus spoke, but the slave answered his question simply enough.

Spurius didn't tolerate uppity behaviour from slaves, but when Rufus volunteered additional information it was done in a suitably respectful manner. It was the kind of thing he'd ask about next, but obviously the slave wanted to work with him, and that was all to the good. It demonstrated willingness and a suitably cooperative manner, and drew a momentary raise of one brow from the slaver, a thoughtful expression. "Indeed? How well?" He asked. "A few words, or could you take dictation?" He asked, thinking of the semi-literate Tacita. If Rufus was fully literate that would improve the range of options for him; he might well serve as a clerk and be treated well; literate slaves could be valuable.

"Do you have any other skills?" Spurius asked, already reaching for a board that would be hung around Rufus's neck, and beginning to paint letters onto it. Roman born, house slave, obedient, literate,... he looked at Rufus expectantly.

@Gothic@Sharpie@Gil

Sometimes slaves arrived into Spurius's keeping in large batches; particularly those from recent conquests, mostly headed for the ludii. Some in small groups, such as when a household was disbanded, or taken over by a son who didn't care for some of the older slaves, and sometimes they arrived singly, for a whole host of reasons. The slave trader tended to be most wary of those; there had to be a reason that an individual was singled out for sale, but at the same time a slave who looked like a barbarian but was Roman born and raised could fetch a high price to a discerning buyer. People often liked the exotic looks but didn't want to handle the attitude and training of a fresh barbarian.

Generally he preferred to interview and inspect new acquisitions back at his warehouse, rather than out in the middle of the marketplace, but there hadn't been time. So, after briefly ascertaining that the aptly named Rufus was at least no flight risk, he'd decided to take him to market as well. There was no board around the young man's neck yet, and one might be forgiven for thinking that Spurius owned him personally.

He only had one cage of assorted chalk-foot barbarians for auction this morning. It was a relatively slow day, and he had an appointment for a private showing of some more select slaves that afternoon; would Rufus be worth taking with him? Perhaps. He focused his hazel gaze on the red-haired slave, who was standing free of the cage next to an older woman who already wore a board describing her as an accomplished seamstress.

"So your Dominus died, and your Domina sold you. Is that correct?" Spurius asked Rufus, during a lull in the market. There were plenty of people around but none seemed specifically interested in his wares at present. "What did you do, in your previous household?" Hazel eyes regarded the youth without curiosity, only a businesslike assessment as the slaver leaned on his staff. It was really a giant shepherd's crook, and he did use it for dealing with the more recalcitrant slaves.

@Sharpie@Gil@Gothic

Hi Sharpie!

My Spurius is a slave trader, so he might know Paulus as a fellow businesperson.

She shook her head 'no', agreeing that she couldn't read. How interesting then that she could write, after a fashion. How much was comprehended and how much wrote learned? Perhaps he would find out over time. He knew that he'd already decided her fate, he was simply, systematically, eliminating any reasons to change his mind. He watched her scrawl on the slate and accepted it when she returned it, reading what she had written. "Tacita." He glanced up at her. "Hmm; appropriate." So he was in the 'option two' camp.

As he regarded her over the top of her slate, it seemed almost there was a hint of interest in those hazel eyes, as though he was really seeing her for the first time. "You'll hear me called 'Claudus' around the marketplace." He told her, a wry tone to his voice; the agnomen meant 'lame'. He knew what it was to be named for a trait you couldn't help. "But my name is Spurius Antius." That would be important for her to know, even if she couldn't say it. She might hear it.

"I'm not going to put you to auction."He told her then, and his voice was perhaps a little gentler than it had been, a little less cold. No, he believed in seeing the potential in the unusual, beyond the merely exotic, and he saw potential in Tacita. "You're going to join my household." Of course, he was simply stating fact, not asking her opinion on the matter. Then, perhaps unexpectedly, her offered the slate back to her. "You may keep this, but keep it hidden. You write only for me, unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

She didn't have the looks for the Domus Venus, and she'd be wasted on a lesser brothel. She was obviously not stupid, and so far had shown no signs of difficult behaviour. He didn't keep many slaves, but those he did were special. Besides, Corva was getting old and could use the help. Additionally, a slave known to be mute could be used at meetings otherwise private, could even encourage others to be careless with their words around them, trusting that nothing could be passed on. Spurius imagined that there were times when that could be extremely useful.

@Jenn

Tertius's face was only passingly familiar, but they were brothers in arms, survivors of the great military campaigns of the Roman Empire. They'd even served in the same region for a time, however brief. That was rare, and knowing that the other man understood some of the things he'd seen and been through gave a sense of a brotherly bond. His response seemed to suggest he felt something of the same.

It is an honor to meet you. What do you prefer to be called?

The slaver smiled, and it was a milder, more genuine smile than his usual salesman's grin; it reached his hazel eyes. "The honour's all mine; I'm 'Spurius' to my friends." Only his competition and other market traders called him 'Claudus'.

He was accustomed to making idle flattery, it encouraged people to buy, but Tertius seemed like a genuinely agreeable sort, so when he decided on the Britanic slave and asked that Spurius deliver her personally, the request wasn't met with the same scorn that it had been previously. And just as well, since Tertius followed it up with a generous offer.

"That's very kind of you." He said simply. "I wouldn't say 'no' to the company of a fellow veteran, we seem to be all too few some days." He mused. Many didn't survive their service to the Empire; he'd nearly been amongst them. "I'd be glad to join you. Name the time and place." Spurius was aware that, beyond business contacts, he tended to keep to himself and had only a few close friends. It was perhaps because few could relate to his past and situation; perhaps Tertius  was one who could.

@Atrice

Tiberius needed to speak with Caesar, about several things, it was simply a matter of finding time. The ruler of the Empire was understandably busy, and even his adopted son wasn't necessarily high on the priority list, depending on what else called for his attention on any give day. But he could make certain that he had everything else in order, so that Caesar wasn't left asking questions he couldn't answer.

"Thank you." He said simply. "I'll have the document drawn up and brought to you for keeping." The Vestals were entrusted with the wills of the Empire; he knew that his would be safe with them. It felt like an oddly mature thing to be doing, whilst at the same time acknowledging his mortality, which was hard because young people secretly believe that they'll live forever.

Pontia's next words were a little unexpected, though they shouldn't have been. He came from Imperial and Senatorial lineages, of course his families had placed their wills with the Vestals as well, even as he intended. And of course they had included the wills of those very close to him. Even those he hadn't known. But the thought of his mother doing the same thing gave him pause. He and his sister had been born after their father had died; and their older half-brother Darius, now Caesar, had already survived an assassination attempt. Perhaps she foresaw what was to come.

"Would you... tell me what you remember of her?" He asked diffidently. His own memories of her were those of a small child, as they were of his brother Junus. He'd never really known Darius. So many family members, gone. "What happened to her will, after her death?" He asked. Presumably it had been read and honoured.

@Gothic

With a grin and a nod Tiberius followed Titus's lead, heading from the grove just a pace behind him, in the athletic jog of the young and fit. This was a serious business, but also fun, and amongst those waiting for them would be many young women of Rome, hoping for the gift of fertility bestowed by the Gods' grace, in the form of the two naked young men.

He swung the lash in his hand, the strips of hide moving heavy and wet, ready to flick it gently over those who presented themselves for the blessing, and what they presented. Hands were common, backs for those truly hoping for a change in their fortunes. Let Rome grow and prosper!

@Gil@Gothic

No, I think I had enough of fighting for a lifetime.

That brought a faint, humourless smile to the gladiator's full lips; at least the medicus had a choice. "You very not Roman." He said with quiet mirth. The Romans seemed to have an unquenchable appetite for violence. But if he didn't miss the Legion it left Aeneas wondering about that brief hint of bitterness. Perhaps the man simply hadn't liked the fighting; the barbarian slave couldn't blame him, this wasn't exactly the life he'd hoped for.

Theo's querying repetition of the barbarian name was met with a nod. That was what the Romans called his people anyway; they had their own names for themselves which captured a far greater complexity of societal structure. The Romans had their own complex society, but didn't seem to care for that of others.

Aeneas hadn't thought it was broken either, but it was still a relief to hear it from the medicus, and at least he was valuable enough to get treatment. "I don't think fight in arena soon; for festival coming." He mused. "Training for big fight, but also for..." what was the term? "bodyguard, for Domina." And he suspected that all hell would break lose if he was damaged. Little madam might not value him too highly, but she still brooked no insult to what was hers.

"You watch arena fights?" He asked, curious. Unlike training they could often be fatal; did they have the medicus on standby?

@Chevi

Pride went before a fall. Spurius wasn't particularly disdainful of his wares but he had no need for a reputation for selling uppity slaves, so he kept those in his temporary care under a firm hand. For all he knew, Justinia might be very well treated by her next master, and good luck to her if she was. But she might not, so it was best she not have high expectations, it would only make trouble for her, and thus for him. She seemed to get the message, which was just as well.

Some might be surprised by the time he took to learn about her past but Spurius made a point of knowing his stock, all the better to find the best use for them, and the best price for himself. He'd thought that Justinia - young, beautiful and largely unblemished - would make a good whore, and nothing he'd heard had dissuaded him of that. She'd been broken in at least. Her Domina hadn't bedded her, so she'd have to learn those particular skills on the job, but no doubt Titinia would see that she did.

"Well, you'll learn." He said simply. "I'm going to sell you to the Domus Venus." He'd learned from experience that it was better to tell slaves what their intended fate was, rather than leave them wondering. They had time to accept it and there were less behavioural problems due to fear and uncertainty whilst he was holding them. He was pretty sure that Titinia would want this one, he knew her tastes. "It's a brothel; one of the best in the city. Only high class customers. I dare say you'll be treated very well, if you please your new mistress." If she didn't she might find herself at a rather less genteel establishment. "Do you understand?"

@Sydney

If Tiberius thought anything of Caecina's momentary slip, he didn't show it. There were a lot of people there, the wine had been flowing and he wasn't exactly the sort that sought attention. He was also slow to judge and not the sort to take offense over simple errors. Those who intended harm to him and his might well be another matter.

"No good gossip? Why, I'm disappointed!" He teased. But in truth he hadn't heard of much worth gossiping about either. "You'll have heard that Flavia is pregnant again. Rufia Flavia." He clarified. That was his older half-sister, making him an uncle again. He racked his brains but couldn't think of anything particularly juicy. "I'm afraid I'm not much good for gossip, Titus and I are supposed to be studying and somehow I don't seem to get invited to all these parties." His grin made it clear that his words were in jest, though sometimes it seemed that the Senatores and Equites had all the fun. No doubt some of that was the necessary protectiveness around the Imperial family, and Tiberius was never going to argue with that.

The thought sobered him. Much as he would love to have the freedom of the his peers in the noble classes, the peace brought by Caesar Quintus hadn't been long enough to fade the memory of the cost of the purge on his family. "We start the Cursus Honorum next year." That was the training that young men of the noble classes were expected to undertake, preparing them for roles in politics and leadership. "What about you? Any plans for the year?" He asked, aware that Caecina was of an age now where she too would be thinking about her future in society, including her marriage prospects. "Beyond organising a party of course. I might have to insist on an invitation." He didn't think Quintus would object to that, Caecina was practically family.

@Echo

Congratulations! Real life always comes first. 

Bustling with importance, Alaricus actually put down his wooden sword and got a chair for his step-mother who, he'd had it explained, was pregnant with his youngest sibling. His father was forever trying to impress upon him the importance of good behaviour and he wanted to make a good impression on Decimus; the man was a Praetorian Guard, and had called him Legatus!

They were a big family, and due to grow, and Alaricus grinned at his step sister as she half-hid behind her mother shyly. "Imperia, come sit by me." He said quietly, once Seia was comfortably seated and the household slaves had taken over the pouring of the wine. His stepmother was the kind to welcome everyone and ensure they were comfortable - she'd certainly made their home comfortable - but he was learning that part of a man's role was to look after the women in his life, especially when they were carrying.

Alaricus cast about and surreptitiously retrieved his wooden sword whilst the adults were talking, before returning to his own seat next to his father and listening with interest. Decimus was going to be working with Marcus, Barbara's husband, and anything military immediately had Alaricus's full attention.

@Renna @Sains @Echo @Jenn @Indy @Gothic

Alaricus pouted at the look Barbara gave him, knowing that it meant she wasn't going to lay the blame for the chair on some stray breeze or mischievious spirit if asked. She'd been his mother figure for his earliest years, which didn't make her the best co-conspiritor; now she had a husband and a baby to look after of her own. But any resentment immediately fled from his thoughts as their father entered, carrying the girl Imperia, who was only a year younger than him, and accompanied by Seia, who had become a regular feature in their family's life. The young boy immediately sprang to what he obviously thought was attention, and held the wooden sword behind his back, as though that might fool the adults.

That didn't stop him from blushing scarlet as Seia righted the chair he'd knocked over. He hadn't meant to, it had just, well, been in the way. He would have sworn it hadn't been that close before. She didn't look cross though, in fact both of them were smiling, so his embarrassed expression lasted only a moment. "Salve Seia, Salve Imperia." He grinned at the little girl.

@Gothic@Renna@Jenn

I has a new bean: Alaricus!

I'd be interested to have a thread between Rutiliana and Tiberius!

I'm wondering whether we might be able to get Aeneas and Cynane to meet, if you'd be interested? Somehow...

Hi Kit! I'd be interested in bouncing one (or two) of my characters off Ario!

* Tiberius - young Imperial, interested on politics and improving the Empire. Very close to his Uncle Octavius who Gothy mentioned.

* Spurius - Pleb with money, possible future political interests.

"Dying in a foreign land where no one will remember me."

What do you hope for?

Awesome, thanks Gothy!

Alaricus Aetius Stilicho

14 | 2nd Feb AD60 | Equite | Child | Unknown | Wanted | Simon Woods

Personality

Young and boisterous, Alaricus combines the strong personality of his Germanic heritage with the self-assurance of being born a Roman. He greatly admires his Dad the Soldier and is determined to join the Legions and earn fame and glory, but doesn't really understand the other complications of adult life yet. Kid brother to Barbara, whom he views with equal parts affection and annoyance, he enjoys being big brother to Aetia and Titus, and Uncle to Marcus and Aelia, even if he can be a bit bossy. Some might suggest he's showing leadership skills.

His grasp of the whole concept of consequences isn't great yet, and it's not uncommon for his enthusiasm for some new enterprise or adventure to get him into trouble. He's an apt enough student, but learning swordplay with Dad is far more interesting than learning maths and philosophy with his tutor. Whilst he might not always think things through carefully, he never means any harm, and there isn't a nasty bone in his body.

Appearance

He has the slim build of a young man still growing, and hasn't yet reached his full height, but it's obvious he's going to at least compete with his Dad when he's fully grown. Very much the image of his father and sister, Alaricus has red hair and blue eyes, and is paler than your average Roman. From his mother he's inherited the Roman nose, and doesn't freckle as much as some of his siblings.

Family

Father: Alaric Aetius Stilicho

Mother: Suetonia Aelia (deceased)

Stepmother: Seia Imperia

Siblings:

Half siblings

By Gertrude (deceased): Barbara Stilicha

By Seia Imperia : Aetia Stilicha, Titus Aetius Stilicho

Step siblings:

By Suetonia Aelia: Publius Aetius Stilicho (deceased)

By Seia Imperia: Imperia Acuelonis

Spouse: None

Children: None

Extended family:

Brother-in-law: Marcus Aelius Lentulus

Nieces and Nephews:

From Barbara: Marcus Aelius Lentulus Major, Aelia Lentula

Other:

History

Childhood (AD60-70)

Born AD 60 to a doting father, Alaricus's birth is overshadowed by the death of his mother Seutonia, whom he never knew. His older half-sister Barbara filled the role of Domina in Alaric's household and is the first mother-figure that Alaricus remembers.

It wasn't until he was six that Barbara married and her own household, and later gave birth to his nephew Marcus. In that same year his father re-married, a woman named Seia Imperia, who accepted him warmly, and brought his step-sister Imperia into his life. The two were close in age and Alaricus was delighted to have a sidekick for his young adventures, no doubt to his parents' amusement. A year later and his sister Aetia arrives, and another year and Barbara brings Aelia into the world. Whilst babies are boring, small children are fun because they're easily led and full of energy and enthusiasm, and Alaricus tends to be found at the head of a tribe of marauding small people, if left unsupervised.

Teenage Years (AD 70-74)

Alaricus begins to grow from a child into a youth, and whilst he's intelligent enough his enthusiasm for his perceived future in the military can sometimes get in the way of his more academic studies. His father leaves the military for politics, which he's not sure about, but if his Dad's doing it then it might be good, right?

AD 72 sees the arrival of Alaricus's younger brother Titus, whom he initially views with a certain amount of suspicion as he's no longer the only son. But kids are kids and once Titus is mobile Alaricus is keen to equip him with a stick for a sword and grow his small army.

Raised in a time of political peace and stability under Caesar Quintus, Alaricus doesn't remember any of the strife of his early years, and holds a rosy view of the Empire.

Sarah | GMT +10 | Discord, PM

@Gothic

Can I please request a Domus for Spurius in Domi Aventini Minoris ?

Home grown watermelon.

People often did wonder, and old wounds were not unusual amongst old soldiers. No, he hadn't been born with a game leg. He'd earned it, if one could say such. When the other man gave his name the slaver smiled. "Spurius Antius, at your service." He offered with a bow. "Though around the markets you'll hear me called 'Claudus'." He added, his smile turning wry and sardonic. The gens Antia wasn't large enough to need lineal cognomens, he'd earned that particular appellation, an agnomen. 'Claudus' meant 'lame' just as 'Varus' meant 'bow-legged', though Spurius assumed that Tertius had inherited his cognomen.

Tertius's declaration that he had no lady was met with gently raised brows by the trader. "Then the ladies of Rome still have hope." He replied with a smile, listening to his potential customer's preferences regarding the slave he sought. "If you don't mind training a kitchen slave, she is by far the best value for your denarii." He indicated with his staff the Britannic slave that had first caught Tertius's eye, and who was now watching them with a cautious expression.

@Atrice