Sharpie

"A week? A chance would be a fine thing," Rufus said, ruefully, and drank some more of the wine. It was rough, probably because it was meant for gladiators, but it wasn't as rough as the wine he usually had access to. Even two or three days might be pushing it - Rufus' master was a decent sort but he didn't indulge his slaves. He certainly didn't spoil them, either, and let them lounge around at their leisure. And the question had to be asked eventually. "How much will this cost?" If Rufus couldn't pay it from his own savings, he would have to hope that his master would be gracious enough to cover the sudden expense. @Chevi

That was a solid flesh-and blood hug, so tight he almost couldn't breathe. He'd thought Azarion must have bled out and died all alone somewhere, and to see him here, as alive as ever... and just as sarcastic as he'd ever been. "Who are you calling an idiot? You're working with horses, and driving a chariot. It's not riding but it's closer to it than most slaves get. Yes, I can see your slave tablet, don't think I've gone blind." He had a tag of his own; even an Imperial body slave had a slave tag when they were considered to be barbarians, after all. The horse whickered behind them and huffed into his hair, bringing a sudden lump into his throat. He'd missed horses, they were as much family as any blood relation was, not that a Roman could understand that. @Chevi

Poetry? Attis shot Aius a puzzled look. He hadn't been talking any sort of poetry - it was all a lot of nonsense anyway, pretty much, if you asked Attis. That that opinion owed more than a little to his master's thoughts and feelings on the subject was neither here nor there. "We can all hope for citizenship eventually," Attis said sympathetically. Aius would get it before he would, and a better version of it, probably; Attis would be limited because he'd be a freedman, though any kids would be full citizens. As if he'd have kids - he'd be a terrible father. "I wonder what would happen if we built them nice things like bath houses and let them get on and discover the joys of civilised life, though? We've got proper roads, and education, and heating and baths and sanitation and aqueducts and everything. Even wine." It boggled Attis' mind that anyone would choose to live in a freezing mud hut rather than enjoying all the benefits of proper civilisation. Even slaves could use the baths, and enjoy the heat from a nice properly built and maintained hypocaust, after all. "It looks all very nice, but I don't like bushes shooting arrows, either. I don't think I'll ever understand the British." He couldn't help wondering if his master would be able to help Aius in his quest for citizenship, or anything else. He'd test the waters, carefully, later on - he wasn't about to make a promise he couldn't keep, not if it meant raising someone else's hopes in vain. @Chevi

Gaius looked up. And blinked. His brother was entering his tablinum, of his own volition. Something was wrong with this picture, and he surreptitiously poked his leg with his bronze stylus. He was awake all right. That meant that something was wrong with the picture presented to him and he didn't have a chance to work out what was going on. And when he did, he probably wasn't going to like what he heard. Saw. Whatever. "You found a girl you want to marry? You've taken in a runaway slave and now his master's come looking for him? We're out of garum?" Any of those three was possible, of course - this was Lucius they were talking about, after all. "Don't tell me the girl you want to marry is the runaway slave?" @Chevi

"Azarion," Jason said as the brush hit the ground, and promptly forgot every word of Latin that he'd learned (frequently painfully) over the last eight years. "So it was you, I wasn't sure. I hoped - I didn't think I'd see you again." Not alive went unspoken. Sharp eyes scanned his cousin, looking for any sign of hurt, of injury - and oh, hadn't he gathered quite the collection. Including a brand of all things. Jason's gaze darkened as he saw it, FVG burned into the other's arm. When had the Roman bastards done that? Weren't they content with silencing him for good that they had to maim him like that too? He silently called the Romans every foul name he could think of in every language he knew such words in, from his own native Sarmatian through Latin and the smattering of Briton and other languages he'd picked up over the years. The deepest level of the Underworld would be too good for them, in his opinion. "Are you all right? They don't mistreat you or anything?" Of course they did. Fucking Romans. @Chevi

Two days after the races at the Circus Neronianus (stupid name), and Jason had tracked down the boy he'd seen racing, that he thought looked remarkably like his cousin, last seen being hauled off, kicking and screaming and with blood everywhere, to be sold gods-knew-where to gods-knew-who. How and why he'd ended up here in Rome, the same city Jason was now living in, was a minor miracle. The fact that he'd seen and recognised him was a bigger miracle - how close had they been, for how long? They could have passed one another a hundred times in the Forum or the streets and never seen one another, and for Jason to have seen his cousin racing a chariot for the Whites... He had followed his master home docilely and slipped out to the garden during the night to give thanks to Tabiti for the preservation of his cousin, the last member of his family he had seen and to ask for her continued blessing on the boy (chariots were not horses, but it was closer to actual riding than Jason himself had come for several years), as well as for her favour when it came time to speak with his master. He had left as an offering a bronze coin of indeterminate provenance, whose reverse showed a horse. Tabiti would understand. That had been the night after seeing his cousin at somewhat of a distance. Today, he had permission to come to the Whites' stables to try to see his cousin from a lot closer up. Maybe even to actually talk to him, if the gods smiled on them and Azarion's masters would allow it. He entered the stable-yard and was hit full-force with nostalgia - the layout was all wrong but the sounds and scents were all right. He hadn't been so close to this many horses for the best part of ten years, and had to swallow. "I'm looking for Azarion," he managed in accented Latin, addressing the first person he saw who might spare him enough time to point his cousin out. He was in luck; the other waved him towards a stall where he could see his cousin's dark head as he moved around the horse. Feeling relieved that he'd been right in thinking the boy was his cousin, and somewhat jealous that he hadn't been renamed - though how he would have asked for him if he had been was anyone's guess, he crossed to the indicated stall. He would not interrupt Azarion's work; simply waiting would allow him to spend that bit longer in an environment that took him straight back to his childhood. @Chevi

"It very much depends on where the raiders go, of course," Aulus said, thoughtfully. "There are certain things that can be done, though - and something simple like cloth flapping in the wind could well startle or scare horses used to the wide Parthian plains. But something more... concrete would also help. Like caltrops." He bent to pluck a piece of straw from the floor, breaking it into four even lengths, and took an olive, inserting each short piece of straw into the olive in such a way that with three bits of straw acting as legs, the fourth stood upright. "Made of iron - four crucifixion nails forged together, for instance - a good defence against horses, simple and cheap to make, and very portable. Scatter enough of them in the horses' path and..." he shrugged. "Quite how much of a deterrent they would be against a determined enemy is anyone's guess, but it would be perfectly possible to send someone to teach the local smiths to make them while we prepare a more... longterm solution." @Sarah

"It happens," Attis said. "I'm sorry it happened to you, though." He was suddenly, obscurely, glad that Longinus was a fond of him as he was - he didn't think Longinus would ever sell him (although of course he couldn't take it for granted that he wouldn't, but his master had once told him that he'd arranged for Attis' journey back to Rome and his manumission if anything happened to Longinus during their time in Britannia). He certainly didn't think Longinus would ever try renaming him; he didn't much like the story behind the name, but it was his. He'd probably just refuse to answer to anything else, if Longinus made the attempt. It was a thing some Romans did, even to unassuming inoffensive people who'd been born slaves. They just had to remind themselves that they were in charge and their slaves were property, with as little right to their own names as a dog was. Bastards. "Your current master is a bastard," he said. He was pretty sure that Titus Sulpicius Rufus suspected what Attis' opinion of him was; they didn't see eye to eye and Attis was just thankful to have escaped Rufus' house with his skin intact. Sulpicius Rufus certainly wasn't squeamish, about anything, after all. @Chevi

Jason 24 | 10th March 52 | Slave | Body slave | Straight | Wanted | James D'Arcy Personality. By nature a bit of a firebrand, Jason has learned the hard way to rein his temper in and keep himself in check, especially when it is one of his Roman masters who sparks him off. Things no longer rile him the way they once did, or maybe it's simply that he has learned to pick his battles, and that he is now rarely ever going to win the battle of wills. He is quieter now, growing thoughtful and observant of those around him, though he will still roll his eyes at Roman stupidity and dumb ideas. He is probably not the sort of slave one would expect to find serving as the body slave of an Imperial prince, even an adopted one, but his master's sense and measured approach to things has helped settle Jason's temper as no amount of slaps, beatings and backhands across the mouth have been able to before, and he is more guarded in his speech than he has been before. Although he may still have the occasional outburst, he is less prone to have them where anyone of consequence can overhear. He is a deeply loyal person, once he lets his guard down enough to grow close to anyone – although that guard has been up almost since he was enslaved simply because he has a very deeply rooted sense of mistrust when it comes to Romans and anyone to do with them. He is a little conflicted when it comes to his master, Tiberius, who seems to be the exception to the rule that no Roman can be trusted, although Jason is more than aware that a slave should never trust a free person no matter who they are or what they have said or done. Appearance A Sarmatian from the wild steppe, Jason looks very little different in appearance to his Roman masters, having something of the same skin-tone, though his hair is a lighter brown than is common among the native Italians, with a reddish cast to it in certain lights. He is naturally slender, with the wiriness common to his people. He also gets his height, or rather its lack, from them, standing at just over five feet and five inches tall. Perhaps his most striking feature are his hazel eyes, which may appear to be more green or more light brown depending on the light. His skin is olive and he tans easily in the sun. His hair, once worn in the warrior braids of his people, was roughly shorn when he became a slave. These days, it is generally a bit longer than a fashionable citizen wears their hair, but it isn't long enough any more to draw attention or comment, much less speculation about his barbaric background. As far as his clothing goes, he wears what he is given – these days, he wears tunics in linen or a light wool, in colours suitable for the body-slave of an Imperial prince, belted with a plain leather belt. In colder weather, he wears a lacerna (cloak) in a nondescript grey or brown wool, pinned with a simple cheap penannular brooch. When out and about, he wears simple leather sandals. Family Father: Tasius (presumed dead) Mother: Tamura (whereabouts unknown) Siblings: Kouridatês (older brother, whereabouts unknown), Mada (younger sister, whereabouts unknown) Spouse: None Children: None Extended family: Azarion (cousin) (whereabouts unknown) Other: Tiberius Claudius Sabucius (master) History 52 AD Tiranês was born on a wild March day, the second son of a chief of a people that could equally be described as wild. He grew up learning the skills of his warrior people, both the bow and, more significantly, how to ride – it could almost be said that he could ride before he could walk. It is a wild, almost carefree existence, the tribes migrating with the seasons, following the milder weather as they seek for pasture that will not be snow-bound. 66AD Their regular migrations bring them into contact with the Romans as they are forced to cross the territories of other tribes, or the Romans, or to ford rivers that are almost impassable. Raids into the territories of other tribes and peoples are not uncommon for a warlike people, and eventually the Romans make a treaty to stop the Sarmatian tribespeople encroaching on their borders. In order to enforce this treaty, several high-ranking Sarmatians are delivered to the Romans as hostages. Among their number are Tiranês, now fourteen, and his cousin, the eldest son of a minor chieftain. 68 AD All is well for two years until there is a raid on Pannonia, in flagrant defiance of the treaty. In retribution, the Romans bring their hostages to the banks of the river opposite the Sarmatian encampment to make an example of them in full view of their own people who watch helplessly. Azarion, who has been his usual mouthy self in spite of everything Tiranês could do to rein him in, has his tongue cut out, which inflames Tiranês so much he can only be held back by a Roman seizing a fistful of his hair and holding a sword to his throat. Several of the older hostages are crucified, left as a stark reminder of what happens to those who defy the Romans. Tiranês himself is thrown to the ground to have a Roman force himself on him, ignoring the curses and threats he utters in both his own tongue and in broken Latin. Someone else has the bright idea of cutting off his warrior braids before shutting him in the cage that houses the surviving hostages while their Roman captors decide their fate. The next day, Tiranês is sold to a slave dealer. All thoughts of escape and retribution are swiftly curtailed when an iron slave collar is put round his neck, chaining him to a fellow prisoner in front and behind, and it is in ignominy that he enters Aquileia, still with his young cousin, although they are soon separated, with Azarion being sold to a merchant and Tiranês (abruptly informed that his name was a barbaric one and he would henceforth answer to 'Jason' which was from a language and legend that Tiranês had no knowledge of nor interest in learning) sold to another merchant for an onward journey further into Italy and away from his own people, the last of whom was still a child and suffering from one of the most barbaric things Tiranês had ever witnessed. 67-70AD Tiranês, now Jason, has reluctantly grown used to the life of a slave, always at someone else's beck and call, eating what and when told, wearing the clothes is given (none so fine and warm as what he had been used to wearing as a chief's son) and the only jewellery now a tag indicating that he is someone else's property, to be held and returned to his owner should he attempt to run away. He is still unclear on the precise chain of events that brought him to the notice of a member of the Imperial family (he's still unclear on precisely which member of the family it was in the first place, anyway!) but he is bought again, this time in a private sale. No sooner has he been bought by one Imperial than he's given to another as some sort of gift (coming of age? Birthday? Name day? Just-because-it's-sunny-again-today day?) and enters the service of one Tiberius Claudius Sabucius, a young man he had barely even heard of the day before and who now owns him and can legally do anything he wants with him. Jason is cautious around the young man – who, it transpires, is four years younger than him, but has all the seriousness and gravitas of a man ten years older. It is by a bit of careful detective work that Jason discovers the reason for Tiberius' seriousness: the loss of several members of his family in a civil war that Jason had no idea about, that happened when he (Jason) was still living wild and free on the steppe as Tiranês. Something about Tiberius' story spoke to him in a way that few things have since he was enslaved, and he has become by choice the sort of slave that his previous masters couldn't force him to be with whips and slaps, seeing Tiberius as a surrogate brother, although he is painfully aware that Tiberius, a consummate Roman, does not see him as anything other than property. Sharpe | GMT | Discord @Gothic or @Anna

"Something like that," Teutus said. "It can be carved into all sorts of things - I've seen sword hilts made of it, and jewellery, and all sorts of decorative things." The smaller room smelt richly of spices... Teutus kept the smaller and most expensive things in here, from spices to glassware, perfumes - and, at the moment, some ivory. Three full elephant tusks and some part tusks, brought all the way from Nubia, through Egypt and across the sea. "It lasts better than bone, and can be polished very smooth," he said. "I think it is similar to amber, in its qualities if not its origins or appearance." He wasn't sure of Wulfric's ulterior motives in coming to Rome, but this room was kept locked, Teutus had the only key, and the warehouse was well guarded. And there wasn't all that much of value in here except the ivory right now, or Teutus might have thought twice about letting his half-brother in here. @Atrice

OK, this is an update after the events of this thread. Teutus' household now consists of Olipor, an older man somewhere in his fifties or early sixties, an ex-tutor, purchased to act as clerk - suggested PBs are Nicholas Woodeson (from Rome) or Karl Johnson (the pic shown is from Atlantis). The history and personality is up to you! The younger man is Jennus, a runner/messenger who might also be pressed into occasional service as body-slave. Suggested PBs are, from L-R: Santiago Cabrera (Empire, AKA Rome: Blood and Sand), Hans Matheson (Imperium: Nero), Elliot Knight (Sinbad), Nicholas Hoult (Clash of the Titans). Again, background and personality are totally up to you! - Taken by Insignia There is also a young boy of about ten, Amandus, who will probably be mostly employed in the home, but may also help out with errands and the like. The household itself will be overseen by Teutus' mother Varinia. (James Bentley, Imperium Nero)

"Why do you think I get so down on myself?" Teutus asked, shifting so he could look up at the other man. He suspected that Alexius lived life the way he did so that he didn't have to think too hard about hard painful things. It was an odd dichotomy, how Romans treated their freedmen. On the one hand, they weren't slaves, they had risen about that and could do almost anything (if they didn't want to enter politics, that was). And on the other, there was always that stain of their slave past that some people just couldn't overlook no matter what. He shrugged mentally. If people were too caught up on what a man had been and they couldn't see what he was now, they weren't worth bothering with. He rolled over, unilaterally declaring the massage done, and sat up as the slave stepped back. "I do try to be. I might not always get it right, but I do try. A man needs friends, after all, and the best way to have good friends is to be one." Teutus hadn't really had much opportunity to make friends; the other slaves in his father's household had always held him somewhat at arm's length due to his relationship with their master, so it was nice to hear that Alexius thought he was a good friend. He just hoped that he could manage to keep it up - he really hadn't had all that much practise at it. "Shall we get dressed and go and have a look at this warehouse, then?" he suggested. @Atrice

"I can hardly imagine a well-born lady such as yourself wanting to sing in public," he said. That sort of thing was best left to slaves, or free buskers - there were people who sang for money in places like the Forum, after all. Pleasant enough to listen to for a few minutes of time and a coin or two, but not at all the sort of pastime for someone such as Ovinia. Which meant that Gaius could be absolutely certain his brother had tried his hand at it once or twice, when he was sure he wouldn't get beaten up by a busker's ex-gladiator boyfriend or the like. "Greece would be interesting, of course - the birthplace of civilisation, or so they say. Egypt is equally old but far more... outlandish and foreign." It was possible to see Egyptians in Rome, of course, and some of them looked very exotic indeed with their kohl and dark hair, and that was just the males. @Sara

"Well, decent people won't mind much - and you can do things that Senators can't. I started my own business, which is something even my father can't do himself. He'd have to use a freedman or a slave to run anything like that." Which he did, like any other Senator Teutus could name. "You keep telling me I shouldn't think so little of myself, so I'll tell you the same thing. Say it enough, one of us might get it." He let out a long quiet contented breath as the knots were worked out of his shoulders and back. "Rome's so full of people from all over the Empire and beyond it, and really, nobody who matters cares anything about your past and where you've been. Probably the only person who really cares is you - everyone else is too busy worrying about what you think about them." At least, that was what Teutus had gleaned over the years from all the conversations he'd listened to and taken part in. People had called him 'astute' to his father when complimenting Teutus to him, though Teutus was never quite sure whether that was a compliment or a veiled wish that Tertius' secretary would be somewhat less observant. Not that people really paid much attention to slaves, of course. "I think the thing is, you can choose what to do with your life now. I mean, I've got work if you want it, for however long you want it, and if you decide to leave Rome and travel to, oh I don't know, Alexandria or Antioch or Hispania, you can do that if you want." Though Alexius did have responsibilities, of course - his own son, for one thing. Teutus wouldn't mind meeting him one day. @Atrice

Attis grinned. He did like this young man, very much. "What's my favourite part of Rome? Oh, the weather, absolutely - none of this cold wet stuff that gets into your bones and stays there. Though I think they might have summer here - I seem to remember there was a hot day last year and a bit of sun. Though that might have been my poor fevered brain overcome with wishing it wasn't so cold." He was exaggerating, of course, but it was so easy to do, and fun, too - and it was all in good fun anyway. "I do miss the scenery, though - and the light. It's like... I guess it's like looking at everything if light was made of gold. Very vivid and bright. Britannia's all soft colours and a lot of grey mixed in with everything." It seemed to look cold, which made it feel more cold, though there were times in the late summer afternoons that reminded Attis of Italy. He felt felt homesick most when seeing that golden light on a later summer day, or even an early autumn day, though the scenery and surrounding weren't exactly Italian. Far too many burly men doing far too much grunting and swearing, and not nearly enough street traders and citizens in togas. "what do you like about Britannia, then?" @Chevi

Rufus sighed, letting the tension bleed out of him. It was his ankle, it wasn't broken - he'd live! "I suppose it depends on how long it's likely to be before I can walk on it again." Even limping would be better than being completely unable to put any weight on it. "And that's probably not something you can tell me for sure - even a guess?" He shrugged. "I can probably borrow one of the others to help out for today, maybe even tomorrow, though it depends on what plans my master has for the day. He's pretty reasonable, though - or at least, he hasn't been unreasonable to me." Octavius Flavius Alexander was a pretty decent master, all things considered, and Rufus knew he could have ended up in a far worse situation. He took the offered cup, giving the medicus a questioning look after the first sip, which proved it to be neat wine, though spiced. "Are you trying to make me drunk? Is it really as bad as that?" @Chevi

Teutus had to swallow a lump in his throat. "Mother," he said, but the formal title tasted strange in his mouth and he had to try again. "Mama." He had to look down at her to meet her eyes - when had that happened? She'd always been taller than him! It felt wrong for her to be a slave while he was free -they'd always been slaves together, and then she'd been sold. Well, now they could be free people together. Freed, anyway; it would have to wait until tomorrow, though - he needed to settle everyone in and by the time he'd done that, the courts and everything would be closed, though he'd probably take her to the Temple of Liberty. Even the priests wanted their lunches and a visit to the baths afterwards, though. He was not going to make any of the same sort of promises his father had made him, though. If he made a promise to anyone, he was going to do his best to keep it, and would be upfront and honest if he could not. His mother's freedom was a priority with him the way his own freedom had not been for his father (and just knowing that still stung, somewhat, but he was used to that by now). His gave his mother a private smile, and then turned to include the other three, quickly revising the roles he had initially planned for the boy and the young man - Amandus and Jennus. A quick introduction wouldn't hurt, he thought. "I am Teutus Quinctilius Varus, I run a business importing luxury goods. Olipor, you will be my clerk and Jennus, you will be my messenger, though you will help in the home if needed. Amandus, I am sure you will be very helpful if I need an errand running or anything else." He would probably leave Amandus under his mother's care; the boy looked as if he would need that, and the company might help her, too. "Now, before we head home to the Esquiline, I think we could use some food." He didn't care if that made him look sentimental; he wanted to start them off on the right foot, and these would be the more senior slaves were he to purchase more in the future, which he would - he needed a maid or body-slave for his mother at the very least. @Sarah

"Rome is the biggest city I've ever seen," Davus admitted, though he'd known only two others - but each of those others was a major centre of commerce and culture in its own right, too. Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great nearly four hundred years ago, and he didn't know when Corinthos was founded but, being Greek, it was probably even older. And Rome was nearly eight hundred years old, from what he'd heard and worked out. "I'll come in with you - I can't spend too long, though." He really did have chores back home to do, and wouldn't he be for it if he was too late home to do any of them. He was probably in for an earful as it was, but he couldn't leave the pretty girl all alone in Rome. Anyone could see that!! "There's the gardens if you don't want to go shopping," he said. There were the shops and stalls if she didn't want to look at the gardens, too, of course. And if she did look at the shops and decide to buy something, she'd need someone to carry it for her, wouldn't she? Even though he'd seen that her body slave was following them, so she could probably carry anything that needed it, he didn't think Sosia had realised the girl was following them. He indicated the way in, making sure that Sosia's slave knew where they were and would be able to find them again. The inside of the Porticus Liviae was a bustling busy place, surely just the sort of place any girl would like? @Atrice

"I don't believe we know for certain either way," Aulus admitted. "I suspect that they are local raiders who would probably steer clear but they have been prompted to do so in order for the government to see what our response is likely to be, which will give the Parthian government plausible deniability and make it look as if we're the aggressors if we respond. And in the meanwhile, innocent people living along the border are being needled little by little." And compared to Parthian cavalry - or even irregular local raiders on horseback - Roman infantry was slow and lumbering. Good when in place and able to respond, but slow to get somewhere - even at the vaunted marching pace of twenty-five miles in a day, they could not respond quick enough to the lightning-fast raids that Aulus understood were taking place in various places along the border. Set the troops up in one place, a raid would occur a few miles away and the perpetrators would be long gone by the time help arrived. Cavalry would be a good deterrent, but they just did not have enough mounted soldiers to be able to protect the entire border. "They are. Horses are highly prized among the peoples of that area, and are unlikely to be left unprotected." Diplomacy would be much the best solution, of course - it always was - but if these raids were done by locals, with or without official sanction from above, Aulus was not convinced diplomacy would be much help. He popped an olive into his mouth. A moment later he said, "And in the meantime, until it is stopped by whatever means, it is the locals who suffer - it may be designed to turn them against Rome as much as anything else. 'If the Romans can't protect you, we can...'" @Sarah

Teutus nodded; he would certainly return and hash out the finer details when he actually needed the men, which he didn't at the moment. And from everything he had seen, he would prefer to hire from Spurius than one of the other slave-dealers; he could see the conditions that Spurius' slaves were kept in - the man had a good reputation for a reason, after all. He would probably come back, maybe even as soon as tomorrow, to see about getting a body-slave for his mother (the girl who had been doing the other woman's hair looked promising - but that was something he could think about later). With the addition of a clerk and a runner (or two!) Teutus would be able to concentrate on expanding his business without getting weighed down by the everyday banalities or having to drop something to take a message of his own somewhere. Well, that should please his father to no end! Arranging payment, once they'd agreed on the total to be paid, was straightforward enough, though Teutus couldn't help the feeling of relief that bubbled up once the arrangements were made and his mother was firmly his, and safe. "I thank you for your time, and I hope you likewise have a good afternoon," he said with a smile, returning the polite incline of the head. @Sarah

"Of course," Aulus replied to her written question. "If there is anything you'd like to learn, I'm sure it can be arranged - just ask your mistress." He was sure she was an intelligent girl, and adding skills would make her more flexible and employable in the house, and add to her value. Though that wasn't something he really thought about, there was no need to sell her or part with her; she was a good, hard worker, as evidenced by the tidiness of the flowerbed where she'd been working. "You can tell your mistress if you have any problems, as well - or talk with Felix." Although 'talk' was probably completely the wrong word to use when she couldn't speak, of course. 'Communicate with Felix' just sounded clumsy. @Jenn

Rufus tried not to wince or flinch as the medicus examined his ankle. He was trying to be gentle, but even the gentlest of touches in the wrong place hurt because it was so tender. "Litter-bearers - overbearing pushy sorts at the best of times," he said with a shrug. "I suppose because their passengers are too important to deign to walk anywhere like the rest of us mere mortals. and yet simply must get to the market to buy a length of fabric for a new dress, or whatever." At least the ankle wasn't outright broken, though being able to rest it would be almost as likely as for Rufus to grow wings and fly. "I'm a slave, there's not much chance of being able to rest it. Not for very long, anyway." And saying the words out loud would surely make the other aware that Rufus couldn't pay for his help - and most medici wanted payment for their time and knowledge. If this one didn't, he'd be the only one in Rome! @Chevi

"It may come to nothing, of course, but there have been incursions of one sort or another along the border for a while, despite best efforts otherwise." He rested his forearms on the table's edge, and steepled his fingers. "Lightly-armed bands of raiders can easily evade our more heavily-armed troops, after all, and there are only so many cavalry auxiliaries with a legion. And building fortifications takes both time and money, though that may be a much lesser cost in the long run. And of course, they control a vast amount of trade on the Silk Road to the east, for things such as silk and spices." It was a pretty puzzle, of course - and those incursions might not come to anything in the end. Equally, they might be the precursor of another war, which he was not sure Rome could win. Even a few generations before, some of their greatest generals had been hard-pressed to win against the Parthians, for whom the 'Parthian shot' was named, and even a technical victory against the Parthian general Pyrrhus had been very nearly as costly as an outright defeat. @Sarah

"Yes, for now - though I may need to hire some labourers at some point in the future, on a semi-regular basis - I have goods that come upriver from Ostia that need unloading, but we can talk about that later." He was trying not to be too impatient; he hadn't seen or spoken with his mother in eight years or more, and needed to talk with her. At the same time, he needed to build some sort of working relationship with Claudus; their respective warehouses were not very far apart and it would make more sense to hire work gangs when he needed them than to have to house and feed men when there was no work for them, or only a little work for them. He flipped open his own wax tablet and did some quick arithmetic. "I make the total for all four..." He named the price. @Sarah

The races were always incredibly popular, but due to the heat and the location of today's event, there were not as many spectators as might be expected - which was one reason that Marcus had chosen today to be Azarion's debut. The boy evidently cared for the horses, that much was obvious just from watching him with them in the stables. He still had that slightly wild air about him that bespoke his barbarian origins - not that Marcus could fault him for that, not with his own background, though he was as Roman now as anyone. He grinned as Azarion gave an overly-cocky Blue charioteer the finger. He'd hold his own with them even if he couldn't speak. And then the horn sounded, the gates lifted and the race had begun. Seven thundering laps of the track,, each lap marked by a bronze egg to enable the spectators to see how many laps had been run. He didn't mind if Azarion didn't win today's race; he only hoped that he didn't end up in a shipwreck - they were almost inevitable, and Azarion was completely inexperienced. Still, everyone had to start somewhere, and this would be a good test of his skills and training. @Atrice @Sarah @Chevi