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What Belongs in Stables


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Early March, 76AD

Returning to the stables after a grueling day often helped Menelaus return to a state of comfortable relaxation. The rush of having survived another day as a charioteer still filled him with pride. He’d proven himself, time and again, but each day he lived felt like a victory. Today, he would join a few of the other charioteers at the poppina; the older ones, who had lasted almost as long as he had. He didn’t have anything to speak with the younger ones about. It felt disorienting, talking to them and seeing their hope that would soon be dashed underfoot by hooves or wheels. He would enjoy the company of men his own age, who at least had some understanding of reality.

Speaking of men his own age, Menelaus was surprised to see one of the charioteers standing with a woman by the stables as he arrived. She was speaking with him in a very familiar manner, which left very little room for misinterpretation; it was clear why she had come here. Menelaus snuck past them, not wanting to interrupt a spot of fun. Inside, though, he noticed something on the floor. A shawl, which could only belong to a woman- and there was only one woman whose shawl could have been left here without one of the charioteers noticing it by now. He picked it up, rushing back outside to catch the woman before she left.

Excuse me! Excuse me, but you dropped this. None of my fellow charioteers would have worn something this fine, and it’s best if you escape with it now, before they get any ideas about how to use it.


Edited by Járnviðr
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