Imperium (Vic and Velvet Whispers)

[Victorian_Virtue]

He had been summoned but first they had to find him. They went to the Regional headquarters in Gaul, then up the Seine river until they got to the outpost on the River and then headed inland. They finally found him in a small shelter in a heavily Germanic tribe.

"You have been summoned" said the herald, expecting to catch fleas (or worse) from the Barbarians that gathered all around him. Some children reaching up to touch the messengers furs while more than one of the women smiled as he looked more feminine and gentle than the men they were used to.

"Summoned" he said. Not quite a question but for the head Legionaire that Caligula had named "turnspit" for like the specially trained dogs, he knew no fear in battle, as he turned and went to the tent. 5 minutes later he appeared with a bag as the messenger sat on his horse with his two companions, a spare horse at his side.

Turnspit finally spoke. "If I am summoned, I need to go to the regional prefect and announce my retirement." At this the messenger laughed and said "don't worry about the details, it is our job to speed your way to Rome and please mount the horse and we will have you there in 14 days time."

Turnspit simply said "a legionaire walks a 15 minute mile and can do for 20 hours a day, using that rate if I walk, I will be there in 11 days." The messenger went to speak, but already he was looking at the solid calves of the veteran of so many of Rome's wars start to move. 10 days later Turnspit was at the gates of Rome, the messenger far behind him as he walked the Capitol's streets and made for Caligula's palace. Allowed entry, the gates shutting behind him, it felt more like a fortress under siege than a place that Emperor's went to be loved by his subjects. He took a small room down a dark corridor and 24 hours later, had a letter from the Emperor allowing him access to the tunnels.

He had not met with Caligula and had only met with him once before. That was how he got his name "Turnspit". Caligula named him this after his cohort had sent to rout over 3000 Germanic barbarias and he had been tasked to find 30 of the Barbarian mercenaries to be trained for Caligula's bodyguard. Apparently it had been a success as he now saw them every where in the palace. Their Latin was no better than his Helvetii, but still they understood each other and communicated frequently.

So Caligula had granted him a meeting. There were 20 other people in the room, sneering Senators, Caligula, his horse Incitatus (who was now a Senator) and two cloaked women. Caligula didn't bother to acknowledge his entry but as he approached the throne and knelt, Caligula simply said:

"Bark"

Turnspit rose and saw the smiles on the lips of all around him. They didn't know that he already had a Senator and two of his servants hanging from meat hooks in the tunnels, but still, he was only for a second taken aback by the Emperor's order.

"ARRRRRRRRkkkkkkkkkkkkk" It was a low guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat and curdled the room with its vengeance as well as its threat.

"Again" said Caligula and again the bark came savagely.

"Dismissed" was all Caligula said and as he bowed and turned Caligula said to the assembled crowd. "He is now head of security for me. If he finds even the scent of treason, like his fabled named dogs, he will rip your innards out." Complete silence and then Caligula broke into a hysterical laugh, followed by the merriment of all.

But Turnspit was already down in the tunnels. Approaching a Greek who was battered, bruised and whipped. His front opened at sword point to show the still alive man's entrails.

"A name" was all Turnspit said adding "you are already dead, it just matters if you want to make it quick or short." The slave looked at him and said:

"Callip..............Calliope, nothing happens in the rebellion without her knowledge."

Already Turnspit had a dagger out, cutting the man's throat before he could utter another word.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope's gaze lingered on the scene before her, her expression inscrutable beneath the hood that shrouded her face. The spectacle in Caligula's court had unfolded with its usual blend of cruelty and dark amusement, but tonight, something had shifted.

The man they called "Turnspit" had commanded her attention the moment he entered the chamber. Unlike the sycophants and soldiers who typically filled the palace, this man carried an air of raw power, the kind born not from privilege but from survival. His body, scarred and hardened from years of battle, told a story of resilience and unyielding strength. When Caligula ordered him to "bark," the others in the room snickered, their faces twisted with contempt, but Calliope remained silent, her sharp eyes studying the man with a keen interest.

Turnspit had followed the Emperor's humiliating command without hesitation, yet there was something in the way he responded—a subtle defiance that intrigued her. His bark, low and guttural, echoed through the chamber, silencing the mocking laughter for just a moment. It was as though the sound itself carried a warning, a reminder that this man was no mere plaything for Caligula's amusement.

When Turnspit left the chamber, summoned to deal with some matter deep in the palace, Calliope felt the tension in the room ease, though her own interest only deepened. She had watched him closely, noting the way he moved, the way he seemed to command his own presence even in the face of the Emperor's derision. He was a man who had survived on his own terms, and in Rome, that was a rare and dangerous quality.

Caligula's shrill laughter filled the room, snapping her back to the present. The Emperor, ever the master of twisted games, had found his entertainment for the evening. The rest of the court quickly followed suit, their laughter ringing hollow in Calliope's ears. But she knew better than to let her thoughts show on her face. In this place, emotions were weapons, and she had long since learned to keep hers hidden.

As the court began to disperse, Calliope rose with the grace of someone accustomed to moving unnoticed. She was not a woman to draw attention unless she desired it, and tonight, her thoughts were elsewhere. The intrigue surrounding Turnspit was a thread she could not ignore, one she knew would lead her deeper into the web of power and deceit that surrounded the Emperor.

She moved through the palace corridors, her mind already plotting the next steps. Turnspit's position as Caligula's head of security placed him in a pivotal role—one that could either serve her interests or threaten them. She would need to know more about him, understand his loyalties, his motivations. If he was as dangerous as she suspected, then he could either become a powerful ally or a formidable adversary.

But for now, she needed to bide her time. There were other matters to attend to—her son, Vibius, awaited her at their villa, and she would need to ensure his safety before delving further into the dangers of court intrigue. Yet even as she left the palace, the image of Turnspit lingered in her mind.

Their paths would cross again, of that she was certain. And when they did, she intended to be prepared. In the world of Roman politics, knowledge was power, and power was survival. Calliope was a master at playing the game, and she had no intention of losing now.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across her path, Calliope allowed herself a small, calculated smile. The wheels were already turning, and the game was just beginning. She had lived too long in this treacherous world to be undone by a man like Turnspit, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could be the key to tipping the balance of power in her favour.

The night was still, but within the walls of Rome, a storm was brewing—and Calliope intended to be at the heart of it.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

The other slave was cut down and sent to Turnspit's wing. He would chat with the slave and after determining his worth; he would either keep him as a spy or informant or else throw him bodily out the window. It really made no other mind to him, but the Senator was waiting, the white toga and insignia of a senator as his fingers drummed noisily on the marble slab in the room he was waiting, his feet beating at 200 thrusts per hour, up and down, up and down went the knee. Turnspit entered, taking the pottery carafe of water and refilling the senator's glass as he didn't bother to fill his own.

"I could have you killed" the Senator said, looking Turnspit in the eyes only briefly, looking away as he said "I have many friends in Rome and you would be careful with a man like me."

Turnspit simply said "who do you know?"

The Senator looked at him "you pleb! I don't know who you are or what your game is, but you will release me immediately, I even know........."

"Calliope?" said Turnspit looking genuinely interested. "I didn't say that" the Senator said as Turnspit now picked up the carafe and carefully poured the contents into his own glass. He drank thirstily before beginning.........

"You Senator are part of a cabal that is trying to overthrow the Emperor Caligula." The Senator was out of his seat in instant denial as Turnspit remained seated. "Your words mean nothing, it is only when I am hanging you by your feet and you are bleeding out will you tell me the truth." The Senator no longer looked indignant, he simply blanched as Turnspit continued. "You work for me now. You will ingratiate yourself to this woman Calliope and report back to me everything she says...." He paused as he said "do I make myself clear Senator Pompey?" A sullen look at the floor and then an agreement. Turnspit continued "for if I catch one piece of information you have forgotten or one simple lie......well, I doubt you will hold up as well as some of the German barbarians I have interrogated."

He stood up. Pompey had been released and was free to go back to his villa. Turnspit knew he had to meet with Caligula. Every evening at 8:00 PM he would enter the private chambers of Caligula and as he did so, he knocked.

"Enter" was the command and as he did he saw Caligula in bed with a blond haired woman and a red headed man. The three of them were giggling, extending grapes from each other's mouth to the other as the blond stroked the Emperor's cock which was on display for all.

"Well dog"

Turnspit smiled as he said "I am just getting the lay of the land Emperor, but it seems you power is absolute and secure."

"Keep it that way you mongrel."

As Turnspit went to leave, Caligula added "you are forgetting something."

The long howl. The deep bass that moved up a few octaves. The howl of an otherworldly wolf as Turnspit turned to leave. Behind him he could hear laughter as the blonde said "run along dog" to more merriment.

Turnspit went to his room. He poured himself a glass of wine and took out a book simply entitled "Meditations." In two hours time, spies he had throughout the city would deliver their oral reports in the cellars. One thing he had them on the look out for were the comings and goings of Calliope and a boy name "Vibius."

 

[VelvetWhispers]

***The Villa Callida, Rome***

Calliope sat in her private garden, the scent of night-blooming jasmine heavy in the warm air. The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the marble statues that stood vigil among the carefully tended plants. Her son, Vibius, was nearby, practicing his Latin verses with his tutor, a Greek scholar named Athenodoros. Though Calliope appeared relaxed, her mind was anything but.

She had received word of Turnspit's interrogation of Senator Pompey, and the implications were unsettling. The Senator was a weak man, easily swayed by power and fear. She had carefully kept her distance from the more overt plots against Caligula, preferring to weave her influence through subtler, more insidious means. However, if Pompey had even hinted at her name, it was only a matter of time before Turnspit's gaze fell upon her.

She rose from the bench and made her way to the balcony overlooking the garden. Below, Vibius recited his verses, his voice clear and steady. The boy had his father's sharp mind and his mother's cunning, traits she had carefully nurtured. Athenodoros, with his lined face and knowing eyes, caught her gaze and gave a slight nod. He was more than a tutor; he was one of her most trusted informants, placed in her household long before her husband's death. Through him, she kept a close watch on Vibius, ensuring that the boy would grow into a man who could navigate the treacherous waters of Roman politics.

A soft knock on the door drew her attention. It was Lysandra, her handmaiden, and confidante. The young woman entered with her usual grace, closing the door behind her. "My lady, news from the palace."

Calliope raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Lysandra to continue. The handmaiden leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "Turnspit has been meeting with Caligula nightly. He has begun asking questions about the comings and goings of those in your circle, particularly concerning you and young Vibius."

Calliope's lips curved into a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "The Emperor's dog is sniffing at our heels, then," she mused. "Interesting."

"What shall we do, my lady?" Lysandra asked, concern flickering in her dark eyes.

Calliope turned her gaze back to the garden, watching her son. "We proceed with caution, as always. I have an engagement at the Emperor's villa tomorrow. Ensure that Vibius is well-guarded while I'm away. As for Turnspit, I believe it's time we became better acquainted."

She turned to Lysandra, her expression hardening. "Send word to Athenodoros. I need a report on Pompey's movements. We must know exactly what he has told Turnspit. And have the carriage prepared for tomorrow's visit. I'll need to look my best for the Emperor's court."

Lysandra bowed slightly and exited the room, leaving Calliope alone with her thoughts. She had spent years cultivating her image as a dutiful widow, concerned only with her son's future and her late husband's legacy. But behind that carefully constructed façade was a mind as sharp as any blade in the Roman arsenal. She would need every bit of that cunning now.

As she turned back toward the balcony, her gaze softened. Vibius had finished his lessons and was now playing with a small wooden horse, a gift from his father before his untimely death. Calliope's heart tightened at the sight. The boy was her world, and she would do anything to protect him—even if it meant confronting the most dangerous man in Rome.

Tomorrow, she would meet with Caligula, her words chosen as carefully as a gladiator's weapon, her demeanour serene, but her mind spinning a web that would ensnare even the Emperor's most trusted guard.

And as for Turnspit, she would let him come. The game was just beginning.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

He had been in the job for 10 days now. Already his money and his spies were working their tendrils through the fabric of Roman society and he was learning much.

First the population of Rome. It consisted of about 15% slaves. The slaves were divided between the intelligentsia and the workers. Turnspit thought if there was a revolution it would begin here, but he was quickly disabused. The intelligentsia were surprisingly loyal to their Mistresses. For example there was a slave Lysandra who worked for Calliope. Naturally Turnspit thought that she would turn on her Mistress for a few gold coins and freedom when Calliope finally visited him in the cellar. But Lysandra, even while shaking like a leaf had merely scoffed at the overture. No, the slaves were not the problem.

Which lead him up the food chain to the pleb's. Here was 75% of the population and they provided the soldiers for the Army, the workers for the small businesses and the government projects. Turnspit had grown up a pleb and thought that they might be the source of the plans on Caligula's life. But surprisingly, they liked Caligula. His gladiators were the best in the world, they were well fed even though Caligula couldn't print coins fast enough and they were neither over worked and allowed 78 holidays a year. If anything, they liked the Emperor and would not storm the palace gates as long as Caligula had his bread and circuses.

Which led Turnspit to the Patricians. He was getting dressed now. He wore the uniform of the Roman Centurion; his dagger, his gladius, his breastplate. Brown leather sandals that laced up his leg with thick patches in the front to prevent injury. A skirt down to his knees, a silk shirt underneath his leather armor and as he entered the main corridor he passed the..................blonde, the one that was stroking Caligula's cock last week.

She was looking embarrassed in her silk virginal white while her father the Senator was berating her. As he passed he heard "the honor of the family has been ruined" while the Senator's wife was crying and saying "can't anything be done about that man?"

Yes, this is where the revolution would happen. It would come from the Patrician's and it would come from men like that Senator. Turnspit resolved to have that man brought before him after the festivities ended but for now he had one mission. That was to find this Calliope and understand whether she wanted Caligula overthrown and if she did, was there the means to do it?

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope had spent the morning in quiet contemplation, her thoughts as layered and intricate as the loom she sat beside. The rhythmic motion of the shuttle moving back and forth across the threads soothed her, but it did little to quell the storm brewing within her mind. Turnspit's relentless probing into the heart of Roman society was not something she could ignore. He was an unknown variable, and in her world, unknowns were dangerous.

The letter from Lysandra lay open on the table beside her. The young woman had managed to gather some information on Turnspit's recent activities—how he had been systematically assessing the different strata of Roman society, trying to determine the most likely source of rebellion. His methods were crude, but effective. He had already dismissed the slaves and the plebs as threats, his focus now squarely on the Patricians. And that, Calliope knew, meant he would soon turn his full attention to her.

She set the shuttle down and rose from her seat, the flowing fabric of her stola rustling softly as she moved. Outside, the sun was high in the sky, casting dappled shadows across the marble floors of her villa. The house was quiet, save for the distant sound of Vibius's laughter as he played with his wooden horse in the courtyard. Athenodoros, ever watchful, stood nearby, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

Calliope made her way to the atrium, where Lysandra waited. The handmaiden's expression was calm, but there was an edge to her voice when she spoke. "My lady, it seems that Turnspit is determined to uncover your intentions. He has begun asking questions among the Patricians, and I believe he plans to confront you directly."

Calliope nodded, her expression unreadable. "He is thorough, I'll give him that. But he underestimates the subtlety required to navigate the politics of Rome. Caligula's power is absolute, yes, but it is also fragile. A single misstep, and the whole structure could come crumbling down."

Lysandra hesitated, then asked, "What will you do, my lady? If Turnspit comes to you..."

"If?" Calliope let out a soft, almost amused laugh. "It's not a matter of if, but when. He is a hound, and he will follow the scent until he finds what he is looking for. But he forgets that a hound can be led astray, given the right scent to follow."

She turned to Lysandra, her voice low and measured. "Prepare for his visit. I want everything to be perfect. And make sure Athenodoros has Vibius out of sight when Turnspit arrives. The less he knows about my son, the better."

Lysandra bowed slightly. "As you wish, my lady."

As the handmaiden departed to make the necessary arrangements, Calliope stood alone in the atrium, her mind already working through the possible scenarios. Turnspit was dangerous, but he was also predictable. A man like him could be manipulated, given the right incentive.

She walked to the edge of the atrium, where the sunlight streamed through the open roof, casting long shadows across the stone floor. She would meet with Turnspit, allow him to think he was in control, while all the while she would be guiding him down a path of her own design.

In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the city—Rome, with all its glory and decay, its power and its weakness. It was a city on the brink, and Calliope intended to be there when the balance finally tipped. Whether Caligula remained on the throne or fell to a blade in the dark, she would ensure that she and Vibius emerged unscathed, stronger even.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the day wore on, but Calliope's resolve only hardened. Turnspit might think he was hunting her, but in reality, he was the one being drawn into a carefully laid trap. And when the time came, she would spring it with precision.

For now, she would play her role—calm, composed, the grieving widow who only sought to protect her son. But beneath that veneer, the wheels of her plan were already in motion, turning ever closer to the moment when everything would change.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

Caligula was throwing a gala tomorrow, so for tonight, Turnspit prowled the roads and taverns of Rome. But with each move, it was like a magnet to him, he got closer to the Villa Callida.

He was outside its walls now, looking at the marble statues and he was alone. Turnspit was scared of no one and if he were to be scared, it would only cause him to be more brash. He heard the tune of a harp inside and then he was through the gate.

Lysandra was there. She saw him and he thought she would run away from him. But instead of fleeing, she turned and calmly met his gaze. "My Lady Calliope has been expecting you, won't you come into the atrium?" Turnspit followed the slave, coming to a large area that was open. The Villa was lavish without being ostentation. He didn't know how to value tapestries but it was clear that the selling on just 1 (and he saw 14) would keep the villa operating for another year.

A slave came but didn't bow. Asked him if he wanted something to drink to which he replied "a red wine" and when the chalice came back, he didn't care if it was poisoned, he brought it to his nose, taking in the bouquet of a large vineyard he knew in Western Gaul and then sipped.

This was not wine to be consumed to be drunk. No, this was wine to be savored. To talk about the book "Meditations" or the latest poetry from Livy. This was wine to make the world a better place, a place where you could be free and talk about anything. The smell of butternuts and earth, a small light chocolate flavor and then the wine hit your palette. It made you smile, a taste of earthen raspberries and then it slivered its way to your throat, a pleasant sensation the whole way down.

He was so lost in the wine that he was surprised when Calliope appeared in front of him. She looked different than he imagined. She looked ravishing as he said "I think I heard your son playing the harp earlier?" and then "I have not tasted wine like this in quite some time. It is even better than Caligula will serve at his party tomorrow night, a party that I am sure you will attend?"

 

[VelvetWhispers]

The soft notes of the harp still lingered in the air, wrapping around the columns of the villa like a gentle breeze as Calliope stepped into the atrium. She moved with the effortless grace of a woman who knew she was always being watched, her gown of deep indigo catching the light in a way that made it shimmer as if woven from the night itself. Her dark hair, loosely pinned, framed a face that held an expression of serene composure, though her mind was anything but calm.

Turnspit was not the kind of man she had expected to cross her threshold so soon, though she had been prepared for the encounter since word of his appointment reached her ears. The man who stood before her was as the rumours described—scarred, solid, a man who seemed to carry the weight of a thousand battles on his broad shoulders. But there was something more in his gaze, a flicker of curiosity perhaps, or maybe just a glint of the wine he so carefully savoured.

She noted how he had appreciated the wine, a small detail that revealed more than he might have intended. A soldier, yes, but not without a sense of refinement, or at least an appreciation for the finer things in life. That, she could work with.

"Indeed, that was Vibius," Calliope replied with a soft smile, her voice a melody as smooth as the wine he had just praised. "He has a talent for music. It soothes the soul, don't you think? Especially in a city as turbulent as ours."

She moved closer, her eyes briefly scanning the atrium as if to ensure that they were alone, though she knew Lysandra would be close enough to intervene if needed. The villa, with its understated elegance, was a reflection of its mistress—rich in history, yet never ostentatious, every detail chosen with care.

"I am glad you appreciate the wine. It is from a vineyard in Gaul, a gift from a dear friend who shares your appreciation for its complexities," she continued, her tone conversational, almost intimate. "It is said that the best wines tell a story—of the earth, the weather, the hands that harvested the grapes. But they also reflect the mood of those who drink them."

Her eyes met his, holding his gaze just a moment longer than was customary. "I imagine a man like you, Turnspit, has many stories of his own. The kind that are rarely told over wine, but perhaps should be. I find those are the stories that linger the longest, don't you?"

She turned slightly, gesturing to the seat opposite her as she settled into a cushioned chair, the movement graceful yet deliberate. "Please, sit. I would hear more of your thoughts, if you're willing to share them. What brings you to my door tonight, besides a fine wine and a melody? Surely a man with your responsibilities has more pressing matters."

Calliope's smile never faltered, though her mind was already several steps ahead, weaving the strands of this unexpected encounter into the larger tapestry of her plans. She had no intention of confronting him directly, not yet. Tonight, she would play the part of the gracious hostess, the devoted mother, the widow with nothing more on her mind than the well-being of her son and the peace of her household.

But beneath that polite surface, she was studying him, gauging his reactions, filing away every detail for future use. This man had the ear of the Emperor, and that made him dangerous. But it also made him useful. Whether he knew it or not, Turnspit had already stepped into her web. Now, it was just a matter of how quickly she could draw him in.

As she took a delicate sip from her own glass, Calliope allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible sigh of contentment. "Yes," she said softly, as if to herself, "I think tomorrow's gala will be quite interesting. I do hope we'll have the chance to speak again."

She set her glass down, her eyes never leaving his as she added, "But until then, let us enjoy the evening. Life in Rome is too fleeting not to savour moments like these, don't you agree, Turnspit?"

And with that, she waited, poised and composed, every inch the gracious hostess, while the wheels of her mind turned, preparing for whatever move he might make next.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

As he sat as instructed, he was embarrassed. It was just a name after all, but he hated the way she said it. It wasn't like the Emperor or even the blonde had said. He heard the sneers and the barking. He wished she knew his real name:

"It is Marcus". He said that as she sat.

"But we both know you are never to use it, for if the Emperor knew it would indicate a certain intimacy that he would never allow. You know tomorrow he plans on inviting you into his orgy."

Was that the reason he came? To foreworn Calliope. To let her know that Caligula wanted her raped and subjected to the worst possible treatment that a woman of her stature could endure? He knew at least 20 barbarians that would line up for a beauty like Calliope.

He sat the wine down, but there was still one quarter of a glass down. He knew he should participate in the witty dialogue, but he thought she should know.

Was he blushing? Slowly he rose as he said "I have pressing matters, but you must attend the party tomorrow at all costs. If you don't, then Caligula will sign a death warrant for you." Was this okay, letting a woman know she was about to be ravished or maybe he should have said nothing. "We". "I mean you will surely find a way out of this." He looked over to see Lysandra gasping at him. If she were a snake she would have bit him but instead.............

He left noiselessly.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope watched Marcus as he spoke, his discomfort palpable, his words faltering in the presence of a woman he clearly underestimated. The mention of her name by Caligula and the twisted invitation to the Emperor's orgy brought a brief flicker of amusement to her eyes, followed by a flash of disgust that she quickly concealed.

"Marcus," she said softly, her voice wrapping around the name like a caress, a stark contrast to the harsh bark of 'Turnspit' that others used. She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smile as she continued, "You underestimate me. But I do appreciate your concern."

The thought of being subjected to Caligula's depravity was revolting, but also laughable. She had long learned to navigate the treacherous waters of Roman politics with grace and cunning. The idea of the Emperor imagining her at his mercy was both pitiful and predictable. She had seen men like him before, always underestimating a woman's strength, believing power was only in brute force and fear.

As Marcus rose to leave, awkwardly stumbling over his warnings, Calliope merely nodded, a subtle gesture that conveyed more than words could. "Thank you for the warning, Marcus," she said, the name sliding easily from her lips. "I will, of course, attend the party. One must always play the game, after all."

She watched him leave, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way Lysandra's eyes followed him with a mixture of shock and disdain. When the door finally closed behind him, Calliope allowed herself a small, mirthless laugh. Caligula's idea of power was as crude as it was effective, but she had no intention of being a pawn in his games.

The next day, Calliope arrived at the gala dressed in a gown that shimmered like moonlight, her every move calculated, her expression one of serene detachment. The laughter and revelry of the party washed over her as she made her way through the crowded halls, noting the faces of the powerful, the desperate, the foolish.

As she entered the grand chamber where Caligula held court, she caught Marcus's eye across the room. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. Moving closer, she leaned in just enough for him to hear, her voice low and intimate, "Thank you, Marcus. You needn't worry. I have no intention of giving Caligula what he desires."

Her eyes sparkled with a knowing glint, as she added, "This should be a night to remember, don't you think?" Before he could respond, she had already moved on, seamlessly blending into the crowd, leaving Marcus to wonder just what she had planned.

Calliope smiled to herself as she approached the Emperor, already forming the words that would turn his demand into a delicate refusal—one that would leave him no choice but to accept, all while maintaining her dignity and power intact. The night was young, and the game had just begun.

As Calliope approached Caligula, she moved with the grace of a seasoned performer, each step measured, each glance calculated. The Emperor was lounging on a lavish couch, his eyes half-lidded, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched the festivities unfold. Surrounding him were sycophants and courtiers, their laughter a hollow echo of the madness they were too afraid to defy.

Caligula's eyes flicked up as she neared, a spark of interest igniting in his gaze. He gestured for her to come closer, and she obliged, her head held high, the epitome of patrician poise. She could feel the weight of the room's attention shift to her, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how she would navigate the dangerous currents of the Emperor's whims.

"Ah, the lovely Calliope," Caligula purred, his voice thick with indulgence. "I'm pleased to see you gracing us with your presence tonight. I trust you've heard of the... entertainments planned for later?"

Calliope's lips curved into a delicate smile, one that held just the right amount of amusement. "Of course, Caesar. Your reputation for hosting the most exquisite gatherings is well known," she replied, her tone warm yet distant, as if she were speaking of a far-off spectacle, not something she would be intimately involved in.

Caligula leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "And I trust you will join us in the... more intimate festivities?"

Calliope met his gaze without flinching, her smile deepening as she subtly shifted the conversation. "Caesar, you honor me with such a generous invitation. However," she added, her voice taking on a tone of feigned humility, "I fear my recent widowhood still weighs heavily on my spirit. It would be most unseemly of me to partake in such pleasures so soon."

She paused, allowing her words to settle, watching as Caligula's expression flickered with a mix of irritation and curiosity. Before he could interject, she continued, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret, "But, if it pleases you, I would be more than willing to entertain you with a different kind of pleasure. A dance, perhaps? Or a song? Something to lift the spirits without compromising the decorum that your court so values."

Her suggestion was a clever pivot, offering a form of entertainment that would still place her in the center of attention, but on her own terms. It played to the Emperor's vanity, as she knew he would relish the idea of her performing for him, while also giving him an easy out to save face in front of his court.

Caligula's eyes narrowed, but there was a glimmer of amusement there, a recognition of the game she was playing. "A dance, you say?" he mused, leaning back in his seat. "Perhaps you're right. It would be a shame to tarnish such a delicate flower with the... roughness of tonight's festivities."

Calliope inclined her head gracefully. "You are most wise, Caesar. I am at your command, of course, but I would much prefer to bring you joy in a way that befits your discerning tastes."

Caligula studied her for a moment longer, and then, with a dismissive wave, he acquiesced. "Very well, Calliope. You will dance for us. And perhaps your presence alone will be enough to keep the wolves at bay."

The tension in the room eased as the Emperor's decree settled, and Calliope bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. "You are too kind, Caesar," she said, her voice laced with sincerity.

As she moved away, preparing herself for the dance that would follow, she couldn't help but feel a small surge of triumph. She had not only deflected the Emperor's crude demand but had done so in a way that left her reputation intact and her influence undiminished. The night would continue as Caligula's, but in this small victory, Calliope knew she had won a crucial battle in the ongoing war of survival within the gilded cages of Rome.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

Turnspit knew nothing of this. He saw Calliope enter, shimmering and looking like a moonqueen and his heart felt a twinge of despair. Every eye was on her. Every person either wanted to be with her or wanted to be her. It was more a combustible mixture than that as she came to him. She greeted him like everyone else, moving along and then she was with the Emperor.

Calliope was playing a dangerous game and already couples were pairing off. As Calliope stood back, her head bowed and preparing to do something for the Emperor. Some kind of patrician foreplay, he saw the Senator.

It was the same one who had been with his daughter and wife. A glint of a dagger under his toga and Turnspit was on him. Snarling, he moved through the crowd, some people upset at being jostled, but Turnspit was all motion. His muscles all tinged with alertness, his posture leaning forward and as the Senator went to strike, Turnspit thought he would yell something noble like "death to tyrants" but all he got was a squeak.

"You took my daughter" and as the knife came out Turnspit was on him. A twist of the wrist as you heard the bone crack, the dagger go skittering onto the marble, the senator brought to his knees as Caligula, wide eyes had fled to a corner.

Turnspit looked over the captive Senator like he was deciding if the senator should live or die. Already two of the Germanic body guard were grabbing the Senator as Turnspit said "hang him from the meat hook and wait for me. Bind his wrists and let no one near him."

Already Caligula was back in command. "Well done Turnspit!" He clapped and then waited for the rest of the crowd to clap. Turnspit stood there and then reached won to take the dagger. "Wait" the Emperor proclaimed.

The orgy grew quiet as the Emperor continued "as a reward" and he paused "of course I could have defended myself, but as a reward for your services tonight, please Turnspit, take anyone, simply point him or her out and they are yours."

Turnspit turned. He showed no emotion as he pointed to Calliope. "I chose the dancing whore." And with that two more Germanic bodyguards were on her, bringing her to her knees and tying her wrists behind her back.

"Well Chosen Turnspit!" was all the Emperor said. "I thought you would take something a little more exotic" and then he looked at Calliope. "Take her to Turnspit's room and tie her to the bed." He smiled to Turnspit as he added:

"And fuck her like a dog."

 

[VelvetWhispers]

As Calliope was forced to her knees, her mind raced, but her expression remained calm, serene even. The cruelty of Caligula was no surprise—she had long known the depravity that lurked beneath his façade of power. What intrigued her more was Turnspit's choice. He had pointed to her, called her a "dancing whore" in front of the entire court. It was a calculated move, she realized, but to what end?

The rough hands of the Germanic guards bound her wrists, and she felt the coarse rope dig into her skin. Still, she kept her composure, her eyes focused on the ground. She was no stranger to the brutality of Rome's elite, but she had always managed to navigate their twisted games with grace and cunning. This situation would be no different.

As she was dragged to Turnspit's quarters, she considered her options. Was this truly a betrayal by Turnspit, or was there more to his actions? He had shown no emotion when he pointed her out, no indication that this was anything more than a strategic manoeuvre.

The guards threw her onto the bed, tying her down as instructed. They laughed, exchanging crude jokes in their guttural language, but she ignored them. Her focus was on Turnspit.

When the door finally shut, leaving her alone, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. The ropes were tight, but not unbreakable. She tested them gently, careful not to give away her intentions. If she was to escape, it would require perfect timing and the right opportunity.

But what if Turnspit had a different plan? Perhaps he had chosen her to protect her from a worse fate at the hands of another, or maybe he intended to use this moment to gain her trust—or to test it.

When Turnspit finally entered the room, Calliope lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her voice was calm, devoid of fear, but with an edge that hinted at her own power.

"Marcus," she said softly, using his real name, a reminder that she knew him as more than just the Emperor's dog. "I would have expected a man of your cunning to choose more wisely. But perhaps you have a plan after all?"

She watched him carefully, searching his face for any sign of his true intentions. This was no ordinary encounter, and she refused to be reduced to a pawn without understanding the game.

"Tell me," she continued, her voice steady, "what is it you truly want, Marcus? The Emperor may have given you command over my body, but you and I both know that power is more than just physical. Do you intend to use this moment to claim your reward, or do you have something else in mind?"

Her words were a challenge, an invitation for him to reveal his hand. Whatever came next, she was determined to remain in control of her own fate, even if it meant playing a dangerous game with one of Rome's most dangerous men.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

He took his leave from the Emperor. He went down to the catacombs and found the Senator. Two German mercenaries were there and they had stretched the Senator out. Had stripped him naked. His face was puffy from the beating, his cock shriveled and almost non-existent, his body bruised so that he looked fat and blue and bloated. Nothing like a leader of Rome.

Turnspit went to him. His dagger out as the Roman looked down at him through black and blue coated eyes. "I have one question for you and you may simply shake your head yes or no, if you do that, your death will be quick." He waited until the Senator looked at him and then slightly nodded his head. Turnspit felt for the man. He was defending the honor of his daughter, but there was no more honor in Rome. "Leave us" he said to the two Germans as he was left staring up at a former and beaten man hanging from a meat hook.

"Was Lady Calliope involved in any of your plotting." He made eye contact with the Senator. The Senator just slowly shook his head "no" as the dagger went up and into his chest and then his heart. Turnsit stayed there, watching as the power that was in the Senator left his skull, his breathe slowing and then ceasing. He opened the door, knowing the Germans would cut the Senators dick off and place it in his mouth but he went up to his room and opened the door.

She was a vision. In her sleek shimmery dress and her ankles tied with the rope, he could see why any man would want to ravish her.

"What is it you truly want Marcus.'

He went to her, removing the same dagger he had recently used to kill a Senator as he worked on her binds. Still saying nothing, he reached down and massaged the circulation back into her ankles. He then went up to her wrists and cut them free, sitting on the bed next to her as he massaged her right wrist and left wrist, working them in a clockwise motion until he saw the white pallor begin to circulate again. He laid the dagger beside her on the bed.

"He is a mad man and most be stopped. If he isn't we all die, but believe me when I say this, we mustn't let the barbarians know of his death or the legions."

"There, good as new" was all he said as he went down to his field pack and took out something to lie his head on. He went to the corner of the room and laid flat on the floor. "Your safest place is here tonight Calliope because Caligula had hired two men to kill you in the orgy. If they didn't get you there, they were to follow you home and kill your entire family. If you don't go home, your family is safe, but if they ask in the morning, you must tell them I was the best you ever had." He wedged his legs against the door to make sure they would have an early warning if someone tried to burst in as he sat his gladius next to him. "And what is it you want Calliope?"

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope sat up slowly, her wrists still tingling from the renewed circulation, the slight sting of the ropes a reminder of the strange intimacy she had just experienced. She watched Marcus—Turnspit, as the world knew him—settle down on the cold floor, his gladius ready by his side. The man was a paradox, a lethal force yet seemingly dedicated to her protection. The same hands that had killed a senator moments ago now gently massaged the feeling back into her limbs. She was intrigued, but more than that, she was surprised.

She had expected brutality, or at the very least, cold indifference. Instead, there was a strange kind of care in his actions, a quiet defiance of the role he was supposed to play. The room was silent except for the steady rise and fall of Marcus's breath, and she found herself studying him, searching for the truth behind his enigmatic exterior.

"Marcus," she began softly, testing the name on her tongue, feeling its weight. "I must admit, you've caught me off guard. You speak of madness and death, yet here you are, offering me safety and placing yourself on the cold floor, as if you were the servant and not the one who just chose me in front of the entire court."

She paused, considering her next words carefully. The situation was delicate, and the wrong move could unravel whatever strange alliance was forming between them. But then again, Calliope was a master of words, and she had spent her life navigating the treacherous waters of Roman politics.

"What do I want?" she echoed, her voice thoughtful. "I want my family safe, of course. I want to live another day in this viper's nest of a city, and I want to see Caligula's reign end before it consumes us all." Her eyes flicked to the dagger he had laid beside her, then back to him. "But more than that, I want to understand you, Marcus. You've shown me kindness where I expected none, and now you protect me from a fate worse than death. Why?"

She leaned back against the bedpost, her posture relaxed but her mind racing. This man—this Turnspit—was an enigma wrapped in violence and mystery. He could have taken her as the Emperor commanded, yet he did not. Instead, he spoke of protecting her, of a greater plan, and she needed to know where she fit into it all.

"What drives you?" she asked, her tone curious but edged with the sharpness of someone who had survived too long in a world of deception. "Is it merely survival, or is there something more? You chose me tonight, and I need to know why. Was it to protect me, or is there something else you seek? We both play dangerous games, Marcus, but perhaps we can find common ground."

She watched him closely, every muscle in her body coiled, not out of fear, but out of anticipation. The power dynamics had shifted, and she wanted to see what he would do next. In this moment, the two of them were caught in a delicate dance, one that could tip the scales of power in Rome, and Calliope intended to be the one leading the steps.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

No one had ever talked to him. No one had asked questions; he had been a reliable soldier. One that when commanded to "hold the line" did that, he "held the line". One that when he was told to slaughter he did that until his sword hand could rise no more did exactly that.

"Fifteen years in the legion. You live in Rome and you are.......soft. You don't understand the good Rome does and the evil, you simply see it as some kind of 'great game'." He felt the handle of his gladius. The heft. It was so easy to kill with this. "If the legions fail on the borders, a fate worse than Caligula, a fate worse then death awaits us all. That boy you love so much, the one that plays the harp? If he is lucky he will be sold into slavery to work the mines until he dies at the age of 25." He wasn't joking, he was in earnest. "Fresh running water, roads that allow trade, spices from almost anywhere. They all come from what you created." Did she notice he didn't say Caligula?

"But if we don't watch out, it all ends. It would be easy to poison Caligula, he eats anything and is a victim of his own avarice, but what then? I will tell you, those 2000 German mercenaries that I hand picked will decide the next emperor and he will be even worse."

He longed to touch her. To massage her beautiful and dainty ankle again. "But we can't have him, we have to go back to the life's before the Ceaser, one where we have people of virtue making decisions for us." He had said too much. He didn't know her. Why was he breaking down now, was it because she was a beautiful woman?

"I suggest you think long and hard about your next decision. Killing Caligula does not solve your problems, it just creates new ones unless you have a plan to rule."

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope listened intently, her eyes never leaving Marcus as he spoke. His words were raw, laced with a bitterness born from years of service and the harsh realities of the empire. This was a man who had seen the very worst of humanity and had come out the other side, hardened but not entirely without hope. She could sense the turmoil within him, the internal struggle between duty and a deeper, more personal sense of justice. And yet, she found herself drawn to this man who had been shaped by the sword and the legion.

As he spoke of the legions, of the horrors that could descend upon Rome if the empire fell, Calliope felt a pang of fear for her son. She could envision the nightmare Marcus described—the barbarian hordes, the loss of everything they held dear. But Calliope was not one to be easily cowed. She had always known that her destiny, and that of her son, lay in ruling. If not directly, then through those she could influence, those she could mold to her will. She had played the game long enough to know that power could be wielded from behind the scenes, as surely as from a throne.

Calliope rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, the silken fabric of her dress whispering against the floor as she approached Marcus. Her eyes softened as she looked down at him, a man who had fought and bled for Rome, a man who now sought something more than just survival. She could see the burden he carried, and in that moment, she felt a connection to him—a kindred spirit, of sorts.

"You are right, Marcus," she said softly, her voice a mix of understanding and quiet resolve. "Rome is more than just an empire. It is the lifeblood of civilization, and it must be protected at all costs. But you and I both know that protection comes not just from the sword, but from wisdom, from vision."

She knelt beside him, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand, the one that had so gently massaged her wrists. There was a warmth in her touch, a silent acknowledgment of the trust he had shown her, of the vulnerability he had revealed. "I do not see Rome as a game," she continued, her tone gentle yet firm. "I see it as the future for my son, for those who will come after us. I do not seek to kill Caligula for revenge or out of ambition alone. I seek to create a Rome where virtue can flourish once more, where my son can grow into a man who will lead with wisdom and strength."

She paused, letting her words hang in the air, her eyes searching his for understanding. "You speak of people of virtue, Marcus. I intend to be one of those people. And yes, I intend to rule—if not in name, then in influence, until my son is ready to take his rightful place. But I cannot do it alone."

Calliope leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "We must find a way to make Rome stronger, to guide it through this madness and emerge on the other side. I need someone like you by my side—someone who understands the cost of failure, who knows what it takes to hold the line. Together, we can shape the future of Rome."

She pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his, a flicker of something more than just political ambition in her eyes. "But tell me, Marcus, will you stand with me? Will you help me ensure that Rome does not fall into chaos, that my son—and your Rome—has a future worth fighting for?"

There was a subtle invitation in her words, a recognition of the attraction that had begun to simmer between them. But there was also something deeper—an offer of partnership, of shared purpose in a world that had lost its way. Calliope knew that if she was to survive, if she was to rule, she needed allies. And in Marcus, she saw not just a soldier, but a man who could be so much more.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

Marcus pondered her invitation, his gladius between his legs, point down and into the ground. She was teasing him and he was responding. Calliope had grown up in Rome, knew of it's intrigues and it's seduction while Turnspit had been fighting tribes. It wasn't that he was sexually inexperienced, he was not, he had just never had to deal with words like poets and then a woman inches from his ear, her smell, her voice, her feminine charms.

So she was inviting him to a partnership? He stood up and his arms moved under hers. He swept her up in a carry, taking her to the bed and she would feel herself being dropped on it. Already his hands were going to her dress, looking for the buttons, almost trembling while his mouth went out to meet hers.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope allowed herself to be swept up by Marcus, feeling the strength of his arms as he carried her to the bed. The suddenness of his actions, the urgency in his movements, told her everything she needed to know about the depth of his attraction. He was a man of action, used to seizing what he wanted, and in this moment, he wanted her.

But as his hands fumbled with the buttons of her dress, and his lips moved toward hers, Calliope gently placed her hand on his chest, just above his heart. She felt its rapid beat beneath her fingers, a testament to the passion and the tension that had been building between them. With a soft, deliberate motion, she pushed back slightly, creating a small but undeniable distance between them.

Her eyes met his, filled with understanding but also with a quiet resolve. "Marcus," she whispered, her voice a blend of tenderness and command. "This is not how our partnership will begin. You are a man of strength, of purpose. I see that, and I respect it. But if we are to achieve what we must, we need to be deliberate in every step we take."

She let her hand linger on his chest for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of his skin, before slowly withdrawing it. "Rome does not bend to passion alone. It is shaped by careful hands, by those who understand that true power is not seized in a single night. It is cultivated, nurtured, and grown over time."

Calliope sat up, smoothing the fabric of her dress with graceful, unhurried movements. She looked at Marcus with a mixture of affection and seriousness. "I do not reject you, Marcus," she said, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken promises. "But tonight, we must think of Rome. We must think of the future we wish to build, not just for ourselves, but for all who depend on us."

She reached out and gently touched his cheek, her fingers brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw. "Desire is a powerful tool," she continued, her tone soft but firm. "But like any tool, it must be wielded with care. I want you to want me, Marcus, just as I want you. But I want it to be for more than just this moment. I want it to be for the future we can create together."

With that, she rose from the bed, her movements fluid and poised. She turned to face him, her expression one of quiet determination. "We have work to do, Marcus. There will be a time for us—when Rome is secure, when we have laid the foundations of a new order. But tonight, let us focus on what must be done."

She took a step toward the door, then paused, glancing back at him with a small, knowing smile. "Remember this night, Marcus. Let it be a promise of what is to come, not just a fleeting moment of passion. We will build something great together. But greatness takes time."

With that, she left the room, leaving behind the lingering scent of her perfume and the echo of her words. The night was still young, and there were many steps yet to take. But in her heart, Calliope knew she had begun to weave the threads of a bond that would bind them both to a future that was as enticing as it was dangerous.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

The walls have eyes and ears. No sooner had Calliope left, Turnspit left with her fragrance and the touch of her fingertips than a spy was soon seen going into Caligula's room.

"Did you hear her moans and is she still moaning" Caligula said in almost childlike glee, the women on either side of him turning away, just wishing for a respite from insatiable desires.

"No, my god and she is gone."

"Were they plotting." Even Caligula had to smile at this, the thought of Turnspit actually having a human plan was inconceivable.

"I couldn't hear my Lord, but Calliope has a silver tongue, one that for the good of Rome must be cut out of her mouth."

Caligula held his hand up and in the darkness a servant handed him a chalice. He drank greedily and then said to the spy:

"She does owe me a dance". The spy simply said "and this evening (it was 4:06 AM on the sundial) I think she should come back and give you a private dance. Caligula merely smiled and said "yes, I think I would like a mature and ripe apple to suckle on this evening." Into the shadows went the spy as Caligula merely slapped the ass of the woman on his right, having her stay on her chest for him.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Calliope had left Marcus with a sense of quiet satisfaction, though she knew the night was far from over. The moment she stepped outside, the cool night air sharpened her instincts. She was acutely aware that Rome’s shadows were alive with spies, and that her every move was being watched.

Marcus's words echoed in her mind, his warning like a constant drumbeat. She had no intention of going home tonight—her villa, while grand and secure, was no sanctuary in the face of Caligula’s wrath. The Emperor was not one to forgive easily, and she knew he would find a way to satisfy his bruised pride.

As she walked through the silent streets, her decision crystallized. She turned her steps toward the Temple of Vesta. The sacred fire burned there, tended by the Vestal Virgins, guardians of Rome’s eternal flame. It was a place of purity, of divine protection, and more importantly, it was a place where even Caligula’s influence waned.

The temple stood at the heart of Rome, a structure of marble and mystery. The Vestals, bound by their vows of chastity and service, were untouchable by law and tradition. Calliope knew that seeking refuge here would be seen as an audacious move, but it was also the safest.

She approached the temple, her silken robes fluttering in the night breeze, and was greeted by one of the senior Vestals, a woman with stern eyes softened by the years of her service. “Lady Calliope,” the woman intoned, her voice respectful but curious. “It is late, and the temple is not accustomed to visitors at this hour.”

Calliope inclined her head, her voice steady as she replied, “I seek sanctuary for the night, Sister. The city is restless, and I believe it is in the temple’s interest as well as mine that I remain here until dawn.”

The Vestal regarded her for a long moment, as if weighing the balance of risk and tradition. Finally, she nodded, stepping aside to allow Calliope to enter. “You may stay, but remember, Lady Calliope, the temple’s protection is sacred. It cannot shield you from the dangers of the world beyond its walls indefinitely.”

Calliope smiled, a subtle curve of her lips that hinted at the layers of her thoughts. “I understand, and I am grateful. This night will pass, and with it, much else.”

Inside the temple, the air was cool, and the flickering flames cast long shadows on the stone walls. The stillness was a balm to her nerves, and she allowed herself a moment of peace, knowing that here, under the watchful eyes of the gods, she was beyond Caligula’s immediate reach.

As she settled into the quiet of the sacred space, Calliope’s mind turned to the morrow. The Emperor would expect her to return, to fulfill his twisted desires, and she needed a plan. Marcus was right—Caligula had to be stopped, but it couldn’t be an impulsive act. It required precision, strategy, and patience.

Here, surrounded by the symbols of Rome’s enduring spirit, Calliope began to plot. She thought of her son, of Marcus, of the power she still held and the alliances she could forge. Her path was dangerous, but if walked carefully, it could lead to a future where she, and those she cared about, could emerge victorious.

But for tonight, she would rest. Tomorrow, Rome would still be there, with all its dangers and intrigues. Tomorrow, she would face the Emperor again, not as his plaything, but as a woman with a plan—a woman who intended to win, no matter the cost.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

While Calliope slept.

They came to the Casa Callida. Four men and they didn't go for the front entrance like the Emperor's assassin's would have done. No, they relied on stealth and they came for the Calliope, the Greek, Lysandra and the boy Vibius.

Bypassing the atrium, they struck for Calliope first. Dagger's drawn, the moonlight showing in their shafts as two went to find her and two the Greek. The Greek was laying peacefully on his cot in the servant's quarters when the first blade caught him. It missed his jugular by a quarter of an inch and he managed a scream before the next one found its mark. Calliope's room was empty. Not with the dog, not at home, they would have to report this back, but the Greek's scream was enough to get Lysandra out.

Like a Harpy she attacked, catching one on the shoulder with a blade, trying to buy time as hands enveloped her and took her to the ground. Low, gutteral sounds as she was punched into submission and then down to Vibius room.

Barely had Lysandra bought enough time as they saw the open window the boy had fled through. They were to bring him alive and they knew it, but they were to bring him. Any great grandson of Augustus, for they had someone very conversant on genealogy hire them and the boy had to appear on knee before Caligula as they went out into the streets, one taking Lysandra over his shoulder and east. The other 3 searching for the boy.

It was the gods will. The next morning the beautiful Villa would be seen with tapestry's ruined and the words "Gaul fucker" and "Leave Rome" written through out the ruined Casa.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

The dawn broke over Rome, painting the sky with a soft, golden hue that did little to reflect the storm brewing within Calliope. As she approached the Casa Callida, the sight that greeted her was a vision of ruin. Her heart, hardened by years of courtly intrigue and deception, skipped a beat. The once magnificent villa, a testament to her family's legacy, now lay in shambles.

The grand entrance was desecrated with vulgar inscriptions, and the rich tapestries that once spoke of luxury and refinement were slashed, their beauty reduced to tatters. The words "Gaul fucker" and "Leave Rome" were smeared across the walls, a grotesque mockery of the life she had carefully constructed. But it wasn't the destruction of her home that ignited the fire in her chest—it was the absence of her son, Vibius, and Lysandra.

Her steps quickened, heart pounding in her chest, as she moved through the wreckage. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. She found the Greek servant's lifeless body first, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, stifling a cry that would have echoed through the empty halls. This was no ordinary attack; it was calculated, brutal, and deeply personal.

She made her way to Vibius' chamber, hoping against hope that her son had escaped this madness. The open window and the dishevelled state of the room suggested he had fled. Relief mingled with dread. Vibius was smart, resourceful even, but he was still just a boy. The streets of Rome were unforgiving, especially now.

Lysandra was gone, likely taken by the attackers. Calliope's mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic blend of fear and fury. This was Caligula's doing; she was certain of it. He was pushing her, testing her resolve, and in doing so, he had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. He had unleashed a wrath within her that even he could not comprehend.

There was no time to mourn, no time to dwell on what was lost. She needed to act swiftly, decisively. Vibius was out there, alone, possibly in danger, and Lysandra—faithful, fierce Lysandra—was in the hands of Caligula's henchmen. The time for subtlety was over. Caligula had to be removed, and not just removed—eradicated. Rome could no longer suffer his madness, and she could no longer play the passive bystander. If her son was to have any future, she had to secure it with her own hands.

She needed Marcus.

Calliope found a servant, one who had hidden himself away during the attack, terrified but loyal. She penned a quick message, her hand steady despite the turmoil within her. The message was brief, direct, and conveyed the urgency of the situation.

"Marcus,

They have taken Lysandra. Vibius is missing. The Casa Callida is in ruins. Caligula's madness has gone too far. I need your help. We must act now. There is no other choice.

Meet me at the Temple of Vesta tonight.

Calliope"

She sealed the message with the insignia of her house and handed it to the servant. "Deliver this to Marcus," she commanded, her voice calm but edged with steel. "No one else. You are to tell no one of this."

As the servant hurried off, Calliope allowed herself a moment to breathe, to collect her thoughts. The plot was already forming in her mind. The Senate was fractured, but there were those who still held loyalty to the idea of a sane, stable Rome. There were also those who despised Caligula's tyranny and would welcome a change in leadership, especially if it meant the reinstatement of a more traditional, republican rule.

But it was not the Senate that would bring about Caligula's end. No, it would be the legions, the very soldiers who had once revered her husband, who now served under a madman's command. She would need Marcus to sway them, to convince them that Rome's future depended on Caligula's removal. Once the Emperor was gone, she could position Vibius as the legitimate heir—a boy of noble blood, with a lineage that traced back to Augustus himself.

And Marcus… he would stand by her side, as protector and as the force that would bring down Caligula's reign of terror. But tonight, she needed to secure his loyalty, to bind him to her cause not just with reason, but with the power of her presence, her determination.

The plan was dangerous, but she was no longer afraid. The anger that burned within her was sharper than any fear, more potent than any hesitation. Caligula had pushed her too far, and now, he would face the consequences.

Rome would be hers to command, and her son would sit on the throne, or she would see the entire empire burn trying to achieve it.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

Turnspit woke from a restless night. Rome was active; he could feel it in his bones. His spies were largely absent and when he saw the Roman who was in charge of Caligula's security, he told them "nothing to worry about" but added that patrols were not leaving today because of resistance from the pleb's.

More disconcerting was when he went down to his dungeon. He had created it, he had staffed it and he had used it to gain information, make serious threats to Caligula disappear and to threaten. He had found it was an effective operation and he thought he had the pulse on Rome. But going down, he saw a legionaire that barred his way to the right.

Instinctively his hand went to his dagger as two Germans appeared. 'My dungeon, I set it up." The German simply told him in the native tongue "it is Caligula, he is holding some prisoners and no one is allowed in that part, understand Marcus that we have orders to kill you, so you should leave Rome.'

The whole city on fire as Turnspit left the Palace, he was going to Calliope's Villa and would try to convince her to flee with him.. He moved quickly away from the palace towards the villa's on the hills.. Nothing stopped him, the guards that should be there weren't. It was just him and the dogs. The real dogs in the streets of Rome and that is when he heard the growl.

Almost wolflike as he turned to see a boy of about 14 cornered by three feral dogs. They were yapping, afraid to charge him yet, waiting for him to make a thrust with the stick in his hands, so the other two could go low and underneath it and bring the boy to his knees.

"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRa" the loud call he used in the presence of Caligula as the dogs saw him and fled. He went to the boy as he simply said "you are Calliope's son, aren't you?" The boy was muddy.......bruised......certainly the worse for wear as he tried to look stoic as he simply nodded "yes" as tears began to run down his face. It was then that he heard the Germans marching. They were coming for the villa's on the hills.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

The Temple of Vesta, with its sacred flame flickering in the early morning light, had become Calliope's sanctuary—a place where she could gather her thoughts and steel herself for the challenges ahead. The events of the night before had left her in a state of simmering rage, tempered by a newfound clarity of purpose. Caligula's assault on her family was not just an attack on her life, but an attack on everything she had worked for, everything she intended to claim.

As she prepared to leave the temple, she knew she had no time to waste. The desecration of her villa was a clear message from Caligula, but he had underestimated her resolve. He had unleashed a fury within her that would see him toppled from his throne and replaced by her son, Vibius. For years, she had played the game of power with careful precision, maneuvering through the treacherous waters of Roman politics with grace and cunning. But now, the gloves were off. She would no longer be the power behind the throne; she would seize it, for herself and for Vibius.

As she stepped out into the morning light, her mind was already turning over the next steps. She had sent her message to Marcus, the only man she could trust now, but she needed to ensure her son's safety above all else. Vibius was the key to her future, the embodiment of her legacy, and Rome's only hope for stability after the madness of Caligula.

She moved swiftly through the city, her cloak pulled tightly around her to avoid drawing attention. The streets were already thick with tension, the plebs stirring restlessly, sensing the turmoil brewing among their rulers. As she approached the ruins of her once-proud villa, her heart clenched at the sight. The destruction was more brutal in the harsh light of day. But her eyes quickly searched for signs of Vibius, praying that he had managed to escape.

The moment she spotted Marcus, standing protectively over a bedraggled, muddy boy, a rush of relief swept through her. Vibius. He was alive, though battered and bruised, a testament to the danger that had so narrowly passed. She could see the tears streaking down his dirt-covered face, the fear and uncertainty that no child should have to endure. But more than that, she saw the strength he would need to survive what was coming. He was her son, Augustus's blood ran through his veins, and she would see him on the throne.

"Vibius," she breathed, rushing forward to wrap him in her arms. "You are safe now, my love." She kissed the top of his head, holding him close, feeling his small frame tremble against her. "We are together, and that is what matters."

She looked up at Marcus, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and urgency. "We cannot stay here. Caligula's men will be upon us soon, if they are not already. We must leave the city, regroup, and plan our next move."

She pulled back to look at Vibius, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You are the future of Rome, my son," she whispered, her voice firm. "I will see you on the throne, where you belong. But first, we must be wise, we must be strong."

Turning to Marcus, she continued, "Caligula's madness has reached its peak, and Rome cannot survive under his rule any longer. I will see him fall, Marcus, and I will do whatever it takes to protect my son and restore order to this city."

Her mind raced with possibilities. They would need allies—men in the Senate who could be swayed, commanders in the legions who still held loyalty to the idea of Rome, not the tyrant who claimed to rule it. Marcus was right; removing Caligula was only the first step. They would need a plan to control the aftermath, to ensure that no more monsters arose from the chaos.

"I will not go quietly into the shadows," she said, her voice growing colder, more determined. "Rome is mine to command, and I will see Vibius ascend to the throne, or I will burn this empire to the ground."

She looked back at her son, her eyes softening slightly. "We must leave, but we will return. Stronger, smarter, and ready to take what is ours. Rome will be ruled by those who are worthy, by those who understand the true meaning of power. And I will make sure that my son's reign will be remembered as the beginning of a new golden age."

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Marcus once more. "We need to move quickly. There is a safe house on the outskirts of the city—a place where we can regroup, gather our strength, and plan our next steps. We will go there, and then we will make Caligula's fall inevitable."

As they made their way through the chaos of the city, Calliope's mind was already working, calculating, planning. The throne would be hers, and no one—not even the gods themselves—would stand in her way.

 

[Victorian_Virtue]

Rome was a city in anarchy. Lawlessness and looting had started as three figures, all heavily cloaked in the external garb of the pleb's made their way through its wind blown streets. The streets smelled of feces and garbage and rot and Marcus didn't know if the rot was from within or without, but his arm was around Calliope's shoulders who had the small Vibius held in front of her, almost like a child. They stopped for water once. It was a place that Turnspit new would be clean and fresh and once a mob approached. They had just turned a corner and the rabble was behind them, so two sides had the walls of the forum and the other two were thronged with a mob bent on chaos.

Turnspit stood in front of his two companions, his cloak open to display his gladius as the mob approached.

"He's one of them!"

Refusing to retreat or even acknowledge the ones hurling insults at him, he stood his ground. The mob threw trash at him; old turnips and fruit, beans from drinks and he stood his ground. They were trying to bull rush the three as they wanted to rob them, to cut their throats and destroy anything good in Rome and still he held his ground like a Legionaire at the border.

"Charge him" the back ranks cried and he finally replied.

"The first three that charge me die." A simple statement of fact. He did not ponder what would happen to the fourth or fifth, but his body was toned, the adrenaline flowing through him as you could see his muscles tense and flick. The crowd thought better of itself. They didn't appear to have that much money, certainly not the 1% of Rome given the state of their cloaks and it was a woman and a small child. What would happen if they killed them? What retribution would there be from the gods?

Turnspit simply said "we are coming through, he who touches the woman or child dies like a dog."

And Turnspit now had his gladius out, one hand on Calliope's hand who had shielded Vibius. They parted the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea as the three of them walked through the crowd. Turnspit knew that Caligula would soon hear word of them, but for now they were through the crowd and headed to the hills.