The Concubine (Fanatic/Nika)

[Fanatic]

General Atticus Lupis Scippo, the overall leader of three Roman Legions and countless auxiliary units based in Germania enters his command tent. It is almost a palace as far as tents go because it has multiple rooms since it doubles as his quarters in the field.. There are scrolls and maps strewn across tables. Many flags and standards adorn the place as well as a few small statues, carvings, and busts.

The General is in his mid twenties. At about 6 feet tall he is a large man by Roman standards but hardly so by the local tribes’ standards as they have many large mountainous men. His hair is dark and closely cropped as is his mustaches and beard. He has piercing eyes that many of the local tribes find unnerving saying that he can stare through your soul like a wolf. This is fitting of his nickname “The Wolf of the Legions”.

Atticus is dressed in his battle armor. His helmet has a wolfs head emblazoned on its front and a large red hair plume down its center. Upon his breastplate there is also a silver wolf centered. He is covered in blood, soot, and grime. Accompanying him is his personal bodyguard Anthony Casca; a burly olive skinned man who is also dressed in armor and likewise covered in gore.

Following them into the tent is Atticus’ second in command Cassius Valleri. Dressed in Roman battle armor Cassius is a short stout man in his late thirties with graying hair. He is accompanied by his personal bodyguard Fuscus Cornelli; a tall black man with rippling muscles who is dressed in exotic armor of his homeland. They are likewise covered in the grime of battle.

As they all enter six Praetorian guards stationed inside to guard all of the maps and secrets held within the tent snap to attention. Although the Praetorians do not take orders from Atticus or Cassius they do so out of respect. The Praetorians answer only to their commander and Caesar, but it is common practice for them to have an attachment in frontier camps to act as a not so secret police that “guard” the important officers of the legions.

Atticus puts them at ease with a motion of his hand and then asks them to leave which they do, taking up post outside the large tents two entrances’. Taking off his helmet it is obvious that Atticus is aggravated as he speaks to Cassius “I don’t care who they are Cassius! To Hades with them! They preformed like frightened children! They were on the verge of breaking and running. If we hadn’t taken matters into our own hands those rebels could have won the day” he said.

“But they didn’t, Wolf” Cassius said earning a stern look from his superior for calling him the nickname that friends called him and even those that aren’t (behind his back) call him throughout the empire.

“No they didn’t” the Wolf scowled in agreement; annoyed at the fact of the disgraceful way one of the legions under both of their command had performed while battling rebels. “But they get no rest. They stay on the line! In two days when we return to their last holdout they will either lead us to victory or will pay the consequence. Do you understand?” he added.

“Yes general” Cassuis replies fully understanding what Atticus had just said.

Atticus then motions to a female servant standing quietly in the corner. She bows then brings a pitcher of wine and four goblets for the generals and their bodyguards. She is about 18. Tall and red headed she is dressed only in a loincloth. Her well kept hair curls down her shoulders stopping just shy of her young firm breasts. Before handing each goblet she pours some wine then takes a drink of each to prove they aren’t poisoned. Still each bodyguard drinks from their general’s goblet just the same. Satisfied that there is no poison all four the men down the wine.

Just as they down the wine and pour another a messenger enters the tent and hands his satchel to Atticus. Along with the standard dispatches from Rome is a sealed letter from his father Senator Claudius Decimus Scippio. Breaking the seal he quickly reads the letter then tosses it into the fire as was his custom with personal correspondence. He then tells the messenger “Have them put everything in my bedchambers.”

Then turning to the others he says “It seems the gods and my father have smiled upon me with gifts from home. If you don’t mind I’ll excuse myself to my chambers to clean up. I’ve been on the frontier for too long and am anxious to see what my dear father sends. I promise to share the wealth with you my friends; once I see what delicacies he’s sent."

Scippio shakes each mans hands happily and then has the female slave accompany him to his bed chambers to assist in cleaning him up as Cassius, Fuscus, and Anthony retire to their quarters. Once in the chamber Scippio removes his grimy armor, his Gladius (Roman sword), and his Pugio (Roman dagger) and give them to a young boy who acts as his squire, to be cleaned. Then stripping out of his clothing he reveals a muscular, athletic body that is sprinkled with the scars of an active warrior. He climbs into a recently prepared bath along with the slave who has now stripped naked and starts cleaning the grime of the battlefield from her master.

Halfway through the bath, porters carry in two trunks full of goods from Rome. They quietly set them in the doorway just inside the chamber behind the general and his slave out of their view and leave. Then a young blond haired woman enters and stands by the trunks. She is well dressed, in a tunic fit for a citizen of Rome. She waits patiently if somewhat nervously as Atticus and his slave finish his bath.

 

[~Nika~]

Soft deer-hide boots treaded warily behind the servant that led his slender charge through the tent's various curtains. With a curt word and a bow from the boy, the woman was left to wait yet again, left to her thoughts as various heavy trunks and treasures were carried down from the transport, into the tents, and past her. The Vestalis wrinkled her nose, hidden behind the soft white slip of a face-veil, and brushed back the hood of her furred cloak. The camp smelled of smoke, men, and death.

This was no ceremonial trip. She had not been transported in a carpentum surrounded by her softly-singing sisters and swinging incense. Instead, she had been carted away in a military caravan. It had not been uncomfortable, she had been given pleasant food and furs and no male hands had touched her, nor had her guardians spoken much to her. It had been disorienting for the first few days, but she feared no harm from the hands of Romans. She was chaste, and for her was always reserved a place of deified honor. The trip had been a long one. She had begged information at the last stop on the verge of tears, but she was met with only silence. That was three days ago.

Haughty eyes roamed across the tent in which she had been told to wait, drifting over the finery as well as the grisly weapons of war. The girl was rather composed, for one who had been ripped from her Vestal bed in the dead of night and ushered out of the Temple's doors without even a word from the matron priestess. Delicate brows furrowed as she once more mulled silently over her vows, and the duties she no longer attended… the sacred fire that burned in Vesta's temple, some thousands of miles behind her.

Alicia Saputo of Roma looked over to the boy servant who had uttered her name, holding open a curtain for her with his head lowered, eyes fixated on the floor in reverence. He purposefully inclined himself lower than her stature, but he needn't try too hard, as the fair-haired one stood taller than many of the young women of Rome, as she did the young nervous child here. The woman paused, hearing the faint splash of water sound from beyond it, but stepped gingerly within the inner tent, beside the trunks brought from their caravan. Without a word, the boy left, and the woman raised her eyes.

The were blue, and they grew wide as they fell upon the entwined forms within the steaming bath water.

"Vesta!" Came the breathy whisper, the shock registering in the maiden's eyes before her body reacted.

Quickly she turned her face away, her white robes now stark against her reddening cheeks. Wishing she also had the large, modest silken hood of her temple to cover her head, Alicia made do with facing her back to the erotic scene behind her. Her hair spilled down her back, having been combed out by one of the women before disembarking, gold strands pulled back from her face and twisted into a small braided bun perched above the waves. The girl's mind was working furiously now, heat in her cheeks mirroring the angry heat in her chest. Who would dare leave a Vestalis in the same chamber as a unclothed man and his… his…

She blushed hotter, the fury of her thoughts alarming her. It had been a Legionnaire. A warrior, fierce and uninhibited, like the stories she had been told of his kind. Battle-worn, with strong-set shoulders and brows, deep eyes and a posture that seemed both contemplative and relaxed... and yet as keenly tuned as a wolf's. He positively dwarfed the little thing sat in his lap, or perhaps it was his aura.

Trying to calm her whirling angry passion into something more befitting of a priestess, Alicia's eyes stared hard at the portal from which she entered. Those who had brought her here had done so for a reason. What reason, the lone Vestalis, could not comprehend. Was she to preform a ritual here on the edges of the wild as the Daughter of the State in hopes of a Victory? She was a protector of the hearth… what business did she have in such wild, untamed lands? What business within the camp of such dangerous Men, within the private chambers of a Blood-Letter!?

Where was she? Her eyes alighted upon a map, and she struggled to make sense of the pieces perched upon it.

 

[Fanatic]

Finishing bathing, Atticus and his slave step out of the tub. Drying off her master the girl notices the young blond woman standing behind Atticus and calls her masters attention to her. Turning around to see what the girl was whispering about in her barbarian tongue, Atticus sees a beautiful blond woman studying a nearby map.

Motioning to his slave to be quiet, he stares at the beauty before him. He had been away from civilization for too long. It is almost as if her beauty were an assault on his eyes as he had become accustomed to all of the harshness of this forsaken land. Having only seen slaves and the local barbarians it had been ages since he had seen a proper woman. And that is how he saw her; a proper woman. He could sense that she was truly a gift from the gods. Well, not the gods actually; she was actually a gift from his father.

Senator Claudius Decimus Scippio had sent her as a gift to Atticus. He had mentioned in his letter that she was “special” and would be a good choice for a concubine to keep him company in the harsh frontier. By the way she carried herself the general could tell that she was indeed special. The thought of taking this woman to his bed started to arouse Atticus.

It is obvious to him that the girl is nervous as he observes her body language. Still unaware of Atticus’s studying eyes, the uneasy young woman looks sorely out of place. Not even thinking twice about his nudity or attempting to cover his nakedness Atticus says to the woman “Do you know where you are on that map?”

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia ignored the sound of the two exiting the bath, and the strange language of a soft feminine voice. However, when she heard the lower rumbling question break the silence of the tent, she turned quickly with a start. The man moved silently!

She had been to the Gladiatorial games, seen the feats of strength and sport male citizens participated in nude, but never, never had the Vestalis been so close a naked man. Not just any man, either... Her eyes lingered on the scars marring his flesh; the ghastly testament to a life hard-lived, hard-fought. Her eyes drifted lower and she caught herself with a flaming blush as she saw he was partially aroused. He was hard, rough, unlike the soft citizens of Rome, the old senators and women she grew up amongst. He was a man fit for survival.

Alicia had visibly taken a step back. Her startled eyes were frozen on him until she realized he approached no closer, and then they raised slowly to finally meet his. In their depths was her shock, horror, disgust, anger, but those were topical emotions. Something churned deeper within; something that made the maiden's wide eyes linger. Virginal curiosity. She knew now, as clear as his sharply-cut eyes, that she did not truly know what a man was.

Casting her eyes down to the map, she could feel his attention directed at her like a physical force, and worse, his eyes weighing on her. They made her feel as one stripped bare in the quiet tent, though she stood wrapped in heavy traveling linen and shaded her face with a customary veil. It took the woman a while to find words, but when she did speak, her voice was clear and strong, as if to mask the slight trembling of her hands,

"I do not. I was told nothing of the reason of my departure, nor why we travel north. I am weary to return already," she paused, raising a slender hand from behind the draping folds of her gown to point to the northern edge of Rome's expansion,

"We traveled North many days. There is a chill to the air here and strange faces," she murmured, trying to make sense of the clusters of pieces… until she simply swept her hand along the line they made on the continent, "somewhere here?" Alicia's eyes flicked up to his in question, but quickly returned to the map when she was once again reminded of his immodesty. How sensual he looked… No-- how bold to stand before a keeper of the hearth so brazenly! She should be furious, but all Alicia could feel was her pulse racing under her breast and her temple. She had so many questions, but how to ask them in such a situation!

She did not wish to offend him, for such opulence necessitated high-rank, whoever he was, but her's was a vow to the goddess. Cheek still turned, yet chin held high, her words were tight and her breath billowed out the veil on her face, "I am a Vestalis. Alicia Saputo of Vesta's Temple, Legionnaire. I ask you, cover... yourself."

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus’s slave girl drew in a breath in shock when Alicia asked for the general to cover himself. Although she wasn’t fluent in Roman she had picked up enough to realize the stranger was treading on dangerous ground. Immediately the slave started babbling to her master with an angry face. She spoke in a mixture of Roman and some foreign tongue. It seemed she was offended by this stranger’s request of her master. Chuckling softly the general laid his hand on her shoulder to try and calm her. And then he spoke several phrases to the slave in her native tongue. This seemed to calm the girl who then left the room.

Walking over to the map Atticus studied where Alicia had pointed and nodded approvingly. Then looking at her he smiled “You have an excellent sense of direction. Better than most.” he added. “You are right here to be exact’” he said pointing to a specific piece on the map very near the northern edge.

Atticus was amused at this creature who stood bravely before him, totally unaware that he was soon to be the most powerful man in the region in a couple of days. That is, as long as his legions crushed the large tribe of barbarians he had trapped a few miles away.

Hearing the curtains rustle Atticus turns to see the slave girl return carrying a tray with a wine pitcher, two goblets, and a tunic folded upon it. Taking the tunic Atticus slides it on over his head. Then poring two cups of wine he offers his guest one saying “Here. You must be parched.” Then continuing with a smile and, motion of his hand to his simple tunic he says “I hope you approve, Vestalis.”

Then he smiles and says “You flatter me when you call me Legionnaire. For they are what Rome is built on. The ones in this camp and the several other camps nearby are the best Rome can offer. So you honor me when you compare me. But I’m no Legionnaire. It is my honor to be their commander. I am General Atticus Lupis Scippio. Now dear Vestalis, would you please raise your veil so I might get a better look at whom I am addressing. It would make our conversation much easier. I have a few questions for you as I’m sure you do for me.”

Taking a drink of his wine, the General studies his guest. He is analyzing her every move, the way he does everything. Gaining information that Alicia never knew she was broadcasting.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia watched the foreign slave babble in her harsh language, waving her arms about and fussing. Was that a look of contempt on the young girl's face? Barbarians, these people of the north, even the slaves. She did not understand them, nor why the Legionnaire allowed the slave to speak so freely, but it was not her place to inquire into the private properties of another. She simply turned her face, impassively. Whatever had riled the slave was no concern of hers.

Impassively cool shoulders did tense however as the man approached her. He sauntered nude, no… his stance and gait reminded her more of a predator's prowl. The Vestalis did not lift her eyes off the map, nodding silently as she fixed her eyes on the piece and traced the miles upon miles south to the city of Rome. The most northern piece. Alicia felt the cold twist within her. She was the farthest of any Roman from Rome.

The woman did not lift her head until he was dressed. Taking the goblet from his hand, Alicia nodded as she glanced down to the dark liquid within the cup, "Many thanks, Legionnaire."

But no, he was not a Legionnare. A General, and a General commanding the best military forces of Rome. Alicia's eyes widened and flicked around the tent once more, before they fell back to the cup and her head dipped slightly in her embarrassment.

"An honor," she managed, "General. Forgive me, I did not know." The fingers of her left hand rose to undo the fastening clip that held her veil in place. It fell open, and the entirety of her delicate features were revealed, the smooth planes of her fair cheeks just below downcast eyes were dusted with a scattering of light spots, trailing over the bridge of her nose. The veil gave way to a expressive mouth, the corners of unpainted lips turned down. The tint of her blood still raised in her cheeks, she could once more feel his stare. Immediately, Alicia took a sip of the wine, soothing a nervous and now-dry throat. It wet her lips; unconsciously, she licked the droplet of moisture from her lip before glancing back to him. The wine had a strange flavor, similar to the wine of their home vineyards, yet strange.

"Forgive me," She apologized once more, "I was not told my purpose for this travel. A Vestal does not usually travel alone, and it is strange I should come so far without my sisters, for I am not the high priestess," Alicia caught herself rambling, and she paused to quiet the hidden panic in her voice,

"Am I to lead worship here? To bless this camp?" The strangeness of this turn of events could be seen written in her face, for once showing a flicker of uncertainty behind the poised facade. The girl was lost, unaware of her fate. She did not understand why she would be taken to the frontier, amongst men of battle, to bring a blessing of the hearth and home. These men were nowhere near their homes and families, how then, would a ceremony of one of the goddess Vesta's pledged Vestal Virgin's aid? The god these warriors prayed and sacrificed to was Mars.

One of the old myths came to her mind, unbidden and unwanted. Perhaps it was brought upon by the powerful man who stood before her.

The tale of Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin like herself. She, pure and chaste, was ripped from her vestal bed. Set upon and overpowered by the war god Mars. They had twins by him, Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome.

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus waved off her apology while saying “Think nothing of it. An honest mistake. And like I said it is my honor to command these fine men, so I was not insulted when you thought me one of them.” Still Atticus approved when she still dipped her head in embarrassment. It showed him that she had respect for his position and rank.

When the woman undid her veil, the general was in awe of her beauty. It was wise he decided, for her to wear the veil. Because on her long journey it might be tempting for some of the men along the route to take advantage of her. Despite the fact that she was traveling in a military caravan bound for his headquarters. And the Wolf had deduced that the stunning young woman was a Vestal Virgin. That would make the risk more worth the taking, to be the first to enter where no man had been.

Just to make sure he decided to ask if she was harmed by anyone or made uncomfortable in any way. He started with this because he truly cared, and it would help to soften the blow of what he was about to tell her. Before she answered he could see by her body language that the answer was no. But he looked at her seriously to let her know that he valued her well being and waited for an answer.

Still wearing the look of the menacing protector as he looked at the elegant young woman, Atticus started to answer her questions. “Alicia” he said. “You aren’t here to perform a blessing. And you aren’t traveling with your sisters for a reason. The temple has sold you, in a fashion. You have been released from your vows. You are no longer, Vestalis. You have been given to me as a gift, for my victories over the local barbarians; by some very powerful men in Rome.” Atticus let what he said sink in as he took a sip of his wine. He could tell by the confused look on her face that her mind was racing.

Deciding to continue, he slowly and softly breaks the news to Alicia. “It has been suggested to me that I make you my concubine. That would afford you of all the privileges of being my wife, while still leaving me open to marry for political purposes. By being my concubine you would be afforded all of the protection of my rank and position, along with what my family’s good standing offers. No person may lay a hand or speak harshly to you without answering to me. You are not a slave; you are above them. But you aren’t a citizen either. Still your position has its prestige and privilege. Do you understand?”

 

[~Nika~]

"No General, I suffered no violence in the weeks of my travel. I was well cared for, although the trip has been long and lonesome." She meant that in two ways; the loss of her homeland and her sisters so suddenly had been jarring, as well as the fact that her guards had been largely mute towards her, no matter how adamantly she pleaded for an explanation. His concern was another kindness offered to her, and it had the woman's shoulders softening somewhat. Perhaps here was an ally that would help speed her return to Rome.

The next words that left that firm mouth echoed through her being, the sound of his soft explanation resounding in her ears. At first her brows knitted together, and she stared with obvious confusion into his eyes, but those shaded orbs did not falter as they were fixed on her's. Alicia's thoughts numbed, her fingers tightening around her cup, "No,"

"You are mistaken-" she choked on her whisper in the lull of his words as she watched his arm raise to casually bring the cup bearing his wine to his lips as if they were discussing Rome in his absence, rather than her... sale. Sale? Hyperaware, her eyes fixed on the way the General's muscle moved beneath the skin of his forearm, how lightly his thicker calloused fingers held the cup, his throat working as he drank. The light glinting off the metal rim reflected in his eyes. Her mouth went dry. It was blasphemy, sacrilege. Who had purchased her? His words couldn't be true.

Alicia felt the chill rise up her spine, adrenaline tingling in her limbs. His voice was deafening as she tried to comprehend what she had lost, her new station. Her features morphed through a mixture of confusion, denial, shock and fear. When he had finished, the numbness that had settled around her like frost was shattered. Alicia's mind reeled; Vestalis were honored as daughters of the state. They were allowed to vote, to pardon, even to own property. Holy women; to defile them was to defile Roma. Whomever had "purchased" her must have been a very powerful figures indeed. This was terrible power, and a fate she did not wish to face.

She was no longer free; she was owned… by this man.

The woman barely reacted as the clamor of metal resounded in the silent tent. The blood-red of spilt wine had splashed the pure-white of her robes damp with garish red. Long, slender legs trembled beneath her. If she did not move, she would collapse. Before the dropped cup had stopped ringing, the woman had turned on heel to flee.

It was a foolish and thoughtless move. Where was she to go? So far from Rome, with no retainers and no protectors, and no passage back. The wrap of her coat and robes flared behind swift heels as she ran, blond of her hair swaying wildly behind her back. Alicia ran blindly and without thought to escape the tent that held a future she refused to comprehend.

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus felt something as close to pity as he had ever felt in his life. It was a strange feeling that puzzled him. He had always believed in being fair with his men, officers, and to a degree his slaves. He, as a rule did not enjoy hurting others. But he believed that when necessary it was best to be honest and to deliver bad news quickly. Seeing Alicia’s face contort in contemplation of what had happened to her brought him no pleasure; in fact quite the opposite.

Atticus had just informed her that her whole life had changed as she knew it. He understood that it would be a shock to anyone with a brain in their head. All creatures balk at change. It was no different with this young woman. He could see the elegant features of her face register first confusion, then shock, and finally denial. ‘It always ends in denial. Why can the human mind never accept what it can see to be true?’ he thought to himself as he watched the latter stages of the young woman’s mental battle play out.

It was this understanding of humans that set Atticus apart from others and made him a deadly opponent on the battlefield. He often played upon an opponent’s inability to accept what is plainly before them. This was magnified by his penchant of creating confusion. His understanding of humans was without peer and his closely guarded gift. The local barbarians thought him a practitioner of sorcery of some kind that sewed confusion and ineffectiveness in their leaders; which brought mistrust of leadership. His slaves, most from uncivilized tribes, thought him capable reading minds as he often caught them doing wrong just as the thought crossed their mind. The result of this is no wrong doing as a general rule among his surviving slaves, since he allowed this rumor to circulate amongst them.

It wasn’t when he saw the cup start to fall from Alicia’s delicate fingers that he knew she was going to run. He knew well before. He could see panic form in her eyes. ‘She had broadcast her intention to flee in a cursory glance and was running before she even realized what her body was doing’ he thought. Looking down at his cup of wine he calmly barked an order in his battlefield voice, that carried no anger or emotion as he was prepared in advance to give it. “Guards! Stop her! Bring her to me unharmed!”

Calmly taking a sip of his wine, The Wolf waited for his order to be made so. He knew the girl didn’t know where she was going and all exits to the tent were guarded.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia did not register the General's order as it carried after her; the blood rushing in her ears, and the adrenaline running through her veins too much to leave her any attention for her surroundings.

She had thrown open the tent's flaps, and in the waning sunlight her hair was blown from her face by the cool gust of the North wind. It was a fleeting feeling of triumph and freedom in the light and fresh air; she breathed it in deeply through her parted lips, but her eyes then quickly took in her surroundings. The land was grey and rocky, the light dull. Before her feet could get more than a few steps beyond the entrance and towards the myriad of tents, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, dragging her back. The woman cried out in a vengeful shout, but it was laced with the mournful wail of one who knew their fate. She tore at the armored hands that hefted and dragged her back into the muted light of the tent, unaware that even had she escaped them, she would have had to escape the General's entire Roman force. For, unbeknownst to the woman, Roman legions set up camp in a similar way to their cities: the commanding officers of high rank in the center, and their forces fanning out from them.

Grace she retained in her form, even as she was reluctant to comply and was forced forward into the inner bathing chambers once more. However, her eyes were anything but their former composed selves. They settled on the General with a gripping sort of malice. Her fear had transformed from her halted flight into the anger similar to that of a cornered animal's. As the men stopped before their commander, Alicia ripped her arm from her guard's slackening grip furiously, not flinching when the large Roman glanced down at her. It seemed as though she wished to strike him, but instead her hands fell to her sides, and she turned her cheek, refusing to look at any of them.

"I wish to return to Rome." She finally spoke, terse and tense, apart from the men, "This is sacrilege, it is against the city's law."

 

[Fanatic]

Walking over to the soldiers that had drug Alicia back into the tent, Atticus met her eyes. He could see fierceness in them that he admired in a way. There was a defiant look to her that he admired. But he couldn’t allow his men to see this admiration. Looking sternly at the woman and stopping before her, he barks “Silence!” mere inches before her face. “There is only one person who issues orders here, and you are looking at him.” he says in a half growl. “We ALL want to be in Rome! But she calls for us to be here. The gods call for us to be here. So…here we are. Accept it, for what it is. YOU…ARE…HERE!”

Then his face turns kind again as he addresses the two solders with a smile. He thanks them both by name for bringing her back unharmed. With a handshake and pat on each of their backs he dismisses them to return to their posts. It is only after the soldiers have left that he turns to face Alicia with a neutral look upon his face.

Walking over to her he stands in front of her. Fixing his eyes firmly on hers he speaks in a soft voice “You will not do that again. And if I were you, I would think long and hard about making demands of me in front of others. I realize that it is a shock to you, what I told you. You have had a hard trip. You are tired and hungry. Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we shall feed you and calmly talk as two civilized people.”

Then calling “Britalia!” over his shoulder the red-headed slave-girl appears with another girl in tow. Britalia is carrying a sheer dress that would cost a normal citizen a years pay over her arm. The other girl is dark headed and olive skinned. Her beautiful features suggest a linage from Egypt. She is about eighteen years in age with a figure that is one of a woman coming into her own. She is dressed as Britalia is in a loose fitting tunic. Atticus goes over to the olive skinned girl and says “Alicia. This is my first gift to you. Her name is Femi. She will be your body slave. You are responsible for her well being and she for yours. Her whole family serves mine. It would cause them great anguish if you ever put their daughter in jeopardy.”

Atticus paused, looking at Alicia. Once he was sure that his threat had sunk in he continued “Femi has never been a body slave before, so my body slave Britalia shall be teaching her.” Leading them over to the bathtub it is obvious that someone has been very busy as the water has been changed. “Britalia and Femi will assist you in the bath that they’ve prepared for you. Afterward you shall dress in the lovely dress that Britalia has chosen for you. Meanwhile I shall be seeing what other treasures the gods have bestowed upon me.” he says motioning to the chests just behind the tub.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia had feared no use of force from the guard at her back in her anger, but as Atticus strode towards her, her eyes tracked him warily. His demeanor had changed. Here was the General of the North. Those broad shoulders held Rome's future aloft and they were as proud and steady as the rest of him. Stories of war she had many, but they were just that-- whispered words from gossiping maws. Here was a warrior of flesh, and so real, so raw was this realization. She could see the phantom banners of the regiment splayed out behind him as he would have strode on the battlefield, regaled in his armor, owning his strength and his force.

He did not touch her; she had expected some sort of physical retribution, as was the nature of Man, and a punishment for insulting the General. Instead, his words rushed through her like a gale. The woman's lips parted as one winded and trying to draw breath. This day was filled with many firsts, Alicia was unaccustomed to being spoken to thusly, and by a man. His face hovered so close to her's she could feel the heat of his breath against her flushed cheek. Her eyes fell from the General's, to his stern lips, and then quickly away.


Alicia stood still as the General dismissed his soldiers, though the small gasps of her breath and the drumming of her heart beneath her breast she struggled to quiet. The Vestalis' neck bent before them like the trampled violet's under the dutiful heel of a soldier, face turned down and away, frowning at the carpet beneath her feet, her face half-hidden in the golden curtain of her hair. The fire of anger had been snuffed, but the General's words did nothing to curb the despair within the girl's still-hopeful breast. Was there nothing to be done, but to accept this turn of fortune? Why had the fates so cruelly deserted her?

Vesta did not answer her silent prayers, nor did the goddess come to liberate her sworn daughter. She was alone, in a strange land, surrounded by the gender had been nothing but the subjects of warnings or the tragic heroes of the bards, and so far from anything she knew as home. Wetness pricked her eyes as she squoze them forcefully shut, and when they opened, and when the General turned to address her, Alicia had calmed. She would not be cowed. She was Rome's composure, and the purity of the heart of the state in service to the gods.


Lifting her head, the priestess' eyes held their smooth poise once more, a placid lake under which smoldered hot destain. Who was this man, no matter how eminent, to treat her as some prize he had won? She was not something owned and ordered! Only her lips displayed her distress and sorrow, and they twitched at his order, but she did not part them to speak. Slitted blue eyes slid past him to regard the fiery red-haired slave who carried in her arms folds upon folds of gorgeous gossamer silk, the color of dawn; a rose gold that shimmered in the candlelight.

Her attention was then drawn to the second slave, and Alicia's eyes passed impassively over the soft honey-brown cheeks of the girl, and the beautiful large brown eyes feathered by black lashes that fluttered nervously as Alicia met her tentative gaze. The girl was like a fawn, lean and yet more graceful than her barbarian counterpart, taking pains to point her left foot in Alicia's direction, and follow the woman with it as Alicia approached.

If Alicia had registered the threat or the desperate display of submission and respect from the exotic slave, it was not outwardly conveyed. Instead, her eyes alighted on the chests, which perhaps held finery, delicacies, and money, to honor Rome's great General, and then traveled to the luxury of the bath; it's hot steam rising from the crystal-clear water within the large basin. Most soldiers on the frontier did not bathe regularly, and if they did it was within the cold of river itself. This treat was a rarity and an extravagance, even for a temple priestess of Rome; for she had always drawn her own bath, and had done communally with her sisters.

Alicia's hands clutched loosely at the sides of her now-stained robes. Would she really disrobe and bathe here, within a man's domain; within a war compound? Suddenly the coat upon her shoulders and the heavy robes that hung from her form felt as heavy and filthy as anything she had ever worn. The exhaustion and want of some sort of solace, this pleasure, was clear in the woman's faltering poise and her face. Still, she set her wary eyes on the General, and spoke chillingly,

"I will not--" Alicia paused, mouth slightly open as her tongue caressed a spiteful word, before she took a breath and spoke once more, "I Wish you to leave… General. I wish to undress and bathe unaccompanied by... Your gaze."

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus felt a jolt run through his body when Alicia said “I will not--”. He was not accustomed to hearing such words. Only the most powerful of Rome spoke to him in this manner; and when they did it was often done delicately and cautiously. Luckily the young woman sensed she was overstepping a boundary and tried to frame it as a request. But he still didn’t like the tone it was delivered. And then she had the audacity to speak of terms. It was time to tech this young woman a lesson.

“You will not?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. Fighting the urge to explode in a barrage of fierceness, Atticus takes another tack. He turns to Britalia and utters a short phrase in the guttural tongue of her homeland. The young red head bows and goes and sets the dress she is carrying on top of the pile of treasure from Rome. Then she walks over to the other slave girl, Femi. Standing in front of her Britalia whispers something to her and then strikes the young girl forcefully across the face with an open hand, staggering the smaller girl. Managing to keep her feet she stands up and assumes her previous position as a small trickle of blood dribbles from her nose.

“What Britalia told her was that ‘this is for your master’s insolence’.” Atticus says to Alicia. Picking up a scrap of cloth he walks over to Femi and gently wipes the trickle of blood away and then whispers to her quietly. Femi in return smiles and then nods. Walking over to Alicia he hands the scrap of cloth to the woman and then says “Here take this. When you feel the need to blurt out an order, remember this.”

Then he turns and walks over to the bathtub. Running his hand through the warm water he starts to speak softly. “You know this is one of two bathtubs in this whole wretched region. The other belongs to my second in command. It is a civility, a habit of sorts that I adopted from him. No matter how far from Rome it is necessary to be Roman. Bathing is one civility that separates us from the barbarian. There are some proper Roman baths that my father had built, when he subdued this land years ago, but we are days away from there. Anyway, my dear Alicia, I’m offering you a chance for a warm bath. A way to stay a civil Roman.”

Then the thought occurs to the general that perhaps he has lost some of his Romaness. The beautiful woman before him was a Roman and expected some courtesy. Courtesy was something that had little place in a military atmosphere. He would try his best to be more considerate of Alicia as she makes a difficult transition. This thought struck him as odd as he had never been concerned about what a woman felt or thought. He chuckles to himself as he realizes that he is attracted to her.

He continues “Now I’ve been honest with you and told you the truth. I will tell you something else that is the truth. I admire your fierceness, I really do. It is an attractive quality. But I will remind you, watch yourself. Especially in front of others. I won’t tolerate insubordination in front of my slaves or men.” He let his last words sink in with a pause as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes.

Satisfied that his point is made. He says “We shall have dinner within the hour. Please don’t be late, and as a favor to me please let me see you in that beautiful silk dress.” As he motions to the dress Britalia brought in. Then he turns and exits the room giving her her privacy. He goes over to his desk and combs through the dispatches. Going through the other gifts from home could wait.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia stood stunned as she held the bloody kerchief in her hand, watching the General leave. The General let the curtain fall closed behind him, and only then did she take a breath in. He was so calm and composed, orderly in even his most minuscule of movements. Though he was surrounded by finery and of rank and prestige, he was spartan in disposition. She wondered at how a man could be so hard, and yet diplomatic. Such authority and weight he held in his word, an iron fist could not hit harder. Alicia shut her eyes; she would not cry. She had promised herself.

"M'ai, Lady?" The golden-skinned slave asked tentatively, once more bowing before her with that strange way of pointing her left foot forward.

Alicia stared at the exit from which the General had left, her hand closing around the cloth as emotions once more bubbled up in her breast. It was the strain, the constricted feeling of holding back the panic that consumed her. Who was this man? He was nothing like the soft, lecherous city-men of Rome, nor the fattening and deceitful old senators, both whom visited the temple, wondering why their homes were not warmed. Nor was he entirely devoted to his craft, as the athletes of Rome's great games. He had not struck her… why? She was thankful, and yet, not.

Alicia did not respond as gentle hands drew her coat from her shoulders, her cheek still turned towards the exit, as if gazing upon that portal would somehow allow her a glimpse into the man's psyche.


The cloth within her hand dropped to the floor as her robes were undone; Femi unwrapping her until Alicia stood nude. The Roman woman would not meet the slave's eyes. The strip of cloth may have lay at her feet, but her fingers were still slightly sticky. It was clear she was no longer within Rome. Blood was the result of a impudence in the face of the General's power.

Two sets of hands made quick work of her skin; lathering her with olive oil and working it over her entirety before it was removed along with the dust and dirt of travel with a strigil. She was then rubbed with woolen cloth till her skin glowed and sat within the warmth of the bath. Alicia could not help the sigh of pleasure as her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers playing along the top of the water as a pair of hands worked cleansing soap into the soft flesh of her body.

She began to relax, listening to the slaves hum as they worked. Fingers were gentle and soothing as they lathered her hair and slowly dipped her hair into the water, cradling her skull. She had expected the hands of the slaves to be hard and harsh after their ordeal. The darker beauty's face was reddened where she had been struck, but she chatted idly enough with the pale flaming haired slave in that strange language.

Soon she was pulled from the bath, and stood as she was toweled down and rubbed with an oil once more, the light perfume that wrapped around her serving to relax her even more. Femi's hands were strong and they dug deep into the knots of tension in Alicia's back and shoulders. Soon Britalia had approached, twisting her still-wet hair up on her head, and keeping it in place with silver pins. Then they both helped her into the dress… the dress was sheer, made of fine rosy golden silk.

Alicia was in wonder of such a material; she had never seen such a robe. So thin and smooth, it felt like she was wearing the clouds themselves. The folds were pinned above her shoulders with two bronze clasps, but the rest of the dress hung lose. At it's hem was woven a traditional design, and it spilled luxuriously over her bare feet, her boots having been removed and taken by Britalia to somewhere unknown. As she turned to look at her reflection within a burnished mirror, she gasped. The curves of her body could be glimpsed silhouetted within the dress, and when she turned the material clung to her as if caressing her as one would a lover before falling into it's semi-concealing folds once more. All at once Alicia flushed red, about to protest wearing such a thing, but Britalia shushed her with a sponge to brush rouge along her lips and cheeks.

A variety of fine, scented oils of the East were brought to her upon a platter, but Alicia adamantly refused to allow the slaves to brush a droplet of the strong perfume upon her neck. It was too real now, and to have such pheromone potions rubbed onto her would be the last of her nerve.

Only then did Alicia meet the eyes of the General's slaves, and they in turn bowed to her, set aside the perfumes, and took her by way of small gestures and touches leading her to their Master.

A soft word from the red-haired girl announced them. Alicia breathed deeply as she entered the next room, her eyes affixed upon the floor. The slaves beside her bowed deeply to their Master, and Alicia looked up at the General, uncomfortably aware that the dress barely concealing her charms. Slender legs effortlessly held her poise, her spine straight despite how she knew her front would be displayed; her skin prickled, her breasts already affected by the lower temperature of the North. Alicia's chin was held willfully high, though her cheeks revealed her discomfort and shame. She did not greet him, nor did she speak.

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus was deep within his mind. Studying the latest dispatches he was able to visualize the latest locations and dispositions of his forces. It was not totally to his liking but would suffice for his plan. As he nodded to himself he heard Britalia announce their presence.

Looking up his breath is taken away as he first glimpses Alicia. Her golden hair was held up by silver pins. The shimmer of it reminded him of the ancient Greek tales of Golden Fleece by its beauty and its fineness. The rouge painted on her cheeks and lips accentuated her perfect features. But her blue eyes still burned as if looking at a cobalt fire. She cast her eyes upon the general after she had had entered the room with her eyes cast downward, in a gesture of acknowledgement to his power and station. But afterwards it was plain that an intense defiance burned within the amusing creature that had been gifted to him.

The statuesque pose she struck as she stood before him in silence communicated a pride that he admired. Given the circumstances, most could or would not strike such a proud and yet still elegant posture. While observing how she managed to maintain a semblance of calmness, he smelled her fear through the smell of the soap and scented oils rubbed upon her body.

Then he noticed how the dress clung to her body. The shimmering silk added to the dazzling display before him. The dress wrapped around her figure as elegantly as fog or water would, had she been nude. It offered glimpses and hints of what was beneath its sheer, shimmering softness. The subtle arcs of her breasts and hips were slightly visible, but not in full. Atticus could make out the silhouettes of her long legs as they reached towards the heavens and met at their junction. Through the cloth he could make out the shape of the hair that covered her virginal womanhood.

Standing up he heads to a large table. It is rather crude in construction, but is large enough to seat a dozen. At the table there is a setting at the head of the table and another next to it. Motioning to the table setting off to the side he says “Please have a seat Alicia. I’m afraid it is a little more on the rough side than a beauty like you should be subjected to. But this is a military encampment, so we'll have to make due.”

Looking the golden haired goddess over again, he says “Your beauty outshines the dress. It is made of silk. It’s a fabric that secret is kept hidden from our knowledge in strange exotic lands very far to the east. It is very rare and expensive. You outshine its radiance.”

Then shaking his head he says “Please forgive me as I rattle. I have grown accustomed to the harshness of the frontier and am easily distracted by rare beautiful sights like yourself. Please have a seat; you must be starved from your trip. Mess boys! Food!”

“After we eat, we shall speak. I wish to know about you and I’m sure you are curious about me.” he said as he took his seat. He had the warmest smile on his face that he had worn in ages. But behind the smile, Atticus was observing the young woman the way he observed a potential friend or foe. Dissecting the most minute of her actions. Nothing no matter how small escaped fine tuned senses of a wolf.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia noticed the change that overcame the general's face and demeanor as he looked upon her. She forced herself to remain still as she felt his eyes traversed over her.

The General stood and offered her a seat, and Alicia moved forward, aware of the shifting silk gliding across her skin and his keen eyes. She took her seat quickly and stiffly, her hands folding upon her lap. Always having been covered from head to toe in the company of others, especially men, this could not have been more of a struggle for the young woman.

As the complement dropped down upon her head, Alicia's chin dipped in the slightest. She was not worthy of such finery; having no title to her name, no family, only the Vestal Goddess' hearth to thank for her life and her home. In another sense, a tingle wormed up her spine; he had looked upon her, he had called her beautiful, and he was doting upon her. So strange, to be spoiled with individual attention, and a man's voiced attention to her physical form. Her eyes set upon the table, Alicia nodded once, her voice hushed,

"My thanks, General."

Her lips set themselves into a firm line, but she glanced up as he took his seat. His smile surprised her; it was bright and genuine. Alicia stared, as such a sight was so unexpected after what had recently transpired with the golden-skinned slave. It made his face brighten. She looked away as the serving boys entered. He must have been blessed by the gods, for he had a charm unlike most when he smiled… He was handsome. She could not envision such a man not getting his way. Her hands tightened in her lap.

Two boys had entered, not yet of the age to wield a sword, instead carrying in their arms platters of food. A soup was set upon the table, a bowl of it's thick stew ladled out for her, and a cup set beside it. A fish was brought next, it's belly flayed open and drenched in sauce and spices. Steamed vegetables and a bowl of berries next.

Alicia glanced to the General, waiting for him to take his food and begin eating. As he did, she looked back to the food.

Her eyes widened when she saw the small cakes, sweetened with honey, set down upon the table right in front of her.

Before Alicia touched anything else, her hand reached out for one of these small cakes, as if she was worried it might disappear. Tentatively she bit into the soft, gooey desert, and then her eyes lit up, a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she chewed slowly, marveling at the taste. Without another thought except for this joy she took another small bite, and then realized what she was doing.

Quickly Alicia set the half-eaten cake down on the side of her plate, and frowned as she regarded her now-sticky fingers. A minuscule pause, then she wiped them clean upon a cloth. She turned to her cup, as if she had done nothing, and sipped from it. However, this too was sweet, a honey-wine: Mead. Alicia quickly set it down, focusing on the main meal.

Alicia ate slowly, and little, despite her hunger. The knots within her stomach could not be placated by the fine food before her. The moments dragged on as she ate in silence, until her hand wavered above her plate. She took another sip of mead, looking over the rim at the General as she decided to dare a question.

Setting the cup down and placing her hands onto her lap, Alicia turned to look fully at the General, "General… Rome's great General of the North," She tilted her head, her eyes falling once more as she contemplated her next words, "May I know your name?"

 

[Fanatic]

Watching her out of his peripheral vision, Atticus was getting a read upon the young woman. She wasn’t quite comfortable with her new found situation, but was intelligently attempting to find her way along. Having realized that lashing out and demanding was not acceptable, she was attempting to fit in and make the best of her changing fortunes.

Seeing the faintest of smiles form as she tasted the cake brought an odd sense of pleasure to Atticus. It was obvious that she had never tasted anything like it before. Deciding that she was too devoted to her station and serving her god and Rome to indulge in such delicacies.
Alicia ate sparingly, but Atticus consumed large portions of everything, but the cakes. He needed the calories to fuel himself. Today’s battle was a fierce close fought affair in which he expended a great amount of energy.

As he was finishing eating he heard Alicia’s question. Instantly he felt embarrassed and was not happy with himself. Looking over at her with a hint of annoyance with himself he says “Please forgive me. As I’ve stated before civil niceties often are forgotten on the frontier. I just assumed that along your journey someone had let slip where you were being taken and to whom. I’ll have to commend them for their secrecy. My name is Atticus Lupis Scippio. My family has served Rome for centuries guarding and expanding her northern borders. Perhaps you have heard of me or my family’s name, in Rome?”

 

[~Nika~]

The young woman looked up, meeting Atticus' eyes for a drawn out moment. They sparked bright blue in the candlelight, but in their depth could be seen that crushing sorrow as the Roman woman fully realized to whom she was speaking. Yes, she knew that name. It was whispered with relish even within the white-washed walls of Vesta's temple. It was roared with veneration from the capital's steps, sang with love by honeyed tongues of bards, and spoken ever with praise upon the Emperor's lips.

The house of Scippio had a mythos surrounding it, ever since it's descendants became famed for saving Rome from invasions on it's eastern boarders, annexing territories, and suppressing revolts in the more unwieldy of conquered states. Now Atticus Scippio, Hero of Rome, advanced in his campaigns in the North into land that no Roman had dared to disturb before him.


Atticus Lupis Scippio. The Wolf of the Legions. She had heard that title spoken, but she did not wish to believe this man was that great war-hero himself.

Alicia had attended one of his many parades the emperor held for him during the return of one of the General's victories. He must have been young then, for she was only a girl. It had been a large spectacle followed by extravagant games for weeks on end. There were less favorable rumors that did not support the garish fanfare of the state; that their great General was a beast in war, ruthless and savage, and that Rome could not reign in such bloodlust, and so their champion left them for more worthy challenge. More worthy prey.

Although he did not live within his Roman estate, it was well-known that his family coffers were vast; largely spoils of war, but also gifts from admirers, friends and even kings abroad that understood the value of saluting such power. He often supplemented Rome's own coffers in times of hardship, providing bread for Rome's people. It was a hushed, yet well established that the great General had more support, and more of the people's love, than the emperor himself.

What struck her most, was the one rumor that had long since endeared the Great Wolf to her own heart. The Sicppio heir had also been awarded many laurels and asked repeatedly to join as consul of Rome, but he had refused them just as many times. It was this that allowed her to believe that not all of Rome's conquests were only bloodshed and guilt upon Rome's name, not if men of such pure heart led her legions. She had believed that he knew of the corruption within the senate, the extravagance of Rome's emperor and refused on personal ethic to participate in such a thing. She must have been young and foolish to think that ethic played any part in war.


Perhaps he did prefer not to dirty himself with political filth, bribes for allies, or censorship, but instead decisively took upon himself the brunt of Rome's campaigns. It was clear to her now that there was none of Rome's laws that held out on the frontier. Here, he was surrounded by men who loved him, prayed on his name, and swore their lives to him. Here he controlled legions, held real power. Here this man was above the law, blessed or cursed as he was, above the Gods themselves if he wished. Her fists clenched beneath the table and upon her lap. Here, his word was law.

She was suddenly parched. Tearing her eyes away and swallowing a sip of wine thickly, Alicia found her voice,

"Yes… Yes, I know of you, I just did not believe--" She caught herself. Perhaps he would take it as an offense that she had not believed that he could be Rome's Great Wolf. In all of her days she could not have imagined sitting beside such a man. Had she been told, she would have been expecting a deity.

"You have not returned to Rome for six years," She murmured quietly, remembering the last time she saw the shadow of the hero ride into Rome on horseback, "You are sorely missed by your people."

Raising her head, she glanced slowly once more around the tent, taking in the rough way of living, by roman standards. Was this to be her life? Within these walls, nothing but a exquisite trophy for the most beloved of Rome's protectors? Another of his many conquests. Alicia took in a breath, and though she was clad only in the thinnest strands of silk, she held her back as straight and her shoulders as level as any of the men that had ever sat beside his elbow. Her tongue perhaps, was not as controlled,

"Why do you remain here, on the frontier? No doubt you long for home. And the barbarians…" There was a glint in her eyes as she met his, "I have heard tale of them. They are strong men, men of the frost and biting winds, and they pick at the scabs of your forces until you bleed, hiding in the shadows like animals, striking hard and fast and then falling back into the night. Come the dawn you count your loses and sow the earth with your dead." She said nothing of his great achievements, still looking into his eyes,

"In this godforsaken land the cold seeps deep into the bones and the rain makes way only for the stinging bite of the north-wind. Rome loses brave men to common ills like foot rot and frostbite, and enemy war parties raid along the frontier at will,"

Tilting a slender neck, and turning a dainty jaw from him, she looked over the extravagant food. Her teeth flashed white as she picked up a berry and bit into it, "This war is savage. It is no place for a woman."

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus watched Alicia’s features as he told her his name. He could see it start to register that she recognized his name. Then he saw her form the question she only half asked ‘Yes… Yes, I know of you, I just did not believe--‘. He smiled and then said “What? That I’d be taller? Maybe a giant? Some type of monster that eats bad children? That I wear the ears of all my victims around my neck? I’ve heard all of these tales whispered back to me from Rome. All of these perpetuated by greedy politicians to turn me into a monster in the public's eye, for daring to feed the poor.”

Hearing her state that he hadn’t been back in six years, the General felt sadness. Especially hearing of the state of the people. He honestly felt for the people. “Yes, I hear and know of their plight. But part of fame is having to deal with treachery and dishonesty. Both of which Rome has in ample supply within her walls and out. There are spies for both Rome and the barbarians within my camp. It is odd in a way, that both would like to see me dead. That is why I stay away from Rome. At least out here in the wilderness the barbarians are honest in their contempt. I can respect that. If I ever return to Rome, I’ll never leave.”

He found the woman’s view on barbarians amusing. Once again the product of Rome’s propaganda. “So that is how things are viewed in Rome now? We are being bled dry, by thousands of cuts? The finest of Rome wasting away in the cold and muck?” he asks before chuckling.

Studying her he adds “My dear, tomorrow evening before the coming battle; you shall get to meet some live barbarians. There will be a feast and some of our local allies will be present. You will discover that they are no different than any other men or women. They have weakness and strength like everyone else. They are as power hungry as some of Rome's more corrupt politicians. And as far as being bleed dry, nothing is further from the truth. We are good at killing them. My men excel at it. If Rome wouldn’t squander opportunities and invest in these people, they would be a great asset to the empire.”

“And as far as it being no place for a woman, I’ll decide that. I’ve already deduced you are no ordinary woman.” He said in reference to her last statement.

“Now, I noticed you were partial to the cakes. Please have mine.” He said as he pushed the platter towards her. “Now I would like to know about you. Tell me, I figure you are literate. What languages? And I know you probably haven’t, but can you ride a horse? Also, tell me more of the goings on in Rome. I find your vision refreshing and slightly different than what I hear in the altered dispatches I receive.” Pouring another couple of wines, Atticus awaits her answer while studying the slender yet attractive curves tantalizingly hidden by the luxurious dress.

 

[~Nika~]

Alicia looked up now, dropping the berry in her fingers back into the bowl, "Meet with Barbarians? I cannot-" His next words cut her off, and she shut her lips. The woman's face twisted into a brief scowl, a fierce mask of distain and hatred, until it was smoothed over just as quickly. A distanced poise melted back over her features, and she turned to look down at the cakes the General had offered. Though her tongue was itching to taste the sweet honey and soft cakes once more, she kept her hands in her lap, and her eyes off of the General.

To meet with barbarians. How foul. She wanted nothing to do with this forsaken land, and less so with the beasts of men and the soldiers of Rome that killed them. War was no place for a woman, despite what the General said. His decision fell upon her head, and she met with it as difficulty as a newly drafted soldier under the first command of an officer. The betrayal seeped into her skin, her anger kept silent under a powder white bosom. First taken from a holy place, desecrating the name of Vesta and her vows, to be placed here... as a thing of pleasure. To be owned by a man she could not refuse, within a war-camp, far from any soft living, or civilized company. Now Barbarians! It was the last of her patience.

Coldly, Alicia lifted a slender hand and pushed the platter into the center of the table, away from her. She slowly looked back to the General, "I speak and read Latin and some Greek," then she shook her head, "I have never been on horseback." Truthfully, she disliked the animals. They were huge: full of power and strength.

At his next inquiry, Alicia lifted a brow, "The Emperor spends vast amounts of money on his games, and trivial pleasures that suit him. Within Rome, people live well, but beyond it's borders, taxes are high and land is scarce." Turning her cheek the woman, continued, "I am... was a Vestalis, what I know is limited to what flows through the temple. Trade is growing, vast, stretching to the east and bringing new tales of it's strange people and great beasts. Sometimes the Emperor has them for sport, in the arena."

Glancing back to him, a small smirk plays on the corners of her lips, "and there are new statues of you erected, General, by your admirers. Your forces feed their games with foreign gladiators, high in demand, and almost always the first to fall."

"But what is it you would like me to tell you, General? To please you; to ease your mind, here in the frigid northland? For my words of Great Roma will bring you no comfort, as Rome has brought me only suffering."

 

[Fanatic]

Atticus nodded as he had expected Alicia’s reaction to meeting the barbarians. He had expected as much because she was no different than any of the soft citizens of Rome who thought that the barbarians as beneath their position. He suspected that she still felt elevated from her former position in the temple. Alicia was also a victim of propaganda like a common street vendor. She feared what she did not understand, and at that moment there was a lot that she did not understand. Still he noticed that she had learned to keep her tongue in check. ‘This one learns quickly’ he thought to himself.

He smiled when he heard that she wrote and spoke Latin and some Greek. Latin was the language of power in the Empire, so regardless of what language was your native tongue you were expected to learn a rudimentary amount of Latin. He had also expected Greek to be in her vocabulary also as it was the preferred language of scholars, diplomats, politicians and the well educated upper society. All of which she might have come in contact with in her duties.

He detected a hint of disgust as she answered the question of riding a horse as a pampered priestess would. He had also expected as much as it would be rare for a woman to ride, especially in Rome. But he thought maybe it might have become necessary in her travels.

The general merely listened to the young woman tell of what she knows of the state of Rome. Even when it was clear that she was trying, unwisely to get a rise out of him his face remained as if made of stone. Although he had known of the high taxes and the games, the burden placed upon the people by the taxes was a direct result of his army. His army did supply the slaves and gladiators through conquest, which in turn died in the arena to distract the masses from the burden of being overtaxed. And in the midst of all of this statues of him were erected. Atticus knew that fame had its price in Rome. He found this profoundly disturbing because he knew when the public revolted the blame for their plight would fall upon him as he was not there to protest. This meant that he would eventually have to defend himself and the people of Rome from those that held the seats of power. He had feared just that. Just the thought of the plight of the people’s burden at the expense of gross profit allowed a hint of sadness to creep into his emotionless features.

Then after the girl had finished answering his questions he began to speak to her in Greek. He took a soft tone that he was unaccustomed to taking “I am sorry that things are hard for you my dear. But as you have stated, things are hard everywhere for everyone. Almost, everyone. And like it or not you have apparently been swept up in the tides of power and graft. Now I beg you to listen to my words very carefully and when you speak, speak only to me in Greek until I tell you otherwise. Everyone in this camp speaks Latin, few speak Greek. There are spies of Rome in this camp. So we must make it hard for them to understand when we speak.”

Looking into her beautiful yet fierce eyes he looked to see if there was comprehension. When he saw what he took to be comprehension, he continued. “You were a priestess. The emphasis is on WERE. It takes a lot of power to make a priestess to disappear. A lot of power and also the cooperation of the temple I would think. You were sent here as a concubine with no mention of you being a priestess, unless you have told anyone. I think you in some form or another are caught up in some sort of power play in Rome, that you are unaware of. I think you were sent here for your safety; as much as you hate it. Now the best thing you can do while we figure this puzzle out is for you to be my concubine. You need to accept that this is your life for now, because right now the only person keeping your beautiful hide alive is me.”

“Now we are going to my bedchambers where we are going to bed. You will not be blemished tonight, as you are probably very tired. But soon we will be expected to behave as a couple, because after all you are my concubine. I suggest you get your rest, because tomorrow morning we are going for a ride. While on this ride we will be able to speak more in private. Now come with me, my dear. We will talk more in the morning. But I warn you to remember where you are and remember that you aren’t a priestess anymore.” He said as he parts his bedchamber curtains and holds out his hand for her to take.