Note: The plan is to update every week, but I am not so sure on how well I can manage that. Longer chapter this time to compensate.

Warnings: Rating will eventually change to M, some mature themes, historical accuracy on the "ehh" scale of general wanna-be historical fiction fanfiction.

Added note: A special thanks to Julius G for their lovely review! You did fine sweetie, honestly I am so grateful you wrote! Shout out to Viofan238 and ayy to my homie bulletincookie. Honest reviews, constructive critiques are always welcome (cough, especially in the topic of more accurate/reasonable names, cough), follows and favorites will help this writer get a much needed writer power boost. Enjoy!

The eldest son's comment did not exactly offend Yao as it was the most probable reason behind his purchase, however, it did not stop Yao from being painfully aware of the sudden silence and feeling all the more exposed.

Even the old Greek slave had to blink a few times to process what had just occurred.

Romulus' brown eyes narrowed on his eldest. In reality, he did not know what to feel. Insulted for his sake? For Yao's? As the patriarch of the household, Romulus must maintain order and control. If he showed any kind of weakness, he would not have it and dinner parties with his senator friends would be disastrous events. His wife was the one who took order of things around the house while he was free to continue work outside the home. Now that Helena's memory remained in their hearts and marble bust, Romulus was beginning to realize who was in fact in charge this entire time.

He inhaled proudly. He must show that he was capable. That he did not do things on a whim, that he most certainly planned things out beforehand. That he had... order and control.

"Your father does not call upon an audience to present a whore," he frowned, his voice deep and authoritative. "Keep your silence until I have finished speaking."

The slaves could care less, they were just intrigued by was the presumed whore's looks. In any case, Herakles made a very intelligent observation in their eyes.

Romulus turned to his slaves. "This is Yao and he is to be head of domus," he announced. Yao's eyes widened in disbelief.

A foreign slave to be their supervisor? The other slaves knew better to keep their silence no matter how ridiculous he was sounding.

"He has experience managing a business," Romulus continued. "So I am confident he can manage this household." He nodded at Yao. "And report directly to me, understood?"

Yao had to will himself to not shake his head in opposition to what the Daqin man now expected for him to do.

A collective "Yes, Octavius Marcellus" affirmed that they understood clearly. Romulus seemed pleased at this. "Give him a week to settle in. He is still new to this land but he understands us well. Instruct him accordingly."

He hung his arm to rest on his toga as the other hand inspected Yao's clothes, getting a sort of reaction from the Seres youth. A bold furrow of his brow to which Romulus responded with a small nod.

"Get him out of these filthy clothes, bathe him, dress him in one of my old tunics from my chest. The ones I don't use anymore," Romulus ordered. A couple of female slaves dutifully set out to do as told, leading Yao into the bathing room by a way out and through the peristyle.

Yao made a reluctant look back, catching a softer smile on Romulus' face, turning only when he heard the women hiss among themselves, talking as if they truly believed he couldn't understand them.

"A maro. He did not even give him a Roman name. He called him head, but certainly the young master was right. Marcellus promoted a pretty little whore." They tugged him along to a heated bathroom, adjacent to the kitchen.

Perhaps they did know he understood them.

Romulus motioned for the children to stay. A rare occasion for him to approach his own children these days. The frown returned as the eldest children appeared unfazed.

"This will be the last time you disrespect me in my house," he stated, looking at sleepy eyed Herakles and strong browed Romano.

"What did I do?" Romano huffed. He pointed at Herakles accusingly. "He was the one who called her a whore." He paused. "I mean him." Romano did not know what "whore" meant.

"I'm sorry pater," a rosy cheeked Feliciano peered from his nursemaid's skirts, the shy little thing.

Romulus softened his stern look. "My son, no," he said. "I was talking to your brothers." He rose a brow, finding a reason to scold him anyway. "Don't hide behind her like that, come forward like a man."

Feliciano obeyed, slowly and unsurely.

Romulus gestured toward Herakles. "You on the other hand are practically a man, I expect better from you."

Herakles shrugged casually, as if he had better things to do. To judge Herakles by his relaxed posture, dreamy, low voice and call him dimwitted would be shallow and unwise. Brilliant by nature, he had taken an interest in philosophy, Greek poetry and the arts. Yet his lethargy had reason. Much has changed since Helena's death. "I was merely stating what everyone was already thinking," he answered. "You cannot expect us to see you bring home a beautiful new toy and not be surprised when you promote him to head of domus."

So he had his mother's spirit. Romulus was all too aware of it, not that he discouraged it. As a matter of fact, before Helena's death, Romulus took a sort of boastful pride in his son. Other sons of his senator friends were not as thought-provoking or as clever as Herakles, yet none of that fatherly surge overflowed his chest this time. It was certainly disrupted by his annoyance. In fact, he was so irked out of his mind that he was suddenly concluding that Herakles stole his wit.

Romulus pursed his lips, straightened his toga and furrowed his strong brow even further. "You have little faith in your father," Romulus finally answered. "I hired Yao out of necessity and that is my final word."

He frowned at all his children. Feliciano subconsciously took one step back, the only one who still believed in his "strict father" façade. "And as with all slaves I expect you treat him with respect. He is not here to fancy any outrageous requests. It is my word, then his. Understood?"

"Yes patrerm," they chorused.

With a satisfied huff, Romulus turned to their oldest nursemaid. "And what of Marcello?" he inquired.

"He is asleep Octavius Marcellus," she answered. Europa was an old slave without the seniority and whose voice and mannerisms were most unlike a proper nursemaid. With her, Romulus was certain Marcello had lulled himself to sleep with his tears that day. An unfortunate widow who once slaughtered cattle alongside her now-dead husband, she had a stern way of handling the children. Romulus had at one point coddled his sons to death but only grew self-conscious by the way he was raising them once he became more involved with his circle of senator friends. He reasoned that her occasional heavy swats gave his sons something to fear. Nothing too exaggerated of course, his boys were generally well behaved in his eyes. The other nursemaid, younger and more kind in comparison and Feliciano's obvious favorite, remained quiet.

Romulus gave a sound of approval before turning his heel and walking straight to his tablinum, a finely decorated and well-worn private office. He dropped onto his couch with a sigh, briefly wondering what sort of tunic his slaves gave Yao.

If it was a slightly ragged tunic then he can conclude that they are jealous. If they gave him an old favorite tunic then... well, it only meant that they tried to prepare him as if he were truly a treasured whore of his. Perhaps the tunic choice wouldn't be good sign of his slaves' happiness. He sat in his office and decided to think of more pleasant things, like how good Yao would look in any tunic either way.

"I only care about his cooking," Romano commented, furrowing his brow in that defiant way of his. A picky eater and a fussy child, he always had difficulty with people. Bonding and trust were exclusive to a few nursemaids, his father and brothers, while his aggressiveness and salty disposition were a free for all, depending how willing Romano was to get along with someone that day.

"I will keep an eye on him on the meantime," he huffed. "If he makes Marcello cry then we have problems." He was also a type to be extremely protective of his younger brothers, taking his role as second oldest brother seriously and only deeming himself worthy to pick on the younger ones.

"And-and I…" Feliciano began to pipe up, only to pause and really, truly think about what he expected from Yao. Admittedly, he did not know what to think of the new head of domus, only that he was strange and hard to read. The slightly chubby child liked to think the best of everyone and was more than willing to grant strangers the benefit of a doubt; much to his father's displeasure, hence a small amulet he wore as a necklace to guard him from the "evil eye" and child predators.

"I... I will just stay outta his way," he concluded, not all satisfied with his own answer. The boy was under constant intimidation of his brothers who were clearly more clever than he. At least, this is what Feliciano thought. The boy was in subconscious pressure to prove himself worthy of his dear father's praise, especially when his attentions on him had fallen short.

"I'm interested in seeing how things go," Herakles folded his arms, looking on at the direction his father went. He truly did not care for the real reason why Romulus bought Yao. What his father did on his own time was none of his business. For all he knows, all of the men and women who passed through his father's bedroom doors were only seen once and never heard from again. It was a bit of a change, having a "toy" be present at all times, but with himself tucked away in the garden attending to his many cats, he would not be bothered. For all the shallowness of Romulus' past exploits, Herakles knew that father's heart was always reserved for mother.

He doesn't speak proper Latin! What is this? A whore as head of domus? Look at his eyes, how strange! He squints in the shade! Beautiful and strange. Heard that the boss did not even give him a Roman name. I have a name for him Mora. Yes, a strange name for a strange being.

Yao sighed contentedly and sank deeper into the steamy water. What a blessed luxury it was, to have a warm bath in a closed room. He fluttered his eyes shut as he sank just beneath the surface. The water masking his face in a clear, soothing way. He could die now with a thousand regrets but at least for now he would go momentarily happy.

Baba!

Yao sat up again gasping for air. He stabilized himself by grasping onto the rims of the basin before taking a deep breath. He pushed his wet locks aside like black curtains. He sighed and rubbed the water droplets around his face in circular motions, the minor adrenaline rush dying out quickly. He was done with the bath for now. The dirt he left behind in the water will be thrown out.

Awaiting him was a clean dry towel and an invisible flutter of speculation for the man from Seres. Sophus, the oldest and most attentive slave who aided Romulus first at the door, passed Yao a clean change of clothing. Sophus was an unspoken leader amongst them, and while his loyalty with Romulus was genuine, he knew he couldn't be the one bring order to a place that wasn't so orderly to begin with. He kept his silence and helped Yao when he struggled with his tunic.

Yao didn't realize how weak and limber he appeared. His bones poking out in an unslightly manner, his cheeks clean yet slim. Curse the mirror. Now he wondered why Romulus was attracted to him at all when he knew he looked handsome when he was filled in and healthy. His hair now shining in all its dark brilliance, framed a gloomy face. So much has changed. He missed his home, the familiarity of singing chimes, the mountain air, the sweet innocent voices welcoming him. The river was still and led to no where.

Sophus looked at the mirror and back at Yao again. He recognized the new slave's melancholy and cleared his throat before patting Yao softly on his back.

"Others would not be so kind," he warned, trying to distract him somehow. "But don't get intimidated for in the end, its your word above everyone else's." And without asking much of Yao's own past he continued. "Consider yourself the luckiest slave in the empire. Not a full work day has past and you have the power." He tsked lightly with a smirk. "To be honest, I'm quite frightened of you. You can easily use your looks to your advantage. Romulus as a weakness for pretty things and with his wife's death that weakness has increased tenfold."

Yao glanced at Sophus, squeezing the last bits of water out of his damp hair with a final twist. He straightened himself, standing a few centimeters taller than the old slave. "I am not intimidated," he responded, frowning slightly. He sighed and relaxed himself, the new tunic felt soft and comfortable. The Daqin man was not so unkind. His slaves were well dressed and healthy. Perhaps his new job would be somewhat easier. At least they respected their master. "But… I will remember what you say," he muttered. He paused, frowning and trying to piece together his thoughts in Latin. "I am not a tool," he continued. "When I work, I work honestly."

Sophus smirked and nodded his head in approval. "Call me Sophus," the old slave responded. "Come, you will need to know where the children's bedrooms are."

Sophus led Yao back into the atrium, where Yao had noticed the four different doors on either sides of the front room. "The cubicula," the old man announced, pointing to each beautifully carved door with richly painted and crafted doorways, each distinct yet even and orderly. "Herakles the eldest should sleep here," Sophus explained opening the door to find a fairly clean and empty room save for the cat napping on the twisted sheets of a bed. Some unfinished, unpainted or unpolished marble sculptures are strewn about in an unorderly manner. "But you'd find him in the peristyle most of the time with his cats."

Sophus opens the next door. "This is Romano's and I should say Feliciano's as well. Feliciano usually seeks refuge with Romano at night, hence Romano's bed frame is much bigger." They skipped over Feliciano's room and Sophus approached the last adjacent door with caution. "Marcello sleeps here," he whispered, gesturing towards the year-old babe sleeping in a nest of pillows and blankets on a large bed. Yao had the urge to go over and caress a tiny fist. "He's harmless when asleep and is a toddling Hermes when awake." Yao nodded for the sake of nodding. He closed the door quietly in the same cautious manner.

Sophus walked Yao towards the tablinum again. "And this is where the master works, his cubicula is across there," he explained, pointing towards the more ornate doors, standing tall and proud. Yao began to wonder for all the obsession for everything symmetrical, why could the Daqin not appreciate it's simplicity? It seems to be not enough. From the gardens to the bedroom, everything must be grandiose. It was starting to become overwhelming. "We are not to enter unless summoned," Sophus finished, gesturing for the Seres man to follow him when a male slave approached them with shears at hand.

"O! I should have come when your hair was more damp," he said, showing off the tool. "That way cutting the hair would be easier." He looked at Sophus with a small huff. "How come no one told me he was out of the bathing room?"

"NO."

Both men turned to the Seres man who was taking a step back and clasping his hair as if they intended to take his life along with it. Yao shook his head. "No need to cut my hair," he firmly stated. His pride, his connection to home. It was custom to wear it long, he had not cut it since he was a young adult. Women would pin their hair in pretty ornaments, proud men would tie it up, a strong symbol of their country.

"Its stupid if you think about it," the other man reasoned harshly, making an attempt to grab his wrist. "Why wear your hair long like an emperor's wife if you are just a slave doing housework!"

Yao hissed a few choice insults in his native tongue, his hand quicker than the growing frustration of the younger slave. Roman men kept their locks short and trimmed, it was custom. If this were any other slave Sophus would have let the other man have his way, but there was a sense of dread in his part. To become a Roman, one must act and look Roman, and Yao is head of domus so more reason to blend in. But then… Romulus might get angry if they did cut it. Sophus went wide eyed when Yao was just about to swipe the slave's shears away.

"Stop!" Sophus shouted, tugging on the other slave's tunic. This resulted in the man turning around with a heavy frown. "There is a reason why Romulus did not ask us specifically to cut Yao's hair."

The other man shook his head. "Well, its obvious, we're not stupid! Every good man's hair should be short!" he argued.

Sophus gave him one final tug. "And yet you act so innocent!" he exclaimed. "You touch Octavius' pretty new toy and see how Octavius likes it."

Quietly the man relented, feeling Yao's grip on his wrist loosen. He tugged his tunic free in turn.

"Head of domus," the slave scoffed bitterly. "A spoilt whore."

Sophus looked at Yao regretfully after the man left with his shears. "I didn't mean to degrade you like so," Sophus muttered. "But its to keep the peace." He sighed heavily. "Sometimes you have to tell them what they want to hear so they can leave you alone. I apologize."

Yao shook his head. "Do not apologize," Yao muttered. "I thank you. My reputation was decided long before I arrived." He sighed and felt his lips twitch up slightly for the first time in a long time. He was grateful someone was on his side. "We will work well together."

And Sophus was grateful as well. Romulus, although spontaneous and rash, made a good choice. He nodded. "I agree," he said, leading him out to give him a tour of the rest of the house.

"Octavius Marcellus is a wealthy and powerful man but he is fair," Sophus began as he showed him the slaves' quarters out near the peristyle. Humble in comparison to the Octavius' household but adequate and clean. "You have more to fear from the other slaves than our master." He chuckled at this. From what he seen with Yao trying to wrestle the shears out of the other slave's hands, Yao was fearless. "Slaves generally do better here. Perhaps better than plebeians. I have seen many an unfortunate hungry freeman whose clothes were so threadbare that I'd be embarrassed to wear them in public."

It was true, Yao had not a proper comparison but Sophus' well-made tunic, groomed hair and slight chub was a healthy sight.

He looked down on his own ill-fitting and awkward tunic. "Will you show me to the sewing supplies?" he asks Sophus when the domus tour was done.

"We have a talented tailor," the old slave responds. "Want your tunic to be altered?" He turned towards a hall which led to the kitchen.

"I can sew," Yao said. He had learned to sew under his apprenticeship as silk merchant,

"Ah," Sophus responds, stroking the stubble on his chin. "A useful skill. What else can you do?"

Yao felt himself smiling softly again. It was another thing he took for granted, to open up others on the smallest of things. It felt pleasant to talk to Sophus. He did not feel judged by this man when he spoke.

He told him he could perform basic housework, garden, cook as well as handle transactions, barter, and is familiar with the Roman numeral system. "I am not fluent in Latin," Yao points out. "I am literate but not in your language."

Sophus assures him that it would be just fine that he was clever and he would do well. "I came to this city knowing less than you," he said. "You are doing well enough already."

Yao settled on a cool, shady and lonely area of the gardens, sewing materials at hand. It was calm and Yao was able to work in peace. Save for the cat that suddenly brushed past his legs. Yao nearly dropped his shears at the sudden intruding sensation, not that it wasn't welcomed. Yao watched curiously as the cat disappeared into the hedges. Yao shook his head fondly and went back to work. Sophus had left him here for it was the quietest section of the peristyle. He straddled the marble bench and worked on altering his second tunic in focused silence.

Any other day and Romulus would have been out consulting business with his clients, store owners who rented his many locations in the city. He rubbed his temples as he looked at the papers scrawled with many figures of the complicated Roman numeral nature. Everything were all profits and payments made, organized and recorded months before. Yet he hovered over the desk trying not to think of the slave from Seres.

The window spilled sunlight into his office through lightly tinted glass, one of the first of its kind and terribly expensive. Still, it did not warm the room like it used to. He ran his fingers through his curls for the thousandth time as his leg bounced in place. There was no way he was pinning away for the Seres beauty as if he were young man again. While he wasn't old, he had experienced life well enough to know the differences between the fluttering in his stomach from infatuation and the churning unease from illness. He was supposed to know what to do about it. Romulus shook his head, realizing then that the reason why he stayed in his office longer was because of him.

To steal one more glance. Romulus peeked out of the office and saw the hallways empty. Because the raven hair and the gentle face was hard to forget. Romulus walked onto marbled floors, his footsteps echoing solemnly across the hallways.

Interestingly enough, the fact that he "owned" Yao didn't cross his mind.

He had always waited for his wife to say yes. Her approval, consent and enthusiasm was worth waiting for. He hardly made a decision without her opinion. And if she said no, they were often willing to collaborate. To come into a consensus. He was a person of action, she was a person of thought. It worked well enough together. Two forces pulling side to side in a balanced rhythm.

Surely, a piece of him was missing but he really wasn't looking for someone else to fell that emptiness. For now he will just settle on looking at Yao and admiring him from afar.

It was Sophus who found him. Romulus was snapped out of his daydreaming to glance at the old man approaching him from the peristyle. Sophus was more than willing to share all that he learned from the new slave to him.

"You are quite good," Romulus stated. "I knew I can trust you for breaking in new slaves."

Sophus smirked. "I'm not done yet you know," he said. "As with all people who traveled long enough away from home, Yao only needed a friendly ear. Ah, is there anything else you would like to know of... of the wooing nature?"

Romulus blushed lightly. "No, no, no need," he calmly answered. "I would like to ah, figure that out myself." It shouldn't be that hard. Why, Romulus has years of flirt and play on his side! The Seres youth wouldn't know what's coming to him!

"Has he eaten?" Romulus asked and Sophus grew wide eyed. "We were having such friendly talk I forgot to give him any!" he admitted. He began to dismiss himself, pausing first with one finger raised. "He is good natured, treat him kind and you'll have no trouble with him."

"Very well then," Romulus nodded.

Sophus returned to Yao with an announcement that he was to eat with a few other slaves on a break. He was given much more food of course with extra vegetables and stewed meat.

"We need to add strength to those bones," Sophus told Yao.

Yao picked at the unfamiliar vegetables and the new flavors and smells of the meat. It was rich in taste like his own cooking but new and strange on his tongue.

The other slaves gandered at Yao on occasion but kept to themselves for the time being.

"You will get your own room to sleep in, in the servant's quarters," Sophus continued. "Your first job here will be to mop down the floors of the dining room. Nothing too hard is it? Your first and last assignment for the day."

Yao set his near empty bowl down. "Show me where to find supplies."

After another slave clears up the tables, Sophus taught Yao how to use certain cleaning tools, which weren't at all difficult to use but he knew it was kind to show Yao the "proper" Roman way to clean.

Yao hikes up his awkward fitting tunic and began sweeping the floor. The debris disposed of outside than simply just pushed into the corners and under the rugs. Meanwhile, Sophus leans against the doorway, on stand by when Yao needed help moving furniture.

It was a bit of work and took longer than expected but Yao managed to make the floor appear spotless.

"Well done," Sophus praised, clapping Yao's back as the Seres man dabbed beads of sweat with the collar of his tunic. Yao smiled in response, feeling more satisfied than he was willing to admit.

It was dark and the night young but Sophus dismissed Yao for now. He led him to the slave's quarters, where he was to have his own little room as head of domus. "It's been some time since someone used this room," Sophus sighs, inspecting the untidiness of the room. "I only ask that it'd be tidied up." Yao nods quietly and with the aide of Sophus and by the light a small oil lamp, the floors were swept, the sheets dusted and crate of pomegranates moved to the kitchen.

When they were done, Yao hesitates but gives and meaningful bow to Sophus, who stood by puzzled yet amused all the same. Yao's long hair remained cascaded down for a few moments before he straightened himself up and kept his gaze down as all good people do in his home. "Thank you," Yao said sincerely. "You have been kind."

Sophus chuckled warmly and patted Yao's shoulder. "Sleep well. You can come to me if you need anything."

Yao nodded once and settled into his bed with a small sigh. It's been so long since he's had a proper night's sleep, but there was far too much on his mind. How will he gain respect among the other servants? Will he be able to do a proficient job at keeping them in line? What will Octavius require from him if he is to attend to him personally?

Most importantly, will he ever be able to go home? Will he ever see Xiao or Mei again? He had promised to bring Xiao a spinning top from India and Mei a flowered hairpiece. Throughout this whole ordeal, he hasn't allowed himself much time to think of the two children he's come to think of as his own. Both were orphans, but he had been close to their parents before a sickness ran through their village and claimed them. Yao misses them dearly and his chest tightened as he wonders if they feel like they've lost another important person. Do they still hold onto the hope that he's alive? Xiao likely doesn't. He's sure the boy is trying to act tough for his sister, although she's tough enough on her own. All he can do is pray that somehow he'll be able to see their faces once again.

His pursed lips trembled, his grip tightening on the cool sheets. He had not cried, not once. Not when he was bound and forced into submission, not when that monster forced himself in him night after night that week when he was bought by him. He covered his mouth and let out a choked sob. He simply did not have the time to grieve. These past few tortuous months just kept him busy and now, surrounded by the warmth of a friendly smile and promise of a new pleasant life…

Yao felt awful.

And so went Romulus' day, reviewing old receipts, writing down notes and planning for the evening dinner with the senators which would occur in a week's time. He really should have thought it through, appointing Yao suddenly like so. Yao would officially be head of domus then. The Seres beauty would have to present himself and serve his guests.

Romulus shook his head as he thought about a particular group of 3 men that would certainly be attending. They had to be reminded each time that his maids and his young servant men are off limits. They were the type that Romulus wouldn't mind facing the battlefield, for he wanted the chance to stick his dagger into their chests. They thought the world owed them a favor because they existed. Romulus thought they were better off dead. Yet as with all things, they were close friends with the emperor's favorites and he certainly had to please them if he wanted to secure a position in the senate. His thoughts went to Yao again and already, his mind burned with anger at the thought of them making an unwanted advancement towards Yao. Romulus would have to warn him in due time. He stood up and shuffled towards the family shrine to cool himself off.

Romulus smiled warmly at the weekly offerings there. Losing their mother was a traumatic experience for the children and all of them coped differently. He paid homage to Juno before setting his eyes on the cold representation of his beloved wife. Her eyes were never dead like that.

He sighed and took the spoiling fig that was attracting flies and the dead flowers, disposing those. He went back to the shrine and took the few folded letters near the bust. Romulus opened the letters and smiled warmly.

I love you forever mama, it was written in childish penmanship, your second littlest son Feliciano Octavius.

There were some few spelling errors here and there but Romulus was nonetheless proud. Feliciano was getting better. The only regret was trying to think of when the boy had written to him last. He was such a bright and proud boy. Writing endearments along with "inventory lists" of the domus, taking note of how many cats Herakles had in total, or how many figs were left so they can buy more. Romulus sighed. Feliciano stopped writing to him when his mother died, now dedicating his time to write to her. He missed his son's letters but he knew there was reason why Feliciano focused on letter writing to his mama, and he was to blame…

You can keep correspondence with your mother!

The boy was perched on his hip. Romulus dried tears with his silks. He embraced him, but how he wished he could hold him closer.

H-how can I? She-she's hic! she's dead!

Well you know you can send her letters and placing the note around her likeness. By doing so, you are inviting the messenger god Mercury into our home and he is the one that takes letters and delivers them to our beloved dead.

R-really? She's gonna write back?

I'm afraid not, but cheer up little mouse. She's going to read every single letter in the Underworld and she will know how much you and your brothers still love her so that one day, in the far, far future, your souls will reunite and she's going to have all your letters with her!

Yeah?

She will give you the biggest welcome in response wouldn't you like that?

Now Romulus tasked himself to clean and remove all letters at the shrine every night before he went to bed. His slaves let him do it. They won't dare disturb him then.

Because he is practically doing a god's job. A god's job he made up for himself, but that did not keep it from becoming a sacred ritual. And Romulus was damn well sure he was going to earn Mercury's favor if he keeps this up.

Romulus stored the precious letters in a small plain box out of reach in one of his many shelfs.

Sophus and two other slaves attended to him that night. They changed him into light comfortable clothing, prepared his small evening merenda of honey cakes and watered down wine. Romulus ate on his sofa as he did not want crumbs on his bed. He raised his palm, and the slaves stood by.

"Yao is be my new attendant in the morning, afternoon and evenings," he told Sophus specifically. "You will show him how I like things to go every morning, he is to serve me and my sons afternoon meals and attend to me in the evening."

Sophus nodded. "Will he be doing this for the week or-?"

Romulus bowed his head slightly. "As a head of domus, he will be my personal attendant only at those times."

More time spent with Yao. More excuses to strike conversation with him.

Feliciano slipped out of his bedroom and padded over to the atrium with a little note in hand. He gave up on trying to see if he could see Mercury for himself a while ago so he settled in placing notes in his mother's shrine whenever he pleased. They were not so much letters of endearment anymore but rather a journal of sorts. Writing his thoughts and feelings on the day's events.

Pater has a new slave today. Herakles called him a bad word. He is pretty and scary, like how you were at times. I promised to stay out of his way but if he talks to me I will talk to him back! I wonder if he likes figs like you and me!