I do not own the source material, just the world I have built around them.
Eventually, after much "social interaction" with Alfredos hovering silently on the edge of the portico, watching him like a hawk, a newcomer arrives that makes Brutus feel a sense of relief with the sharpness of an arrow to the gut. "Lucius!" He knows that some of the warmth in his excitable manner is genuine and The Bat growls in disapproval.
"Your Highness." His father's freedman bows low, he stands out in the gaily-colored array of high-born in his more somber garb. It's quality and cut are no less than any save Brutus' own, but he lacks the glittering splendor of the lords and ladies. Both Brutus and The Bat welcome it.
"Lucius!" He exclaims again, a false grin stretching across his face as he waves grandly, nearly smacking one of the courtesans hanging off him in the face. She squeaks in alarm, her elaborate headdress swaying ominously, strings of jewels and beads tinkling. Brutus and Lucius ignore her. "What brings you here?"
Lucius straightens and bobs his head deferentially. "Whenever you so wish, my lord, an invitation has been extended of a a tour of the troupe that shall assist with the masque. They promise a wondrous show this night and every night of the festival."
Brutus is slightly impressed with the troupe-master. Brutus, by virtue of his rank, would be well within his rights to walk into their camp and demand what he willed, with some reservations as Helios, the troupe-master, is a citizen with all the rights and protections afforded thereby. By extending an invitation in such a peremptory manner the man gives himself that much more leverage in the situation, practically ensuring a visit on his terms rather than Brutus'. The Bat both approves and is suspicious.
"That sounds delightful," Brutus crows, drawing attention from the majority of the surrounding lords and ladies. He can see his grandmother's disapproval at his lack of decorum (and decency) out of the corner of his eye. "Send for the carriage, Lucius! Shall we, damsels?" He feels some remorse at treating Lucius as a footman, but knows that the estate manager understands as well as he and Alfredos the importance of the charade they play at.
Whether called by Lucius or Alfredos, the carriage is in the courtyard by the time Brutus and his giggling companions emerge, trailed by various others, mostly hanger's on and brown-nosers, not a single Caelinii among them. In the end he is crammed into his carriage with three young women, the mother of one of them who had practically pushed her daughter in, (the others are rather more ladies of the evening than ladies of the courts) and an awkward young man some years younger than himself who tries to hide in the corner the entire trip. He is related to the lady-wife of one of the lesser Councilmen but Brutus can not be bothered to remember his name and ignores him in favor of scandalizing the mother with the enthusiastic assistance of his companions. He is rather amused that the lady seems undeterred but her daughter clearly does not want to be there and spends the uncomfortable ride with her eyes on her embroidered slippers, unaware of the glances she is receiving from the young man on her mother's other side and obviously trying to ignore her mother's unsubtle attempts to draw Brutus' attention from Gaiana and Rufina. (He thinks those are their names anyway)
By the time the carriage comes to a stop at the traveling camp set up outside the city walls, Brutus and the women with him have managed to thoroughly embarrass and disturb the girl and young man, even the determined mother looking sincerely scandalized. Dion Arcadius (that is his name) practically bursts from the carriage as soon as Alfredos opens the door. The steward watches him with a carefully blank expression before turning to Brutus himself. His neutral countenance becomes even more so and Brutus struggles to keep the small spike of shame internal. The women help with that as they hang off his arms, cooing comments and compliments at him as the others who have come begin to join them.
An older man, beginning to go bald approaches them and gives a low bow. "Welcome, lords and ladies. Your Grace." He gives an even deeper bow with a showman's flourish to Brutus. "You honor us with your presence." He is dressed in the usual, rag-tag finery of the traveling players that could be found all over the continent. This troupe was the only one to come to the Black Islands though, an that only every fifth year. Brutus had been away on his journeys the last time they performed at the solstice festival.
He gives the troupe-master an absent nod. "Yes, well, why don't we begin." The girl on his right (Rufina?) giggles and presses closer into his side.
The troupe-master, Helios, inclines his head. "Of course, my lord. Would you prefer to begin with a tour or would you rather discuss tonight's event?"
Lucius speaks up from the side. "If you would prefer my lord, perhaps we should attend to business before pleasure."
Brutus makes a show of sulking and "reluctantly" agrees. Truthfully, he does not particularly care. Either way his time is being filled with pointless endeavors. As he walks towards the caravan wagon Helios has indicated as their destination he thinks of the Cave deep beneath his ancestral home. (A home that serves as a cold mausoleum for the memories of his father and mother.) He could be doing something worthwhile right now. Instead he is forced to play at the charade of Prince Brutus Varius. If he just left that life behind for good...He spent more of his time in the Cave than the keep anyway.
Troupe-master Helios' wagon is small but cozy, even though Brutus finds the inside trappings to be rather gaudy. He's seen worse though, (has lived in worse) and only permits any distaste to show because it would be expected. Despite the clutter, there are enough seats for Brutus, Master Helios, Lucius, and one of the girls, if the girl sits on his lap, a situation agreeable to both parties. Alfredos silently takes up a position behind Brutus that to an outsider would merely look as though he were ready to attend should his master call. Brutus, however, feels himself relax, ever so slightly, at knowing the rear is guarded. He is able to devote more attention to...other matters that way.
Master Helios clears his throat awkwardly, glancing at Lucius before beginning. "We are able to provide all the dancers and tumblers requested for the performance tonight at the opening festivities. Our flyers do have some questions they wish me to ask about their roles, but all that can be easily cleared up." He glances at Brutus, who makes sure he gives the appearance of being distracted by the gold-drops in Rufina's ears. "After the tour, if it pleases my lord, would you honor us by consenting to allow the flyers to include you in a practice so that they might know how best to present themselves beside you?"
Brutus knows that what that really means is "they want to ensure that you are not likely to do anything stupid and get them or yourself hurt."
"Of course!" He says cheerily. "How does a preview of the show tonight sound to you?" He asks Rufina, who makes a generally agreeable noise, her fingers playing with his collar.
Master Helios looks relieved. "Very well then."
There are a few more details to be sorted out, but Brutus leaves that to Lucius and Helios and proceeds to do his best to ignore Alfredos' very proper and very silent disapproval as he and Rufina get more and more...familiar.
*JLA*JLA*JLA*
The discussion is completed before anything progresses to the point of complete and outright scandal. Rufina reorders her clothing somewhat before they exit the wagon. Brutus doesn't bother, presenting an air of cheerful hedonism as he leads the way from the caravan and into the open air, where Helios promptly begins guiding them around the portion of the camp used for their performances.
The troupe is fairly standard for it's kind, if one of the best Brutus has seen. They have several exotic animals scattered around and all are well cared for. The elephant in particular seems pleased with her lot, wandering fairly freely around one corner of the camp with the calm, regal air of a queen surveying her lands. There are several performances going on being viewed by quite a crowd of Islanders of a less prosperous variety than Brutus and his companions. They pass a fortune teller's wagon, a woman performing tricks on a long, brightly-colored strip of fabric held suspended in the air, jugglers, tumblers, dancers and entertainers of all sorts. Several of the women shriek when they pass by a fire-breather just as a spout of flame bursts forth.
Jerked to the side by Gaiana stumbling in startlement, Brutus almost misses the light tug on his purse. His instinctual reaction, sharpened by years of traveling near penniless in foreign lands, is to reach back and grab the wrist of the would-be pick-pocket and that is how he finds himself staring down at wide blue eyes in a little brown face, looking back up at him in terror. All conversation around them freezes and Master Helios looks back to see what has happened. Brutus does not look away from his assessment of the boy.
He is small, probably no more than six or seven winters, but wiry. His bright-colored clothing is worn but clean and he himself is the most well-groomed cut-purse Brutus has ever encountered. The shade of his skin and something in the cast of his features points to gypsy heritage. The boy twists his arm, trying to break free and Brutus automatically counters before realizing he's just lost the opportunity to let the boy escape and avoid the mess that will follow.
Then it gets worse.
The boy's struggle had pushed his hair to the side, exposing his ear. His clipped ear. Why, oh why, had he not let go?
He loosens his grip, just a little and the boy takes the chance and wrenches himself free, disappearing into the crowd among the tents and caravans as though he had never been there in the first place. Master Helios, pale-faced, steps forward, already opening his mouth. Everyone is watching them and Brutus opts for damage control.
"I assume he belongs to you?" he booms at the troupemaster, Helios inclines his head, covering his fear with a showman's skill. It is quite impressive actually.
"Yes, My Lord, and I-"
Brutus waves a hand, cutting him off. "No matter." He lays a hand on his purse and gives a boisterous laugh. "No harm has been done, I leave his discipline in your hands, I haven't time to bother with a gypsy ragamuffin anyway."
The relief Helios feels shows on his face for the briefest space of a breath before it is covered by one of his flamboyant bows. "Of course, My Lord. I assure you, it shall be dealt with."
Brutus nods graciously and suppresses his cynical snort. Even if the troupemaster is not himself responsible for setting the child on the crowd to hunt, he would have profited if the attempt on Brutus was successful. (And no doubt does profit from that boy and others working the crowds.) The only discipline likely to happen would be the result of him having been caught. In any case, Brutus is inclined to think that the most the boy will suffer will be a box around the ears. Helios' body language during the brief confrontation had been concern primarily for the boy himself. Not unwarranted, as Brutus would have been well within his rights to demand the full penalties of the law be visited upon both the child and Helios himself, as the boy's master. But most of Helios' concern had been for the boy. He cares about him.
"If you will look to your dexter-hand, my lords and ladies." Helios picks up his narration smoothly. "You will see one of the wonders of the world, the Tumblers of Vestri, renowned in the farthest courts for their grace and skill..."
*JLA*JLA*JLA*
Most of the company depart with the completion of the tour. There are more high-class goings on in the city, not only at the Council Hall but many are hosting dinners and celebrations in their homes. Brutus himself will hold a banquet at his mother's townhouse the night of the equinox. Brutus, the two women with him, Lucius, and Alfredos follow Helios towards the great tent. Stepping inside the canvas palace casts yet another shadow between them and the already dimmed sun but the interior is also lit by a combination of torches, charmed light-stones, and even a few conjured lights. Brutus adjusts his evaluation of the troupe to include at least one skilled, moderately powerful magic user.
Rufina, beside him, draws in a sharp breath and Brutus can not blame her. When Master Helios described these performers as "flyers" there was no exaggeration. Six people, traveling through the air as though they did indeed possess wings. The smallest of the figures makes a complicated flip mid-air and Brutus feels his eyes narrow. He has many skills himself, some of them even learned from performers like these but he has no ability like these. Even now, when they are simply playing rather than performing they are impressive. He can not but think that never has he seen their equal, not in all his travels.
Helios calls to the flyers and they descend from the ropes, nimble and fearless as so many monkeys. He recognizes the first woman down, she had been outside on the suspended scarf, daring the forces of the earth to prevail against her. As she is joined by the others Brutus is surprised to see that the smallest is the erstwhile cut-purse. A swift survey proves that each and every one of them bears a clipped ear and the edge of a brand shows, just barely visible, from beneath the first woman's modest neckline.
There are several indicators of slave-status. The most common is branding, as the brands that are forged to be unalterable except by very secret, specific magics are somewhat costly but only need be purchased once. Most slaves belonging to families and individual owners, especially of the working and merchant classes are marked so.
The specially crafted cuffs, or slave-bracelets, are more expensive and are usually bound with many different magics such as locator runes and punishment spells. Alfredos for instance, wears a silver-steel cuff worked with runes for preventing damage, whether deliberate or accidental, some very complicated and complete runes of protection focused on Alfredos himself, an inlay permitting him not only to pass through any and all wards over any property of the House of Varius but allow him control over those wards and whether to allow others access. Alfredos has a very trusted role in the household and it is reflected in his cuff, anyone can tell at a glance. Slave-bracelets are as much status symbols as the slaves themselves and are almost exclusively used by wealthier craftsmen and merchants and those in the upper echelons of society. And even then, not every slave receives one. Scullery maids and gardeners for example are not deemed worth the cost of the materials and magics and are branded instead. The cuffs are reserved for personal slaves mostly, pets and handmaids and body slaves, as well as slaves like Alfredos, who is held in high regard for his role as steward, which also places him often in the position of representing the Household.
The third method of marking a slave is the simple practice of clipping their ear. It is used for quarry slaves, mine slaves, galley slaves and other such situations, when a large group is used for a specific purpose and usually does not belong to any one individual in particular. That Helios opts for ear-clipping for his own slaves speaks to the hand-to-mouth style of living among the troupe. The first woman's brand would be from a previous owner and would now be marked as no longer valid with the special, overlaying symbol signifying that she had been sold on.
Helios and the flyers are all nervous and hiding it well, Brutus plays the oblivious noble and feigns to not recognize the boy. Most people like the character he plays wouldn't. "Shall we proceed then! I'm rather excited about this, I'll admit." He grins, Gaiana giggles and Helios relaxes slightly and the boy looks less like he wants to climb to the highest point in the great tent to hide.
It is a spectacular show indeed. Pointless, as all of this nonsense is, but he can still appreciate the skill of the performers. Mostly, his role is to stand in one place and not make any sudden movements as the flyers, well, fly past him in blurs of motion so smooth it is sometimes hard to tell where one ends and another begins. They are all family, two brothers from the looks of it, and their wives. He thinks the boys, one on the edge of manhood and the other the child who has been the cause of so much excitement, belong one to each pair but he can not be sure of it.
Perhaps if he gives the appearance of drinking especially heavily tonight he can retire early and spend some time in the shadows before the morning comes.
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