[u][b] Tainus Fulvius[/b][/u]

Tainus stared at the four coins on the table before him, each baring the face of a different emperor. There was Nero, the allegedly mad emperor who had started the great fire of Rome. Galba, who had declared himself emperor before being killed by Marcus Salvius Otho, the foolish and weak emperor who had killed himself in a poor attempt to prevent a civil war, and now there was Vitellius, the man who in his own eyes was responsible for the death of much of his family. 

Tainus frowned as his temper rose at the simple thought of his family being murdered like plebeian dogs, at the thought of their assets being seized by the Empire instead of passed down to their rightful owners, and now Tainus had received another demand from him, to return to Rome and swear fealty to this new emperor or be branded a traitor to the empire, stripped of his position and sentenced to death for his alleged crimes. In one swift and aggressive movement Tainus drew a short blade from his belt and slammed its point through the golden image of Vitellius’s face, nailing the coin to the table before he turned away and placed his helm onto his head before walking out of his command tent, a determined glint in his eye. 

Stood arrayed before him in their formations was his Legion, all having mobilised at his command, ready to march, ready to follow their commander into the very gates of the underworld if necessary. 

“Brothers!” he shouted at the top of his voice as he made his way down the front line towards his stallion “today we march towards Rome, towards the very heart of our glorious empire!” He paused for a moment, surveying the grim faces that watched him as his officers repeated his words so all could hear “Cowards and women wait there for us, they demand we kneel and swear our fealty to them, but I say that none there deserve our fealty or obedience. They have betrayed Rome, they have betrayed us, and now we shall show them what happens to those who dare threaten our empire!” as he finished he mounted his horse and thrust his gladius sword into the air, the roar of his men being almost deafening as they began to bang their swords against their shields creating an aweful din, some even going so-far as to hail him the true heir to the Empire with their cheers. It was music to his ears. 

Turning to his head military tribune, the man directly below him in rank, a rather brilliant brute name Gregus, he said “See to it that the men know we are not going to Rome to pillage her or her people. Let them know that any man who raises a hand against a citizen will be punished accordingly. Only the men who foolishly follow our enemy will be harmed. I will ride ahead as best I can, once you arrive station the men to the north of the city and fortify your position. I will meet you there with further instructions. To any who ask we are going to swear our allegiance to the [i]true[/i] emperor”. 

The man nodded before saluting “Understood, we will be there. You have our full support Tainus” he said in a gruff voice. The men clapped arms together and shared a brief moment as Gregus added “and good luck my friend, in Rome you will need it”. 

With that Tainus nodded once before turning and urging his horse forwards with as much speed as it could muster, a large cloud of dust being left in his wake as he rode for Rome. 

[u][b] Tressa Corcoran[/b][/u]

Tressa wept silently, tears running down her pale face which was marred by a huge bruise, her lip swollen and cut from the blow she had received. This day had been truly terrible, it began with a demand from her owner, Argentus, to join him in his chambers. Whilst there he had torn her dress and forced her onto her knees, making her service him until he was satisfied before he took what else he wanted from her. She had thought of killing him the entire time, but as always she could never bring herself to disobey, to disappoint or to step even slightly out of line. He had then sent her away to resume her daily tasks, which is when his wife had seen her emerge from his chambers with her dress torn and the all too familiar look of shame upon her face. 

Once she had cleansed herself and redressed she had been approached by one of her owner’s guards, a man she knew as a cruel brute who only needed a coin slipped into his pocket to break her master’s rule of not damaging her face. As soon as she had seen him she knew what was coming and so had done little to resist other than whimper, knowing there was nothing else she could do as the man simply walked over and back-handed her with all of his strength. With nothing more than a chuckle the man turned and left her where she had fallen, which is where she now found herself unable to do anything other than weep. 

As she glanced up she could see across the courtyard to where [i]she[/i] was watching her, a smirk on her face as the pair briefly made eye contact before she turned and stalked away, once more leaving Tressa to her misery. 

Gritting her teeth Tressa stood before murmuring under her breath, surprising even herself with her anger as she spoke in her natural tongue “[i]One day I shall kill you all, this I swear”[/i]. Shocked she covered her mouth with a hand before glancing around nervously for fear anyone had heard her. Fortunately they had not. 

Taking a few deep breaths to stabilise herself she smoothed down the plain white dress she was wearing, of course it was in the fashion of her owners, as all clothing seemed to be. She wiped the blood from her chin and prepared herself as best she could to continue with her daily duties. Today she was to go to the market, a slave whore with a bruised face and split lip, oh how they would giggle a point at her as they usually did – with all she could do was to ignore them and act as if they did not exist. 

Sometime later she was making her way through the narrow streets of Rome, a single guard at her back following her every turn. This one was new, but he seemed disinterested enough that she may actually be able to do what she needed without any harassment from the man who was ‘guarding’ her. Tressa shivered at the cold autumn wind slightly, wishing she had thicker clothes as she passed through an archway into the market place. She began to browse the wares as quickly as possible, the merchants sparing her their sales pitches as they all knew her to be a slave not worthy of their attention. A pair of noble women passed her, Tressa taking a step backwards and bowing her head in submission slightly as they did, half to show the required respect, half to hide her face. They were speaking about the gladiatorial games, causing a painful twinge of memory as she thought of her brother, likely killed in the arena they so casually talked about attending. [i]Stupid Roman bitches…[/i] she thought aggressively to herself, again almost shocking herself at her own thoughts. What was happening with her thoughts today, she wondered. 

As Tressa picked up several apples to place in her basket a Roman man who seemed most flustered, covered in fruit smeared down himself stormed past her and knocked them from her hands, causing them to roll in several directions. Flushing bright red Tressa scrambled to pick them up, terrified of drawing further attention to herself as the man stormed off with little more than a glance at her body. 

“Prick” she mumbled in Iceni, feeling strangely liberated that she had spoken her mind in public for the first time.