Meloch the Pygmy
First Post
Orichalcum said:
Oh dear. That whole Togagate business... *face in hands* Not my finest hour.
Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
Oh dear. That whole Togagate business... *face in hands* Not my finest hour.
Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta XI: Romantic Comedy Chp. I: The War Council
"Meloch," Cornelia sputters, trying hard to keep a note of deadly force in her voice, "did you...actually, wait a second. I am not going to ask you whether or not you attacked Gnaeus Tertius Publicola and stole from him. I am not going to ask you, because I will have to testify, at trial, about this. But rest assured, after we have won this trial, and made Publicola look a fool, you and I are having a very long talk."
"But Domina," Meloch says, adopting an aura of cherubic innocence, "of course I would never assault Publicola."
I scribble on my wax tablet with my stylus and hold up my own defense, "He was crazy to claim that I cast a curse on him. I don't know how. If you want to know what sort of person would cast curses, maybe you should talk to your friend the curse tablet specialist..."
Cornelia seems mildly startled by the wit and wisdom of my argument, but finally blinks, "I just don't want to know. But I do need help. Meloch, go to the Domus Metelli and to the Praetorian Fortress and summon everybody. We need a war council, or, at least, a strategy session."
As Meloch scampers out the front door and Cornelia goes to cry on Nanna Alma's shoulder briefly, neither of them notice Ogulnius the steward, who has been lurking behind the kitchen door, skulking into the quarters of Cornelia's mother, undoubtedly to tell her all.
A few hours later, we are all gathered around the lovely but noisy fountain in Licinia Luculla's courtyard. (I, of course, take the opportunity to frolic in the fountain itself.)
"Why did you summon us, Cornelia?" Metellus asks.
"I'm being sued. By Publicola. On charges of assault, witchcraft, theft, cursing...I think those were the main ones."
"What?" Marcus gasps, a bit surprised at the woman whom he thought had matured into a proper Roman lady. "Why did you assault one of Metellus' fellow candidates?"
"I didn't," Cornelia mutters, teeth clenched. "But he claims to have seen a pygmy and a monkey climbing out of his window, with his toga, and that then, according to the written charge, the monkey used some sort of magical curse on him. And, well, there aren't many pygmy-and-monkey combos running around Roma, particularly not belonging to someone associated with a rival candidate and..."
"And you're legally responsible for the actions of your slaves and non-citizen clients," Metellus finishes, ruefully. There was a brief pause.
"I could simply kill the pygmy for you now and solve the problem that way," Marcus offers.
"No," Cornelia says forcefully, glancing at Meloch and I, who are hovering in the background.
"Besides," Metellus points out, "that would be a tacit admission of guilt, which would be horrible for my campaign. In fact...I don't want to know if Meloch did this - if any of you did this [looking at Heilyn meaningfully]. Although if the toga is as magical as we thought, it's probably a good thing for us."
"Presuming we can clear Domina Cornelia's good name, you mean, " Lucretius interrupts.
"Well, yes, of course," Metellus answers.
"That does explain the note I got from my contact in the vigiles," Lucretius muses. "He said he had recently received a torture requisition order...for all the slaves in the house of Licinia Luculla. Since, of course, slaves can't testify under trial unless they've been tortured first. He thought I'd like to know, since he knows of my friendship with your family, Cornelia."
Cornelia shudders. "They can do that? Just take away all our slaves for torture?"
"Well, normally either the opposition would hire professionals to do it, or leave it up to the vigiles. If you want, I can pull rank...and torture the slaves myself. But I'd have to really do it," Lucretius warns.
"Still, it's better than having Publicola's hired thugs torture Meloch," Metellus offers helpfully, feeling a little guilty.
"I think you're all going about this in the wrong way," Heilyn bursts in. "You're thinking about this like Romans, all about the trial and the torture and the watchmen..."
"We are Romans," Metellus responds, a bit icily. "What would you have us do?"
"Well, what we really want is to get Publicola to drop the charges somehow, nae?" Heilyn asks.
"Well, yes, that would be ideal," Cornelia says, "but he seems to have a fair amount of evidence against us."
"So what we have to do is investigate him first, and find out all his guilty secrets, which moost be worse than awrs, and then tell him we'll tell all of Roma if he dinna withdraw his suit," Heilyn proposes.
"Certainly, it's a good start. Any idea of where to begin?" Marcus asks.
"Well, there's the whole matter of his lawsuit about my partner's smithy - it seemed verra suspicious to me."
"All right, we'll check into that, and his other cases," Metellus declares.
"Also, joost in case it does go to cuirt, ye should know that he won't be quite the bonny speaker he was afore. No toga, and besides, I think he might have a touch of the Evil Eye..." Heilyn offers.
"We don't want to know!" Metellus and Cornelia chorus, in unison for once in their lives.
"And in the meanwhile, we want to keep Meloch out of sight, and out of trouble, " Lucretius comments. "I'll bring him to the palace. Hadriana's been wanting to consult with him about whether her pregnancy's going well, and baby Cimbra always likes seeing her pygmy juggling companion."
"Thank you, Lucretius," Cornelia breathes a sigh of relief.
***
In the doorway of the servants' quarters, where a number of slaves have been listening avidly to as much of the war council as they could overhear over the fountain, an enraged Ogulnius turns to Meloch, his face glowing bright red. "Pygmy! If I get tortured because of you, rest assured that you and your mistress will be publicly flayed alive..."
"Meloch," Cornelia sputters, trying hard to keep a note of deadly force in her voice, "did you...actually, wait a second. I am not going to ask you whether or not you attacked Gnaeus Tertius Publicola and stole from him. I am not going to ask you, because I will have to testify, at trial, about this. But rest assured, after we have won this trial, and made Publicola look a fool, you and I are having a very long talk."
"But Domina," Meloch says, adopting an aura of cherubic innocence, "of course I would never assault Publicola."
I scribble on my wax tablet with my stylus and hold up my own defense, "He was crazy to claim that I cast a curse on him. I don't know how. If you want to know what sort of person would cast curses, maybe you should talk to your friend the curse tablet specialist..."
Cornelia seems mildly startled by the wit and wisdom of my argument, but finally blinks, "I just don't want to know. But I do need help. Meloch, go to the Domus Metelli and to the Praetorian Fortress and summon everybody. We need a war council, or, at least, a strategy session."
As Meloch scampers out the front door and Cornelia goes to cry on Nanna Alma's shoulder briefly, neither of them notice Ogulnius the steward, who has been lurking behind the kitchen door, skulking into the quarters of Cornelia's mother, undoubtedly to tell her all.
A few hours later, we are all gathered around the lovely but noisy fountain in Licinia Luculla's courtyard. (I, of course, take the opportunity to frolic in the fountain itself.)
"Why did you summon us, Cornelia?" Metellus asks.
"I'm being sued. By Publicola. On charges of assault, witchcraft, theft, cursing...I think those were the main ones."
"What?" Marcus gasps, a bit surprised at the woman whom he thought had matured into a proper Roman lady. "Why did you assault one of Metellus' fellow candidates?"
"I didn't," Cornelia mutters, teeth clenched. "But he claims to have seen a pygmy and a monkey climbing out of his window, with his toga, and that then, according to the written charge, the monkey used some sort of magical curse on him. And, well, there aren't many pygmy-and-monkey combos running around Roma, particularly not belonging to someone associated with a rival candidate and..."
"And you're legally responsible for the actions of your slaves and non-citizen clients," Metellus finishes, ruefully. There was a brief pause.
"I could simply kill the pygmy for you now and solve the problem that way," Marcus offers.
"No," Cornelia says forcefully, glancing at Meloch and I, who are hovering in the background.
"Besides," Metellus points out, "that would be a tacit admission of guilt, which would be horrible for my campaign. In fact...I don't want to know if Meloch did this - if any of you did this [looking at Heilyn meaningfully]. Although if the toga is as magical as we thought, it's probably a good thing for us."
"Presuming we can clear Domina Cornelia's good name, you mean, " Lucretius interrupts.
"Well, yes, of course," Metellus answers.
"That does explain the note I got from my contact in the vigiles," Lucretius muses. "He said he had recently received a torture requisition order...for all the slaves in the house of Licinia Luculla. Since, of course, slaves can't testify under trial unless they've been tortured first. He thought I'd like to know, since he knows of my friendship with your family, Cornelia."
Cornelia shudders. "They can do that? Just take away all our slaves for torture?"
"Well, normally either the opposition would hire professionals to do it, or leave it up to the vigiles. If you want, I can pull rank...and torture the slaves myself. But I'd have to really do it," Lucretius warns.
"Still, it's better than having Publicola's hired thugs torture Meloch," Metellus offers helpfully, feeling a little guilty.
"I think you're all going about this in the wrong way," Heilyn bursts in. "You're thinking about this like Romans, all about the trial and the torture and the watchmen..."
"We are Romans," Metellus responds, a bit icily. "What would you have us do?"
"Well, what we really want is to get Publicola to drop the charges somehow, nae?" Heilyn asks.
"Well, yes, that would be ideal," Cornelia says, "but he seems to have a fair amount of evidence against us."
"So what we have to do is investigate him first, and find out all his guilty secrets, which moost be worse than awrs, and then tell him we'll tell all of Roma if he dinna withdraw his suit," Heilyn proposes.
"Certainly, it's a good start. Any idea of where to begin?" Marcus asks.
"Well, there's the whole matter of his lawsuit about my partner's smithy - it seemed verra suspicious to me."
"All right, we'll check into that, and his other cases," Metellus declares.
"Also, joost in case it does go to cuirt, ye should know that he won't be quite the bonny speaker he was afore. No toga, and besides, I think he might have a touch of the Evil Eye..." Heilyn offers.
"We don't want to know!" Metellus and Cornelia chorus, in unison for once in their lives.
"And in the meanwhile, we want to keep Meloch out of sight, and out of trouble, " Lucretius comments. "I'll bring him to the palace. Hadriana's been wanting to consult with him about whether her pregnancy's going well, and baby Cimbra always likes seeing her pygmy juggling companion."
"Thank you, Lucretius," Cornelia breathes a sigh of relief.
***
In the doorway of the servants' quarters, where a number of slaves have been listening avidly to as much of the war council as they could overhear over the fountain, an enraged Ogulnius turns to Meloch, his face glowing bright red. "Pygmy! If I get tortured because of you, rest assured that you and your mistress will be publicly flayed alive..."
Orichalcum
First Post
Fajitas said:
Sure. Basically, the assumption was that slaves would naturally lie to protect their masters (or because they were being threatened by their masters with retaliation). Thus, the only way to ensure that they spoke the truth was to torture it out of them. This presumes, of course, the effectiveness of torture. One of the great legal advantages of being a Roman citizen was total immunity to torture (See Paul in the New Testament of the Christian Bible), it being assumed that the civic respectability denoted by citizenship would also lead to reliable testimony under oath.
So basically, Meloch has to be tortured on the request of the opposition; Heilyn, otoh, got his citizenship through the Eagle escapade and as the freeborn client of a Roman patrician senatorial family he has a fair amount of protection anyways; Marcus and Cornelia and Metellus can never be tortured.
It's these fun wacky bits of ancient color that I feel really drive Alea. Meloch, of course, had different opinions, as you'll see.
Cerebral Paladin
First Post
<hat=lawyer>
Anglo-American legal practice actually followed a similar, although different, principle for many years. As late as the mid-19th century, atheists and others who did not believe in Hell could not testify in court in many states. The theory was that the principal truth enforcing effect of oaths was the fear that God would punish those who took His name in vain by breaking their oaths. The existence of groups such as the Friends/Quakers who believed in God and were major, well-established parts of American society but refused to swear oaths helped to undermine this, leading to the modern practice of testifying under oath or affirmation, with the main threat to compel honesty being the mostly fictitious possibility of perjury charges, as opposed to fears of divine retribution.
</hat>
Anglo-American legal practice actually followed a similar, although different, principle for many years. As late as the mid-19th century, atheists and others who did not believe in Hell could not testify in court in many states. The theory was that the principal truth enforcing effect of oaths was the fear that God would punish those who took His name in vain by breaking their oaths. The existence of groups such as the Friends/Quakers who believed in God and were major, well-established parts of American society but refused to swear oaths helped to undermine this, leading to the modern practice of testifying under oath or affirmation, with the main threat to compel honesty being the mostly fictitious possibility of perjury charges, as opposed to fears of divine retribution.
</hat>
Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta XI: Romantic Comedy Chp. II: At the Palace
A visit of numerous gaming friends, like Wena's player, delayed this post unavoidably...See many of you this weekend!
Lucretius approaches Meloch, ignoring the scowling Ogulnius in the background. "Are you free to come to the palace, Meloch? The nobilissima Hadriana has requested your services."
Meloch and I, knowing an escape route when we see one, eagerly assent, and are escorted off to the east wing of the Imperial palace, home of Cimbrus Caesar and his family. After some hours of patient waiting, we are ushered by snobbish, prim slaves into the private family quarters of Cimbrus and Hadriana, where Hadriana, now visibly pregnant, is lying on a couch.
"Nobilissima," Meloch bows extravagantly, "how may we serve you?"
"You were able before to use your pygmy senses to check on the child I'm expecting, and its health. In this summer heat, and with all the political crises during Cimbrus'...illness, I'm a little worried, since it hasn't been kicking much. Could you use your magic again?" Hadriana requests, not really allowing room for a negative answer.
"Of course," Meloch bows and intones the chant for "Detect Pregnancy," carefully sprinkling Hadriana with some dried sage and raspberry leaves. He concentrates carefully, and looks at her, remembering that the last time, he was unable to conceal the truth from her that the child was quite small and weak.
"Nobilissima, your son is alive and well. Some babies are quieter than others, but he certainly seems to have all the right numbers of limbs and so forth."
"Thank you. Lucretius, if you, Cornelia, and Meloch could also look in on Cimbra - she's been a bit sickly of late, and I'm concerned for her health."
Duly dismissed, we collect Cornelia and some magical tests for poison and go to the nursery of the toddler and Imperial heiress Cimbra. While at first the baby seems quite cheerful and happy to see us all - although she expresses her happiness by yanking my tail repeatedly - she is indeed pale, although with a fine head of thick, full hair, and her eyes seem a little dull. Lucretius summons the slaves and wetnurses, while Cornelia and Meloch investigate magically and determine that there is indeed some trace of non-magical poison.
However, all investigations of the kitchens and questioning of the wetnurses themselves turn up empty-handed; they are two good, well-meaning women, devoted to the child and to Hadriana. They eat the same food and drink the same wine as the other slaves, and are careful about their diet.
Finally, Lucretius looks at them, and notices that they are also quite pale, but unnaturally so. "Good wetnurses," the guard asks, "have you been using cosmetics at all?"
"Oh yes," they both respond. It's the latest fashion. Face, arms, and chest."
"Can we see your cosmetic boxes?" Lucretius demands.
They return in a few minutes with a small box of white powder, which Meloch uses his herbalism knowledge to identify as arsenic, which he knows can be absorbed into the blood through the skin.
"Who introduced this new fashion?" Cornelia asks, curious.
"Oh, the Emperor's sister, Mamerca. She is always a leader of new fashions and styles in the palace."
A visit of numerous gaming friends, like Wena's player, delayed this post unavoidably...See many of you this weekend!
Lucretius approaches Meloch, ignoring the scowling Ogulnius in the background. "Are you free to come to the palace, Meloch? The nobilissima Hadriana has requested your services."
Meloch and I, knowing an escape route when we see one, eagerly assent, and are escorted off to the east wing of the Imperial palace, home of Cimbrus Caesar and his family. After some hours of patient waiting, we are ushered by snobbish, prim slaves into the private family quarters of Cimbrus and Hadriana, where Hadriana, now visibly pregnant, is lying on a couch.
"Nobilissima," Meloch bows extravagantly, "how may we serve you?"
"You were able before to use your pygmy senses to check on the child I'm expecting, and its health. In this summer heat, and with all the political crises during Cimbrus'...illness, I'm a little worried, since it hasn't been kicking much. Could you use your magic again?" Hadriana requests, not really allowing room for a negative answer.
"Of course," Meloch bows and intones the chant for "Detect Pregnancy," carefully sprinkling Hadriana with some dried sage and raspberry leaves. He concentrates carefully, and looks at her, remembering that the last time, he was unable to conceal the truth from her that the child was quite small and weak.
"Nobilissima, your son is alive and well. Some babies are quieter than others, but he certainly seems to have all the right numbers of limbs and so forth."
"Thank you. Lucretius, if you, Cornelia, and Meloch could also look in on Cimbra - she's been a bit sickly of late, and I'm concerned for her health."
Duly dismissed, we collect Cornelia and some magical tests for poison and go to the nursery of the toddler and Imperial heiress Cimbra. While at first the baby seems quite cheerful and happy to see us all - although she expresses her happiness by yanking my tail repeatedly - she is indeed pale, although with a fine head of thick, full hair, and her eyes seem a little dull. Lucretius summons the slaves and wetnurses, while Cornelia and Meloch investigate magically and determine that there is indeed some trace of non-magical poison.
However, all investigations of the kitchens and questioning of the wetnurses themselves turn up empty-handed; they are two good, well-meaning women, devoted to the child and to Hadriana. They eat the same food and drink the same wine as the other slaves, and are careful about their diet.
Finally, Lucretius looks at them, and notices that they are also quite pale, but unnaturally so. "Good wetnurses," the guard asks, "have you been using cosmetics at all?"
"Oh yes," they both respond. It's the latest fashion. Face, arms, and chest."
"Can we see your cosmetic boxes?" Lucretius demands.
They return in a few minutes with a small box of white powder, which Meloch uses his herbalism knowledge to identify as arsenic, which he knows can be absorbed into the blood through the skin.
"Who introduced this new fashion?" Cornelia asks, curious.
"Oh, the Emperor's sister, Mamerca. She is always a leader of new fashions and styles in the palace."
Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta XI: Romantic Comedy Chp. III: Sneaking into the Imperial Palace
Cornelia immediately confiscates the poisonous cosmetics from all of the wet-nurses, and goes to inform Hadriana and Cimbrus that she thinks that the immediate threat, at least, is solved.
"Thank you. So, you think Mamerca is behind this?" Hadriana asks shrewdly.
"Well, at the least, she's been encouraging your slaves to use poisonous cosmetics on their breasts. But she may not have known they were harmful." Cornelia responds, diplomatically.
"Ah, yes, Mamerca, the perpetual deceived innocent victim," Hadriana comments sarcastically.
"Now, dear, she's my aunt! And she was under mind control by Scaevola - it wasn't her fault that her son went evil and insane! She's in mourning now, and we should all be sympathetic," Cimbrus remonstrates.
"Of course. Highly sympathetic. Nevertheless, Cornelia, I would like you and your allies to...keep an eye out for the activities of the nobilissima Mamerca, discreetly and untraceably if possible. She may indeed simply be a grieving mother...or not." Hadriana orders.
"Certainly, nobilissima Hadriana, we'll do what we can. Though i may be a bit busy the next few days, as i'm being sued."
"Ah, yes, we heard about that," Cimbrus comments. "You understand of course that we cannot interfere directly - it would taint the faith that Romans have in the system of law. Still, we may be helpful in other ways, as you shall see."
"Thank you very much, and of course I would never want you to distort justice on my behalf." Cornelia genuflects and leaves.
***
Meanwhile, Meloch, as usual, isn't waiting for any official orders to investigate Mamerca. "Can you get me into her quarters?" he asks Lucretius.
"Um...I doubt her personal quarters, not without arresting her, but I might be able to get you into that wing of the palace. But why would I be traveling with a pygmy slave?" Lucretius answers, puzzled.
"You won't be," Meloch answers, and winks out of sight, along with me. I hope, desperately, that this stealth mission goes better than the last one - at least the real monkey is along this time. Why Meloch thinks that sneaking around the Imperial Palace will be easier than breaking into a young lawyer's apartment, I don't know.
Lucretius approaches the well-guarded entrance of the south wing of the palace, where Mamerca keeps her apartments. The door is guarded by two enormous German slaves with long red moustaches drooping down to their shoulders, both standing rigidly silent at attention. "Ah, I'm Decurion Lucretius, of the Praetorian Guard. There's been a report of some dangerous cosmetics - poisoned, in fact - and we're checking the supplies of all the noblewomen and their favored slaves to make sure that they're safe."
One of the Germans turns and opens the door a crack, and mutters to a small, Egyptian male slave in the room beyond. The door opens, and the Egyptian comes out. "I'm sure all of the nobilissima Mamerca's cosmetics are of the highest quality," he says rudely.
"I'm sure they are, but you know how much of a system we have here - I'm afraid I need to check them, " Lucretius bluffs.
The Egyptian ushers him into a small atrium where an onyx ibis statue shoots water into an elegant red marble fountain. Meloch creeps behind, trying to move as silently as possible, although the Egyptian looks around, a bit confused by some small noise. "Wait here," the slave says abruptly. "We'll have the cosmetics brought out to you." He turns and disappears through a door lined with a beaded curtain at the end of the atrium; Meloch and I barely manage to slip through behind him without the beads being too obviously disrupted, although the Egyptian turns again, looking for the sudden gust of wind. Lucretius coughs loudly, and sits down on the edge of the fountain to wait.
The Egyptian passes through several more chambers, each adorned with extremely expensive and elegant art, mostly from the Eastern half of the Empire. Meloch and I follow, and Meloch, who took the opportunity before entering the wing to cast Detect Magic and Detect Poison, notes a variety of highly magical objects that he lacks the time to study in detail. Eventually, the Egyptian, after giving an order to a young woman to have all the slave's cosmetics brought out to the Praetorian, passes through a final doorway curtained with dark blue silk from the East embroidered with stars in golden thread, a fantastically expensive material. He genuflects to the floor before a middle-aged, thin woman with her grey-brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun in the 150-year-old traditional style of the Empress Livia.
"Nobilissima, there is a Praetorian Guard in the atrium with an unusual request. He claims to be investigating poisoned cosmetics and asks to investigate your and your slaves' supply, to make sure they have not been contaminated."
Mamerca's face reveals neither surprise nor any other emotion. "Poisoned cosmetics? I see. Well, i shall go and assure him that we have no such thing in this wing of the palace. Iris? Charmion? Gather up all the cosmetics on the table." Two maids begin collecting a truly extensive collection of small pots and jars on a marble side table into a basket; Meloch sidles over and determines that, while several radiate minor enchantment magic, none are poisonous or necromantic in nature. Mamerca herself, meanwhile, is wearing a powerful serpent amulet radiating conjuration magic and a night-blue cloak with stars, radiating strong abjuration magic, as well as a more conventional Roman dress and stola. She hands the cloak off to a slave before proceeding out of the room, momentarily leaving Meloch and I alone in her private quarters - but with the invisibility about to run out.
Meloch makes a quick search of the room, noting two large heavy chests and one small, locked chest, which nearly blinds his inner eye with the amount of abjuration and evocation runes carved subtly into its cedar-wood surface. He looks longingly at the cloak, tempted to try to steal clothing for the second time in two days, but eventually leaves it behind and slips back out into the atrium, notably disturbing the beaded curtain as he does so.
Mamerca, meanwhile, has been having a polite conversation with Lucretius, who looks over the makeup jars and then apologizes for wasting her time. The Guard's discreet Detect Pantheon concentration reveals that she is a devout worshiper of Isis, the Egyptian goddess of magic, wisdom, and darkness, as well as of the Emperor cult. Soon, Mamerca turns to exit. " Come, Iris, Charmion, we must be back to our studies. Thank you for ensuring our safety, loyal Lucretius," she murmurs gracefully.
Lucretius pauses a moment, struck by names that seem oddly familiar. "Iris and Charmion, nobilissima? Were those not the names of the last Cleopatra's personal maids?"
"You're very well read, Decurion," Mamerca smiles back, a bit coldly, perhaps. "Yes, indeed. Loyal unto death, they were. A good trait in slaves, I have always thought." She glides out of the courtyard, leaving only the murmur of the fountain in her wake.
Cornelia immediately confiscates the poisonous cosmetics from all of the wet-nurses, and goes to inform Hadriana and Cimbrus that she thinks that the immediate threat, at least, is solved.
"Thank you. So, you think Mamerca is behind this?" Hadriana asks shrewdly.
"Well, at the least, she's been encouraging your slaves to use poisonous cosmetics on their breasts. But she may not have known they were harmful." Cornelia responds, diplomatically.
"Ah, yes, Mamerca, the perpetual deceived innocent victim," Hadriana comments sarcastically.
"Now, dear, she's my aunt! And she was under mind control by Scaevola - it wasn't her fault that her son went evil and insane! She's in mourning now, and we should all be sympathetic," Cimbrus remonstrates.
"Of course. Highly sympathetic. Nevertheless, Cornelia, I would like you and your allies to...keep an eye out for the activities of the nobilissima Mamerca, discreetly and untraceably if possible. She may indeed simply be a grieving mother...or not." Hadriana orders.
"Certainly, nobilissima Hadriana, we'll do what we can. Though i may be a bit busy the next few days, as i'm being sued."
"Ah, yes, we heard about that," Cimbrus comments. "You understand of course that we cannot interfere directly - it would taint the faith that Romans have in the system of law. Still, we may be helpful in other ways, as you shall see."
"Thank you very much, and of course I would never want you to distort justice on my behalf." Cornelia genuflects and leaves.
***
Meanwhile, Meloch, as usual, isn't waiting for any official orders to investigate Mamerca. "Can you get me into her quarters?" he asks Lucretius.
"Um...I doubt her personal quarters, not without arresting her, but I might be able to get you into that wing of the palace. But why would I be traveling with a pygmy slave?" Lucretius answers, puzzled.
"You won't be," Meloch answers, and winks out of sight, along with me. I hope, desperately, that this stealth mission goes better than the last one - at least the real monkey is along this time. Why Meloch thinks that sneaking around the Imperial Palace will be easier than breaking into a young lawyer's apartment, I don't know.
Lucretius approaches the well-guarded entrance of the south wing of the palace, where Mamerca keeps her apartments. The door is guarded by two enormous German slaves with long red moustaches drooping down to their shoulders, both standing rigidly silent at attention. "Ah, I'm Decurion Lucretius, of the Praetorian Guard. There's been a report of some dangerous cosmetics - poisoned, in fact - and we're checking the supplies of all the noblewomen and their favored slaves to make sure that they're safe."
One of the Germans turns and opens the door a crack, and mutters to a small, Egyptian male slave in the room beyond. The door opens, and the Egyptian comes out. "I'm sure all of the nobilissima Mamerca's cosmetics are of the highest quality," he says rudely.
"I'm sure they are, but you know how much of a system we have here - I'm afraid I need to check them, " Lucretius bluffs.
The Egyptian ushers him into a small atrium where an onyx ibis statue shoots water into an elegant red marble fountain. Meloch creeps behind, trying to move as silently as possible, although the Egyptian looks around, a bit confused by some small noise. "Wait here," the slave says abruptly. "We'll have the cosmetics brought out to you." He turns and disappears through a door lined with a beaded curtain at the end of the atrium; Meloch and I barely manage to slip through behind him without the beads being too obviously disrupted, although the Egyptian turns again, looking for the sudden gust of wind. Lucretius coughs loudly, and sits down on the edge of the fountain to wait.
The Egyptian passes through several more chambers, each adorned with extremely expensive and elegant art, mostly from the Eastern half of the Empire. Meloch and I follow, and Meloch, who took the opportunity before entering the wing to cast Detect Magic and Detect Poison, notes a variety of highly magical objects that he lacks the time to study in detail. Eventually, the Egyptian, after giving an order to a young woman to have all the slave's cosmetics brought out to the Praetorian, passes through a final doorway curtained with dark blue silk from the East embroidered with stars in golden thread, a fantastically expensive material. He genuflects to the floor before a middle-aged, thin woman with her grey-brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun in the 150-year-old traditional style of the Empress Livia.
"Nobilissima, there is a Praetorian Guard in the atrium with an unusual request. He claims to be investigating poisoned cosmetics and asks to investigate your and your slaves' supply, to make sure they have not been contaminated."
Mamerca's face reveals neither surprise nor any other emotion. "Poisoned cosmetics? I see. Well, i shall go and assure him that we have no such thing in this wing of the palace. Iris? Charmion? Gather up all the cosmetics on the table." Two maids begin collecting a truly extensive collection of small pots and jars on a marble side table into a basket; Meloch sidles over and determines that, while several radiate minor enchantment magic, none are poisonous or necromantic in nature. Mamerca herself, meanwhile, is wearing a powerful serpent amulet radiating conjuration magic and a night-blue cloak with stars, radiating strong abjuration magic, as well as a more conventional Roman dress and stola. She hands the cloak off to a slave before proceeding out of the room, momentarily leaving Meloch and I alone in her private quarters - but with the invisibility about to run out.
Meloch makes a quick search of the room, noting two large heavy chests and one small, locked chest, which nearly blinds his inner eye with the amount of abjuration and evocation runes carved subtly into its cedar-wood surface. He looks longingly at the cloak, tempted to try to steal clothing for the second time in two days, but eventually leaves it behind and slips back out into the atrium, notably disturbing the beaded curtain as he does so.
Mamerca, meanwhile, has been having a polite conversation with Lucretius, who looks over the makeup jars and then apologizes for wasting her time. The Guard's discreet Detect Pantheon concentration reveals that she is a devout worshiper of Isis, the Egyptian goddess of magic, wisdom, and darkness, as well as of the Emperor cult. Soon, Mamerca turns to exit. " Come, Iris, Charmion, we must be back to our studies. Thank you for ensuring our safety, loyal Lucretius," she murmurs gracefully.
Lucretius pauses a moment, struck by names that seem oddly familiar. "Iris and Charmion, nobilissima? Were those not the names of the last Cleopatra's personal maids?"
"You're very well read, Decurion," Mamerca smiles back, a bit coldly, perhaps. "Yes, indeed. Loyal unto death, they were. A good trait in slaves, I have always thought." She glides out of the courtyard, leaving only the murmur of the fountain in her wake.
Last edited:
Tony Vargas
Legend
Good help is so hard to find that it's worth having it Raised from the Dead?
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