The entourage departing from the ludus was significantly more impressive than Lucius had anticipated. Three luxurious carriages formed the core of the procession—the central one, adorned with the golden insignias of the Cassius family, carried Livia; the second, only slightly less ornate, had been designated for Lucius; and the third transported Livia's handmaidens and personal slaves.
Escorting the group were eight mounted guards on gleaming horses, all military veterans in exclusive service to the senatorial household. Completing the retinue, two wagons carried luggage, provisions, and additional servants.
"Impressed?" Livia asked with a satisfied smile as she noticed Lucius watching the final preparations. She had personally come to oversee the departure, ignoring social conventions suggesting a woman of her rank should send envoys instead.
"Certainly more elaborate than my arrival at the ludus," he replied, recalling the plain cart that had brought him in chains months ago.
"Rome demands a certain... presentation," she explained, adjusting a gold bracelet on her wrist. "The journey is as important as the destination when it comes to preserving appearances."
When they finally departed, Quintus stood at the ludus gates, waving enthusiastically as if personally responsible for the entire affair. The smile on his face barely concealed the greed in his eyes—clearly calculating the value of the compensation received and the future benefits such a connection might bring.
To Lucius' surprise, shortly after leaving the city, Livia's carriage slowed to a stop. Moments later, the door to his own carriage opened, revealing her smiling face.
"Long journeys are terribly dull alone," she declared as she gracefully climbed in to join him, ignoring the slightly uncomfortable look of the guard holding the door. "And we have much to discuss before arriving in Rome."
As the procession resumed, Livia settled comfortably in the seat across from Lucius, her eyes studying him with that familiar mix of aristocratic interest and barely disguised desire.
"Three days' journey to Rome," she commented, accepting a goblet of wine hastily provided by a servant. "Enough time to prepare you properly for what awaits."
"I imagine it's significantly different from the province," Lucius replied, accepting a goblet himself.
"Like comparing a lantern to a wildfire," Livia laughed. "Rome is... overwhelming for those who've never seen it. The noise, the smell, the crowds, the grandeur. Even the well-prepared often feel lost in the first few days."
"Have you been to Rome before?" asked Septimus, the commander of the escort, supervising the carriage transition. His tone held a hint of genuine curiosity beneath its professional formality.
Lucius considered his reply carefully, recognizing an opportunity to reinforce his constructed backstory. "I believe so, though the circumstances are... hazy," he answered with an enigmatic smile. "There are images, impressions that feel familiar when I think of the city. Perhaps as a merchant, or a caravan guard."
The vague answer was calculated to create a sense of mystery without offering specifics that could be easily disproven. It also suggested a previous status as a free man rather than a slave—a detail that might prove useful in the future.
"Intriguing," Livia commented, clearly pleased with the answer. "A man without a past but with skills few can match. Almost like a character from a Greek tragedy."
"Greek stories rarely end well for their protagonists," Lucius observed with a faint smile.
"Roman ones, on the other hand..." Livia leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "often feature spectacular ascents. Slaves becoming influential freedmen, foreigners rising to positions of power, outsiders transforming into essential figures."
Over the next three days, the carriages traveled steadily along the Via Appia, the main road connecting the southern peninsula to the imperial capital. With each passing day, signs of Rome's nearness became more evident—increased traffic, larger and more elaborate estates, better-maintained military milestones.
At night, the entourage stopped at villas belonging to Cassius family allies—lavish rural properties where they were greeted with banquets and fine accommodations. For Lucius, these stops offered valuable glimpses into the Cassius network of influence and Livia's role within it.
It became clear that despite her youth and occasionally impulsive behavior, Livia was respected and even feared by many. Her name carried enough weight to mobilize significant resources with minimal notice, and her approval was visibly coveted by the hosts.
During these stops, Livia insisted that Lucius join the meals as a guest, not as a servant—a distinction that clearly confused and even unsettled some attendees. It was a public declaration of his special status, carefully calibrated to establish his unique position without blatantly violating core social norms.
At night, away from public eyes, Livia visited Lucius' assigned chambers discreetly. These nightly visits brought not only mutual physical satisfaction but valuable opportunities for Lucius to deepen his influence over her.
"I must warn you about my father," Livia said on the final night before they reached Rome, their bodies still intertwined after hours of shared pleasure. "He will see you primarily as an investment, not a person."
"As any Roman senator would view a gladiator," Lucius replied, his fingers lazily tracing patterns across her bare back.
"Yes, but with him, there's a... particular intensity." Livia propped herself on one elbow, her eyes suddenly serious. "My father sees everything and everyone through the lens of utility and return. Including his own daughter."
There was a note of bitterness in her voice that hinted at old wounds, potentially exploitable.
"How did he react to the news of my transfer?"
"As expected—initially with skepticism, then with cold analysis of costs and benefits." She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He agreed mostly because he saw potential for political and financial profit, not because he values my wishes."
"And what do you desire, Livia Cassia?" Lucius asked, his voice deliberately soft, almost hypnotic.
She studied him for a long moment before answering, as if weighing how much to reveal.
"Control over my own destiny," she said finally. "In Rome, women of my station are coins to be exchanged in political alliances, not people with their own desires. My father is already negotiating my marriage to an old allied senator—a man three times my age with four previous wives in the grave."
"And you have other plans?"
A slow smile spread across her lips. "Let's say I envision a different future. One that potentially includes you, depending on how things develop."
On the morning of the third day, they finally approached the outskirts of Rome. Even miles away, the city announced its presence—the skyline dominated by monumental structures, the road now congested with all kinds of traffic, the air thick with the unmistakable smell of thousands of fires, people, and animals concentrated in one place.
"Prepare yourself," Livia said, her face lighting up with genuine excitement as she pointed into the distance. "We're about to cross the Tiber. On the other side lies the heart of the world."
When they finally crossed the bridge and passed through the city gates, the transformation was immediate and overwhelming. Narrow streets overflowed with activity—vendors shouting offers, nobles in litters borne by slaves, soldiers on patrol, common citizens hurrying about their daily tasks.
Lucius absorbed everything with meticulous attention—not just the expected architectural grandeur of the world's capital, but the revealing details of how the city truly operated. The discreet bribes passed to gate guards, the subtle territorial markings that outlined areas controlled by various factions, the unspoken signals exchanged between seemingly unrelated people.
Rome was far more than its temples and palaces—it was a living organism, a complex web of power, money, and influence that few fully understood.
"What do you think?" Livia asked, clearly delighted by Lucius' focused expression.
"Impressive," he answered honestly. "Not just in scale, but in complexity. Every street seems to tell multiple stories at once."
She smiled, pleased with his perception. "That's why ordinary people get lost here—not just physically, but in their understanding of how things actually work. Rome has many layers, and few are visible at first glance."
As they progressed through increasingly affluent districts, the streets widened, and the chaos gave way to controlled order. Private guards became more frequent, the buildings more imposing, the people more finely dressed.
Finally, the entourage turned onto a broad road flanked by ancient plane trees, revealing a series of monumental properties guarded by high walls and elaborate gates.
"Welcome to the Palatine," Livia announced as the carriage slowed. "Home of the real Rome—not the one pilgrims and plebeians see, but where true power resides."
The gates ahead opened, revealing the impressive Cassius estate—a series of elegant buildings arranged around meticulously designed gardens. Guards in distinctive uniforms lined up respectfully as the main carriage passed, while servants ran ahead to prepare the reception.
"My father will surely be waiting," Livia commented, her tone casual but betrayed by the sudden tension in her shoulders. "He rarely misses a chance to assert dominance over new... arrivals."
"Understandable," Lucius replied calmly. "Territoriality is a basic instinct, especially among those at the top of the hierarchy."
Livia cast him an appraising glance, clearly surprised by the remark. "You continue to surprise me with these insights. That's not the kind of perception one expects from an ordinary gladiator."
"Perhaps I was once a royal advisor to some distant king in a past life," Lucius offered with an enigmatic smile. "Observing power dynamics can be as much a natural talent as a skill developed through necessity."
"A far more interesting story than convenient amnesia," she replied with an appreciative smile. "I like the idea—the mysterious foreign advisor, lost to court intrigue, forced to fight as a gladiator."
"The best stories are the ones that could be true," he said, testing a new angle on his fabricated origins.
The carriage finally stopped before the estate's main entrance, where an elderly servant with impeccable posture awaited alongside several others.
"Remember," Livia whispered as the door was opened, "my father values ability and utility above all else. Show potential—not just as a gladiator, but as a strategic asset. And never, ever appear to challenge him directly."
With those words, she stepped gracefully from the carriage, instantly resuming the posture of a disciplined Roman aristocrat. The transformation was striking—from passionate lover to the powerful senator's daughter in seconds.
Lucius followed her, aware of the evaluative stares from servants and guards. To them, he was a fascinating anomaly—a gladiator received at the front entrance, not the slave quarters, walking just steps behind the senator's daughter as if a guest of notable rank.
"Welcome back, domina," the servant greeted with a precise bow. "Senator Marcus Cassius requests your presence—and that of the gladiator—in his private study as soon as you are suitably refreshed."
"Of course, Titus," Livia replied formally. "Please prepare appropriate accommodations for Lucius Mordus in the east wing, as discussed."
"Already arranged, domina." Titus' tone was perfectly neutral, but his eyes briefly evaluated Lucius. "Shall I send a messenger when the bath is ready for the... guest?"
"Please do." Livia turned to Lucius, her expression now carefully composed to show only formal interest. "Rest and refresh yourself after the journey. We shall meet again for the audience with my father in two hours."
With that, she moved into the house, flanked by two slaves who appeared almost magically at her side. Lucius was led through a different path, across a side garden where meticulously arranged vegetation created the illusion of natural privacy.
The "east wing accommodations" turned out to be a luxurious suite traditionally reserved for guests of significant status—foreign diplomats, important political allies, or valuable commercial partners. The message was clear: Lucius occupied an anomalous position in the household hierarchy—not a common servant, but certainly not an equal.
As silent servants prepared his bath and arranged new clothes suitable for the upcoming audience, Lucius methodically assessed his situation. The Cassius estate would serve as both operational base and testing ground in the coming months—a place where every interaction, every move would be watched and evaluated by multiple observers with often conflicting agendas.