The bath prepared for Lucius was no simple ablution like those offered to gladiators at the ludus, but an elaborate ritual worthy of a respectable citizen. Scented water, imported oils, and trained slaves who knew exactly how to ready a guest for an important audience.
The clothes provided also spoke volumes about his anomalous position—not the simple tunic of a common slave, nor the ornate garments of a free man of status, but something precisely calibrated for the middle ground: a high-quality dark blue tunic with subtle embroidery that suggested value without inappropriate ostentation.
"The Senator's study is in the west wing of the estate," Titus informed him as he escorted Lucius through the palace corridors. "Domina Livia is already with him."
Lucius noticed the discreet yet thorough study the steward gave him. Like many high-ranking household servants in aristocratic homes, Titus likely held significant influence over domestic affairs—a potentially valuable ally if cultivated properly.
"This house is impressively beautiful," Lucius commented, offering an opening.
The calculated remark hit its mark. Titus couldn't help a slight smile of pride.
"The Cassius household maintains demanding standards in all respects," he replied with dignity. "We have served the family for three generations. My own father was steward before me."
"A respectable tradition," Lucius noted. "I imagine you know every detail of this estate—and likely every detail about the family too."
Titus gave him a more direct evaluating glance. "Knowledge and discretion are a steward's first virtues."
"And no doubt the reasons for your longevity in the role," Lucius said. "I've always respected those who understand the true value of information."
Something in the words or tone made Titus study him with renewed interest. "You are not what I expected," he finally said.
"We are rarely only what we seem at first glance."
Before the conversation could continue, they reached a pair of imposing doors guarded by two men with the unmistakable posture of military veterans. One of them nodded to Titus and opened a door.
"The gladiator Lucius Mordus, as requested," Titus announced formally, offering a precise bow before withdrawing.
The Senator's study sharply contrasted with the opulence of the rest of the house. It was a surprisingly austere space, with functional dark wood furniture, tall shelves filled with meticulously organized scrolls, and an entire wall covered with detailed maps of Roman provinces. It resembled more a general's office than an indulgent aristocrat's refuge.
Marcus Cassius sat behind a substantial desk, reviewing documents by the light of several lamps. Livia sat in a side chair, her posture formally erect—a disciplined daughter in her father's presence, with no trace of the passionate lover from the previous nights.
The Senator didn't look up immediately, finishing his reading before finally acknowledging Lucius.
"So this is the famous gladiator who so thoroughly captivated my daughter," he said, his voice surprisingly deep for his stature. "Approach. I want to see you properly."
Lucius advanced with measured steps—not the eager haste of a servant nor the overconfidence that could be seen as disrespect. A walk deliberately calibrated to demonstrate self-control and presence without challenge.
Marcus Cassius appeared to be around fifty, with meticulously trimmed gray hair and a face lined more by experience than age. His eyes—the same dark hue as Livia's—possessed a penetrating quality that suggested an ability to see beyond surface appearances.
"Interesting," the Senator said after a silent scrutiny. "Not what I expected."
"A recurring observation today," Lucius replied with a faint smile, carefully calculating the level of informality he could risk.
The Senator raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised. "Bold as well," he noted, though without evident censure. "Sit. We have matters to discuss."
Lucius took the indicated seat—a simple chair positioned so both the Senator and Livia could observe him easily.
"My daughter," Cassius began, casting a brief look at Livia, "has a history of... passing enthusiasms. Particularly when it comes to skilled gladiators. You are the fourth in less than two years."
The blunt declaration was clearly designed to establish dominance and gauge Lucius' reaction. Livia flushed slightly but maintained a controlled expression.
"A distinction I take with the appropriate seriousness," Lucius replied, betraying no discomfort.
"What sets you apart," the Senator continued, "is that you're the first for whom she requested formal transfer terms with a clause for potential manumission." He leaned forward slightly. "That piqued my curiosity. What exactly did you do to impress her so deeply?"
"Perhaps you should ask your daughter," Lucius offered with carefully modulated respect.
"Oh, she's told me her version. Now I want yours."
Lucius recognized the trap—any answer that contradicted Livia's could be used to drive a wedge between them. Any boasting would be seen as arrogance.
"In the arena, I demonstrated not just strength, but adaptability," he answered carefully. "Outside it, perhaps a certain... clarity of purpose that transcends my current position."
The Senator studied him, then gave a slight nod. "A diplomatic answer." He stood and moved to one of the wall maps. "Let me be direct, Lucius Mordus. My daughter's interest in you does not change certain fundamental realities."
"Of course not, Senator."
"The Cassius house maintains one of the most prestigious private ludus in Rome," he continued, tracing the outline of a province. "Our gladiators are not mere entertainment, but symbols of influence. Every victory is political capital."
He turned to face Lucius. "Your performance against those barbarians in the province was impressive, no doubt. But here in Rome, you'll face opponents who've trained for decades—veterans with hundreds of bouts."
"I look forward to the chance to prove myself in a more demanding environment," Lucius responded, respectful but not servile.
"Your confidence is admirable, if not necessarily warranted."
He returned to his desk. "Starting tomorrow, you will begin formal training at the Cassius ludus under Lanista Quintus Tacitus. Livia negotiated certain privileges regarding your lodging and free time, but during the day, you'll train like any other gladiator."
"I understand completely."
"I doubt it." The Senator's eyes hardened. "Tacitus is not known for kindness—especially to those who arrive under the shadow of favoritism. Expect resistance from him and the others."
"Father," Livia interjected for the first time, "surely Lucius deserves a fair chance to prove himself before being judged."
"Life rarely offers 'fair' chances, daughter." His tone softened slightly. "And a gladiator who can't overcome prejudice and resistance will not survive the Roman arena."
He turned back to Lucius. "Your debut will be in six weeks during the games honoring Jupiter. Until then, Tacitus will determine whether your potential warrants the considerable investment my daughter persuaded me to make."
The message was clear—regardless of Livia's interest, Lucius had to prove himself all over again.
"I will not disappoint you, Senator," Lucius replied simply.
"We shall see." Cassius withdrew a sealed document from his desk. "These are the formal terms of your transfer, including the manumission clause my daughter insisted upon."
Lucius accepted the scroll, unrolling it carefully. The terms were precisely calibrated—not as generous as Livia had implied, nor as restrictive as he had feared. Three years of exclusive service to the Cassius house, with status review contingent on continued exceptional performance.
"These terms are generous," he acknowledged.
"They are fair," the Senator corrected. "And far better than any common gladiator could expect."
He paused, observing Lucius with renewed intensity. "One final note—in my youth, I served as a military officer on the eastern frontiers. I spent enough time observing fighters from various cultures to recognize distinctive techniques. Your style in the arena... has elements neither Roman nor Greek."
The seemingly casual observation carried dangerous implications. Lucius kept a neutral expression, recalibrating his assessment of the Senator.
"I traveled extensively before my... misfortune," he replied enigmatically. "At least, that's what fragments of memory suggest. Perhaps I learned from masters in distant lands."
"Or perhaps you're more than you appear," the Senator mused, his tone casual but gaze intense.
"Aren't we all, in some way?" Lucius replied, holding the gaze.
A brief smile touched the Senator's lips. "Well said." He gestured toward the door. "Livia requested your presence in her private quarters after our discussion. Apparently, she has important matters to discuss."
The ironic tone made it clear he understood the nature of those "matters."
"With your permission, Father," Livia said, rising gracefully.
"Of course. Just remember he begins training at dawn. Tacitus does not tolerate lateness, no matter the... exhaustion."
Livia flushed slightly but maintained composure. "He will be properly prepared, I'm sure."
As they exited the study, Lucius caught the Senator's final evaluating glance—not hostile, but deeply analytical. Marcus Cassius clearly suspected that Lucius was more than the amnesiac gladiator he claimed to be.
And he was absolutely right.
The palace corridors were quieter now, daytime activity giving way to evening calm. Lucius walked beside Livia, keeping a formally appropriate distance as servants passed.
"My father liked you," Livia remarked when they were relatively alone. "He rarely devotes that much attention to people he deems insignificant."
"Such enthusiastic approval," Lucius said dryly.
Livia laughed, the sound echoing in the ornate halls. "For him, that was practically effusive. Trust me—if he saw no potential, that conversation would've lasted two minutes."
"And what exactly does he see as my potential?"
"That," she smiled, "is the interesting question. He rarely reveals his true motives, even to me." Her voice lowered slightly. "There are rumors he maintains connections with certain... circles operating in the shadows of official power. Groups that value individuals with unusual talents."
The suggestion was intriguing—possibly linked to the same mysterious organization represented by the Tribune and Metilius in the province. An unexpected point of convergence.
Before they could continue, they reached a corridor junction where a Greek slave awaited—the same middle-aged woman Lucius had seen earlier.
"Helena has prepared a small private feast in my quarters," Livia explained, her voice returning to its usual tone. "Then we can... discuss your first impressions of Rome in more detail."
The double meaning was unmistakable, especially given the sparkle in her eyes.
"Eager to share my thoughts," Lucius said with a faint smile.
As he followed Livia and Helena through the halls leading to her private chambers, Lucius considered the complexities of his new situation. The Senator was a significant variable—clearly more perceptive and dangerous than he had initially assumed. The ludus would pose its own challenges.
But for now, there was Livia—her intense desire, her substantial influence, and her political game he didn't yet fully understand. A central piece in the Roman board he was just beginning to navigate.
When the doors to Livia's private chambers closed behind them, sealing them off from the outside world, she turned to face him, all pretense of aristocratic decorum vanishing instantly.
"Finally alone," she murmured, eyes dark with desire as she advanced. "Now we can forget tedious formalities and pick up where we left off last night..."