When Lucius returned to the main house, he found Livia waiting by the entrance to her quarters. She wore a light-blue tunic made of fabric so fine it appeared almost translucent under the midday light streaming through the tall corridor windows. Her hair, usually styled in elaborate public arrangements, now fell loosely over her shoulders in dark waves.
"Ah, you returned earlier than I expected," she said with a smile that couldn't quite conceal her anxiety. "How was your first encounter with Tacitus and his men?"
Lucius studied her for a moment, noting the subtle tension in her shoulders and how her fingers toyed nervously with the gold bracelet on her wrist. She was genuinely concerned about his reception at the ludus.
"Exactly as I expected," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. "Hostility, distrust, resentment over perceived privileges."
"That brute Tacitus," Livia muttered, frowning. "He should be honored to receive a gladiator of your caliber."
"In his eyes, I'm merely the Senator's daughter's new toy," Lucius said with a slight shrug. "A perception I'll have to change through action, not words."
Livia seemed momentarily unsettled by his frankness, but quickly regained her aristocratic composure.
"I've had a private meal prepared," she said, changing the subject. "I thought you might want to discuss your first impressions of the ludus... among other matters."
The gleam in her eyes made it clear those "other matters" likely involved a repeat of the previous night's pleasures. Lucius recognized the perfect opportunity to introduce his request while she was most receptive.
"It would be my pleasure," he answered with a slight smile.
Livia's private quarters looked even more luxurious in daylight. Servants had set a low table in the atrium, covered with an impressive array of delicacies—fresh oysters, delicately seasoned fish, exotic fruits, and a rare wine that, as Livia proudly explained, came from vineyards owned exclusively by the Cassius family.
Once the servants withdrew, leaving them alone, Livia reclined comfortably among the cushions, watching him with that familiar mixture of desire and curiosity.
"So, tell me more about the ludus," she insisted, pouring wine into fine crystal goblets. "I want to know everything."
Lucius accepted the glass, taking a small sip before replying. "It's impressive, I must admit. Significantly superior to the provincial establishment in every way—equipment, facilities, the quality of the gladiators."
"Were the Primi there?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "They're legendary, even among the aristocracy."
"They were," Lucius confirmed. "Briseus, Varius, Cato, Mors, Alexios, and Priscus. Truly extraordinary skills."
"Mors is my favorite to watch," Livia said, eyes lighting up with excitement. "No one knows his real name or where he came from. Some say he was an elite assassin before being captured and forced into the arena. Others believe he's a foreign prince in disguise." She paused, smiling. "Of course, those are just extravagant rumors—but they add to the mystique."
"Mystery often matters more than truth when it comes to reputation," Lucius observed.
Livia studied him a moment, head slightly tilted. "You speak like a philosopher sometimes, not a gladiator. It's... intriguing."
Lucius recognized the perfect cue. "Observation and analysis are as vital to survival as physical strength. Speaking of which..." He paused deliberately, setting his wine glass down. "I noticed certain... deficiencies in the ludus's training regimen."
"Deficiencies?" Livia frowned, clearly surprised by criticism of what was considered the best facility in Rome.
"The methods are efficient to a point," Lucius explained, maintaining a carefully respectful tone. "But they'll never reach maximum effectiveness because they don't isolate specific muscle groups properly."
"I don't understand."
"The human body consists of distinct muscles with specific functions," he explained, sliding closer to her. "Traditional training develops some adequately, but neglects others that are just as vital for peak combat performance."
To demonstrate, he lightly touched her arm, tracing the line from her bicep to her shoulder. "This muscle, for example, is crucial for pulling the body or an object. But traditional sword training develops mostly the opposite side, creating imbalance that eventually results in injuries or exploitable weaknesses."
Livia shivered slightly at his touch, clearly more captivated by the physical contact than the anatomy lesson, but Lucius continued methodically.
"With specialized equipment, I could create a training regimen that addresses these weaknesses, building a more balanced and resilient physique."
"What kind of equipment?" she asked, her interest finally captured.
"Raised bars for pull exercises, adjustable platforms for lifting weights at specific angles, structures for balance and coordination work," Lucius explained. "Nothing too complex to construct. I could build them myself—if given access to basic tools and materials."
Livia smiled, clearly delighted at the opportunity to provide something he desired. "Tools and materials are easily arranged. I'll have them delivered tomorrow. But..." her smile turned more playful, "it seems you're willing to share rather uncommon knowledge today."
"Knowledge is power," Lucius replied simply. "And there's much I could show you that you won't find in traditional Roman texts."
To emphasize his point, he moved to sit behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "For example, have you heard of pressure points in the human body?"
"Pressure points?" she repeated, instinctively leaning back into his touch.
"Specific spots where nerves and blood vessels converge," he explained, fingers pressing delicately at a precise spot at the base of her neck. "When stimulated correctly, they can produce... intense effects."
Livia gasped softly as the pressure sent a wave of sensation down her spine. "How... how do you know this?"
"Eastern knowledge," he murmured into her ear, fingers moving to another spot between neck and shoulder. "Rarely studied by Roman doctors, who are bound to Galen's theory of the four humors—blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile."
His hands moved forward, finding precise points near her collarbones. "That's how I made you wet so quickly last night," he said softly, smiling as she shuddered in response. "By pressing the right points, at the right time."
"That's... extraordinary," she whispered, eyes half-closed as she gave in to the sensations.
"The human body is far more complex than Roman medicine understands," Lucius continued, his hands moving to points along her back. "Eastern medicine recognizes energy pathways connecting organs and systems the West believes to be separate."
He was deliberately blending concepts of acupressure, traditional Chinese medicine, and modern neurology—a mix that would sound like refined sorcery to someone of this Roman era.
"You speak as if you studied with the greatest physicians," Livia remarked, turning to face him with renewed fascination.
"Perhaps I have," he replied with an enigmatic smile. "Or perhaps I've learned from even more unusual sources."
Leaning in closer, Lucius decided to take a greater risk. "You know, Livia, there is much knowledge that has been suppressed or ignored simply because it doesn't fit convenient narratives."
"What kind of knowledge?" she asked, clearly intrigued.
"Consider how we understand the world," he began, choosing his words carefully. "Gods controlling nature, divine intervention in human affairs, sacrifices and rituals to earn celestial favor."
Livia looked mildly alarmed now, her eyes instinctively glancing at the statue of Venus in a nearby niche. "You should be cautious when speaking of such things," she warned in a low voice. "Questioning the gods is considered heresy."
"Questioning is the essence of true knowledge," Lucius replied calmly. "Have you ever considered the gods might simply be concepts created to indoctrinate and control the masses? Human inventions to explain what we do not yet understand—and to maintain social order?"
Livia swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable but equally fascinated by the boldness of his words. "That's... dangerous to suggest."
"It's dangerous because it threatens the established power," Lucius agreed. "But let me ask: why have you never questioned these beliefs? Why is it considered an affront to seek truth about our existence?"
He paused, carefully watching her reaction before continuing. "If your gods are so benevolent, why is there so much hunger, misery, and suffering? Why is Rome—who claims divine favor—driven by greed, power, and domination?"
"You speak as though you know truths no one else possesses," Livia whispered.
"I don't claim to hold ultimate truths," he said, leaning back slightly to give her space. "I merely suggest that humans are driven by fundamental forces that transcend cultures and eras."
Lucius stood and walked to the window overlooking the city. "I've observed that people, regardless of origin or status, are guided by seven core impulses—greed, gluttony, envy, wrath, pride, lust, and sloth."
He turned to face her, noting how her eyes followed him with almost hypnotic intensity. "These are balanced by seven corresponding virtues, but the scale rarely remains in perfect balance. It's human nature, not divine will, that shapes our actions."
"You must think me a fool for believing in the gods," Livia murmured, surprising him with her sudden vulnerability.
"Not at all," Lucius replied, returning to sit beside her. "Beliefs provide structure and meaning. The question isn't whether we believe—but whether we allow those beliefs to limit our understanding of what's possible."
He took her hands in his, noticing how she appeared both unsettled and captivated by the conversation. "The knowledge I share with you—whether about pressure points or philosophical questions—represents fragments of larger possibilities. A truly free mind explores all paths, not only those sanctioned by tradition."
Livia studied him for a long moment before finally smiling. "You're the most extraordinary man I've ever met," she declared, leaning in to kiss him. "A gladiator who speaks like a philosopher, fights like an elite warrior, and knows bodily secrets our best physicians couldn't dream of."
"So," she continued as they parted, "these specialized training tools—would they really make a significant difference?"
"Transformational," Lucius assured her, recognizing he had just secured exactly what he wanted. "With a properly structured regimen, I could develop physical capabilities that would seem nearly supernatural to common observers."
"Consider it done," Livia declared with renewed enthusiasm. "I'll have everything delivered tomorrow, along with a private space for your use."
"Your generosity is appreciated," Lucius replied with a calculated smile. "And perhaps, in return, I can show you a few more... pressure points I've discovered to be particularly effective."
Livia's eyes darkened with rekindled desire. "I believe we have a few hours before you're expected back at the ludus for observation," she murmured, hands already working at the folds of her tunic.
As he pulled her closer, Lucius allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The seed of doubt had been planted—not only about religion but about the entire structure of knowledge Livia had accepted all her life. And through that doubt, his influence over her would only grow.
Knowledge was power, indeed. Especially when shared with precision to create intellectual and emotional dependency.
As his hands found the pressure points that would quickly bring her to ecstasy once more, Lucius reflected on how easily people—even educated aristocrats like Livia—could be manipulated through the right combination of physical pleasure and intellectual stimulation.
A lesson that would serve him well both in the palace—and in the hostile ludus he would return to tomorrow.