52 Results with the "Historical" genre
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Chapter
XXXVII: The Drunken Bath
Crimson rivulets swirl into the grate, drinking the ritual’s bloody remains. Aedan empties another bucket of water over his head, then upends it atop his basted rags, a lopsided pile of pale red. Cardamon oil forms prismatic clouds upon the water’s skin, its heady scent filling the humid air. Of all the luxuries imposed while living among these wolves, he most enjoys their aromatic baths. The steamy pool lures him into its satiating embrace. Ears full of warmth, he surfaces so the chill can bite his…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XIX – The Month of Honey VI
The northern road bends east, avoiding another of Saturn’s lost stones. They enter Clastidium, an unremarkable collection of stables, eateries, and toilets catering to a daily procession of riverboats and bridge-crossers. “You’re selling water,” Planus scolds the teenage merchant, “when the Padus flows just eighty paces away,” “It flows, awight,” says the young man, unable to articulate his ‘R’s,’ “With the shit, piss, and spunk of evewy pewson living hew,” Titus hands…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XVI – The Month of Honey III
Twenty-two days find them at Gades, where the narrowest waterway divides the northern isle of Eritheia from its southern sister, Kothinusa. A patchwork of linen canopies spread with barely a sliver between them while trade and circumstance carry on loud enough to rouse the dead. The air carries a disgusting mix of shit and saltwater, but Aedan inhales deeply with his face in the sun. His captor tugs at the sinew cord, irritating his neck; it’s a shameful use of his mother’s blessing but a suitable…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XVII – The Month of Honey IV
Malaca shows her Phoenician roots with an overabundance of stone and the absence of timber. Roman horses trot over her rocky jetty, each eager for a roomy stable with ample feed and fresher water. Scipio comes ashore with Planus and Titus to heave their ship into dry-dock. Much lighter without her cargo of men, horses, and grain, the Portuna Harena floats along a man-made canal. Her destination is a massive shed with concrete colonnades capped by a double-thatched roof. Two hundred Romans strip down and…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XVIII – The Month of Honey V
Farewells are the worst things. Sometimes. His cage’s wooden walls lay in a stack, and the oars, upright in bronze brackets, rest without their rowers. Even the desk and its stool sit alone, with no sign of the well-dressed supervisor. A shadow on the ramp becomes his Roman—the red-comb helmet under his arm shimmering in a lone ray of sun. A thicker tunic peeks out from his modest breastplate, and wool leggings run from its leather skirt to his boots. “Let’s go, A-Dawn.” He tosses a xanthous…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XV – The Month of Honey II
Strong fingers tighten around his spindly arm, dragging him until his feet remember their function. Such rough handling sweetens the pot, as does every grope, grasp, and growl. A new timber jetty stretches to the Krokodilo, who wears a reptilian eye on each side of her keel. Weather-worn triangular teeth line her narrow battering ram, and two banks of oars dangle from her sides, the long overhanging the short. Aedan counts twenty-five, meaning a total rowing complement of fifty. All make way for the…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XI – The Tamesa Encounter
Roman horses smell more of their kind across the river as tension shrinks their nerves. A towering palisade stands along the opposite bank, where an elderly man, favoring his staff, stands on a rampart behind it. Wind lashes at his long white hair, exposing facial cracks that prove him the oldest man on this island. “This is as far as you go, Rome!” Ostin the Ageless shows his grasp of Latin. Caesar, the battle king these natives call Kaiser, yells back, “There will be no turning…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
IX – The Slaughter Arena
This violent summer is the hottest in memory. Bitch Face, the pretty Roman, covers the dead farmer and her children while his brothers hack away at her barley field. He casts an anxious gaze across the field at the forest. Deep within the trees, Aedan the Owl squats on a high branch, his foot rising so his toe can scratch the itch behind his ear. He watches Bitch Face, whose rage over a slaughtered lover burns hot, and grins. This rare show of emotion unsettles his cadre of most loyal, awaiting him…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
X – The Price of Pain
One calculates a citizen's measure by grading their empathy, benevolence, and financial worth. One measures a soldier’s value by the skill of his kills, his labor, and years in service. Sadly, no rubric exists for a citizen who is also a soldier. Planus ruminates on such things in the shadow of Skipio’s recent brutality, all the while haunted by memories of rescuing him from the sea. That day, Caesar, his leader and kin, sent Planus on a routine inspection of the merchant ships harvesting chalk from…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
VIII
This captive burns hot when he sleeps, never waking, no matter how indelicate a druid’s touch. Here lies the beauty of the falls, the lion from his vision. Aedan’s thumb pushes at an eyelid, revealing a lily pad floating in the white, and its dark center widening with exposure to the light. His smooth skin stinks of cooking fire, and his soft nipples taste of roasted rabbit. He sits upon the strapping prisoner and delights in how the man’s muscular gut feels his bare crack. Cock in hand, he guides…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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