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    • XXXVIII: The Complicated Helvetican Cover
      by — First light in the peristyle finds a child raking at pale sand, freeing cat shit and whatever else the feline gremlins bury for safekeeping. The grand fountain churns softly, the villa’s groundsmen removing a sizable portion of its water after the first frost. Soon, they will drain it ahead of the first snow and fix an angled tarp over the open roof. Each accumulation, the groundsmen will cut the tarp’s sewn navel and drop snow into the fountain’s pool. Villa Servii contains two hemispheres,…
    • XXXIX: The Road Trip Cover
      by — The Servii road winds through pastureland, two worn lines carved by years of plaustrum wheels hauling goods to the Ceresio. At the lake’s north point, the path turns to crushed granite. Most of the year, this route serves only farm-to-market traffic. But between harvest and first snow, esseda replace plaustra as patricians journey south for winter. Unlike their wealthy parents, the Servii siblings decide to winter at their villa, celebrating the solstice and Saturnalia with their villagers. This new…
    • XXXIV: The Colloquies: Low Perceptions Cover
      by — The Colloquies: Low Perceptions The majestic peak casts a shadow over the villa, a protective mother whose smothering proximity is a trick to the eyes. Memories of her many visits to this plantation unravel like a fallen scroll. Her mother and Uncle came from lands so far east of Parthia that no Roman name existed. Mother, a wealthy man’s battle bride, settled into an opulent domus in Mediolanum that soon became lonely in Roman bigotry’s shadow. Uncle, with eyes as narrow and face just as…
    • XXXI: The Colloquies: First Arrivals Cover
      by — Dust gathers on the road as four black steeds trample into view. Their burden is a wooden carpentum with four iron-ringed wheels and the cross-swords of Mars painted upon both its window shutters. A nod from the Servian Lord brings out the day’s groomsmen, a chatty pair of teenagers wearing their warmest best. The young men corral the panting beasts, promising them fresh water, plentiful lucerne, and a soothing brush—they deserve all of it and more after such a laborious journey from…
    • XX – The Month of Honey VII Cover
      by — No bigger fool exists than a man blind with love. Mother cut his last nerve with that word, leaving him with no guilt for slicing her throat. Discontent, he leans against the Roman, whose words gently tickle his back. Mud Face, Milky, Reed Eyes, and the others conspire at a shady roadside watering station. The two sides speak over a trough where their horses drink, and a civilian stands among them, his curls blacker than Aedan’s. Large blue eyes watch Servius Tribune with a sensual…
    • XIV – The Month of Honey – I Cover
      by — The Bucarati kips upon glossy mudflats. The vessel resembles a timber beetle with its tightly bound sales and dangling oars. It slumbers as men till the wet sands beneath its rudder, digging that will ensure the incoming tide washes her away. Alps-born Romans crowd her surface planks. They wear fur over their shoulders and wool on their extremities. None are clean-shaven, not even their newly minted leader, Lucius Scipio Servius, whose beard shines golden like the short coils on his head. His noble…
    • XIII – The Ancalite Wedding (Season Finale) Cover
      by — Lucius Vitus Servius once said that rivalry within ranks festers like flesh rot, and if a general ignores it, he’ll lose a man as quickly as a leg. Gaius recalls his old friend’s observation as he watches the murdered man’s son glower at Kombius, a prince of the continental Atrebates. The more concerning bit of flesh rot, however, is Titus Labienus, who listens with jowls tight in resentment as the noble speaks of his time as an Ancalite prisoner. Before their first campaign on the island,…
    • XII – The Gathering Cover
      by — Bloody waters run deep where the Stour meets the Lug. Two hefty rafts cut a path within pink foaming shallows, where intestines wobble as hungry fish peck at their undersides. The well-adorned passengers bring tightly woven rags to their noses, anything to quell the stench. Slimy crimson sand sucks at Aedan’s feet, but what awaits him beyond the trees makes the discomfort worth it. Flies gather like black rain over a dining table made of human bones. Half-skulls sit upon its gruesome ribcage,…
    • VII – The Foraging Trap Cover
      by — Vibrant tunics blanket the knoll, their owners busy chopping the forest. The harsh sun bakes the skin, leaving the Romans and their Gallic recruits slick with sweat. Muscles aching, the younger men imitate their elders and wrap their foreheads in rags before dusting their hands with more chalk. Each axe swing brings a grunt and the thump of metal on wood, and by midday, their labor silences the rolling ticks of lonely cicadas. Nearby, camp immunes, who are laborers forbidden to fight, keep things…
    • VI – The Hillfort Retreat Cover
      by — Druid society includes seers, mediators, teachers, warriors, and healers, each earning a place in life’s tree through their achievements. Older druids accomplish more, which is why Ostin the Ageless stands above all others, and why Aedan the Ancalite remains on his knees. Father’s owl mask watches from the muddy shore, its upper trim blackened by fire. Fintan, the former Owl King, served as a healer, but he also guided the chieftain with battlefield wisdom. Aedan’s education in all things real and…
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