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    34 Results with the "MM Fiction" genre


    • XXXVII: The Drunken Bath Cover
      by — 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…
    • XXXVI: The Last Leaf Falls Cover
      by — A line of gray rises from the woods, but smokeless chimneys draw him to the village. No guard walks the wall. The smithy forge has gone cold, and courtyard braziers full of wood stand without flame. Pigs slumber in their pen, tightly packed mounds unmoved by his investigation. Knocking on doors yields no one, so he sets off for home under the fading day. Along the main road, he spots the villagers filing down the ridge. Two-wheel carts break up their procession, pulled by young men and full of…
    • 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…
    • XXX: The Morning Diversion Cover
      by — Skipio wakes before the sun, his habit since coming home. The frigid lake arouses his blood, and he floats upon its black stillness, lamenting that the coming winter will force his swim routine indoors. He strokes to the porch, its slick balustrade heavy with moss, and hoists himself into the chilly air. Streaking quickly into his room, he stands before the wall hearth’s roiling flame and dries himself with a fresh towel, courtesy of Welletrix. The blond Gaul reappears with a steaming water bowl…
    • XXIX: Nucum Messis Cover
      by — Long before the human curse, a colossal vent erupted, flooding the vast icy landscape with its molten blood. The searing ooze cooled and, with time, became the blackest, most fertile soil. A cauldron valley is all that remains of Vulcan's fiery child, its majestic crown now a half-moon stretch of peaks that cast shadows a mile wide. Dawn’s first light creeps over the range, its gentle warmth felt throughout the plantation. Southern winds soon follow, catching the village procession on their descent,…
    • XXVIII – The Lion Roars Cover
      by — The villa and its neighboring urbana sit upon a plateau in the heart of an ancient caldera, its half-moon crown veiled by a lush blanket of oak forests. Minor crops and grazing meadows share this upland, surrounded by a majestic valley of orchards, vineyards, and groves. Three high walls adorned with vibrant murals enclose the village, with a long two-story housing unit making up the fourth. Skipio lived in those dorms for a time after Father blamed their comfortable villa for his lack of work…
    • XXVII – The Owl in Residence Cover
      by — Nothing signifies the cruelty of fauna more than a Roman rooster. Taller than a newborn child, the motley-plume monster slips through a crack in the larder door, head bobbing with every step. It loiters about the pre-dawn darkness before idling near the hearth where the ashes remain warm. It is day three—this cocker’s last day on the planet. With cautious deliberation, it saunters to the lectern, yet before it can raise its feathery head for a sunrise squawk, long fingers snatch its slender neck. A…
    • XXVI – The Hurting Cover
      by — Welletrix is no stranger to living well. His ribs press to the couch, reminding him of the triclinium in his boyhood home. He grieves its loss to tribal ambition, and Villa Servi, with its many patrician comforts, proves a hurtful reminder of the easy life his grandfather’s wealth had provided. With a spindly frame and long white beard, his grandfather personified wisdom. His lavish roundhouse, perched high on a lofty foundation, had been little Welle’s sanctuary. Unlike the village boys fighting for…
    • XXV – The Meat’s Bath Cover
      by — Under the half-moon’s gentle glow, Niko had tossed a lean muscle cut from the hog’s backbone onto one of his leather mats, this one layered with a heavy dusting of sea salt, crushed peppercorns, and bits of ground cumin. He turned the meat over this spice blanket as if it were one of his marble rolling pins, then swaddled it tight like a gifted wine. At midmorning, the spice-crusted tenderloin lay on the preparation table. The chubby cook sliced three strips up its girth, leaving a healthy thumb-length…
    • XXIV – The Morning Task Cover
      by — The lake glistens, its placid surface casting sunlight in a narrow path to the wet porch, the shallow water over its tiles giving way to the kitchen. A comforting warmth envelops the space from sunrise to sunset, emanating from a majestic oven nestled in the back corner. Its plump stack extends through the ceiling, and on its face is a masterful carving of Vesta, her arms laden with a bountiful harvest. Below her, the oven’s mouth beckons, where the hearth’s breath forms an uneven glow, and metal…
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