Thread: Decadence (As Day Fades x PixxieGrrl)

The room, following the young brunette woman's offer, had gone quiet, though it was only her father standing a few paces back that had become speechless. Of the rest, some muttered amongst themselves, others stood wide-eyed and with bated breath, eyes looking to the crowned man that needed no throne. There's not much keeping us from making her slave anyway, after the man is hung, one in the circle of senators spoke, in the passive-aggressive style of a half-whisper meant to be heard, but just bare enough to act like that wasn't one's intention. Or from ending them both, a senator beside him whispered back. The merchant in question could be seen stepping forward at this point, still a pace behind his daughter, but enough to place a hand on her wrist in nervousness. Rudely the more entitled man on the dais continued, in a tone one would have to strain to hear, but which was certainly audible regardless in the pindrop din of the chamber then, It wouldn't be the first time a young man or woman was foot-to-throat on a pike for their arrogance. No, Emperor Caelius Marcellus spoke, his voice not a shrewd, scheming hint of a tone, but normal, confident. It wouldn't be, would it. Name the end, then, Lord Emperor, spoke the man immediately to Caelius' right, Senator Octavius Gaianus. Enter Jake Gyllenhaal. Discomfort and uncertainty were painted clearly on the youngest of the senators' face, for despite being the man charged with overseeing Rome's military, both foreign and domestic, he was not as ready to be offended by the flick of a wrist as some of his more seasoned company here. The duty of seeing an execution through, though, was his. His mouth parted a moment. Simply, ...I will see it done. At this point the nervousness in the hefty merchant grew too much. He took his daughter's shoulders in both palms, whispering something hastily, his body language speaking as if to urge her back. No, Caelius spoke again. A bejeweled hand rose, fingers out, held up in front of his sternum a moment and then brushed aside, as if brushing the idea away as a whole. What a waste, to rush to such things. Here a beautiful young woman speaks on her father's behalf. Am I to condemn her for such? Y-Your Highness! The man at the foot of the two long steps that led to the senate's circle spoke up, putting his body in front of his daughter. I apologize for her boldness, my lord! Let any talks of punishment be mine, and mine alone, I beg of y- Caelius silenced the man with another aloft expression of his hand, this a simple open palm. The hand lowered. Worry not, I am not as quick to take offense. He shot several of the other men in his circle a glance. They all seemed indignant, which lacked in surprise, but his was the only opinion that truly mattered. Then, back to the man, You have yet to stake claim as to your guilt or innocence. The charges have been clearly placed. ... ... ...Guilty, my Emperor. I am guilty, and I beg your forgiveness - but please, let I be the one you punish! Cassia never used my books, she only ran the shop on days that I was away! Spare her life, please! You beg forgiveness, by your own words. But you have yet to explain to the council why you robbed from Rome, dear sir. The man's face paled even further at this, were that possible. Perhaps he'd held those last drops of blood in reserve for that very moment. I... I-I... Looking downward, he stammered quietly. Then, with a breath, Truthfully, I thought I would not be found out. I thought I might use that coin to further invest in my business, o-only for another year! Then I would present all I owe as a gift, once my profits saw soar! Looking back upward, eyes to the Emperor himself, the man took to a knee. Truly, I swear on my life to you! I have had nights without sleep, dreading this day! And yet you did it still, dishonest to we, your countrymen. Caelius' tongue took sharp. Tell me, would you have failed in honesty? Would the model of business all others live and prosper by damned yours to ruin? ... The Emperor sat there for several long seconds, quiet himself. Then, You are not entitled to forgiveness, but it is what you shall be given. You say in another year you would pay it all back at once - I say, instead, that you pay monthly, in equal parts, so that when that year is up your debt is finished, rather than only then being addressed. And over the course of this year you apologize to your countrymen daily, for it is from them you kept their fair share - from Rome. ...As well, on the topic of what is owed, this will see both the debts of your business and of your soul brought current. But debts incur interest, do they not? He glanced briefly to Octavius, then back to the pair standing before them all. The young lady offered herself a moment ago as slave, as apology, to scrub floors and wash dishes. Let it be known the council has shown mercy at a time when it needn't - tell me, would you return with your father, devote yourself to him and his trade? Or will you embrace the offer you make, to become slave in service to the palace? After a moment, As I said, mercy has already been chosen to be shown. Let the rumblings of my others be silent - no ill should befall either of you, whatever it is you decide today. Octavius stood and motioned to one of the Praetorian guards, who took a torch from its sconce on the wall, working on lighting it. He spoke, Such is an honored, sought-after place in life, to be servant to the greatest building in all of Rome, the greatest empire the world has ever known. To serve its Emperor, its Senate, its guards, scribes, nobles and guests - it is to serve Rome herself. The guard lit the torch. There were numerous large bronze braziers throughout the expansive room, at several different points. They were mainly used in evenings, or for events, but remained there during the day regardless. The guard brought his lit torch to one such brazier at the left side of the base of the steps, lowering it, lighting the brazier's contents. It quickly took, flame filling the wide bronze mouth, the brazier little more than a knee in height and three feet in width, up on small, intricately carved legs of its own. The flames bit as high as someone's waist. By tradition, should you accept, you are to discard your worldly belongings to the flame, for you need only what you are given here, from the Emperor's bosom. As slave you retain only your given name, and you are to approach your new lord, speak it as you bow and kiss upon his feet, offering yourself lifelong to his service. ... ...Should this not be your decision, may you both thank your Emperor for his mercy and leave yourselves from the palace.