Blood dripped from the woman’s lips to the ground.

  “Again.”

  She was backhanded with enough force for her head to snap to the left.

  It was Fausta Cornelius Sulla’s hand. The woman stood before a prisoner, tears of frustration running down her face.

  “S–Sulla, please…” Behind the two, Faustina begged her mother who watched the proceeding impassively by her side.

  Deep with the Julia Caesarean domus, the four women were alone in a dark, enclosed room. The sound of the festivities outside was filtered by the heavy wooden door that barricaded the exit.

  The towering woman grabbed Faustina by the hair. With a pull and a shriek from the far younger woman, the consul brought her progeny inches before her face. Looking into her eyes, Sulla growled. “I thought I had finally found a use for you two.”

  Something incoherent came out of Faustina, but Sulla did not even attempt to decipher it. She just tossed her back, sending her sprawling on the tiled floor.

  “Why must I always be wrong?” Sulla lamented. “Have I always been wrong?” She dropped her.

  Fausta, still facing the prisoner, shook with anger, yet fear locked her joints so tight she was trembling.

  “Repeat, Faustina.” Sulla said.

  Faustina kept her head lowered, her gaze firmly on the floor. “I-I must never raise a hand against m-my fellow Romans, u-unless…” She hiccuped. “...Unless a hand was first raised to me. Unwanted violence–“

  “I was doing it for you!” Fausta cried. “What they were saying about you–“

  “I ORDER–“ Sulla roared. “–you to hit her again.”

  Fausta’s hand shook, her nails digging into her hand enough to draw blood. “What if I…”

  “What if what?” Sulla darkly said. “We’ll see what happens if you mess up again, but for now…” The threat lay in the air.

  Fausta screamed in frustration, spewing out swears and insults. When it abated, there was only a moment of silence before she slapped the prisoner across the face once more. Blood splattered in drips on the wall.

  “Fuck!” She cried. “Fuck, fucking fuck–shit!”

  Faustina spun to face their prisoner. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried towards her, her apology repeating like a mantra.

  “Remember. I decide how far you go. I make the decisions.” Sulla growled. “Your meager int–“ She stopped herself abruptly. “You don’t have the full picture. Understand that you move in my name. Get the proof, get out. What is so hard to understand?”

  Sulla left it at that. She spun on her heels, heading for the door. With both her daughter’s back turned, neither saw it as she stumbled when she missed the metal latch. Vertigo struck her, almost enough to send the general to her knees, but she knew she could never do it in front of her children and willed herself back up through pure mental strength. She firmly grabbed onto the locking mechanism and unlocked it with a thundering bang.

  This is getting worse, She thought as she closed the door behind her. Those who were turned off from Sulpicia due to the heightening of political violence have better fuel to paint both sides as aggressors. Those who were neutral now have even slimmer reasons to join us–Join me. Instead, they might try to rally behind the secondary choice.

  “Bring the package to my northern estate.” She told the guards she had posted nearby, who were posing as normal guests. “Let the twins go. Send two women to follow them, make sure they stay out of trouble.” She paused. Now that the apex of her anger had passed, she did feel she had been harsh. “Bring them to the brothels near the Temple of Venus, over at Quirinal Hill. Let them have wine and men–it would affront the gods if we ended the day on such a note.”

  She moved down the hallway, deep in thought, when the festive sounds from the peristyle garden took her attention. Lucia Julia Caesarea had started the main courses without her. Sulla understood full well what it meant.

  If only my stupid, foolish daughters even had an ounce of sense, then I would have trustworthy women to send south-east to Nola–but no, I have to play wet nurse while every single woman in Rome is thirsting like rabid wolves over my position and power. I have had only one full night of sleep the past week! I stand on the brink, and can only watch the abyss below.

  One more grave mistake, and all will crumble.

  Someone bumped into her side and fell to the ground.

  Hm?

  It was Rikard.

  S-Sulla?! Richard thought with shock. He tried to scramble to his feet as his nausea was pushed aside by adrenaline. It was astounding what the human body could do under pressure. Oh shit, of fuck! Both Gaia and Pullina aren’t around, what am I going to do?!

  The woman looked ever as imposing standing over him. She had left her toga somewhere and was dressed in just her tunic. The sheer fabric did little to conceal her powerful physical form, the short sleeves looking like they were about to burst, barely containing hulking muscle mass. Her stiff, no-nonsense face stared down at him with contempt, and her horns at each side of her head stood tall and strong with their usual curve.

  The moment she moved, he flinched. However, all she did was crouch and offer him a hand. He hesitated, looking at the hand as if it was on fire, before reluctantly taking it.

  “What happened?” She growled.

  “Eh?” Richard tensed at her tone. It took him a moment to realize she was talking about his bandaged hand.

  She grabbed his hand with both of hers and turned it around to allow her to inspect every inch. Then, she started unwrapping it, allowing her to take a look at the wound itself. She snarled at the look of it. “This is wrong. Come, boy.”

  She grabbed his wrist and pulled him along down the hall.

  “Wait, wait!” He pleaded, but she did not stop. As they passed a room, he was dragged in. For a moment, Sulla talked to one of the servants working there and received a tray of cups and new bandages. Then, he was once again dragged about by his wrist down the hall to an isolated room. He was tossed towards a chair by the wall, quite a bit roughly, and barely sat down without slipping off.

  “Hand.” She commanded, putting down her tray that she was holding in her other hand onto the ground.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He did so. His heart beat in his chest, fear sitting at the bottom of his stomach.

  Due to her size, she kneeled down in front of him to reach him. She unwrapped his hand completely, putting the bandages aside. Then, she first cleaned off the blood and dirt buildup with water. “The water must be boiled first. Do not use stagnant water.” She said. He nodded, a little dumbstruck. He also thought she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d be willing to kneel before anyone, especially for such a small task like so. “Follow it with vinegar or wine.” She picked up the cup of wine from the tray and poured it over the wound. “This will purify the wound. You’re a lucky man. Newest batch of wine, and blessed by Jumiter and Venus.”

  As she talked, her horns swayed in front of his face, within grabbing range. He struggled against a very sudden and very deadly instinct to grab the dancing objects. So this is what they call the ‘call of the void’! A mix of fear and curiosity.

  “Then, apply a herbal dressing.” She dipped her finger into the other cup and rubbed it onto his palm wound and the area around it. “Promote healing. Balance the humors.” Finally she wrapped it with the new bandages. When she was done, she looked up into his eyes. “Understood?”

  “Y-Yes!” There’s no way she’d be nice enough to do this for no reason. This is where she shoots her shot, is it not?!

  She stood up abruptly, carrying the tray. “Do not allow me to see this ever again.” She glared at him, making him shrink in his seat. Then, she turned and left for the door.

  “Wait, you’re just leaving?” He said incredulously.

  “...Do we have other business?”

  Weren’t you trying to capture me or something? What the hell?! Richard racked his mind trying to figure out what she was up to, but came up blank. “I thought you did.”

  Slowly, she turned around. Then, she marched towards him, tossed the tray to a table nearby, and then her hand planted itself on the wall over his right shoulder. She shadowed over his smaller form. “You had rejected my gracious offer of benefaction.” Fury burned in her eyes. “You will not have a chance again.”

  His stomach growled.

  They both looked at the source of the sound.

  Goddamit…

  She turned her body, allowing him to leave. “Go on.”

  He paled at the thought of the banquet. Hungry, he was, but not for their high-class ‘exotic’ foods. I’ve already had sea urchin gonads and pig vagina… What’s next, prairie oysters? Just thinking about it made his stomach turn. “I’m not hungry.”

  Sulla scrunched her nose. “Is this one of those fasting fad diets?”

  Eh??? Romans have diets?!! You sure this goddess didn’t just drop me in the modern day?!

  “Under my watch, you will eat.” Sulla commanded. “I will not have anyone waste themselves away due to something as idiotic as body image.”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am.”

  “Is that a yes, or are you still thinking about it?” She barked. “Say it like you mean it!”

  “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

  “Again!”

  “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

  “Never heard a response phrased that way, but I approve!” Sulla turned and opened the door, yelling for a servant to bring them food.

  Oh, yeah, I guess that might be only a modern military thing. Depends on how Venus translated it.

  Should I tell her I’m not actually on a diet? On the other hand, I also really don’t want to go back and have to deal with more disgusting food… unless they also bring the same meal here.

  When the food came, it turned out to be slices of sausages and skewers of strips of meat and vegetables. Some foods were clearly timeless and synonymous across cultures. Convergent evolution of dishes, perhaps. Richard was positively salivating.

  However, when he was handed a skewer, he did inspect it for a moment just in case. It didn’t look weird, and as he felt Sulla’s eyes on him, he did make sure to take a bite without hesitating too long. He supposed not trusting her on her food could be an insult.

  “Oh my god.” He said in between chewing. It tasted so normal that he was in tears. No bullshit, just 100% meat and veggies on stick. Not to mention also that in these skewers, it reminded him of the street food back home. He had thought he’d never be able to eat something like it again. Hurriedly, he ate up, finishing the skewer and then requesting more. It’s so good…

  After his second and third, he suddenly realized he was the only one eating. The huge warrior Sulla had only grabbed another chair and sat down, still holding the plate of food for him. The silverware looked tiny in her large hands.

  “S–sorry!” I just made a consul act as a table! Not to mention a scary and enigmatic warrior politician as she was! “Erm…” He glanced down at the wood sticks in his hands and the plate that was now empty of skewers–he had eaten all of them, and there were no utensils for the sausages. Hurriedly he tried to figure out how to turn this around. First of all, he took the plate from the silently watching woman–her gaze felt like it burrowed into him–and then stabbed one of his sticks into a freestanding sausage slice. Then, he offered it to her. “Much thanks, consul Sulla. Would you like some too?”

  Her sharp gray eyes inspected him quietly. Despite her being a bull-flavored human, she clearly had the eyes of a predator. It was with measured actions that she moved, first brushing her red-blond hair aside. She leaned forward, bending down, then ate the sausage right off the tip of the skewer he was holding. Close enough that he got a whiff of whatever she was using in her hair (olive oil).

  Hm????!!!! His brain short circuited for the second time today. Owwaha??!?!

  She chewed stiffly, expressionless.

  Is… Is she unimpressed? He could only tell two expressions from her: pissed and angry. What if she hangs me for misleading facial expressions or something?! A completely irrational thought, but who knows what these crazy romans did things.

  “No taste.” She finally said.

  “Erm, maybe the sausage is not…” Wait, this is Caesarea’s home. “...Not seasoned the best? The skewers were really good though, you should have tried!” Oh fuck me, me and my mouth.

  Sulla reached for his remaining wooden skewers, taking one. For a second he thought she was going to skewer him with one as she held it up for her to inspect, but instead, she used it to pick up a slice of sausage like he did. “Here.” She grunted.

  Richard slowly blinked. What a sight it was, the humongous woman that Sulla was holding a tiny skewer in her big hands, atop which was pierced a tiny sliced sausage.

  “Open your mouth.”

  He did so reflexively at her tone. She fed the sausage to him. All he could do was incredulously stare at her, until she commanded him to chew.

  He thoughtfully chewed, turning his attention to it, not getting anywhere with his attempts at figuring out Sulla. “It’s pretty good. Hmmm I do like what the mustard seeds are doing, and the pepper… Oh of course, here's got to be the taste of garum. Whoever it is, they did quite well!”

  “Is it?” She growled.

  He hurriedly nodded.

  Sulla readjusted her sitting position, sighing through her nose. “The stand owner’s getting a bonus.”

  That’s good! You’re welcome, random shop owner!

  She moved to skewer more food onto her wooden stick. One, two, three. Then she went to seven. And then fifteen. He watched as the entire skewer was stuffed so full there was no space at all left. She lifted it all up, the entire thick monstrous skewer, and moved towards his mouth.

  Ehhh?! He hurriedly opened his mouth, but then struggled as he tried to figure out how to eat it. He bit off the first few, but then a slice accidentally fell as it bounced off the others in his mouth. She then changed orientation, shifting where the skewer was positioned, causing him to be forced to turn his head. All this was also while he was eating as fast as possible, chewing as fast as he could. Ehhhh?!!!

  She snorted. “You remind me of a dog I had.”

  Romans had dogs?! The moment of distraction caused another lost slice of sausage. He was too excited to care about the offhand slight. “I would have totally accepted the deal if I knew I could get a dog…” He mumbled to himself.

  “You owned one?” She asked, moving the skewer away from him.

  “Oh, no. When I was younger I never got a chance, but when I was older…” The skin around his eyes tightened. “I got too busy. And then I got here.”

  “They’re good creatures.” She said. “My late husband bought one for us. Friendly, obedient, loyal. Kind of like him. He was a model Roman man, that one.” She reminisced. “Yet, their time for you is never long.”

  The words on his mouth died there.

  She stood up. “We have rested long enough. Any longer and your escorts will certainly come look for you.”

  Gaia and Pullina must be losing their minds right now.

  He stood up too and they headed back to the peristyle gardens.

  Author’s Note (20250510):

  Thank you very much for reading! Please leave a review/comment, follow, or favorite if you wish to see more!

  Many thanks for Pathalen for beta and so much support!

  Next Chapter Part: 20250517