Eryx admired the man thoughtfully from his place positioned slightly behind him. He was a stunning specimen, to be sure, and Eryx considered himself lucky to have managed to get him. Dozens of eyes had been locked onto Tempus as he stood there upon his block, his attributes on display and his body open for all of Athen’s to poke, prod and examine. Not a mark upon his body meant that he had a penchant for obedience, bulging muscles meant he could do nearly anything requested of him as far as physical labor went. A clean bill of health and not a weak note about him meant he’d be around for quite a bit of time yet. He was the perfect slave. Yet somehow Eryx, a lowly jockey, had been the one who’d managed to bag him. Not that he was complaining, in fact, he was quite thrilled by the prospect, but as he stood back and watched him scrub himself clean he simply wondered why? Why had the Gods blessed him so? He supposed he’d not get an answer promptly, but he hoped that in time the answer would become clear. Nothing happened by coincidence, as far as he was concerned, so there must have been a specific reason that nobody had laid their coin down for such a fine body earlier on in the day.<br/><br/>Tempus turned around to face him once again, and Eryx allowed his eyes to briefly scan the length of the slave’s body. His eyes didn’t linger upon his arousal, but it was evident that he’d seen it from the light smirk that took hold of his pretty lips. He looked Tempus in the eyes levelly as he asked his question, however, and didn’t allow his gaze to wander however much it might have wished to.<br/><br/>“I suppose it is likely strange for someone like yourself, why I’d choose to do work that might be considered difficult by the standards of some slaves … I suppose it is partially because I’m familiar with it. I was a slave at one point, you must understand. My mother was the property of the state, and so I was as well. I did the same work that you likely did with I was younger, tending to the city streets, scrubbing cobblestones clean, shoveling shit from gutters, all of the nasty work that keeps the golden city sparkling I was subjected to,” he began quietly as he moved up to the bank of the stream again, twisting his torso this way and that to stretch out his aching back. “At one stage I was assigned to work in the master’s stables. I tended to his broodmares and cared for weaned foals while I was there … I’d always loved horses, admired them from afar, but was never really allowed to interact with them until that point. I was well into my thirteenth summer then, and I realized in my work there that horses were something I was truly passionate about.<br/><br/>I was permitted to begin riding, and I took to it quite quickly. The masters saw that, and the word spread. Because of my skill, they ended up permitting my mother to purchase our freedom, and I was offered a position quite quickly my Airlea and her father … This work is what brought me my freedom, you could say, and so I see no reason to shirk it now. It is difficult work, but it’s what allows me to live the charmed life I do, and a vast majority of the time I do enjoy it. These animals are quite magnificent, and I generally prefer their company and care to that of my own kind. So that, dear Tempus, is why I continue to live and work here instead of venturing out in pursuit of something greater. Perhaps I could achieve more status for myself, but then perhaps not, so I’ll remain here, and be perfectly content in doing so,” he finished pleasantly, a warm smile gracing his features as he looked back at Tempus.<br/><br/>“Now, are you ready to go and get something to eat?” he queried as he stepped up from the banks to reclaim his robes.