<b>House Iulia</b><br/><br/>Resting against the wall of the sunken pool, strong arms along the edge, Drusus took a moment to take stock of his enigmatic wife. Like well rehearsed actors, the answers were forth coming with the right amount of familial zeal and choice of words. Drusus would consider himself an idiot if he did not recognize the sarcasm lacing every word spoken from those pretty lips of Alexandria. The city of pomp and grandeur had certainly weaned her in the fine language of statesmanship and decorum. She knew exactly what to say, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.<i>That I’ve been a good little girl and you can’t blame me for anything.</i><br/><br/>Well, that remained to be seen so far.<br/><br/>“You let me be the judge of what’s worthy of my time and what’s considered busy.” He muttered in a low, growling tone to her. He paused and was taken aback when Alexandra began to speak of a slave woman, with claims she bore his child. He lowered his gaze to seem as if he didn’t care or wasn’t phased, finding the limestone soap to brush across his chest. He knew the slave in particular, a little Celtic piece with Romanized tendencies. “How kind of you. First you claim the slave must be insane to assume the child is mine, yet you go ahead and separate them regardless, as if the child should belong to no one.” Drusus pondered instead, dodging the issue entirely.<i>Again, my property, my word should have been final on this.</i><br/><br/>She had not written to him. Not pushed for divorce, though that would have been ruinous for both families. She didn’t bring it up until now. If she was so traditional, she would not be so relaxed and calm about it. Drusus wondered at that. Her final usage of sarcasm, on matters that were genuinely serious rather than these simple household judgements, was not appreciated. He dropped his entire gesture of bathing, arms lowered in the water, as he stared right across to her. At least Alexandria scurried off obediently to do as he wanted. Luckily her. Drusus might have had to invoke some Legionary discipline to get her into line.<i>Unlucky for him.</i>He didn’t the opportunity.<br/><br/>An hour later saw him washed of marching grime and the caked dust of a dozen nations. Now he was a simple peace-time Roman, in long tunics of dark blue and brown. Good sandals were strapped around his feet and up his muscular calves, hinted underneath the hem of his garment. Golden vambrances belonging to an ancestor were strapped around his forearms and the family signet ring on his finger, the official stamp of House Iulia. He himself then sat down to issue forth some personal invitations.<i>To the Pontifex Maximus, Septimus Vedius Typhoeus. To the august Censor, Faustus Grattus. To my friend, the esteemed Senator Secundus Petronius Verres. To the honourable Consul, Lucius Aurelius Alba…</i><br/><br/>Always good to have the richest man in Rome around. But some austere, traditional Romans like the censor or outspoken Senator Paulus Dardanius would be good too right? Perhaps the latter won’t appreciate the entertainment as much however, as Drusus knew it was certain luxuries, spectacles, and display of power and pomp, even depravity, that helped assuage votes and influence nowadays. With such personal invites by his hand written for those distinguished persons, Drusus fetched his cloak and summoned his guard to await him at the doorstep. And to bring the litter about, the best in the villa, which no doubt must have been his wife’s personal transport. Well, what’s her was his wasn’t it? Then he went in search of Alexandria.<br/><br/>“Ready yourself. We are going out.” Drusus said to her when he found her in the house. “I cannot let a lady go and seek out these entertainments without a male chaperone. I know of a guild that will supply us handsomely with what is needed. You and I shall go.” He said to her. “A litter is waiting for us outside. Do not be overlong.” He said to her, turning on his heel and heading off to await her outside.