Marcus ignored his wife's unsubtle dig at his habits. He highly doubted if he'd ever become accustomed to remaining in bed once he'd awoken. He moved to the balcony when Amarantha went to look, giving an interested 'mmm' at her comment on the man below. He supposed the call could answer his daughter's question as well, and the work of the household was before him.<br/><br/>"This is our Praetorian is it not?" he said, "he'll please the crowd as a secutor. Fitting, don't you think?" he asked directly to the slave below, "carry a sword and shield once more, and make a gladiator of yourself." Having assigned him a discipline, the trainers could take over. Marcus didn't always do so, but this time, it was imperative. Making him a secutor would put him in the place of being armed with those weapons he already knew as a praetorian, and that would make him dangerous in the arena. Marcus needed this one to survive, at least for a while.<br/><br/>He turned to Pan, the girl who served his daughter. He knew many of the slaves by name, but their status made using the names unecessary, unless he wanted one slave in particular.<br/><br/>"Wine, girl," he said, "and send someone for the chair from my cubiculum." The chair was a high-backed wooden seat, easy enough to sit and watch from. The orders given he faced Ovinus, to explain.<br/><br/>"I'll remain to watch the training today," he said, "if anyone calls, you can send them to see me."