<div class="floatright">(http://www.panhistoria.com/Stacks/Novels/Character_Homes/homedirs/1302images/senator%20lucius.gif)</div>Marcus Caelius stood in his tablinum, staring down at the document on his desk. It was a litany of payments, monies owed, for goods, services, luxuries, having delt with the finances of running an army, a household seemed simple by comparison, the trick being to always be owed more, than you owed others, and house Caelius was certainly that.<br/><br/>He closed the bound pages that represented the balance sheet for the household, and returned it to its place, a drawer in a large chest that occupied the wall to the right of the desk, standing behind it, looking to door, as he was. The chest was a campaign trophy, constructed in Germania from the wood of a temple to some god or other. It, like the other trophies of his military career told a bit about him, the hard unwaivering, unafraid man, unwilling to accept the whims of mediocrity. He wore a toga, even indoors, over a light, white, tunic. He did so, because his toga was of lighter cloth, linen, and not thick wool, being a military man, then he wore a wool cloak outdoors, when it was required.<br/><br/>He ran a hald loosely over the pommel of his Gladius, which rested with his other weapons, on the wall opposite the document chest. It was not everyday one was brought a slave like one he was to recieve today. He'd accepted as a favour, there were still those who he respected within the Praetorian guard, and one of them owing him a favour, was worth much more than the cost of keeping even the most useless of slaves. Being a member of the Praetorian guard did not, by necessity make the man a soldier, but he supposed that odds were good that he could at least handle a blade. Either way, Lucious would test his skill, and if he was a weak man, he'd die the traitor's death he deserved, justice in Rome was quite profitable from time to time. There was always the chance of course, that the man could be more useful than even as a gladiator, and it was always his purpose to find out how, and exploit it. Little chance a traitor could even be put to good use as a Gladiator. The crowd would hate him, as they hated deserters, and even if he won, odds would never favour him thanks to the difficulty of making him popular.<br/><br/>This was the thinking that now got his blood flowing, and interested him in the politics of the city. The acquisition of power by destroying his enemy, or in the case of his place in rome, making what was his, yours, was something Marcus took very seriously.<br/><br/>He walked out of the tablinum and out into the atrium. He made his way toward the training area. Seeing his wife, he approached, hearing her speak as he apporached, and laughing quietly. "I would be disappointed if a son of mine did not travel well!" he said as he approached, finally coming to stand beside his wife, "how are you today, Ovinus...Cassius?" His preferences seemed clear, daughter first, sons second. There was also the slight implication that he expected his sons to travel well, because they did not travel far. His family held no other soliders,