<div align="center"><em>Autolycus, talking to Manius<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v200/Prakkie/Medicus.jpg)</div>Autolycus was surprised to see the Dominus sink to the floor, overtaken by a sudden melancholy mood brought on, he guessed, not so much by his question but by speaking the language he'd spoken to his friend all those years ago. And probably not since. Picts were a rare thing so far from the North. Hard to capture. And hard to keep, savage as they were.<br/><br/>It was odd to see his master on the floor, a strong and willful man turned soft and for a second Autolycus considered sitting down on the floor as well, take away that difference in height and talk on the same level. Man to man. One freedman to another.<br/><br/>Or maybe not, he decided, choosing to remain on his feet.<br/><br/>"And if you had not killed him and he had not killed you then most likely the both of you would've been punished severely." He reflected. "He had a swift death at least? And with a sword in hand," that was important to the barbarians of the North, or so he'd heard. "Not a bad way to go. And if you won then that means you were the most likely to one day escape that life. And here you are now, a master to your own little Pict," a glance at Sorcha. "To do with as you please... Interesting." He said vaguely, wondering how Manius felt about that reversal in roles.<br/><br/>"You know the slaves say freedmen make the worst masters of them all."