Sergia Atia was a very powerful witch. She was instructed in the art of witchcraft by her father, Tappulus. He was a thin man, with brown hair like hers, but it was streaked with silvery gray strands. He spent many years traveling the lands with her in a small but comfortable caravan, teaching her the art of witchery from different regions. She saw things people only heard about in stories, things thought to be imaginary. Dragons in the far east, Centaurs in the west, Albinos in Germania, Harpies in the highest mountains, and more.
Tappulus made money to feed them on the road by casting spells and making potions for desperate people looking for help. Their traveling caravan was advertisement enough for those looking for such services. Most often people were looking for cures to various ailments. Sometimes, people were interested in potions or spells for a darker purpose.
He taught her simple things at first, how to make a love potion, or hypnotize a person. As her skills grew, the things she learned were more and more complex. After a few years, she was casting spells with layers, depth, and magnitude. She learned that some spells were made from special ingredients and a few spoken words of enchantment, some spells were cast with a witch's energy, and some spells had both elements. The ones with both elements were the strongest. She was thankful for his teachings and his love as a father. Two years had passed since his death. Sadly, her mother died when she was just a babe. Sometimes her mother and father would visit her in her dreams. She was glad that she at least had that connection to them both.
Sergia knew things. She knew secrets held by slaves, plebeians, patricians, senators, and executive magistrates. More than just the secret purchases they sought her for. Sergia could hear the thoughts of others, usually. When she concentrated hard, she could also see people's thoughts, the images that flashed in their minds. She knew their most private secrets. It also meant she knew what people thought of her. They thought her a poor wretch, a canker, an ugly scag, the scourge of the earth. Most people were afraid of her, even if they were bold enough to seek her out.
In reality, she was poor, that part was true enough. It was because of her gypsy way of life. She loved her craft and would never trade it for a normal life, she thought.
However, Sergia was far from being an ugly old hag. She used a veil of magic to shroud her beauty. A trick her father used to keep her innocence protected from the perverse as they traveled. Now that her father was gone, she still used the trick herself. She could defend herself from others with magic, but it took less energy just to mask her beauty, therefore swaying interest in her.
Hidden beneath her camouflage, Sergia looked very old, with matted gray hair that looked unwashed for ages. In places where she wasn't missing teeth, she had greenish-black corrosion growing between. Hairy warts grew on the back of her hands and side of her burly face. She was elephantine in mass. The only thing that remained the same were her eyes, which were swirling untamed blue oceans cut with a deep sapphire around the rim. The eyes being a doorway to the soul, could not be manipulated by magic.
Unveiled from her mystical mask, She was a ravishingly beautiful young woman. Her shiny, resplendent, chocolate hair had spiraling curls that cascaded down her back. Her hourglass figure was statuesque. She had an oval face with blushed cheeks, a button nose, and a full mouth with dark pouty lips.
Sergia was making herself a cup of herbal tea when she heard Manius's mind in conflict with itself, then there was a knock on the door to her caravan.
"Who seeks me?" Sergia replied before a second knock hit the door. She already knew, but had to go through with the formalities to protect her own secret.
"Manius Cremutius Livianus" he announced.
"You may enter," she said.
He came through the door, tilted his head, and said in a pompous tone, "Good morning, Sergia."
Sergia could hear his thoughts. He was disgusted by her appearance. He hated his need for her, but the need was real. But what was most disturbing to her was that he didn't fear her the way most people did.
Sergia could now sense a desperate urgency within him. She was getting confusing flashes of a bloody scene from a very recent past.
With an inquisitive expression on her face, she asked, "What do you seek Manius?"
Manius replied, "I want to know what the future holds for me. I want you to read the runes."
Sergia could now see from Manius's mind the moment he sliced Rhesus with the dagger dipped in dragon's blood.
Her gemmed blue eyes shot wide open with fear. "Manius. What have you done?" she said in a whispered strain as she tried to catch her breath.
Manius back stepped, feeling small, like a child being scolded at the tone of her voice. He gave her a half fabricated a story about how the slaves revolted and he fought with determination, to no avail to save his wife. He left out the part where he cut Rhesus with a dagger laced in dragon's blood. Of course, Sergia could see the truth through the lies even clearer as the timeline unfolded a second time in his mind.
Sergia sat in silence for what seemed an eternity before she spoke. "You dipped a blade directly into the dragon's blood?" letting caution go to hell, her voice trembling with anger.
"What? But how did you kn …" he redirected, "It wasn't my intention to use it unless unfortunate circumstance presented itself. It is an inconsequential thing." he derisively scoffed, wondering how she might know this information without consulting the runes.
"An inconsequential thing? Inconsequential say you?" letting her anger blaze. "A single drop! That was what you were to give your gladiators. A single drop! And only by mouth you incompetent imbecile! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Manius's fury was instantly ignited. His response was to backhand Sergia across the face.
Sergia covered her face with her hands. Droplets of blood trickled through her fingers and ran down the back of her hand from her bloodied nose. Shock and disbelief ran through her. Never in her life, anyone ever dared lay a hand on her.
"Get out!" she half blubbered through her hands.
"How dare talk to me that way you bane of society?" he snapped. "I should kill you now to rid the world of such a fucking scab!" His hard, gunmetal eyes widened as he lunged at her throat with hands ready to strangle.
He didn't know what hit him, but suddenly he was on the floor of the caravan. Sergia knocked him down with a few words cast into a simple spell. It felt as if his lowered half were planted in the ground, roots solidly grabbing the floor. He could not move.
"I'm going to let you up, and you are going to leave at once or you will no longer be of this world. Do not come back here ever again." Sergia threatened. It was a lie, she would not kill him, but Manius didn't know any different. She could defend herself easy enough without killing him, she thought.
As Manius picked himself up, stumbling for the door, a very strange thought bubbled to the surface of his consciousness for only a moment. A secret of secrets. One Manius hid well within him during his previous visits to her. Something about the past. Something that could affect the future. Rhesus. The man cut by his dagger.
She had to find Rhesus immediately.