The streets of Rome were a pulsating sea of movement. Leo couldn't believe that he was actually walking through the heart of the ancient city; surrounded by people whose lives were as vivid and intense as any story he's read in his modern textbooks, the warm, golden sunlight reflected from the cobblestones and on the marble facades blends with the chatter of the merchants peddling their goods and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages.
Gaius had walked him part of the way into the city and disappeared into the thronging market; Leo was on his own now. He had a litany of things to do: learn the lay of the land, gather a few staple provisions, and find some place to sleep that night. It sounded straightforward enough, but with every step, it grew darker inside him that he was way over his head.
"Pardon, stranger!" a deep voice boomed, and Leo instinctively stepped aside as a group of Roman soldiers marched past, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. He tried not to look too conspicuous—no wandering eyes or gawking—but the clang of swords and the tension in the air told him this was no ordinary day.
A street pottery vendor caught his eye and quickly distracted him from the magazine as he lost himself in the pattern of painted urns for a moment. Then a stout man in a white apron, splattered in clay, held his attention.
"You, stranger there! Want to buy?" His voice was sharp but good-natured.
"Uh, I… " Leo stopped there, but when his eyes met the vendor's, the man's face broke up into smiles. "Ah, not from around here, are you?" he said, laughing.
Leo attempted to smile. "Not exactly. I'm. writing a paper on the Roman culture. I'll take that one," he said, pointing to a small urn with intricate blue designs.
"Two denarii," he said, thrusting it towards him. Leo plunged his hand straight into his bag without another thought that there was no change here.
"Do you accept … trading?" Leo tried, his voice more hopeful than confident.
He narrowed his eyes appraising him. "A strange request. But I reckon it is a young man in need. What have you to pay or barter with?
Before Leo managed to come up with something, shouting was heard coming from a neighbouring room. A man, his face red with rage, strode out into the corridor, followed by a guard. Leo heard the end of their conversation.
."Betrayal!" the man roared, shaking his fist at the retreating figure of Marcus Junius Brutus, who turned his back to him with a frigid, scornful tilt of his head and remained silent.
The look of the vendor changed from sloppy to tense as he nervously eyed the crowd amassing. "Trouble," he muttered.
Leo's chest pounded as he watched Brutus's retinue disappear into the crowd. A feeling of unease seemed to prick at his side. This was no ordinary power struggle; this was the moment that would see Rome's fate slip down into chaos, and sooner rather than later, Leo himself would be caught in its tide. "Hey, stranger," the street vendor said, snapping Leo out of his thoughts. "You better get moving. The city's restless today. Trouble brews, and Rome has little patience for it."
Leo nodded, pulling the urn tight into his chest. He didn't know if the peddler was speaking individually to him or to the crowd at large, but his circumstances were heavy upon him. He needed a plan-fast.
His life in the future had taken a series of safe, predictable steps; now however, he was no longer Leo Carter, college student. He was Leo, man standing on the edge of history, and history didn't care about the unprepared.
He took a deep breath; steeled himself, as the soft glow of his system interface flickered at the edge of his vision.
New Target: Keep concealed and alive. And, at that stage, your destiny will be sealed.
Leo pushed the urn a little closer to his chest. In order to survive in this ancient world, he has to make every act count. And today, he had learned an important lesson: Rome is as lovely as it is unforgiving. Every step, every word, every single choice would have to be obeyed. And Leo Carter, the casual time traveler, knew that Rome wasn't even close to getting started.