Year 542
Main brothel in the slums of Karatázar
"You promised!"
"I had been carried away by the passion of the moment!"
Sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, next to the door, the little boy listened to his mother's argument with the man she said was his father.
"Keep your word, little man! You said you would marry me when you came back from the north!"
"Look who's talking small! I would never marry a prostitute!"
The little boy listened as they began to struggle, his mother begging him to stay, not to leave.
"You can't leave me! You have a son!"
"He's a bastard!"
"Crasio's got your eyes! Your hair! You have to take time to get to know him, he's a good boy, you'll fall in love with him!"
"No guarantee that he's really my son! Who knows how many you've slept with!"
A slap was heard, silence reigned over the place.
The door was opened, the boy trembled, the door closed, the boy looked up.
He met the sturdy man, looking him straight in the eyes closely, as if checking his mother's words.
"You don't look anything like me!"
He wrinkled his forehead, and spat in his face.
"Poor you, you'll never know who your real father is."
He said no more, and left the place.
Crasio, stunned by the man's action, wiped his face with his small hands.
He got up, and staggering, turned towards the door, with the intention of going to his mother.
"Mom? What are you doing up there?"
His jaw trembling, he walked into the room.
"Mom, are you all right? Why don't you answer me? Can you come down from there?"
The boy was distressed when he received no answer.
"What are you doing with that rope? Mommy, come down from there and let's play for a while to make you feel better."
She didn't answer him.
Crasio did not understand what was wrong with his mother, but he felt that something was not right.
"Mommy, please..." With tears in his eyes, he clung to the legs of his mother's hanging body.
Private room, Curia Yiretia, Lugrum, Asians
Beginning of the second month of 576
"I appointed Traugott pretor of Lugrum. He is now in a talk with the council in the room next door."
Sitting across from him, Joaquinos nodded at his words: answers to the question he had asked regarding the identity of the new pretor of Lugrum.
"Now tell me how it went!" Crásico leaned his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity could be seen in his eyes.
Joaquinos sighed, his shoulders were heavy.
No, he had no mental burden whatsoever for what he did. It was something he considered the greatest of his successes, but rather, he felt tired from the hurried trip he had to make because of the call of Crásico.
"It went well: we killed the men, my soldiers have prostituted the women. The boys became slaves, and the girls..." A perverse smile formed on his face. You can imagine, my lord.
Crásico stepped back, leaning back against the backrest, watching him with wide eyes.
"I see I made the best decision in appointing you magister peditum." Laughing, he clapped his hands again and again.
"I resigned as pretor of Araquia."
His laughter silenced, he frowned, this sudden change of course shocked him, he hoped that what he said was a bad joke.
"I beg your pardon?"
"As you heard, I left my position as pretor of Araquia."
"Why did you do that?!" Roughly he stood up, slamming his hands on the table.
Joachinos kept a serene expression.
"I want to focus on my position as magister peditum."
"The tribes will attack us!"
The room filled with Joaquinos' laughter, in the eyes of Crásico, a total offense.
"My lord, please believe me that we will have no quarrel with Arachia after what I did to the aramos!"
The man pondered his words, and, still somewhat doubtful, resumed his seat.
"I left the charge to Nonio Varo, someone I trust, whom I have adopted as my son, and who will know how to keep the tribes at bay."
Now it was Joaquinos, who, seeing the tranquility that began to come to the face of Crásico, leaned his elbows on the table.
"Tell me, who is in charge of dealing with the tribes of the Regio Inexplorata?"
Andrio was silent for a few moments, his eyes twinkling, as if Varo's appointment had been a low blow to his plans.
"Urso Asiático, I appointed him marchio of the Marca Polarucia."
"Isn't he the one who was defeated at Bintus? And who the tribes kept as an idiot for more than two years?"
Crásico nodded his head.
"That man has more defeats than victories on his head. Why did you put him in charge of the defense of northeastern Asians?"
"Because he finally managed to find a way to deal with the tribes. I have given him men and resources, I am sure he will manage. And since he wishes to regain the reputation he had, he will do everything in his power."
Joaquinos knew Urso through Iqab bin Saif, whose disciple he had been.
For him, Asiático was a weak man, who was swayed by the opinion of others. Therefore, he was not entirely convinced by Crásico's words.
"If you think so, I cannot oppose you. ...."
"Dominus Crásico! Dominus Crásico!" A guard by the name of Leno suddenly entered the place.
"What is the meaning of this!" Canrrio shouted at the soldier's interruption. "Why are you coming in unannounced!"
The boy ignored Crásico claim. And forcefully dropped a letter on the table.
"The Marca Polarucia has declared itself a rebel!"
Both men rose from their seats.
"What the fuck are you saying?!" Crásico couldn't believe his ears, he had it all figured out, how had this happened?
Enraged, he approached the guard, and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"What about Asiático?! What happened to him?!" He let him go, pushing him away. "That bastard! I give him my hand and he grabs my feet!"
"No sir! Asiático had nothing to do with this!"
Crásico stopped his complaints, twisting his head and frowned.
"So?"
"Urso Asiático was killed!"