Book 1: Chapter 5 | Ab Urbe Condita

“Your Horse, Barbara.”

Regulus Plinius Betulanimus, a tall sturdy elf with bluish purple hair helped her dismount, while Marcus rolled the heavy wooden door back.

“Any news from the forest?”

“None fortunately.” Barbara replied to her ‘Kinsman.’

Despite none of them sharing any actual bloodline and different parents, somehow all of them had taken on Pliny’s particular love for blunt yes or no questions.

“Has house Pompanianus revealed anything about the feast?” She asked as she straightened her armor, and adjusted her cloak.

“No, they are still tight lipped.” Regulus calmed and fed the horse, before turning his attention to the saddle and weapons.

“It’s strange isn’t it? Pompanianus took on the 20 chattiest of us all, and yet we cant get a peep.”

“There is one dart unaccounted for.” Regulus focused on his task.

Barbara frowned for a moment then refocused.

Unlike house Plinius.

“Yes, I used one to knock down a beehive….It got stuck.”

Regulus scratched at a chunk of bark with a small knife.

“Sister traded precious iron for honey.” Regulus mimicked that slow agonizing clarity of Pliny, to conscript a simple sentence and force it to carrying an additional burden of disapproval and accusation.

“No, not just Honey.” Barbara got defensive as she patted the box on the back of tranquilitas. This one still has the queen and larvae inside.

“Oh.”

Barbara glares at Regulus, so you scratch that right now and write. “Dutiful sister expends only one dart for future Beeswax and honey production.

Marcus, who couldn’t help but overhear the two. Decides to chime in,

“So when are you going to share some of this wonderful production with your dear countrymen of the Pompaniani?”

“Ill give you a spoon now, if you tell me what your big plan is tonight.” Barbara spoke with a saccharine singsong, as if the honey itself wasn’t enticing enough.

“Honestly, Regulus this would be great.” Marcus acted like he never heard her. Father said they used to use the wax to make erasable tablets. Imagine if we could use those instead of stabbing bark.” He grimaced as he held up his scarred and cut hand.”

The Plinii will never speak, The Pompaniani will speak about everything else.

Barbara sighed. “Anything else in your report, or can I bring these home?”

“I’m finished.” Regulus pretends to write again. “Sister trades iron for dead hive.”

Barbara pretends to pout. “Brother donates share of honey to Arachna for empty words.”

Marcus interrupts them again. “No no regulus, you should boast of the glory of your house! Here:” ‘Daring sister vanquishes rival tribe with decisive strike, enemy queen brought before Pliny as prisoner, and tribute demanded.”

“Then take my knife and write that, Marcus.” Regulus offered the tip of the blade to marcus, a small twisted smile wrapped around his lips.

Marcus winced.

Barbara shrugs and shakes her head. Marcus and Regulus walk off with the horse and her equipment. She shoulders the box with the hive and begins walking into the town.

Off to her right she could see, wrapped around the large metal spire, she could the ancient encampment of The Parentes. Occasionally with scavengers harvesting metal from dead machines. It was currently silent.

The Tree. She shuddered.

She doesn't go that way. Instead heading towards the now lively town. The Town was a collection of Mud and Wood Huts.

Pliny says they resemble those of Ancient Romulus. The two of them were always downplaying it.

It was the greatest city Barbara had ever visited. Activity was everywhere, of the 25 Elves that made up the village everyone was working on something, when they weren't on guard rotation or military training they were applying a trade.

She walked past the various houses. When they first abandoned the trees the houses were simple mud and died leave huts. Since that time they have built proper wooden houses, and “The Old city” as Pompanianus called it. Became workshops.

“Salve Julia.” Barbara called out to her kinswoman Olivia Plinia who was chanting something as she worked on a potter’s wheel. Olivia looked up briefly, nodded, then focused back on her work. She continued to practice her lines as she was transforming the mud into a vase. Clearly preoccupied. Various pots and jars lined the shelves and the floor in the hut, while outside there was a crate full of pottery shards. The tribals have been using the shards for writing and language practice. She grabbed a few, planning to make them into memorization cards later.

It was mid afternoon, a time the elves had onced huddled together to sleep and wait out the monsters, now they were busy, all of them had something to work on, to improve. They were herding animals, weaving cloth, cutting lumber, even collecting and using urine.

The terrible stale smell hit her nose, and she kept her head down hoping to move quickly.

“Salve Barbara.”

Alas

Titus Plinius, had taken on the role of “Fuller.” Cleaning and bleaching the tunics and cloaks. It was one of the aspects of Roman society that bothered her, but she couldn’t dispute the results. Thinning back to all those years of climbing back into a sweat caked and rank flight suit, crusty from old use. She appreciated what her kinsman did, but she also didn’t have to like it.

“Barbara, could I get your advice on this one line, I wanted to see if I got the meter right.”

Barbara winced, “Salve Titus, I have to get to Pliny, could you ask me later…after you have washed.”

Titus frowned. Barbara gave in.

Titus excitedly dropped the clothes into the fuller barrel, and grabbed one of the pot shards. On his table.

“It's this one. Sail I must, to sail to Sinus Cumanus or sail to Styx, Sail I must.”

Barbara tried not to notice the smell. “Why are you using Sail? When “go” would fit the meter better?”

“I wanted to…Alexander insists I need to emphasize sail.”

Oh. What are they planning?

“Ok, what if you don’t use the Bay of Naples.” Replace Sino Cumano with ‘Stabiae.’ That will fit the meter better.

“Oh great Idea, thanks sis. He went to give her a hug, She backed away.”

“Wash” she said. Then raced away from the workshop towards Pliny’s house.

She reaches the house of Pliny, a large wooden house with rooms enough for the 7 men and women of his house and plenty of workshop space. She knocks and enters through the wooden door. Candles glowed in the small space around shelves of samples of rocks, plants and animal pieces. Along with scraps of pottery and woodbark all deliberately arranged in piles with writings on them.

On the opposite side of the house was Pliny with her sister Arachna. Arachna was standing outside of the light, looking earnestly at Pliny, her dark black hair, made unnaturally curly by her constant twirling it bobbed up and down as she waited for Plliny to respond. Pliny, the tall, gaunt man with dark hair, and a black beard, was looking at a sample of cloth through the light, with another resting on his shoulder. Arachna, holding a third sample and was watching him study the samples, swaying back and forth with her arms crossed in front of her. Neither were in armor, both wore tunics with pliny's armor gleaming on a stand on one side and arachna's experimental cloth armor on another.

Arachna quickly turned to her waving her long fingers and her short black hair bobbing as she bounced on her toes.

“Salve Barbara!”

Pliny smiled to greet her as well, then handed Arachna the sample on his shoulder nodding with approval. Arachna beamed and put the other two samples in her pocked. Barbara nodded solemnly to them both.
The house was quiet, it was focused. It was home.

“Salve Arachna, Salvete Pater.” She said.