Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

Chapter 85: A Meal Among Mortals

May 16, 221 AD, Civitas Aurelia, Gallia.

While Flavia was angrily packing her traveling trunks in Rome, the subject of her intense jealousy was currently pacing the corridors of the Gallic praetorium.

Valeria Gratus had spent the last two weeks as the most pampered, heavily guarded political prisoner in the world.

Lucius had given her the run of the inner palace, access to the restricted libraries, and a small army of servants.

Yet, he rarely spoke to her.

Today, Valeria decided she was tired of waiting. She stood near the doors of the central architectural wing, calculating the exact moment the Forge Master would emerge for his midday break.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, a distinctly un-patrician habit she had picked up since arriving.

She was entirely out of her element...

In Massilia, a single smile from her could manipulate Senators and admirals.

Here, she was constantly overshadowed by the looming presence of Isolda.

Isolda commanded armies of spies. Isolda wore spring-steel armor and carried a blade.

Valeria, by comparison, felt like a doll trapped in a foundry. She needed a moment alone with him.

The doors swung open.

Lucius emerged, followed by a trailing cloud of clerks and junior draftsmen.

The Forge Master was rubbing the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.

His tunic was stained with charcoal, and his forearms were corded with the tension of endless mechanical design.

Valeria stepped forward, intending to smoothly intercept him with a clever remark about hydraulic displacement.

But as she moved, a rushing scribe carrying an armful of blueprints blindly clipped her shoulder.

Valeria gasped, her sandals slipping on the limestone. She pitched forward, bracing for a humiliating collision with the floor.

Before she could fall, a strong hand clamped around her waist.

Lucius pulled her upright, his eyes scanning the corridor for a threat before locking onto her face.

"Are you injured, Lady Valeria?" he asked.

Valeria’s breath hitched... Being this close to him was different than sitting across a dining table.

She quickly stepped back. "I am perfectly fine, Dominus. Apologies."

Lucius studied her for a fraction of a second.

"Good," Lucius replied, giving a short nod. "If you require better reading materials, speak to Aulus. Now, if you will excuse me."

He stepped around her. He was heading toward the residential wing. To Isolda.

Valeria had spent hours psyching herself up for this. If he walked away now, she would remain a useless hostage indefinitely.

"Wait!" Valeria blurted out.

She lunged forward, her fingers wrapping around the wool of his sleeve.

Lucius stopped dead in his tracks. The surrounding clerks collectively held their breath.

Lucius slowly turned his head, looking at the small hand gripping his arm, and then looked up into Valeria’s flushed face.

She quickly dropped her hand, pressing it against her chest to calm her racing heart.

She stared at the floor, suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe.

"I..." Valeria stammered, searching for her voice. "Will you take the midday meal with me?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "You are requesting a diplomatic luncheon?"

"No," Valeria said, finally looking up. "Not in the dining hall. I want to see the city. I want to see the civilian sectors you are building. I want to eat where the workers eat."

Lucius stared at her. He usually spent his midday meal locked in a quiet room with Isolda, reviewing espionage reports over plates of roasted lamb. It was their one moment of daily peace. But Isolda was currently out inspecting the perimeter garrisons, leaving his schedule surprisingly flexible.

More importantly, the request intrigued him. Patrician women did not willingly eat in the slums...

Lucius offered a shrug. "If you wish to ruin a good silk gown, I will not stop you."

Valeria’s face lit up with a smile. "You mean it?"

Lucius didn’t smile back, but the hard corners of his eyes softened marginally. "Come along, Lady Valeria. Let us see if your stomach can handle Syndicate rations."

He offered his arm. After a brief hesitation, Valeria slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

They exited the praetorium, immediately flanked by a discreet but heavily armed detachment of *Custodes*.

Lucius guided her toward a bustling commercial thoroughfare, weaving through crowds of laborers, merchants, and off-duty soldiers.

They stopped before a *thermopolium*. It was nothing like the cramped, filthy street-kitchens of Rome. This establishment had been retrofitted with piping, using excess steam from a nearby foundry to heat vats of stew and mulled wine.

It was packed.

The moment Lucius stepped under the canvas awning, the sea of laborers immediately parted, pressing themselves against the tables to clear a path for the Forge Master.

Then, the whispers started.

The citizens of Civitas Aurelia were fiercely loyal to their warlord, but they were also incurable gossips. Everyone knew about the terrifying blonde Director of the Shadows. But the woman currently clinging to the Forge Master’s arm was a mystery.

With her dark, intricately braided hair, olive skin, and expensive Mediterranean silk, Valeria looked like an imported goddess.

The male workers exchanged envious glances, muttering about the Forge Master’s legendary dominance.

To possess the Gothic princess and this Roman beauty? Some men truly had all the luck.

Standing behind the steaming copper vats was a stout, older Gallic woman named Drusilla.

She had been one of the first commoners to open a business under the *Lex Syndicata*, and her loyalty to Lucius bordered on religious worship.

She wiped her flour-coated hands on her apron, her face breaking into a beaming smile.

"Dominus!" Drusilla greeted, bowing her head. "You honor my humble hearth! It has been weeks since you walked among us. And who is this vision of summer you have brought to my counter?"

Valeria felt her cheeks flush hotly under the collective gaze of fifty workers. She stepped a little closer to Lucius.

Lucius placed a hand over hers, his expression calm.

"This is Livia," Lucius lied. "She is a visiting scholar from the Athenian academies, here to study our hydraulic aqueducts. I am ensuring she experiences the true culinary backbone of our city."

The surrounding workers murmured in appreciation, though few of them actually believed she was just a scholar.

Drusilla winked, clearly drawing her own conclusions. "Well, an Athenian scholar requires a strong meal! What can I pull from the fires for you, Dominus?"

Lucius looked down at Valeria.

"I will have two bowls of the venison and barley stew, a loaf of the dark rye, and two pitchers of your best apple cider," Lucius ordered effortlessly.

"At once!" Drusilla beamed, filling two glazed clay bowls from the steaming vats.

She placed the food on a tray and slid it across the counter.

Lucius reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out two stamped silver coins, tossing them onto the counter.

Drusilla shook her head, pushing the silver back toward him. "No, no, Dominus! Never! I will not take silver from the man who gave us our lives!"

Lucius chuckled. He slid the silver back across the wood.

"And how will you pay the farmers for tomorrow’s barley if you give away today’s stew, Drusilla?" Lucius asked softly.

The woman blushed, opening her mouth to argue, but Lucius cut her off.

"The *Lex Syndicata* demands that all labor is compensated," Lucius stated. "I will not break my own laws to save a few coins. Take the silver, Drusilla. You earned it."

He picked up the tray, gave the stunned woman a polite nod, and guided a thoroughly mesmerized Valeria toward an empty table in the sun.

Valeria sat on the bench, staring at the steaming bowl of commoner’s stew.

She looked up at Lucius, who was tearing a piece of dark rye bread.

"You are a terrifying contradiction," she murmured, picking up her spoon.

"How so?"

"You slaughter legions without blinking," she said, taking a small bite of the stew. Her eyes widened slightly at how rich and savory it was. "Yet you argue with a peasant woman to ensure she takes your money."

Lucius took a sip of his cider, his eyes watching the street. "Fair price for honest work; it keeps the world turning."

Valeria chewed her bread slowly, mulling his words over.

And heaven help her, she was becoming completely fascinated by him.