"Remember," his predecessor had whispered while packing his bags with trembling hands, "never look him in the eye, but never look away. Never laugh unless he laughs, and for the love of the gods, if he asks you to dinner, bring your own taster."
Lucius didn't blink. He dipped his reed into the ink and began to write. Article I: The Consulship of the Equine. [S4E1] Working for Caligula
Lucius knelt in the wet sand, dutifully filling chests with seashells. He labeled them: Spoils of the Ocean, conquered by the Living God. "Remember," his predecessor had whispered while packing his
Lucius kept his voice steady. "Because I record the glory of the son of Germanicus, Caesar." Article I: The Consulship of the Equine
Working for Caligula was a masterclass in the absurd. By noon, Lucius was documenting the emperor’s "victory" over the sea. He stood on the shores of the Mediterranean as legionnaires—the fiercest warriors in the known world—viciously stabbed the waves with their gladii.
Lucius’s first day began in the throne room. Caligula wasn't sitting; he was pacing, draped in a silk robe that cost more than Lucius’s entire village. Beside the throne stood a horse——decked out in a collar of sparkling emeralds.
One evening, Caligula leaned in close to Lucius. The smell of expensive wine and madness was overwhelming. "Do you know why I keep you around, little scribe?"