NOW I AM RIGHT HERE, AND IT’S TIME CAUSE THIS IS REAL, THIS IS REAL AND IT’S ALL MINE

**Chapter 2: The Whisper That Breaks Chains** The next morning, the villa smelled of vinegar and blood. Cassian stood in the shade of a fig tree, arms folded behind his back, watching Decimus deliver judgment. Senator Volcatius’s steward—an aging man named Publius—had been dragged from his litter before sunrise, accused of bearing false letters and slandering Decimus’s name. The steward’s face was swollen. He had been beaten, but not killed. Not yet. Cassian had suggested that. “Dead men silence themselves,” he had told Decimus. “But living ones scream, and others hear.” So Publius screamed. In the courtyard, before the other slaves, before visiting officials. His cries echoed across the hills. A statement. A performance. Cassian never smiled. Not where others could see. But inside, something had shifted. A step taken. A boundary crossed. And no one suspected the whisper had come from him. --- **In the Study, Later** Decimus was pacing, wine cup forgotten on a low table. The letter from Gallienus—the emperor still clinging to power in a fractured empire—had not brought the answer he’d hoped for. “No legions. No gold. Just words,” he spat. Cassian moved quietly through the study, collecting discarded scrolls, folding the tunic Decimus had thrown off in a rage. Servants were shadows. But Decimus grabbed his arm. “You’re educated. You know what’s happening, don’t you? The Empire’s breaking apart. Thirty emperors in ten years. Provinces declaring their own Caesars. Armies deserting.” Cassian looked at him, calm. “Chaos is a ladder, dominus.” Decimus narrowed his eyes. “That’s not Roman thinking.” “It’s Greek.” “And yet useful.” He released Cassian’s arm. “You said you used to teach?” “I did.” “To noble boys?” Cassian nodded. “Then maybe I’ll let you teach again. Teach me.” Cassian bowed. “As you wish.” He had gained something more dangerous than trust now. **Access.** --- **Midnight, in the Wine Cellar** The air was thick with mold and dust. Cassian held a small oil lamp as he descended. Waiting. A figure emerged from behind a stack of amphorae: **Tullia**, a house slave assigned to the kitchens, but more than she seemed. “You said it had to be tonight,” she whispered. “Why?” “Because Decimus believes he struck first,” Cassian replied. “And that’s when men are most blind—right after they think they’ve won.” Tullia glanced over her shoulder. “You said Volcatius never made that threat.” “He didn’t.” “Then why risk it?” Cassian stepped closer. “Because now, the senator will come for revenge. And he’ll need someone who knows Decimus’s household. Someone close to him.” Her eyes flickered. “You?” “No. **You.**” Tullia stared. “What?” “You’ll be the bait. The leak. The one they turn to when the house begins to tremble.” “And when it does?” Cassian handed her a small scroll. “This goes to Volcatius’s scribe. Tonight. Burn after reading.” She hesitated. “You’re gambling everything.” “I’m done gambling,” Cassian said. “Now I’m dealing.” --- **At Dawn, in the Stables** Junius was feeding the horses when Cassian found him. The boy looked older in the pale light, as if the lashings had added years. “You lied to Decimus,” Junius said. “Didn’t you?” Cassian didn’t deny it. “Why?” “Because he believes he owns me. All of me. Thoughts, breath, blood. I want him to feel what I’ve felt—helpless, uncertain. I want him to watch the world shift and not know who moved it.” Junius scratched the mare’s neck. “Will you kill him?” Cassian knelt, looking the boy in the eyes. “No. That would make him a martyr. I’ll make him irrelevant.” The boy stared. “And when it’s over?” Cassian rose. “Then I’ll decide who I am.” --- It came hidden in a wine shipment from the Aventine. A strip of linen, wrapped around the neck of a bottle. Tullia slipped it into Cassian’s hand in the bathhouse. He unrolled it slowly. A single line in tight, practiced Latin: **“The Senator accepts your invitation. We move at the new moon.”** Cassian closed his eyes. The first move had been made. A man had screamed. A house had trembled. A whisper had traveled from slave to senator. And now? Now it would all begin.

Other insights from Success Uwakwe

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons