August Emperor

Lord Romaldo frowned, glancing up at the ruddy midday sky as his servants scuttled forward and opened a parasol over Romaldo and his distinguished guest. The sky rained, but fortunately, there was not much wind, or it had dried his fine new suit coat and red vest in the water. But the parasol did a fine job, protecting him from water.

Romaldo August stood with his guest on a hilltop patio that overlooked the fields. Hundreds of people worked in the rain, caring for the crops. There was a sluggishness to their efforts—but, of course, that was the way of the peasants. The peasants were an indolent, unproductive lot. They didn't complain, of course; they knew better than that. Instead, they simply worked with bowed heads, moving about their work with quiet apathy. The passing whip of a taskmaster would force them into dedicated motion for a few moments, but as soon as the taskmaster passed, they would return to their languor.