I. First Life, First Death

I was raised the Roman way.

Born as a patrician, into a family of equines, I never found myself lacking anything. Food, money, and attention were aplenty. Servants, nurses, pedagogues attended to me in droves, day in and day out. I trained my body and studied worldly matters, from rhetoric and philosophy to logic and book keeping. I had all these resources poured into my upbringing, money which could probably sustain entire families of plebeians, and to what reason did I own this privilege?

It's all because I was born as the only son of Publius Plinius Maximus, who served as Procurator Augusti . From the moment I came into this world, I was destined to carry the weight of the Plinius family name, and our ancient bloodline.

Having said that, my distinguished Father took a great deal of interest in my education and took a very hands on approach. He would often find time, despite being a busy man, to teach me plenty of things. He often made me spar challenging opponents, both in words and battle, before praising my great wits and bravery as being worthy of the Plinius prestige. He laughed and relished at his genius son, boasting to all those who sat and listened, of the quality of his progeny.

However, my favourite part of my training wasn't enjoying my tiny successes. Rather, it was the times when Father talked to me about the "Via Romana"- the Path to Virtue. I enjoyed every bit of it. How he talked for hours about the mysteries of the Mos Maiorum - the Seven Main Virtues; or The Seven Hills of Virtue, or the Imperators that already Ascended and joined the Pantheon. He passionately invoked the illustrious history of our Ancestors, our Gens' sacred bloodline, and of his own great accomplishments. As he did so, he demonstrated the depth of his Virtues.

I especially remember the first time he had shown me his Virtue.

"Severitas." he uttered the word of power sternly.

The empty aether beckoned his call, as the temperature in the room plummeted. Waves of undulating grey light flickered around his hands as the Virtue he invoked coalesced and took form. At first, a long, ethereal lance appeared in Father's callused hands. But it didn't stop there. The gray light changed forms, morphing into a javelin, then a bow, finally stopping as a Spatha that radiated cold. When he finished, he dismissed the weapon, which returned to the aether as if it had been a mere mirage.

"Among the Virtues I cultivate, "Severitas" is my most prized. Not only is it a splinter of "Gravitas", one of the 7 Virtues of Mos Maiorum, it is also the defining Virtue of our family. Never forget its cold breath."

I was left amazed by the power spectacle, thinking that one day I would be able to do the same. To shape the ethereal Virtues to my will, and to chase after glory and prestige.

" My sweet child, the apple of my eye! Learn that Virtue is found in all good men, and that Virtue has flown in our very blood for generations. I hold the conviction that you, as the splitting image of me, shall rise to be a man of great Virtue. May Fortuna bless us."

I puffed my chest in pride. Truly I was favored by the Gods, and destined for greatness. I couldn't have it any other way.

... or could I?

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March, XVII.

Last year, we celebrated Liberalia on this day. It was a joyous day. A great deal of young men and women gathered at the Temple of All Gods, accompanied by their family. They partook in special rituals, following strict formalities and gestures passed down through the ages, reciting words of power as to honor the Gods and the Ascended Imperators. The youth would ask for guidance in their adult life, for health, and most importantly, for the Gods to recognize their talent. If they proved worthy, they could embark on the Path of Virtue, cultivating their skills to become a scion of the Eternal City.

I already knew that, of course. I watched the entire ceremony at least a dozen times, from the sidelines. But something changed from last year. I was no longer simply a spectator.

Today was my coming of age ceremony.

And I was holding the queue for the Virtue test.

"B-But please, take the test again! The reading must have been wrong, it has to!" I protested, unnerved by the annoyed gazes of the youth standing in line behind me. "Here, let me try again…"

"No retests!" the old Augur retorted blankly, as he pointed a shriveled finger towards the Heavens. "The birds of the skies speak to me. The Gods deem you unfit to walk the Path of Virtue."

He pointed with his other hand, extending a shriveled finger towards the copper tables that lay in the middle of the room. " The signs don't lie. You do not resonate with the Thirteen Tables ."

"Satisfied with the answer? Then I ask you to go, young one. Remember to take down your Bulla protection and change your toga to a proper adult attire. Next in line, please." he continued in a monotonous voice.

Still in shock, I refused to give up. I decided to play every card I had. " Hold up! Do you even know who I am? I hail from the Plinius family, my father is a an esteemed egregius, a member in the Council of the Six, we have Virtue flowing in our blood for ages! I've trained in all manners of wordly matters and..."

The old man turned towards me with dead fish eyes, prompting me to close my mouth. He took a long look at my countenance, at the purple-lined toga and shrugged. "Pitiful child, I will tell you this out of "Clementia", so make sure to listen up. Even if you have Virtuous blood flowing in you, that doesn't make you Virtuos. It does bring you closer to the Path to Virtue,yes, but it doesn't set you on it. " His tone was bored but his words were practiced, as if he had said the same thing a thousand times before. " We think we are worthy, but in the ends its the Gods that decide who is worthy and who is not. And in your case, no matter how illustrious the Ancestors… Dis Alter Visum."

"Now, next in line! Make haste, we don't have all day! Sol's Chariot is already halfway to the horizon!"

I reluctantly made my way from the shouting Augur, dragging my feet mindlessly. I looked back, hoping someone would just laugh, saying 'It was a joke all along'. No such thing. Instead I was met with looks of pity and distaste.

I turned back to my path. The marble tiles on the floor were spinning. Or was it my head that was spinning? I did not know anymore. I did not know myself anymore. How could I, when I prepared for so long, and from such a young age, and came from a distinguished lineage… to not be worthy of walking the Path? Of cultivating my own Virtues?

"This must be wrong, yes! They must have misread the signs, surely!"

I laugh without realizing it, making my way through the crowds. Like butterflies shedding their pupa, other youths changed their purple bordered toga praetexta, with the white toga virilis that denoted they were no longer children. They also discard the Bulla talismans which served to protect them from harm until this age, as they would now stand on their own feet. They all laughed and felt good, as for them, a new chapter of their lives started today.

But for me, it felt like my whole life was ending. So I did not stop by to do the same as them. I simply did not feel like participating in the festivities. I just felt like an extra. Like I didn't belong among the smiling masses of youth.

Instead, I made my way to my family's side, altough to call it a just 'family' would be a stretch. There were plenty of my Father's friends, clients, and servants. All and all there were dozens of people. A knot formed in my throat as I felt regret at having so many people here, only to come and watch me fail.

First I spotted the nurses, and pedagogues that taught me when I was young. They kept their heads low, as if expecting punishment.

Then there were the servants and clients that my Father brought for the sole reason of applauding on my success. They remained silent, and contemplative.

Next I focused on my mother and sisters. Their faces were ashen and distraught, but they did not dare utter a word. Not before Father allowed for it.

I swallowed hard. My throat feelt tighter, and my feet felt heavier than lead. Yet I mustered the courage to approach him. It was weird. I half-expected him to be the most distraught, yet his face was the more serene out of all of them.

No, serene isn't the word. Emotionless. Placid. He walked around, hands behind his straight back, as we came closer to one another. Seconds passed, yet none of us utter a word. I hoped he would help me out somehow, offer a word of encouragement, or even chastise me for my failure. But his face etched no emotion.

I couldn't bear the silence. I sucked it up, doing my best breach the news that even I could yet grasp.

"Hello...distingushed Father. I'm done with the ceremonies. It was... Hah, funny story, I think the Augur made some mistakes while handling the test haha! We gotta talk to him to let me retest, I'm sure there's been a minor human error somewhere, or perhaps he misinterpreted the birds chirp or something?"

I laughed nervously. Not because I found it funny, but because it was my way of coping with the stress. My Father set his firm gaze set on me, studying me from head to toe, I felt ashamed. If only there was a hole I could dig myself to escape from this situation.

He just stood there like a marble statue, staring at me, but also staring through me, before he hit me with an unexpected question.

"Are you here to pay your condolences, young one?"

I was... stunned. Out of all the things to say, why on Jupiter's thunder would he start with that? My mind goes blank as I try to figure out a proper comeback to that question.

"What do you mean? Did someone die while I was taking the test?" I got worried for a second, as this was all my muddled mind could think of.

"Of course. Today, my son died. Such a shame, he held great promise if only he could have started on his Path I'm certain he would have accomplished many things."

For a second, I felt lost. Disconnected from the dialogue with the mountain of a man stading in front of me. Then the knot in my throat tightened. I felt indignation, at the blasphemous words that didn't make sense. How could his son die? I was his son! I was here!

"But this can't be, Father! I'm your son, right in front of your eyes!" I opened my mouth in protest. " I'm alive, look, I'm alive! I don't know who told you otherwise, but they must be spouting blasphemous rubbish!"

I looked around for support when it came the obviously nonsensical issue, but to my surprise, I could not meet anyone's eyes. Even my mother and sisters chose to stare down at the colorful mosaic on the floor tiles. But I still tried to reach out.

"Mom? Octavia? Camilla? Little Livia?" I call out to them. As if struck by a fiery hot sword, my mother drops on her knees, sobbing in pain. Like she had lost a son.

And then it hit me.

Father was right. To them, I had died.

I pinch myself, believing I'm still asleep and Somnus must be playing a trick on me. I pinch myself until I hit blood, but no matter how maniacally I try, I do not wake up.

"Father? What is going on? Please... this can't be happening?"

" Who are you calling Father, young one? Are you trying to say that the blood of the Plinii flows in you, a man without Virtue? That a man, lesser than even a plebeian could be the son of I, Publius Plinius Maximus?" The temperature in the room dropped sharply, as the man's temper flared up. I try to counter but words died in my throat. A familiar, translucent hand pushed against my chest, ripping my protective Bulla pendant. It was 'Severitas', but its frigid manifestation now felt colder… so much colder than usual.

But not as cold as my Father's words.

"NEVER! Never call me Father, for from today onwards I have no son! You are nothing but a ghost, a beggar, a plebeian! You are...!"

He extended his wide fist outwards, as if ready to strike. I did not resist, for I did not have the strength of mind to resist anymore. I turned my cheek to him and closed my eyes, a tear streaking down my face as I braced myself for the blow that never came.

He simply left, leaving the harsh words unsaid.

'You are... no son of mine!'