A day passed with no further inquiries about the incident. A good thing, considering their imminent marriage ceremony at the temple of Aurelia. The day was spent arranging a gift, buying two more slaves for menial labours, and hiring some new guards. Augustus thought that people at the fighters guild tavern might have been hesitant, considering the quick deaths of their recent hires, but Cressa returned without problem with two men in tow, she didn't even have to offer unusually high pay.

Augustus felt thankful he wouldn't have to completely start from scratch when it came to security. The physician had said Gillivan would make an eventual recovery, with no lasting injury. He had proven himself competent and loyal, two traits that were rare and invaluable. He had slept a long sleep at first, but in the afternoon he awoke, his mind unfettered by fever or malaise that might occur from a taint in the blood. Augustus sent in Sara to tend to the bandage, and provide any comfort Gillivan might need, such as spoon-feeding, or holding a pot while he relieved himself while he was still bedridden. Sara didn't seem too displeased when she was chosen for the task, even though it might have been more appropriate to assign Bindel, who she should have expected to be treated as the lower servant. It was meant to please Gillivan, as Augustus had been told by Marielle that she thought Gillivan found Sara attractive.

Augustus smiled to himself at the thought of Sara attending to Gillivan, but Marielle seemed displeased with it when he told her.

"Sara can be very particular about her interactions with men," she said while frowning.

"Oh." It was a neutral response. He didn't understand what she was getting at.

"I believe there was an incident in Jorland… She won't say it or show it, but I'm sure she's not happy about having to do that."

"She's a slave. It doesn't matter if she's happy about it or not."

"Augustus, she is my slave and has been with me for many years. I think of her as more than a mere slave, like Bindel."

Augustus shrugged. "Be that as it may, I still put more value in Gillivan. A strong fighter, with proven loyalty, is worth twenty slaves. Especially now. I know it looks like things will be calm with Giovannus now passed, but soon I will be head of the family, and when that is the case there will be new enemies to be wary of, I can assure you of that."

He left her, content to let her be a bit displeased with his choice. He needed to reward loyalty, as he had been taught to do by his father and his tutor Castor. They had said it was important not to be foolishly generous, as that would only attract leeches. It was vitally important to be selective with favouritism. Those who acted loyal, acted with faithful duty, usually, had formed a thought in their mind that those things were in and of themselves of value. By rewarding it after the fact, you reinforce that thought in their mind. It was an important thought to nurture since it held such value to the master of the house.

The thing was though, Marielle had acted with incredible loyalty that night as well. She had shown herself to have committed fully to their union, to the point where she even risked her life in service of a joint goal. He needed to find some way of rewarding that too. A gift perhaps? Nothing came to mind, but he decided to put some effort into thinking about it.

He spent the evening inspecting his outfit for the next day, checking the stitching and inspecting the fabric for any stain or blemishes. Everything needed to be perfect for the ceremony. Tomorrow he would reward his other bodyguard, his most loyal bodyguard, the reward of salvation, provided things went as planned. It relied on another’s cooperation, of an entity of often perplexing motives. Still, he felt confident he would be able to demonstrate his worth and earn her favour.

The next day he bathed diligently then dressed in the outfit he had already prepared that hung by the window sill. The customs in Venocia were different from those in Jorland, there was no need for a veil or of silence, those were symbolic tools used to show devotion to the gods and each other. Here there was no need for symbols, devotion would be felt in the air they breathed. When dressed, his face was on full display, unfortunately.

His face was still bruised, but Bindel was able to use some of Marielle's pastes to lessen their prominence. His hair was made silky with the use of oils and given the circumstances, he decided he looked decent enough for it not to be a disrespectful gesture that he would enter the temple at all. When he was finally ready, he waited at the entrance for Marielle.

She came walking down the hallway in an unnecessary hurry, wearing the turquoise and white dress perfectly. The colours were both appropriate for the occasion and well suited to her. The silky blond hair, green eyes, and fair skin made, against the dominant white of the dress made her look like a lightly painted marble statue. Somehow, it was only then that Augustus felt struck by her beauty. He had always known she was pretty, he could tell by her slender figure, her sharp jawline and high cheekbones, it was like the end result of a math problem, simply understood and obvious, but now he felt it, like a warm glow radiating from her skin. He couldn’t help but stare at her, watching her eyes as she approached.

“What is it?” she asked, looking at herself as if something must have been out of place.

“Nothing. You just look beautiful.”

The bold words he said took her by surprise. Even he was surprised he had managed to say it without looking away or stuttering. Her face went red and she looked away for a moment. He flipped back strands of her hair behind her ear, in so doing grazing a pearl earring she wore. His fingers lingered there, softly touching the earlobe it hung from.

“They are new earrings,” she said, “I got them yesterday. What do you think?”

“It’s acceptable. Matches the dress I suppose. Let’s head out then.”

He offered his elbow, lifting it up slightly, and she slid her arm around it so that their elbows touched and their hands held each other with interlocked fingers. They stepped out of the building and into the awaiting carriage and were off immediately.

“Marielle, have you been in the presence of one of them before?”

“No.”

He looked at her and smiled. “I haven’t either. I have been told what to expect though since it was always expected that I would be married at the temple. It can be painful–”

“I know what to expect.”

He turned and looked out the window at the streets, they moved down the slope toward the ocean and toward the denser parts of the city.

It wasn’t long until they reached the tall spire of the temple of Aurelia. They stopped in the courtyard and exited. There was a small crowd waiting outside the entrance. They were members of the family of lower note, plus Cladius and their mother Julianna, along with a gaggle of only the sophisticated class of attendants.

The members of the family looking for favour practically grovelled, baring greedy teeth within greedy smiles. They flattered and boasted simultaneously. Augustus could notice how they would shrink themselves subtly, not in a bow of greeting, but in their ongoing demeanour, lowering their head so that Augustus would look down slightly when meeting their eye line, as a show of submission.

Augustus and Marielle were polite, not promising anything, but also not turning anyone away. The vote for the head of the family was still to come later in the day, and although his victory felt assured, he had no intention of giving anyone reason to vote for someone else. They worked together, always standing side by side, their fingers still interlocked from back at their home. There was no tradition requiring prolonged skin-to-skin contact in Venocia, they had simply done it. He felt comfort from it, felt it represented their intention to support each other in their future endeavours. Even when they entered the temple, they didn’t separate their hands and stood close together. The other didn’t follow. They were alone, walking down an empty hallway, with no bodyguards or attendants. It felt foolish, but he knew no assassin would dare attempt their work in the temple.

They came to the large room with a pool in it. They removed their shoes and then unlike last time when they had walked around it to navigate to the door at the opposite side of the great hall, they stepped forward and into the pool. It was shallow at first, just deep enough to go to their ankles, but as they stepped forward the water rose.