"I received a letter from your father. He is coming back." His mother, sitting primly at her place next to his father's empty seat, announced. Aleci ignored the squeal of excitement from his younger sister, and pulled his face into a smile.

"I assume Imruk surrendered?" said Aleci.

"It would seem so," said his mother. Her voice was even and steady but the hand that was holding the letter was ever so slightly shaking. "He wrote that he expects you to meet him when he arrives." Here she gave him the sternest of looks, "Properly dressed."

"Proper?" said Aleci, "What do you mean?"

"Don't play ignorant, Aleci," said his mother, raising a hand, "You and I both know of your-" she frowned severely, "relations. If you come dressed like you just came from one, I won't save you from your father."

That was a melodramatic of her, Aleci never needed to be saved from Galer's sermons. She had never stepped in to save him either. This must be some new trickery Galer had up his sleeve. It had always been like this the moment Galer realized his disappointed looks and words meant nothing to Aleci.

"But why only me? Won't you be there?" he asked.

"I would," said his mother, "But these are his instructions to you. Specifically." she turned to his younger sister who smiled, all innocence. "Now, Laria, are you supposed to be at your lessons or eavesdropping?"

He decided to excuse himself along with his sister before his mother's exasperation turned to ire. She didn't elaborate more and he wasn't sure if he ought to ask. His father rarely wanted to see him because, unlike the other men of the Tusirios family, he had never been adept at any martial field. Not that their family name had been established that long for martial prowess to mean anything, he thought, bitterly. Tusio was where his grandfather had come from, and Tusirios was the name the Caesar's grandfather granted to his family, along with land, for services rendered to the Empire of Alyssa. Whatever his grandfather taught his father, it must have included the honor of establishing a family lineage, because that was all Galer was focused on. But not just any family lineage, he could have had many sons and daughters, no, a martial lineage. Which meant that from the age of seven, the look of constant disappointment was on his father's face every time he looked at Aleci, his only son. Obviously Laria couldn't serve alongside his father or he would have wanted to train her instead. His father had been mourning the lost of a continued military tradition in the family for the last fifteen years. Which, anyone were to ask him, was too long.

"Are you quite done ranting?"

He blinked, staring into the unimpressed eyes of Emos. The hetairikos sighed deeply, "You've told me this story half a dozen times. I'd love to hear more, but I have other clients as well. More amicable ones than you've been, at the very least."

"Wait—" he meant to tack on his apologies, but Emos waved his words aside.

"You've paid me for my time. It's enough," said Emos, "I'm still here if you want to have an actual good time instead of talking."

Aleci deposited the coins into Emos's outstretched hand as he left the lupanar, making sure to stop by the bathhouse before making the trip back to his father's house. He thought he had washed away the smell and adjusted his clothes adequately, but the look on his mother's face when she saw him, and the smirk on Laria's face told him otherwise.

"You're in trouble!" Laria sing-songed, twirling a ribbon in her left hand, a strangely dressed doll in her right, "Trouble, trouble!"

"Hush, child!" chided his mother, though she gave him an irritated look, "Your father's in the courtyard. You've kept him waiting."

It was short and to the point, and she turned to lead Laria away. Aleci made his way to the marbled courtyard, heart in his throat. He could hear voices as he approached, speaking in a foreign tongue. One of them was definitely his father's, the man did have some talent for picking up tongues no matter how foreign. The other... The other sounded like Emos's, soft and pitched every so lower than a woman's but not quite.

«I hope to make your son happy, 'Praefect'.»

His father had many guests before, and they addressed him in his title in various ways. If they were a fawning sort then it would be with a simper and a bow. If they were the Magisters, higher up than the Praefects then it would be simply tacked on, Galer becoming Prafect-Galer. Unless they were the Magisters his father had personally helped appoint. Then they were all fawning and poisonous fangs. This didn't sound like any of his father's guests. It was more of a polite acknowledgement, or perhaps even friendliness?"

«Oh, you would, you would.» The laugh, and Aleci shuddered upon recognition, was his father's, «I enjoyed your company, Finne.»

«Thank you, 'Praefect' Galer. I am honored.»

He could make out the two figures now from where he was standing, half hidden behind a column. His father was sitting on the recliner, drinking deeply from a glass. Standing next to him was a curly haired man about the same age as Aleci, dressed in the same clothes as Laria's doll. They both looked dusty from the road, his father's traveling cloak was streaked with mud, his beard unkempt. The other man was clean shaven, he either had access to a razor or he was a Mytus, though what a Mytus was doing in his father's house he had no idea. Mytea didn't have any acolytes or temples and his father had always frowned upon the parties hosted by Bacchus's patrons. Unless Galer had completely changed since Aleci last saw him, it was entirely possible given how fickle Galer could be. Aleci took a deep breath and stepped fully into the courtyard. He met his father's appraising look with the most placid one he could summon to his face.

"Late as usual," said his father, in lieu of a greeting, "Well then, Aleci, this is Finne—" he gestured towards the man standing by his side. "Your new wife."

Finne made a move to greet him, Aleci could see him gathering the corner of his dress to do an obeisance that all the noble ladies did in Alyssa. Aleci ignore him, "Father what is the meaning of this?"

"Your mother and I have grown tired of your reputation for trysts and various-" Galer wrinkled his nose in disgust, "activities. I am being more than generous. I have accepted your preference for the company of men, but your various dalliances with the hetairikos would not result in any grandchild, and if it does, none we will have an honorable claim to. I will give you a compromise with Finne." Here he gestured to the younger man again, "He's an intelligent lad, I've seen to it. You'll marry him, bed him, and give me a grandchild." He looked longingly into the distance and Aleci felt the strong urge to vomit, "It's about time I passed down my skills."

Aleci scowled deeply, shooting Finne an angry glare. There was nothing but confusion in the green eyes that stared back.

"You want me to marry him?" Aleci snarled, stalking towards Finne who flinched away.

"Praefect Galer?" said Finne, a pleading note in his voice.

Galer stood up, grey eyes stormy, "You will." he said, in a voice that gave no room for argument. They faced each other, both bristling, and Aleci refused to back down, "He was the best of the tributes from Imruk and I won't stand for his maltreatment. I've turned a blind eye towards your ways, but no more. Our family tradition must be continued. You should be happy—" he stared at Aleci, a deep scowl on his face, "I'm not asking you to exercise any skill you don't possess."