A broken Roman.

Orelius did not return in the victorious fashion that he had dreamed. He wanted to be escorted home by his unit, lavished with praise resulting from his many achievements during the battle, and covered with the laurels of his conquest. He would accept his father’s praise and approval, drink until the evening, and take his wife’s Cunt roughly as she squealed in pleasure.

Unfortunately, he only got the escort. Orelius was carried in to the yard of his family home and set down in front of the main house, his father watching with an unforgiving and disappointed eye.

“What befell you?”

Orelius stayed silent. He had decided upon his story, which included a good deal of truth, a lie, and not a little embellishment. However, it was not for the ears of the soldiers still lingering around the yard.

Menaus seemed to recognize his wish. With a sigh he turned his attention to them. “Leave us. I thank you for bringing my son home.”

Orelius saw his wife come from inside the house, looking radiant in her dress, a light and dark blue that covered her from tits to toes. Orelius cursed his current state. It had been a long march back, even for one who had been carried. Her eyes had taken him in, but had then stopped behind him. Orelius cursed as he remembered what was behind him.

“Honored father. I return wounded, but I am told that I will likely recover (embellishment on ‘likely’). I was viciously ambushed during a reconnaissance mission outside a farmstead. Fear not, before I lost the ability to move, I had given a mortal blow to my assailant. But my endeavors did not only bring sorrow! No, today I bring to you your grandson! A child born of a barbarian that I had seeded during our last expedition and that had grown strong during my absence! His mother is dead, truly it was a kindness father, but I have obtained a male heir for the family as you requested.”

Menaus stared at his son. “My grandson was to be a native Roman, not your get by a barbarian whore.”

“But father, she was no whore. She was a virgin of strong stock. She bled around me as proof.”

“You brought a bastard child home!?” His wife hissed. She was staring holes through him, her teeth bared. “And now what? We give him honors over your daughters? Menaus! Slay the child, or sell him. Do not pollute your family!”

Orelius was shocked at the venom in his wife’s voice, but he began to speak to silence her and assert his dominance as son of the Dominous.

The actual Dominous beat him to it.

“The boy will be raised here. He will not be sold to slavery, and you will raise him as your own.”

His wife hissed and spit as she spoke. “I will not Menaus! I will —“

“You will be silent,” Menaus interrupted. He turned to his son. “And you will oversee the boy’s education. If you regain control of your limbs, you will teach him to fight. If you cannot, he will be trained by the Doctores. You will, however, teach him the basics to being a Roman. Surely you can manage that?”

Orelius kept silent a moment lest he let slip something that would anger his father further. “ Of course father.“

Menaus walked to stand over the basket holding the babe. Green eyes stared back at him, unflinching and proud. They were the color of his dead wife’s...and his youngest granddaughters.

“What is his name?”

“Orelius.”

His father sighed in annoyance. “This child is older than your little jaunt with the military. What did his mother name him?”

“It is of no consequence. She is dead and I am not and he is MY son.”

His father began to turn red in anger, veins bulged in his powerful neck. “And you live under MY roof you proud peacock. His NAME, NOW!”

Orelius was silent a second more, his mind rushing to find name suitable and Roman.

He failed.

“His name is Nemis.” He hesitated. “It’s short for —“

“Nemisis, I know.” Menaus stared at his son. “The barbarian farm girl did this to you, didn’t she?” Menaus walked closer to his son, his hand resting lightly on Orelius’ head.

Orelius blanched, his lie all over his face before he told it.

“Of c-course not!”

“You lie boy. You’re no man. You **** a farm girl, beget a child on her, and then came back to fuck her again. But she was ready, wasn’t she? That’s why she named the child for **** and justice. The Greek are so very sentimental.”

Menaus looked down at his son. “Raise the boy. Through pain of your life he is to be raised correctly. If you regain control of your body you may yet lead this house upon my ****. If not, the boy will lead this house into the future. This..Nemis.”

The pride Orelius felt upon bringing home a son wilted and warped into petty jealousy. The boy was no longer a gift, but a burden.

And so our story begins.