In Nomine Rome: Episode 4 - Adult Supervision Is Now Required

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Episode 4 - Adult Supervision Is Now Required

After realizing the situation at hand, Pamphilos has bundled the Mercurian and yeti out of the temple, letting them know that the Trader will handle the negotiations with the Lilim, gratias maximas vobis ago, and catch up with them as soon as that's concluded. It is, after all, a very easy thing for a Kyriotate to catch up someone they recognize in a city they know well. This leaves Pelagia and Blāsjarī right outside the walls of the temple compound, where Decimus has been waiting. Abandoned rather hastily by the Kyriotate's previous human host, even, though currently accompanied by a weasel who is probably not Pamphilos and definitely interested in Decimus' left sandal.

Decimus idly flicks food to the weasel as he people-watches.

The weasel is pleased with his new patron, and attempts to provide the service of a loyal client by grooming the strap of that sandal.

Various people hurry up and down the street: most on foot, a few in litters. The temple of Diana next door is popular today, as is the man across the road selling sausages in dough dunked into enormous stone pots of hot oil.

"...so that's the situation", Pelagia finishes summarizing. "I would still like to know why they wanted to entrap this woman. What's special about her?"

Decimus attempts to skip a rock across the ground into the opposite wall, with minor luck. "It's the fires that concern us." He adds hastily, "Not that I'm not concerned about our Roman strays here either. But the fires."

Pelagia says, "Rome has almost as much paperwork as china, except for the paper part. I want to check the records about her and her husband. Possibly also the owner of the building that burned."

The weasel wraps himself around Decimus' ankle, and begins grooming his own front paws.

Pelagia says, "Unfortunately my briefing didn't cover that. My role was waiting for me when I arrived."

Decimus says, "You'd be amazed how few people wander by here with the answers I need." He stands up. "Let's check those records. I'm having better luck with you folks than I am people."

Pelagia says, "I know there are tax records and business licenses, in a building called a bascilica. We could also go back to her apartment and resonate everyone within an inch of their lives."

Decimus asks, "Are people currently allowed inside the bascilica? Is it open to visitors?"

Pelagia says, "I think you have to line up."

Decimus snorts.

Pelagia says, "The lines at the bascilica are legendary. There are little windows. You present paperwork at them, or ask questions and they give you paperwork to fill out. This may be less appealing to non-servitors of Knowledge. Ordinarily I'd submit a written request, send it off to the tether, and wait for a representative of my Superior to answer my question in due time."

Decimus greets all this with the same expression a dog wears when trying to learn the difference between Mars and Ares.

Across the street, a pair of children are getting into a shouting match over possession of a sausage roll. The weasel on Decimus' foot sits up to watch, in case this results in Ground Meat, the most weasel-accessible form of foodstuff.

Pelagia says, "But we're on a deadline and right now I'm on loan to Eli. Last time I did that he sent the request paper back with a muffin recipe on it. The muffins were amazing. I never did get an answer to my question."

Decimus says, "So we break in when everyone else has gone home, we get our information, and we get back to work."

"Is that the correct procedure here?" Pelagia shrugs. Human culture. Always changing. "I see I need to sign up for many more seminars."

Decimus answers by not answering.

Some up-and-down hill traversal later, the supernatural trio (or occasional quartet, as Pamphilos checks in) finds themselves back at the scene of the fire. A slipshod job of plastering over the fire damage has been done. It does not make the tenement look much more stable than before. At this time of afternoon, most of the people in and around the building appear to be children or women of various ages.

The weasel departed soon after they left the vicinity of the temple, bidding a fond farewell to the Seraph's foot and to crumbs from heaven.

A number of women are eyeing the very tall barbarian with a ratio of interest to trepidation that trends near to, but does not quite hit the point of, the moment when they would try to strike up a conversation.

Pelagia wanders among the woman, smiling and nodding, staring intently at each for a moment before nodding at one, and returning the Seraph.

Decimus says, "I'm sure they don't suspect a thing."

Pelagia says, "A little mercurian resonance never hurt anyone. Telling people about the results, on the other hand..."

Decimus tags along, at least close enough to be ready to Truth the Truth out of them.

Pelagia says, "Speaking of which... the old woman. Severa."

Decimus listens.

Pelagia says, "She is interested in the divination of dreams, and knows everyone here. Most of them call her Mother. A title of respect."

The old woman in question is sitting on a rickety wooden bench, combing wool and keeping a casual eye on a pair of small children playing in the street. She greets every woman who passes her in the street by name, and has thrown a glance or two Pelagia's way.

Decimus says, "So she knows what's going on, she's behind it, she has secrets you want me to go check up on, we need to make sure she's not lying...?"

Pelagia steps up and introduces herself. "I am Pelagia, a healer. I hear you know about medicine?"

Decimus appears to have been given very peculiar tasks in his past.

The old woman smiles beatifically at Pelagia. "The treatment of infants and children, for sure. I am no learned woman such as you appear to be. I am Severa by name, and you?" Her nod encompasses Decimus as well in this question.

"Decimus." He thinks of a few things to follow that with, cannot pick any, and just uncomfortably descends into a silence that stretches on.

Pelagia asks, "Have you been tending Primus Amelianus? How has he been recovering?"
TheGM [8:16 PM]
Severa shakes her head mournfully. "No, I have left him be, certain that there is nothing these poor old hands can do for his care, given his age and his woe. He speaks of nothing but the coming disaster. He should have listened to me when I warned him before, after his wife dreamed of an egg without a yolk, given to her by a dead man. You must be the learned women he speaks of, who tended his wounds before. Such skill!"

Pelagia says, "Thank you. Could you tell me more of this dream? And of the disaster?"

"The disaster is the fire, the loss of his wife, and that he'll surely be without a home soon," says Severa mournfully, with a dramatic gesture toward the building. "Without the funds to pay the building's owner, how would he do otherwise? So now he has truly lost everything. Now, the dream." She leans in, lowering her voice confidentially. "Aldegund told me just the other day, perhaps three days before the Kalends, that she dreamed of her older brother, long dead, giving her an egg. But when she cracked it open, there was no yolk inside. Now, as the yolk is yellow as gold, it represents money, and this was a sign she would suffer financial hardship soon. Her dead brother, well, that could read either way; to find what has been thought lost, or to confront what cannot be regained. I told her to be careful! To walk around the building seven times, and pour a libation to Juno. She must not have listened."

Decimus was also listening, yes.

Pelagia asks, "What money does the landlord want? Does he think his tenant started the fire?"

Severa shakes her head. "The doorkeeper takes the money from each tenant for the rent, and then once a month he sends his steward about to collect it from his tenement." She waves a hand about. "Half these tenements belong to that man. His steward arrives tomorrow morning, with stout men to watch his progress."

Decimus says, "Hmmmm."


Eventually the two angels escape the conversation, though not before the woman has given her interpretation of someone's dream of flying over the founding of Rome and given Pelagia her recipe for curing four-day fevers in weaned children. Night falls. The yeti departs to engage in mysterious ethereal business. The streets of Rome begin to quiet, or at least the noise moves more indoors and towards the houses, taverns, and brothels that can afford lamps.

Government business is certainly shut down for the day, all lines dispersed and windows shuttered about the building that holds so much paperwork and so many bureaucrats. (It still has the former; the latter have gone home.) A city slave sweeps the ground in front of the closed windows half-heartedly.

Pelagia nods. The desks and files are still here. That's the important part of a bureaucracy. People come and go, but the desks remain.

Decimus says, "And once we're inside, we have plenty of time and no need for justifications."

Peliagia indicates Decimus should lead the way. It's crimes, his territory.

Decimus says, "I'm circling once. When I get back, let me know if they've moved at all." He indicates the sweeping slave, and then starts his route.

The basilica is a rectangle, about twice as long as it is wide, with one side given over entirely to semi-permanent shops, all of them now locked up for the night. (Some have locked doors or gates; others have a slave or family member asleep in the shop, in front of any stored merchandise, or are empty of anything worth stealing.) The other three sides have tall arches, leading to the windows labeled for the various types of business appropriate to conduct there, or doors leading inside. The doors have been shut up for the night, including the great doors that lead to the big central atrium where court cases are held.

Decimus circles back.

The slave is still diligently sweeping one spot in front of one window, with an occasional glance around to see if anyone is going to come hurry him along to elsewhere.

Decimus asks, "How is our watchman?"

Pelagia lurches up to the watchman, pretending to be drunk. "Hi Felix! You remember us, right? *hic* We told you we want to do it right on the tax assessor's desk, and you said to come back after hours." Pelagia leans heavily against Decimus, and slides down into a sitting position at his feet.

Decimus cannot bear the concept of lying, so just looks absolutely mortified, which will accomplish the same thing, and he knows it.

Felix the slave stares wide-eyed at the nicely dressed clearly free woman and her male companion, and stammers, "I am certain, Domina, that you would have not meant--that I would have remembered--" He gestures with his broom helplessly at Decimus.

Decimus holds his hand out for the broom, just in case. He's trying to keep Felix off balance. (Off balance mentally. Physical balance updates to follow.)

Felix somehow finds himself broomless, and stares at his own hands in a way that indicates he's beginning to wonder what was in his evening slug of watered vinegar-wine.

Decimus says, "This broom's no good, eh? Look, it's practically falling apart. You're leaving more behind than you're sweeping up. So two ways here, eh? How about you go get another one and bring it back over? I can cover 'til then. That doesn't work, second way, well, we repurpose this, we put our backs into it, we switch things up a bit, eh? One or two, friend, one or two? I'm inclined on one, personally, what do you say? One? One?"

"I... yes... " Felix blinks a lot, and steps back. "Yes, I'll go... get... another broom, if you're quite certain, Domine? Yes? I'll just..." He eyes the two of them, and then hurries away. Presumably towards something like a broom closet.

Decimus waits for him to be gone, and then weighs the broom in his hand. "This would have lasted maybe once through the second way. Okay. Time to get inside." He kneels down and peers through the lock, drums his fingers on the metal, scratches his chin, and then pops his knuckles. "All right, this seems familiar, if a lot dumber. If anyone comes by, tell them what we're doing and then hit them with the broom." He sets about picking the lock, enjoying being corporeal for the first time in weeks.

After several minutes--during which Felix does not come promptly back with a fresh broom for his strange new friends--the lock creaks open. It's harder to do this with a creaky old physical lock than the nice shiny practice ones the Windies let people try out in Heaven. Still, the principles are the same! And just through the door is a small room with doorways open beyond.

Through those doorways, what's visible are...wonders.

Bureaucratic wonders.

Rack after rack after rack of scrolls, stacks of loose papers bundled together for compilation into a new scroll, scrolls laid out on desks for consultation... And the rooms just keep going! All around the sides of the basilica, one after another!

Decimus carries his Lucky Broom with him, nudging the door shut after them once they're in. "Okay. What are we looking for?" He got a little caught up in the moment.

Pelagia says, "I have no idea."

Decimus says, "Right, you wouldn't. Sorry."

Pelagia attempts to resonate paperwork.

Decimus says, "There have been a lot of fires around here. Tenements. Multiple ones. I want to know what, whose, and where. I especially want to know if they all belong to the same person. Ideally, the forms will have documentation on the demons that were assisting them, but beggars and all. Now, if I were a paper on a fire in Rome, where would I be..."

Pelagia says, "In a Basilica. Insurance payments, perhaps?"

Decimus snaps his fingers, a fun sensation. "Yes!"

Gosh. There's an awful lot of paper in here. Much of it clearly organized in some systematic fashion, but not so much with the clear section labeling. Bureaucrats probably learn on the job where everything is, and know their own section by heart.

Pelagia says, "Also tax writeoffs. Rapid property depreciation."

Decimus says, "Those are also good words."

Pelagia says, "We may need to kidnap a bureaucrat."

"Now that I'm good at." Decimus scans for anything with a label, grabbing papers that look like they might be title pages or section headers or anything, for maybe twenty minutes before giving up and looking for something to break or otherwise crime.

Pelagia also reads papers.

There's a low murmur of voices off in the distance. Slaves, likely, talking to each other as they do the cleaning on the far side of the building. Outside the basilica, a pack of street dogs is having a rousing chorus of barking at something. Meanwhile, the papers immediately adjacent appear to be census records, tracking the name, birthplace, and property of freeborn adult males of Rome and Ostia. The next room over records the manumission and sale of slaves.

Decimus rolls his eyes out of his skull. "The problem with brilliant ideas is that I always stop after the first half of one." He idly sweeps as he searches, for lack of anything else to do.

Pelagia says, "Name birthplace and property... We can look up Primus's information, at least."

Decimus mutters something about the devil and the details as he looks around for any listings of property owners.

Primus Aemelianus has a birthplace of Ostia, a property of nothing, and a position in a long list of other men registered as Roman residents in the last census.

Both Pelagia and Decimus hear the light, nearly inaudible tread of bare feet on stone right before a young man in a short, tidy tunic pads into the room they're currently searching.

Decimus slips between two vertical shelves, broom still in hand, ready for brooming.

Pelagia hides under a desk.

The young man--no doubt another city slave--pauses as he catches sight of one of the scrolls the angels have been examining. He picks it up, and angles it to catch a bit more moonlight over the text therein. Once he's satisfied, he rolls it up neatly, puts it into a slot in the racks, and proceeds onward out of the room. Pad pad pad...

Decimus angles the broom handle down around ankle height.

Pad pad pad THUD and the young man goes sprawling face-first across the floor. He curses in Greek.

"Excuse me! Do you happen to know where the property section is? I need to review some information and it most certainly is not where I expected it." Decimus ambles out in front of the door, keeping himself between our literate friend and the door, and out of Pelagia's view so the flank is still available.

The slave scrambles to a sitting position, and stares in bafflement up at the strange man. In the basilica. At night. With the broomstick. Asking for directions to the property section. "...ah," he says, slowly. "What sort of property did you mean? Buying and selling? Tax assessments? Dedications to temples? Records of inheritance? Or did you want laws on where various sorts of business may be conducted?" His accent is faintly Greek, though his Latin is sharp enough.

"Taxes, primarily!" Decimus smiles brightly. "You see, my little research project hit a snag, and I needed more information than I had available to me."

The young man points behind Decimus. "All the way to the end, follow the wall for three windows, then move one room back toward the atrium. If you want records of taxes paid, that will be the room immediately adjacent." He smiles pleasantly. "If you alert me when you have finished there, I can make sure everything is filed properly once more, lest the bureaucrats tomorrow find themselves irked in the midst of their own work."

"Why thank you!" Decimus smiles in Pelagia's direction. "What a nice young man that was!"

Pelagia rises from under her desk, bows, and proceeds in the indicated direction.