sunslammers

1.25

The Son of Rome

As much as Griffon had tried to rope me into it, I had never been a member of the Rosy Dawn. Not truly. There were certain duties that a slave simply could not ignore, no matter the attire they wore or the company they kept. As much as Griffin was the Young Aristocrat of the cult, second...

1.24

The Young Griffon

One of the better indicators of a person‘s character was the way they treated their juniors. The hunger for standing was a natural element of every human soul, and the temptation to abuse that standing ever with us. Not always for its own sake, perhaps, but all too often opportunitie...

[Interlude 2] The Rein-Holder

???

You are nothing.

Liquid purpose burns a trail down your throat, melting through fragile linings of tissue and sinew. You’ve always been proud of your constitution, in those quiet moments of honesty you believed yourself to be truly strong, but your body can do nothing but give way t...

1.23

The Son of Rome

“That went differently in your head, didn’t it,” I said, eyeing the ink-black pile of bones and bile that Sorea had vomited into my open palm. They were warm, warmer than they should have been. Scorching hot, even by a cultivator’s standards.

“You just ate it,”...

1.22

The Young Griffon

It had to be said. For all of my accolades and for all of my majesty, for all that I was the only man that could ever be me, I was not perfect. I had my failings. And even more egregious than that, I was not all-knowing. In some respects, I was not even particularly well-informed.

1.21

The Son of Rome

“Is it always like this?” I asked the girl in the sun ray silks. I waved vaguely, encompassing the entirety of the lounge pavilion. Her lips curled down, the only facial feature not obscured by her golden veil.

“To greater or lesser degrees,” Selene said, sighing softly. �...

1.20

The Young Griffon

It paid to have friends in high places, after all.

The temple of the Oracle was an eerie edifice. Frankincense and myr hung thick in the air, stifling the senses and making the eyes burn. Walking through the gilded archway, past the Heroic cultivators of the Broken Tide Cult that...

1.19

The Son of Rome

Anastasia drew attention as a matter of course. It was a consequence of her status and appearance both - men couldn’t help but steal what glances they could when she was nearby. But as she choked and coughed and hammered her chest, the other mystikos in the bath looked openly our way. ...

1.18

The Young Griffon

The Oracles were divine messengers, sent down to us lowly men from the heights of Olympus Mons. They transcribed the words of immortals, writ large upon the world, and gave them to us in a form we could understand. If their tongues were the thread, the words they produced were the tang...

1.17

The Son of Rome

The Raging Heaven Cult was a series of connected estates and valence communities, growing like weeds around the foot of Kaukoso Mons. Similar to the Rosy Dawn in its construction, the various estates were connected by winding paths of stone carved into the mountain itself. Walking paths,...

1.16

The Young Griffon

Anastasia was what a charitable man would call dangerous. I’d known from the moment I felt the searing heat of her influence, and again the instant I’d seen the cruel amusement in her eyes while Sol battered a defenseless man in the club. She was the type to leave men pining endles...

1.15

The Son of Rome

I woke up and immediately regretted it.

Remnants of the funeral drums echoed behind my eyes, an unbearable throbbing that turned my stomach. My body ached down to the marrow of my bones, and my mouth was drier than a day at the Senate. I shifted, grunting. Even the soft brush of si...

1.14

The Young Griffon

I had come to the sanctuary city of Olympia to convene with the Oracle. Instead, I now found myself in a rowdy club, accompanying my new Heroic companions to an after-funeral drinking wake of sorts. As the first lights of the dawn peered through the stylized bronze doors of the club, I...

1.13 [The Young Miss-tocrat]

The Young Miss-tocrat

She didn’t know what to do.

After Lydia’s uncle dismissed them from the study, her mother and Aunt Raisa took the five of them back to Raisa’s suite within the estate. The two Heroic women sat them down on lounging couches with large painted cups of spirit wine, sweet a...

1.12

The Son of Rome

In the time it took my heart to beat twice, Scythas had covered a distance that contained hundreds of citizens and lesser cultivators. I followed as fast as I was physically able to, but the difference in our cultivation was undeniable. Two more heartbeats passed, and I reached the mouth...

1.11

The Young Griffon

Sol and Scythas vanished down an alleyway in pursuit of a kidnapping. A beat passed.

“You’re not going after them?” The cultivator with the bow asked me. He was less cautious now, tension easing out of his posture in Sol’s absence. I glanced at the Heroine and the cultiva...

1.10

The Son of Rome

If the chanting was any quieter than the funeral drums, it was impossible to tell. Eight voices carried as one from the center of the agora, at a volume that was difficult to believe. In all my life I’d only ever experienced a few things as loud as that concert of voices.

I could...

1.9

The Young Griffon

The thunder of funeral drums drowned out all else. Around us, men and women of lesser constitution cried out soundlessly, gripping their ears and collapsing in the streets. It was a pitiful sight. Idly, I dragged two fingers across my right ear, frowning when they came away bloody.

Virtuous Sons 1.6

The Son of Rome

“You’re an observant one, Solus.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“Sir.”

“A keen eye is a virtue, but only if you know where to look. What to look for. Some things won’t reveal themselves to ...