Wood Shavings and Stone Thresholds Along the Tiber

Inside the humble riverside shelter along the Tiber, the evening air carries the scent of fresh olivewood shavings and damp earth. Titus leans against the rough timber workbench, watching the steady, practiced movements of Marcus's knife as it shapes a delicate wooden dove. Recognizing the lingering tension in the veteran's posture—fuelled by recent close encounters and rumors running rampant through the lower docks—Titus quietly slides a cup of warmed wine across the table, urging him to set down the tools and speak of things other than the Subura walls and the wreckage of Gaius's merchant life. Marcus pauses, his thumb tracing the smooth curve of the bird's wing, though his dark eyes remain fixed on the flickering candlelight.

Knowing that Marcus remains hesitant to step foot outside their shelter, Titus takes the initiative as dusk settles, slipping out toward the bustling stalls near the Forum Boarium. Carrying the newly carved wooden dove, he navigates the crowded vendors with practiced ease, eventually trading the art piece with a sympathetic spice merchant for enough grain and oil to sustain their hideout for another week, all while keeping a wary eye open for Gaius's prying spies.

In the quiet hours before dawn, when the streets of Rome belong only to stray dogs and the mist rising off the river, Marcus makes his silent journey into the winding alleys of the Subura until he reaches the stone perimeter wall of Livia's estate. Mindful of her decree and his own promise not to press past her threshold directly, yet driven by an enduring devotion that refuses to die, he places a freshly carved wooden swallow—a symbol of safe return and spring—upon the low stone ledge. He steps back into the shadows of the olive trees, leaving the mute token to speak for him where words had failed, wondering if the stone wall will keep him out forever or if the wind will carry his message inside.