***
It seemed like yesterday only, and yet the effects of time could still be felt. Nero sat in the carriage with a vacant expression, staring out of the tiny window and watching the landscape roll by. His eyes were narrowed, and the sunlight was beginning to prick his irritation.
“Why the long face?” Emilio asked as the carriage rumbled over a stone bridge. Nero turned to look at him, taking in his outfit for the first time. He wore a muted grey leather jerkin with a black undershirt, and his dark hair had been trimmed so that his face would be more visible. His breeches tapered off into dark, heavy boots which would look out of place on a dance floor.
As for Nero, he had settled for a burgundy tunic which clung to his arms and chest, and black woolen pants. His hair, not as long as
