“Stand outside,” the man told his guards. When they were gone, he relaxed and looked at his guests. “I am Tribune Marcus Claudius Picus, first cohort of the Praetorian Guard.”
Crescens sat up. This is a man I can do business with. Perhaps he will listen? He seems nice enough.
“Tribune,” Crescens inclined his head. “I am Serenus Crescens Nova, executive of the curia of Lindinis, and these are my colleagues Virgilio Carcer Hilarus, and Nolan Phelan.”
“Your man out there,” Phelan cut in, “when I met him, said that you were the man to help us in our petition to the emperor, but also to deal with a certain problem we have with a man of the imperial legions.”
“You speak plainly,” Claudius said, nodding. “I like that.” He stood and paced the floor before them, his body glistening in the light
