A few days after that pivotal night, their strange alliance began to move. Inside Ulysses's residence, which had now become their unofficial command center, Ilithyia, Licinia, and Aemilia gathered. The burn on Ulysses's shoulder still ached, a constant reminder of his oath to himself.
"I have sent some of my people," Ilithyia said, her voice as sharp as ever. "Searching for the family records of the legion where Varro once served. We need to find where his family lives."
"And if we find them?" Aemilia asked anxiously. "What if they refuse?"
"No one refuses an offer of wealth and status, Aemilia," Licinia retorted in a bored tone, stroking her still-flat belly. "Especially from a family impoverished by debt."
Ulysses remained silent, observing the dynamics among them. He had planted the idea, but now the queens were moving their pieces. His Basic Psychology clearly saw: Ilithyia enjoyed the role of strategist, Licinia was impatient to resolve this issue to focus on her own marriage, and Aemilia was still consumed by fear.
Days later, news arrived. A messenger from Ilithyia reported that Varro's family had been found. They lived in a squalid insula in Capua's poorest district, entangled in debt after Varro sold himself to the ludus. They had one other son, Varro's younger brother, named Lucius.
Ulysses did not go himself. Sending a former gladiator for noble marriage negotiations would arouse suspicion. Instead, Ilithyia sent her trusted procurator, a shrewd old man with an impassive face.
The scene shifted to the Varro family's cramped, dark apartment. Varro's elderly father and his younger brother, Lucius, a thin youth with eyes that showed desperation, eyed the well-dressed messenger suspiciously.
"Domina Aemilia, the widow of the honorable late Sextus, has heard of your family's honor," the procurator said in a flat voice. "And she, in her generosity, offers an alliance."
Lucius laughed bitterly. "An alliance? We have nothing to offer a noblewoman."
"You are mistaken," the procurator countered. "You possess something she desperately needs. A legitimate family name. A husband."
He then explained his offer. Marriage to Aemilia. A life of luxury. All debts paid. Status as part of a noble family.
Varro's father stared at him in disbelief. "What are the terms? Nothing is free in this world."
"The terms are simple," the procurator said, his gaze flat and unwavering as it settled on Lucius "You will be her husband publicly. You will protect her from predators. But all assets, all decisions, will remain under the control of Domina Aemilia and her protectors. You will have a gilded cage, but the key will be held by others."
Lucius looked at his father. This was an insult. To be a husband without power. But it was also the only way out of their crushing poverty.
He remembered his brother, Varro, who had sacrificed everything for them. And now, the death of a noble they didn't even know, had opened an impossible door.
Lucius straightened his back. "We accept."
At Ulysses's residence, the news was received. The first step of the grand plan had succeeded. Aemilia now had her legal shield.
With Aemilia's problem now resolved on paper, Ulysses's focus shifted to himself. He stood before the polished bronze mirror in his luxurious bath chamber, staring at the new burn on his shoulder. It was still red and blistered, a painful reminder of his desperate act. It did not yet look like a battle scar. It still looked like what it was: a deliberate act of self-mutilation.
He knew that no expensive clothing or title could hide the truth if the mark was still recognizable. He needed more than just time to heal it. He needed a small miracle from his system.
That night, after ensuring he was truly alone, he sat on the edge of his bed. He closed his eyes, focusing his entire intent on the wound on his shoulder and on the massive reserve of Essence within him. He had wondered how much such a significant healing would cost. The System, as if answering his unvoiced question, provided a number in his mind. One hundred. A very steep cost. The same as the price of a Legacy.
He did not hesitate. His freedom and his future were worth more than that.
Burn one hundred Essence. Focus on healing and regenerating the wound on the shoulder.
He felt an incredibly powerful surge of energy drain from within him, far stronger than when using Subtle Influence. It felt like a part of his soul was being pulled out. The energy did not spread throughout his body but focused like a hot needlepoint, directly into his burn wound.
The pain exploded. Far worse than when he had burned it with the knife. He gritted his teeth, his body convulsing, cold sweat drenching him. It felt as if his wound was being re-burned from the inside out. He could feel his skin tightening, his tissues knitting back together with unnatural speed.
He opened his eyes and saw it. The blistered, red skin was now beginning to dry and harden. A healing process that should have taken months was occurring before his eyes in agonizing minutes.
When the process was complete, he lay on the floor, panting and drenched in sweat. He rose shakily and returned to the mirror.
The branding mark was gone.
In its place, there was now a rough, irregular scar. It was paler, its texture hard, looking like an old, poorly healed sword gash or axe cut. It was a soldier's scar. A scar that told a story, no longer a sentence.
He touched it. The skin felt dead, but beneath it, he felt a new freedom. One of the last shackles of his past had now been broken, buried beneath the new layer of skin he had created himself.
A blue panel glowed.
{100 Essence used for Intensive Minor Healing.}
Now, with his almost perfect new physical identity, he was ready for the next step: claiming his bride.
----------------------------------------------------
{Name: Ulysses (Thomas Vance)}
{Essence Stored: 3}
{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1), [Talent] 360-Degree Awareness, [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics (Tier 1)}