Roman Pink

Pinkamenus stood in the gaping hole of the boar skin tent, his feet shaking. Never before had he lain eyes upon the beautiful and strong face of his Caesar, the powerful Celesticle, except on the gold coin currency, with which he was more familiar with than others. Coming from a wealthy family, Pinkamenus was raised with the one of the highest educations, trained in the combat arts learned by scholars from across the seas. These styles were brought back to the legion and are only available to those with close relations to the family of the Caesar.

Minutes had passed, and Pinkamenus still had not moved.

"Come in." A commanding voice called. It was one of the guards, trained their whole lives to protect and serve the Caesar. Pinkamenus obeyed the order. Walking into the tent, Pinkamenus found himself standing in front of a boar skin and bone throne. There was an opening in the roof of the tent, allowing light to shine down on the throne. He stood there for a few more moments before an authoritative voice called to him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" It was another guard. Unsure as to what he was referring to, suddenly Pinkamenus snapped upright. Standing at attention, he lowered himself to the ground, kneeling on one knee and having his head tilted down, that he could only see the paved dirt floor beneath him. After some shuffling noises around him, and the sound of creaking, Pinkamenus heard a voice, deep, dark. and rumbling. Pinkamenus trembled at the sound of it.

"Face me." It called. He obeyed, without hesitation. Before him, sitting upon his throne, was the Caesar. Celesticle.

"Oh great Caesar, what is it that this humble soldier can do to serve you?" Pinkamenus begged, humbly. The Caesar paused for dramatic effect.

"I've been hearing alot about you, Pinkamenus." Pinkamenus kissed the dirt, as was expected when the Caesar addresses you by name. "And to be frank, I'm not pleased." Pinkamenus' heart began to race, displeasing the Caesar was not something someone who intended on living a full thirty years would do.

"Oh Glorious Caesar, if I have done anything to displease you, I beg of you the chance to amend this err, and do all in my power to show my gratifaction." Celesticle looked off into the distance, pondering for a moment.

"Well, before we can solve the problem, we must first address it, understand it, the cause and the effect it has, and what keeps it around." He paused for dramatic effect. "Firstly, addressing it. You, Pinkamenus, skip through our streets, beaming smiles and men and women alike. Not even the slaves are spared the light of your eyes." The Caesar paused, expecting a response. Pinkamenus stalled, before taking the invitation to speak.

"My liege, I humbly beg your pardon for my inferior mind, but I fear I cannot comprehend whatever it is that thine eyes do perceive. What is it about my behavior that displeases you?" Celestical hummed to himself for about half an hour, Pinkamenus waited silently, and then finally, he spoke.

"Then let me give further exposition to that which offends me. Your fellow soldiers walk down the street, and see you speaking to other men, waving your hands around wildly, jumping in place and shouting at the top of your lungs. At one time, they have heard you even squeal like a child..." Pinkamenus still did not understand. This angered the Caesar. "You are no man! You are a woman!" He shouted, rising from his throne. "You behave more like the women of the other cultures than a man of the empire, with even your brightly colored hair, the way you walk and the way you speak, you give a bad light on the legion! I give you this warning, and I give it once. Behave like a man, and stop embarrassing my men, and show the might of the legion in your every step. Do this, or face exile."  Pinkamenus trembled at the voice of his mighty god leader.

"But, I am just a simple man. How could I ever change my very nature?"

"You will, or else. Though, I suppose you are right, you do need something to motivate you. A taste of a life below your standards should be sufficient. I am cutting off some of your resources, and I hereby command that you surrender one of your servants. I don't care to whom, just someone who can support the extra mouth.You will be moved into a lower class housing, and guards will no longer be stationed at your tent. You shall have to go to the market yourself and retrieve your own food, like the peasants do. However, enough money will be provided that you can sustain yourself, and the servant you choose to keep. Now, I grow weary of your presence. Begone, until summoned again. By the end of the month, you will be a man, or you will be gone from my empire." With a stomp of his foot, Celesticle had the the very ground around Pinkamenus shake. He got up and ran, fearful for his life.