Roman Pink

Wonk!

Gummotae whacked Pinkamenus hard in the face with a wooden club. Pinkamenus proceeded to roll on the ground for a time. This had become their usual routine: whenever Pinkamenus would behave like a chick, Gummotae would take his wooden club and smack him in the face or balls. This was the end of the first week, and many failed attempts at changing Pinkamenus. The first attempt was: Gummotae would count all the times Pinkamenus would misbehave, and for each time he would make one large cut anywhere on his body. All of those cuts ended up on his hands, the bottom of his feet, and on his butt. Pinkamenus was still feeling the pain in everything he did.

"Fucklebuckets! Thats it, we need to try something else." Pinkamenus got to his feet. Gummotae handed the wooden club to Pinkamenus, who shoved it into his hair. It went on to live a life as a constellation in Luna's mane in the real FiM series, but that is another story, and will be told another time.

"There must be something better than pain." He crossed his hands behind his back, and walked down from the hill his tent was on. Their camp was set near a flourishing city with many famous scholars and philosophers, perhaps one of them had a tonic or a treatment that could fix Pinkamenus. With Gummotae by his side, and a band of rowdy companions, whom Pinkamenus had promised to buy a round of drinks once they get into the metropolis.

"What's the place called?" One of the men asked.

"Ambrosia Delight. It's the bestest place ever!" Pinkamenus shouted, jumping into the air. Gummotae grabbed a nearby rock and threw it at the back of his head. One of the men grabbed his dagger, and was about to slit Gummotae's throat when one of Pinkamenus' closer friends held him back, and explained the situation. Gummotae spent the time exchanging whatever rock he held for one that looked sharper, and it got to the point where Pinkamenus was almost fearful that one of those rocks could take his head off.

They reached the metropolis, the sounds of thousands of feet quaking on the hollow floor. The foundation of the city was built like a drum, that way the sound of people was amplified to intimidate any oncoming attackers. It was a truly ingenious tactic, as many assaults have been averted by sheer intimidation. Each citizen was required by law to carry a weapon, and to have at least two years training with it, even the women. This made the city looked down upon, as the idea of women and slaves carrying weapons was highly frowned upon by the rest of the world at the time. The people didn't care though, they saw the massive decline in crime for themselves, and realized this was the best way to ensure safety. Many decades later, they would go on to found Switzerland.

"Searching through the city, they found the soothing orange lights from Ambrosia Delight. This pub was designed by some of the city's philosophers, who believed that light, in some way, effected mood. They experienced with fire and dyed glass, until they found a color that caused men to experience happiness and docility. They believed this was the color of the light that shown in heaven. This very color shown everywhere in the Ambrosia Delight, and in the area surrounding. This, among other 'special' services made the Ambrosia Delight legendary among the men of Rome. It was the philosophers that helped construct this place that Pinkamenus sought for. If they had light that made men happier, maybe they had one that made men... manlier. This was, Pinkamenus hoped, the best pain free way to help make himself normal.

"Now, we've agreed on this. Only 10% of the money we brought goes to the courtesans, we don't want them to suck up all our money. That sucking should be used elsewhere." One of the men stated, approaching the large building between big wooden beams supporting the white stone floor of the balcony. They all chuckled at the innuendo. Pinkamus had a merry night, much drinking and story telling was had, and they spent hours working off their stress in the back rooms. When all was said and done, they made their way into the streets, the orange light making the world swirl around them in a kind of happy ignorance. Their legs were weak from both liquor and pounding, and their senses were all but deadened. Stumbling to the side of the road, Pinkamenus found himself passing out as his friends made their way back to the camp, oblivious to the loss of their companion.

Pinkamenus awoke to the sensation of a brick being slammed into his forehead. I know, I have a hangover right now. Anyway,   he clenched the sides of his head with his palms. Next, he noticed a figure clutching his leg. It was Gummotae, sound asleep. He looked up left and right and saw there was a man leaning against the wall, a sword hanging from his belt. He looked down and saw Pinkamenus stirring.

"Good morning, sir. I saw you and your companion vulnerable on the side of the street and took it upon myself to stand guard incase someone would try to take your belongings or companion." After closer inspection, Pinkamenus realized it was actually just a young boy leaning against the wall. He was tall for his age, but his voice gave him away.

"Thank- Agh!" Pinkamenus clutched his head.

"First time at the Ambrosia Delight, huh? I've seen many men come out like you, but I've never seen someone pass out right in the street. You must have emptied a whole keg." His words were kind, but felt like spears in Pinkamenus' ears. He groaned, and covered his ears. "Come now, sir. Let me help you up and take you into my home." During this day and age, people did not have to worry about all the weirdo stuff they do today, so Pinkamenus had nothing to fear from the boy. He took his arm, and carried Gummotae in his left arm. They walked to the boy's stone and wood house, where his mother and father were trying to fit a furnace into the wall. The mother carried many tools and handed them to the man as he needed them. They looked up in surprise when Pinkamenus addressed them.

"Sir, I have been brought here by your son for shelter." The man walked away from his work and approached his son.

"Who is this man? Why have you brought him here?"

"He is a soldier from the war camp up the hills, he passed out on the street after visiting the Ambrosia Delight and now his head is plagued by the liquor. He needs a place to rest, don't you think father?" Pinkamenus' headache had lessened, but it was still there. He winced at the scraping sound of the wife moving tools around. The father saw this and believed the boy.

"Come, soldier, any servant of the Caesar is welcome in my home. You may rest as long as you need before returning to your camp. It would be my honor really. Matilda." The old man said calmly. "Would you take our guest up stairs?" She nodded quietly. To Pinkamenus, they seemed a nice enough couple. Quiet and reserved, obviously wanting to just be together with their child. Matilda brought him up to the childs room, and he slept on the childs bed for a majority of the day.

When he awoke, it was time to begin a search for a scribe who could assist him.  He searched about the city for a structure that looked intellectual. To be frank, he had never spoken to a philosopher in all his life, or even seen where they worked or what they did. But he had heard stories about the wonders they did, about how fast they could speak, read and write. All the things they could memorize, and the problems they could solve. Pinkamenus was confident that with the help of an intellectual scribe, he could fix himself to be the best soldier he could be.

Well, it really wouldn't be so interesting to describe the arduous process he went through of asking one person after another where he could find the men of intellect, but he did, in the end, find a building populated by philosophers. It was there that he met a very intelligent Scribe. His name was Sparkrates. He studied behavior, and this was exactly what Pinkamenus needed.

"Pardon me." Pinkamenus grabbed the shoulder of Sparkrates, who was writing in a book on a table.

"Ah! Hey! Do you know how long I spent trying to make sure these shoulders were of even length? Now you've screwed my robes up!" There was a brief silence between them as Sparkrates tried making the sleeve lengths equal on his purple robes. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. What can I do for you?" Pinkamenus took a moment to prepare himself. That freakout had caught him off guard.

"I was hoping you would be able to help me, I'm having some trouble with my behavior. I don;t think I act as a soldier should." Sparkrates nodded slowly, and then looked down to see Gummotae observing him with unblinking eyes.

"...Mhm... alright then, so if you are looking to change your behavior, I may be able to help. Would you be willing to try some experimental methods, to see how they work?"

"Sure!"