New Rome

38. An Uncertain Future

Part Two: Royal Hostage 

Agrippa sat at the bar, partially hidden behind a pillar. It was a seedy joint in the Lantern, the place was little more than a shack and it was built over the ventilation shafts that expelled hot air from New Rome's underground, making the place sweltering. It stank of sweaty unwashed bodies and most of the patrons were crawling with lice and lacked teeth.

But for Agrippa it had one big plus, anonymity. This place was for the lowest of the low, most here were blind with drink and others were lost on Oblivion. None of them read news notifications or gossip updates. So, none of them knew who he was. Agrippa drank his sour beverage, pulling a face in disgust. He'd wanted to be alone tonight. He'd even shrugged off the company of Tann, his closest friend.

Agrippa glared into the bottom of his drink. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of his older brother's death. One year... how had it already been a year?

Sweat dripped down Agrippa's face. He was young, still a student though he was currently being home-schooled, his cheeks were smooth and he had a gangly look from a recent growth spurt that had left his bones achy. Acne covered his chin and around his mouth – red and sore. But even without that affliction, he wasn't an attractive guy. His eyes were too close together, his forehead too small and his mouth too big. His expression never looked intelligent and when he got confused, or upset, he usually reverted to anger.

Perhaps in that he wasn't so unique – there were many angry young men storming their way around the colony. But Agrippa was rather unique. He was a prince and the eldest grandson of the Imperator, the leader of New Rome.

"Shut up you little bitch!" Roared a man from across the bar. The man looked filthy, with a wiry build and wide drug-startled eyes. "I aught to kick your teeth in. You can whistle like your mother, both of you with the Astra Tunnel in your mouths." He struck the girl he was yelling at across the face and her head snapped to the side, his handprint smarting her cheek.

The man made to hit her again but he was held back, a firm grip closed around his wrist. Agrippa didn't have it in him to waste words on reasoning or persuasion. Once he had the guy's attention, he swung his fist and punched him in the face. The man had been a malnourished, underfed drug addict whilst Agrippa was a young man in his prime with a lifetime of chefs and personal trainers – between them there could be no contest. The guy crumpled immediately to the ground, out cold.

"You alright?" Agrippa asked, addressing the girl. She nodded, clutching her face. Agrippa grunted. Glancing around, he saw that he had the bars attention. Not good. He headed for the door before anyone could decide to challenge him to a brawl. His grandfather would kill him if he turned up tomorrow with a black eye or bust lip.

"Young master," the girl called out – having followed him out of the bar. Frost had hardened the muddy ground and glistened now beneath the flickering street lights. "Gratitude for your assistance."

Agrippa shrugged off her attempt to touch his arm.

"None needed."

Bowing her head, she let him move on. He turned before he rounded the corner and saw her slip off down one of the Lantern's alleys. Perhaps he should have given her coins for food but it was too late now. He pulled up his hood, shielding his face from view as he headed towards more populated streets. His breath fogged up in the frigid air and his ears and nose stung from the cold. He headed for Olympus, a shaft that would take him down to the Underground shuttle service.