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Bonds of the Imperium

Chapter One

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

11th February, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

• Authors Note: The Synopsis of this story, for you, my valued readers.

In a Roman-era world gripped by civil strife and political upheaval, the assassination of the Emperor has plunged the once-mighty Imperium into chaos. The reins of power now rest in the hands of self-serving Senators, whose ambitions for personal glory overshadow their responsibilities to the city-states and citizens they govern. Against this tumultuous backdrop, Lord Titus of House Cervus finds himself immersed in the treacherous political landscape, facing prejudice and disdain, in a world overshadowed by betrayal and ambition. Amidst power struggles, family secrets, and societal scorn, Titus's journey unfolds, revealing the resilience of love at a time when the very foundations of the Imperium are at stake. Will his unconventional union become the catalyst for change, or will he and those he love, succumb to the shadows of a crumbling empire?

Bonds of the Imperium - Chapter One - Book One -

The great hall of Titus Cervus' villa, nestled on the inner edges of the Imperium Civitas, stood adorned with opulent tapestries, polished marble columns, and numerous flickering torches and fire pits. The air, heavy with the subtle scents of exotic incense, embraced Titus, a young whitetail buck, as he reclined on a well-crafted wooden chair. The plush cushions cradled his body, offering a luxurious perch from which to oversee the bustling activity within.

Rumour of the lesser noble's extravagant gift to Titus spread like wildfire, eventually reaching the young buck's ears. The hall buzzed with subdued activity around Titus as servants scurried about, preparing for the reception of the impending offering. As the massive doors to the great hall swung open, Titus sensed a collective hush falling over the room. Like magic, the servants around him seemed to melt into the shadows. From the entrance, an impressive figure emerged, the quiet clip-clop of cloven hooves and the subtle clink and clank of chains against the marble floor echoing through the hall.

Octavius Aleron, the Captain of Titus's house guard, strode into the hall with a commanding presence. His imposing physique, draped in intricately carved armour, bespoke years of unwavering service. Majestic antlers extended proudly, a symbol of devotion to his master. Towering and broad-shouldered, his mahogany fur meticulously groomed, he exuded an intimidating yet commanding aura. Discerning eyes missed nothing, embodying the essence of a stalwart protector.

What could possess a lesser noble to offer me something so extravagant? Titus wondered, his chin cradled in one paw while three fingers idly drummed against his cheek. His gaze fixed on Octavius, observing the formal display of allegiance.

Octavius approached, then dropped to one knee, clapping his fist against his chest, over his heart, his head bowed.

"My lord."

It must be important for Octavius himself to be here, presenting this gift personally, Titus mused, his eyebrow quirked, acknowledging the significance of the moment. His mind already whirred with thoughts of political implications.

At a gesture from Titus, Octavius rose, then clapped both paws together with a loud, resounding slap. At his command, another servant entered, its hooded head bowed submissively, carrying the chains that trailed back, attached to the creature that followed.

A young Thompson gazelle entered the great hall with a head bowed in submission, a testament to the shackles of servitude that now bound him. An iron collar adorned his neck, symbolising his status as a slave, a possession gifted to Titus by the lower-caste nobleman.

Why would a nobleman gift me a slave? What game is being played here? Titus's mind raced, his eyes narrowing as he observed the elaborate chains that held Caspian captive.

Caspian's eyes, though cast downward, spoke volumes of his internal struggle. There, beneath the weight of his chains and shame, glimmered a spark of resilience, a silent determination to endure the indignities of servitude.

He was led by a servant, a figure who walked before him, guiding Caspian with a firm, yet detached, hand. The servant's role was to ensure the Gazelle's compliance, a reminder of the power dynamics inherent in the societal structure of Terra Romana.

Plots within plots within... Titus thought to himself, his eyes slowly widening, as he took in the majestic colours, markings, and physique of the slave who approached. He felt his heart skip a beat in his furred chest.

Octavius stepped forward, holding one paw in a commanding gesture, halting the gazelle and his handler in their measured advance. The great hall, once filled with a muted hum of activity, fell into a silence so profound it seemed to come alive around them.

Titus regarded Octavius with a raised eyebrow, a silent query etched into the furrow of his brow. The Captain's actions seemed to carry an unspoken message that Titus could not decipher.

Stepping to the side, Octavius gave a courteous bow and head tilt.

"My lord," Octavius began, his deep voice resonating through the hall. "May I present to you Caspian, a house slave, a gift, from the noble house of Veridian."

Caspian's eyes, though still downcast, flicked with trepidation. The handler, a mere shadow at Octavius's side, tightened the grip on the chains, a subtle reminder of the gazelle's place in this intricate dance of power.

Veridian? Why would such a lowly house of such standing gift me a slave? Especially one as exotic as this! Titus pondered, one finger lightly tapping the side of his jaw, his eyes shifting between Octavius, Caspian, and the handler. They know I do not like slavery...

With a startled gasp, Caspian was kicked in the back of the knees, and driven down to the marble floor by the handler, eliciting a sharp, startled bleat from the gazelle and a narrowing of Titus's eyes in anger, a subtle almost imperceptible twitch of a hooflet signalling Octavius.

"Well, let me see this gift and I will decide if it is worthy," Titus spoke, his voice firm, as he rose and stepped down off the dais, his cloven hooves clicking on the marble floor. "From house Veridian, did you say?"

Octavius's stance grew even more alert. "Yes, my lord, that is correct."

"Thank you, Captain," Titus acknowledged, his voice carrying a measured politeness. Yet, beneath the veneer of formality, an undercurrent of curiosity and suspicion lingered.

Again, Titus gave that subtle movement of a finger, a silent understanding passing between master and guard. Octavius's ear gave a subtle twitch in acknowledgement, the slave handler wouldn't live to see morning...

With a dismissive wave, Titus sent the handler away, who bowed and retreated five steps before turning and leaving. Caspian, now standing alone in the centre of the hall, remained on his knees, his paws bound and head bowed submissively.

What secrets do you carry, Caspian? What role have you unwittingly been thrust into in this political game? Titus's mind reeled with questions, his gaze penetrating as he studied the gazelle closely.

Octavius, ever perceptive, observed the interplay between Titus and the gifted slave. The air thickened with unspoken tension, a precursor to the unfolding moment in time. He knew his master, he would die for his master – if necessary – he would never, ever, divulge his master's secret...

A subtle scent from Titus brought a minuscule hint of a smile to Octavius's furred lips, there and gone again, before Titus turned about and walked back to his dais, ascending it and sitting casually, crossing one furred leg over the other.

“I would see my new slave, before me, Captain,” Titus spoke quietly, his voice calm and polite.

Octavius bowed, then approached the gazelle who remained kneeling and compliant.

"Rise, slave," Octavius spoke, making a beckoning gesture.

The Gazelle, burned by both physical and societal chains, straightened as he rose. He obediently held up his manacled wrists, and Octavius's thorough examination began from the tips of the Gazelle's ears, down to his ankles, retracing the path with an intrusive thoroughness.

The Red Deer's fingers didn't spare any area, even venturing beneath the rough woollen tunic and gripping the furred testicles and sheath. Clenching his teeth, the Gazelle bit back his anguished cry of shame and pain. Octavius left no stone unturned, probing for concealed weapons, poison needles, or any other means of political assassination that might be concealed on this exotic slave.

“He's clean, my lord,” Octavius spoke as he stood up, watching as Titus leaned forward expectantly.

With a gesture, Titus nodded. Octavius expertly, Octavius stripped the manacles and then undone the ankle ones, dropping them to the marble floor. Octavius marched his captive to six paces from the dais.

"Remove your clothes, slave." Commanded the Captain, his tone firm, but not unkindly.

Obediently, without a word, Caspian shed the meagre tunic he wore, letting it fall to the ground from his nerveless fingers.

"Look at me," Titus spoke, resting his chin on his left paw again. "I would see your eyes."

Beautiful, Titus thought to himself, struggling to keep his expression neutral, seemingly disinterested, when his heart pounded and his blood rushed through him. He's handsome, lithe, athletic, those muscles beneath that pelt!

Titus's eyes almost imperceptibly widened, as he looked from the throat of the gazelle, down to his groin – lingering there – then down to his beautiful, dainty cloven hooves.

Not to mention his – other – attributes. Indeed, I suspect House Veridian knew exactly how to strike at me...

“I have made my decision,” Titus spoke, placing both paws on the armrest of the chair. “Inform House Veridian, I accept their gift. Inform them I expect their patriarch at my feast tonight, I will thank them personally.”

“As my lord commands,” Octavius nodded, then clapped his paw against his chest, then gestured to another servant.

“As for you, Caspian,” Titus looked at him, his ears twitching slightly. “You will be sent to be bathed, groomed and prepared. You will serve at my side tonight.”

“Yes, master - “ Caspian's voice was as lovely as he himself, quiet, melodious and properly subservient and submissive.

*

The grand hall of Titus Cervus echoed with the lively sounds of his servants. In the midst of it, stood Caspian, naked and with head bowed respectfully.

“Take Caspian away and ensure he is properly bathed and tended to, please,” Titus commanded, his voice quiet and respectful.

His servants approached, bowed courteously, and then led the gazelle from the chamber. Titus stood, Octavius's eyes alert and ready.

“My lord, your guests will be arriving shortly, do you wish to refresh yourself beforehand?” Octavius asked, his voice quiet and inquisitive.

“Mmm, sounds lovely,” Titus smiled, placing a paw lightly on the offered one of his loyal guardsmen, who helped him down off the dais.

Titus himself felt a sudden yearning for the same soothing ritual. The weight of responsibilities bore down on him, and the grandeur of the hall became suffocating. With a decisive nod, he excused himself, his eyes meeting those of Octavius, who raised an eyebrow with a silent understanding.

Guided by his attentive servants, Titus traversed the corridors of his sprawling villa. The air shifted from bustling, to more subdued and quiet, the clip-clop of his polished hooves echoing. He was led to his private bathing chamber, where his attendant servants took over and led him inside, closing the door behind them.

*

Here, intricately decorated, the chamber lined with marble, steam filling the air along with aromatic oils, stood a large, deep bath, from which the steam and scents emanated. With practised efficiency, the servants assisted Titus in shedding the formal clothing, revealing his naked body and vulnerability beneath the noble facade he was forced to wear in public. The flickering torches cast their warm glow over the bathing chamber, as Titus, now disrobed, ascended the stairs and stepped down into the awaiting bath.

The hot water embraced him like a lover, and just as sensually, as he slowly sat down on the bench, his taut muscles gradually relaxed as the aromatic oils worked their magic on him. The burdens of his position seemed to melt away with each passing moment. Titus leaned back, closing his eyes, allowing the gentle touch of his servants as they began to wash him.

Attuned to their lord's needs and desires, they continued their meticulous care. Titus sighed in pleasure, a third servant gently touched the side of Titus's head, leaning it back against a padded headrest, before beginning to lightly wash his ears and head.

“Mmmm...” Titus sighed in pleasure, his eyes slowly closing, the grand hall and its demands now nothing but fading memories, replaced with much nicer ones as he slowly lapsed into a deep, restful contentment.

His mind drifted back to his youth...

*

In the grand hall of his father, Senator Lucius Cervus, lively sounds of noble guests echoed, laughter resonating through the air, and a subtle hum of celebration filled the space.

Amidst the festivity, Senator Lucius approached his son, a perpetual scowl etched deep into the elder buck's face, making him imposing and dominant – even towards his only offspring, his son.

“Titus,” He spoke, his voice strong, powerful, dominant and assertive. “tonight, you truly become a buck. I welcome you, Titus of house Cervus, this feast and celebration is to honour you on your coming-of-age! Now, the time has come for you to have your own villa, slaves and above all else – your own house guard! You are no longer my son – from this day until your last, you are a buck, and I expect you to behave and act like one!”

Titus tried to remain calm, but the scent of wine on his father's breath warned of an impending storm on the horizon. His father was known not to just drink, but to drink excessively, and it did not improve his demeanour one wit... Sometimes – it led to Titus cowering on his bed, sobbing and hurting... He banished that thought, the sparkle of tears unshed in his eyes remained.

“A house guard is a loyal protector who will die, if they must, to protect you, obey you, and serve your every whim, as if passed down by the Gods themselves!” His father's voice rose, along with his increasing consumption of the wine that spilled from the ornate goblet he clutched in his paw.

Titus's eyes widened in surprise and a little fear, as his father's paw landed on his shoulder, then gripped his nape painfully tight as he pulled him forward. He understood the significance of this moment. A house guard was a significant step, an unrepeatable moment in a young noble's life, when they shed the trappings of childhood and adorned themselves in the mantle of adulthood. With this moment, he took the mantle of his house – and the responsibilities and expectations carried therein, taking his place amongst the nobility.

Titus reviewed the offered people brought before him, taking his time, speaking with them, and dismissing them. His father grew increasingly annoyed with him, until at last, Titus looked at a buck, that towered above all the nobles. At that moment, a red deer buck, proud and majestic, his mahogany fur immaculate, body built like a statue of a god, stepped forward.

He approached, his four-point antlers impeccable and glistening. He knelt on one knee, crossing his arms over his chest in an X pattern, as he bowed his head formally before the young noble.

“My lord,” he began, his voice rich and deep, yet filled with subservience. “It would honour me if you chose me as your house guard.”

“Bah, this...whelp?” His father snorted disdainfully. “Let me choose for you, I'll get a creature worthy of your birthright! A savage, bloodthirsty Wolfen, a...”

Titus shuddered, shaking his head very carefully, then giving a muffled whimper as his father's grip twisted painfully.

“Let me see your eyes...” Titus whispered, looking downwards.

Obediently, the red buck lifted his head, gazing into Titus's eyes... at that moment, their fates were sealed.

“I choose you,” Titus's voice was a bare whisper before he spoke louder. “I choose this buck, to be my house guard!”

His father's grip intensified, anger clouding his eyes as he glared at his son before the onlooking nobility began to whisper and mutter. With a snort, then a friendly, endearing smile, that sent chills through Titus, his father laughed drunkenly and waved off the moment like nothing had happened.

“Titus Cervus, may I present Octavius Aleron,” declared Senator Lucius. “May he serve you well.”

Titus winced, his nape strobing pain up and down his spine before he reached out and lightly touched the kneeling red deer on the shoulder. Gravely, the slightly older stag rose, his gaze lingering on Titus, a depth of connection and warmth that surpassed the bond of master and servant, was formed in that instant.

From that moment, Octavius become more than a simple servant...

*

His sixteenth 'Name Day' was the night he was accepted by his father and named as a member of his father's house, with all the rights, privileges and expectations it carried with it...

*

It was his eighteenth “Name Day” when he received a gift from Octavius, that forever changed his life...

Octavius knelt in formality, down on one knee, holding up his right paw, which was shrouded in a crimson velvet covering.

“My lord,” Octavius spoke, head bowed, before he raised it, and plucked the cover from his gift, holding it up.

Titus's eyes went wide, as he stared down at the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It was a forearm bracer, carved seemingly out of moonlight itself. It represented a large oak tree, its roots twisting and intertwined, its strong trunk and branches spreading up and out. Titus extended his right paw, bending the wrist, giving permission for Octavius to place the beautiful, thoughtful gift on his forearm.

Gently, Octavius picked it up, holding the gift cradled gently by the edges, before he smiled nervously. “No, my lord, not that one...”

Carefully closing his master's paw, Octavius reached out and took his left paw, then lifted it and carefully placed the bracer on it, his hooflets clicking the bracer shut.

Titus looked down at it, the bracer clinging to his forearm like a living vine, meshing seamlessly with the fine fur, almost like it was a part of him.

Nobles, watching on, were both awed and celebratory, traditionally, it was to be placed on the right forearm. However, placing it on the left meant something else entirely. A few nobles, knowing the difference, exchanged furtive glances and a few sly nods and smiles amongst each other.

“It's..beautiful - “ Titus whispered, lifting his arm up and gazing at it, his mind marvelling at the craftsmanship, the fine details of the exquisite and obviously expensive, ornamentation.

Octavius remained quiet, his lips quirked in a minuscule smile, but in his chest, his heart exploded with joy and happiness.

“Thank you, my lord.” Octavius nodded, then his furred lips lightly and respectfully brushed Titus's fingers with a chaste kiss.

*

That night, Titus lay in the vastness of his bed, his large, nervous eyes fixed on Octavius, who stood near the door, one paw resting on the handle that would open it. As if sensing his lord's gaze, Octavius released the handle, then turned about – the candlelight reflecting in his large, warm brown eyes. A gentle breeze stirred the heavy curtains, carrying the subtle fragrance of the night-blooming flowers into the room.

With a breath drawn deep, Titus summoned his courage to break the silence.

“Octavius,” He whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Come to me, please?”

Titus's request lingered in the air, a fragile plea that held the weight of suppressed and unspoken desires.

Obediently, the larger stag moved and stood beside Titus's bed. “My lord?”

Gazing down at the smaller Whitetail, Octavius's eyes slightly widened, drawing the scent into his nostrils. He sensed and saw, the subtle nuances of Titus's emotions, that need in his body language and expression, the frightened young buck could not – or would not – give voice to. His large, nervous eyes sought reassurance from Octavius's steady gaze.

“I...have need of you, my faithful, beloved servant - “ Titus whispered, then threw the covers aside and pet the bed beside him.

Octavius blinked once, then a single ear twitched, as realisation struck him like a bolt from the heavens. Obediently, he shed his armour and tunic, revealing himself entirely before the wide-eyed and quivering younger buck. Without a word, Octavius slipped onto the bed and then wrapped Titus in a gentle, warm hug.

“I am yours to command, my lord...” Octavius murmured, tenderly nuzzling at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

With a fearful giggle, Titus leaned close, pressing his lips against Octavius's ear, as he murmured his heartfelt desire and longing into it.

“My lord, such is...” Octavius swallowed, biting back his instinctive words, before he smiled and nodded. “I will comply, my lord...”

Timidly, Titus thrust back the covers and straddled Octavius's belly, placing his paws gently on the strong, muscular chest. “I've never...with one such as you...”

Octavius nodded, then smiled, gently picking up Titus's left paw and licking and kissing at the leathery pads on his palm. “I will be gentle, my lord...”

*

The night unfolded with an unspoken understanding, a dance of desire fulfilled, the younger Whitetail's bleats and squeals pealing forth, the quiet, guttural grunts and deeper chuckles from the red deer more muted, for much of the night. It was far, far beyond master and guard – it became truly wonderful and magickal between them. Their first, sensual and gentle lovemaking was veiled in the privacy of Titus's bedroom. Titus, in his vulnerability, found solace in Octavius's strength, their union surpassing the merely physical, delving into depths neither had imagined.

As the night gave birth to the new dawn, Titus, in the sanctuary of Octavius's arms, slept in peaceful, utter bliss. Octavius gently rolled him over, giving a furtive kiss to his master's forehead, as he slipped quietly from the bed and redressed.

“Sleep well, master – and thank you...” Octavius murmured, before leaving the bed chamber, himself drained and exhausted, but his smile spread from one ear to the other.

*

Titus moaned softly, returning to a more aware and awake state, blinking his eyes slowly. As Titus reclined in the bath, the warm water enveloping him, his servants continued their meticulous care. His thoughts, however, drifted back to Octavius – not just a house guard, but a confidant and lover. The memories of their shared moments, hidden away from the prying eyes of society, flooded Titus's mind.

A subtle smile played on Titus's lips as he recalled Octavius's unwavering loyalty, both in duty and in the bed chamber. The connection they forged, hidden behind the facade of master and guard, had weathered the tests of time.

As the servants dried Titus and applied the exotic perfumes and powders, Octavius entered. His discerning gaze swept across the chamber, meeting the eyes of the attending servants. With a silent nod and a commanding undertone in his voice, he spoke.

“Leave us.”

Hearing the directive, the servants promptly withdrew, leaving Titus and Octavius alone in the opulent chamber. The air, heavy with the scent of perfume and steam, seemed to thicken with a shared understanding between the two of them.

In the ensuing quietness, Octavius moved gracefully towards Titus, his imposing presence softened by the flickering torchlight. The closing door marked the threshold of a private realm, where the complexities of their shared relationship unfolded beyond the scrutiny of the outside world.

“My stag - “ Titus murmured, his ears slicking back in a subtle display of submission. He swayed his hips suggestively, inviting Octavius's attention.

Octavius skilfully undid the buckles securing his chest plate, setting it aside, followed by his belt, tunic and skirt. He stretched a fluid motion that hinted at both strength and grace. Sensing Titus's approach, he turned, only to have the young whitetail leap into his arms. Octavius grunted, catching him effortlessly as Titus wrapped his arms around Octavius's neck, and his legs around his hips.

In the quiet chamber, passion ignited between them. Their kisses were fervent, a silent exchange of emotions, desire and pure, animal-like lust. Octavius responded with equal intensity, the dance of their affections unfolding in the privacy of the chamber, shielded from the outside world.

It didn't take long for the high-pitched squeal of Titus to resonate through the chamber, accompanied by the muffled grunts of Octavius, and then his subdued chuckles. Outside the chamber, the two servants exchanged knowing glances and shy smiles, nodding to each other with satisfaction. They were pleased that their master was indulging in his post-bath ritual, understanding that, afterward, their services would be required once again...

TO BE CONTINUED...