Caligula - [s4e1] Working For

Lucius knelt in the wet sand, dutifully filling chests with seashells. He labeled them: Spoils of the Ocean, conquered by the Living God.

Lucius went back to his scrolls, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew the truth: in the court of Caligula, you didn't work for a man, you worked for a storm. And the only way to survive a storm was to be as flexible as the reeds he used for pens.

He had been assigned to the personal staff of Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus—better known to the shivering masses as . [S4E1] Working for Caligula

One evening, Caligula leaned in close to Lucius. The smell of expensive wine and madness was overwhelming. "Do you know why I keep you around, little scribe?"

"The horse is the new Consul," Caligula announced, his voice a melodic rasp. He turned to Lucius, eyes gleaming with a manic, unblinking intensity. "Scribe! Draft the decree. Incitatus requires a marble stable and a house with furniture. He shall host dinner parties for the Senate." Lucius knelt in the wet sand, dutifully filling

Lucius didn't blink. He dipped his reed into the ink and began to write. Article I: The Consulship of the Equine.

The nights were the hardest. Caligula suffered from chronic insomnia and expected his staff to share it. They would wander the labyrinthine corridors of the Palatine Hill, the Emperor talking to the moon as if she were a fickle lover. One moment, he was a philosopher, quoting Homer with tears in his eyes; the next, he was a tyrant, ordering a senator’s execution because the man’s sandals creaked too loudly. He knew the truth: in the court of

Lucius kept his voice steady. "Because I record the glory of the son of Germanicus, Caesar."