Study with Pears and Pitcher 4:48 pm
Augustus is dead.
He saw this coming; in that last, secret visit he gave you certain warnings about using the powers of your House, and the jealousy of Tiberius.
"For I assume," Augustus said, looking like a hollower version of his own statue, "that Julia's son does practice the Art?"
You looked back blandly, as your mother taught you. But he was not fooled.
"I will not live much longer," he said. "When the day comes, you must hide your strength from Tiberius, or show it overwhelmingly." He began to walk away along the shore.
"Perhaps I have none," you suggested.
He turned back. "I have read a few of the books in your study, Agrippa," he said, his eyes amused. "The Latin Cypria is very fine; I wish I knew what reverse links you made to produce it."
That was the last you spoke with him.
A story of the Lavori d'Aracne by Emily Short
Release 5 / Serial number 061008 / Inform 7 build 4A54 (I6/v6.31 lib 6/11N)
The walls are painted black with simple architectural motifs, except for the cunning panel of three green pears and a pitcher of water. The glass is painted so that light seems to fall through it from the window, and the pears are luscious enough to eat.
Clemens (your useless slave) is snoring in the corner, oblivious to what is about to happen. He is very similar to yourself: strongly built, with aquiline features, keenly intelligent, but losing himself in physical outbursts when enraged.
A substantial vase, an antique, stands near the window.
There's also a low stool, the sort that things roll under and get lost.
In plain view is your pride and joy, your Phaenomena.
You take a quick glance around the room, noticing everything that might incriminate: the old letter, Clemens, the Phaenomena and the painted glass pitcher of water.
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