The Epic of Victor: Reborn as a Slave of a War Goddess.

Before Victor stepped into the atrium, the light filtering through the open oculus above cast a celestial glow upon the figure standing at its center. Lucia Cinna, the eldest daughter of House Cinna, stood poised as if she were an avatar of Venus herself. She wore a deep indigo stola, the rich hue contrasting beautifully with her long, raven curls that cascaded gracefully over her shoulders. Her eyes, as blue as the morning sky, shone so brightly that it seemed even the deepest shadows could not diminish their radiance. The stola's fabric shimmered faintly with silver thread, catching the sunlight like starlight woven into cloth.

A belt of golden filigree encircled her waist, the clasp shaped like an eagle clutching a thunderbolt, a nod to her family's emblem. Her skin appeared as flawless as polished marble, glowing with a soft, ethereal radiance. Her figure was so striking that Victor, despite himself, found his gaze lingering, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard to compose himself.

When she spoke, her voice was melodic, each word flowing like the harmonics of a harp, filling the atrium with a sense of elegance and command.

Victor Dominatus,

she said, her tone a blend of warmth and veiled scrutiny.

I welcome you to our humble villa.

Her eyes lingered on him, sharp and calculating, as though peeling back each layer of his being. There was a devilish quality to her gaze, a sense of controlled predation, as if she were appraising him like a fine cut of meat.

Your reputation truly precedes you,

 she continued, a sly smile curving her lips.

The physique of a warrior, the posture of a leader, it is said you resemble Achilles himself. But...

 She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning playful.

Your gaze, unfortunately, seems more akin to that of Paris admiring Menelaus' wife.

She chuckled softly, raising a delicate hand to cover her lips, before swiftly returning to her composed demeanor.

So

she said, her voice was steady and measured,

What do we owe to the honor of your visit today?

"Dangerous," Victor thought. Though he had never met Lucia before, he had dismissed the rumors of her beauty as exaggerated gossip from Mariana's high society. Yet now, faced with her in the flesh, he felt the crushing weight of reality. This woman was a menace, every inch of his body seemed drawn to her as if under an enchantment. Her voice, divine; her charisma, undeniably potent. It was as if resisting her was an impossible task.

"Putting her at the forefront of the conversation was a masterstroke by Lucius," Victor reasoned. "Every man would want to make concessions for the faintest chance at her favor. If he placed her here first, it was to disarm me, gain leverage, and secure easier terms. But if I let her sway me now, it's over."

Closing his eyes briefly, Victor coughed twice, an act that appeared as though he was succumbing to her allure but was, in truth, an effort to ground himself. It sent a subtle yet clear message of defiance—a declaration that he would not yield.

Lucia's gaze lingered on him, sharp and probing, as though peeling back layers of his resolve. She tilted her head slightly, the corners of her lips lifting into an amused smile.

You sure know how to break the ice, my lady,.

Victor finally said, his tone measured and his confidence unwavering.

As much as I refused to admit it before, your reputation, too, is true. Some say your beauty rivals that of a goddess, but I must confess, you put Helen of Troy, the one Aphrodite envied so much, to shame. Dare I say, if Helen's beauty brought Troy to ruin, I must fear what your beauty could do to the Republic."

Vesperus, standing nearby, was astonished. In all the years spent at Victor's side, he had never seen his friend flirt. Even more surprising was how adept he was at it.

Lucia's laughter rang out like a melody, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Oh, you definitely have some Paris in you. Tell me, Victor, would you burn the Republic for me? With words like that, you might make me believe you would.

She winked at him playfully, her charm radiating like the sun at its zenith.

Victor chuckled, meeting her flow with equal ease.

As much as I might want to say yes, my Achilles pride demands I uphold my honor. While I would gladly listen to your voice all day, my purpose here is for trade negotiations with your family. Such matters, I fear, require the presence of your father, though I admit, part of me wishes I could resolve them with only you.

Lucia arched a brow, her smile widening.

You certainly know how to flirt, dear Victor. Perhaps Bacchus blessed your veins with his charm.

 She turned gracefully, the indigo folds of her stola trailing like waves behind her.

Follow me; I will take you to my father

The atrium of the Cinna villa opened into a grand hall, its vast marble expanse a testament to the family's wealth and ambition. Victor's steps echoed faintly as he followed Lucia, her graceful movements drawing his gaze until she gestured toward a high-backed chair at the far end of the room. Seated there was Lucius Cinna.

The patriarch of the house exuded an aura of quiet dominance. His age was evident in the silver streaks in his once-dark hair and the faint lines around his eyes, but those eyes—sharp, calculating, and unyielding, pierced through Victor as though stripping away any pretenses. Draped in a deep crimson toga with a gold-bordered trim, Lucius looked more like a general overseeing a battlefield than a merchant welcoming a guest.

Beside him stood Junius Cinna, his eldest son, a man with the lean build of a panther and a face that carried the ghost of his father's cunning. Junius's pale blue eyes regarded Victor with a detached curiosity, a faint smirk playing at his lips as though he already knew the outcome of this meeting. He wore a dark green tunic adorned with the eagle emblem of his house, its golden thread glinting in the dim light.

Victor Dominatus,

 Lucius began, his voice smooth yet commanding, like a sword sliding from its sheath.

You grace my home with your presence. I trust my daughter has shown you our famed hospitality?

Lucia inclined her head slightly, her enigmatic smile lingering as she stepped aside. Victor stood tall, clasping his hands behind his back.

Your villa is as impressive as I imagined, Dominus Cinna. Your reputation precedes you.

Lucius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair.

Reputation is a fickle thing, young Dominatus. Yours, I hear, is that of a warrior and a strategist. Admirable qualities, but tell me, what does such a man seek in my halls today?

Before Victor could respond, Junius interjected, his tone dripping with feigned nonchalance.

Perhaps he comes to seek more than business, Father. The affairs of Mariana are quite... entangling these days.

Victor's gaze snapped to Junius, their eyes locking in a silent battle. Lucius leaned back, an amused smile curling his lips.

Tell me, Victor, what entanglement brings you here?

Victor opened his mouth to reply, but the faint sound of hurried footsteps interrupted him. A messenger burst into the hall, his face pale and sweat-streaked.

- Dominus... urgent news from Rome. It cannot wait!