the smuggler’s bible

Tullus

The big marble slabs look great, but they fuck with the acoustics of the senate chamber. Tullus whispers about the new bill with his faction and mentions Caius’ mother in a colorful metaphor.

“I heard that, you rude bastard!” Caius screams from across the room. His faction grumbles behind him. Somebody produces a chain and starts swinging it.

“Good,” Tullus says, pulling a club out of his belt. “I needed an excuse to crack some skulls today.”

There are six deaths in the scuffle, which breaks the deadlock. Everybody is pleased, except the plebs who pay way more taxes now.