Marcus of Duros Ch. 03

Marcus continued to grapple with the moral dilemma he faced on the way to his apartment. Thankfully the walk was a substantial distance, allowing him time to mull it over.

In Duros all ranks, with the exception of Captains and Commanders were required to live in the barracks. If they were able to find a patron who successfully arranged a marriage for them, they were allowed to live in small apartments in the administrative side of the city.

The Battalion barracks, the weapons manufacturing facilities, the war college, and the meeting hall dominated the military half of the city. The other half contained the palace, the market, apartments for married and retired men, and the innumerable administrative and support buildings staffed by retirees.

Also on the administrative side was the forum and baths, where the unmarried women spent all of their time.

In Durosian society, women were taken from their homes much later than the boys. While boys entered the war college the day after their eighth birthday, girls were only brought to the forum when they turned 18.

It was expected that at home they would be taught how to cook, clean, and raise children. When they were taken to the forum they were instructed in more nuanced skills, like how to hold in depth conversations with men on a variety of topics, most often relating to warfare. Subjects like military history, advanced social etiquette, music, and foreign languages were stressed heavily.

More intriguing to Durosian men were the woman's baths. Coinciding with their education at the forum, young women received a different sort of education at the attached bathhouses

It was in the bathhouses that they learned the skills which most of the men were concerned with: How to care for, and pleasure men. Not having any men to practice on, it was rumored that the matriarchs of the bathhouses encouraged the women to practice on each other.

The thought of hundreds of beautiful women sensually exploring each others bodies in the steamy rooms of the baths made Marcus's cock jerk beneath his uniform. He felt slightly guilty about his lewd thoughts, but reasoned that the girls were probably having a good time. The possibility for mistreatment would come later.

As Marcus began the walk back to his fairly large apartment in the administrative district he thought about what he would do about his situation.

Typically, when a man wanted a marriage, his patron would tour the forum where the unmarried women lived. Finding several that his charge might like, he interviewed them and took their likenesses back to be reviewed by the man seeking a marriage, offering his opinion where appropriate.

Most times, a man would choose quickly, as the thrill of the idea of having a woman of his own was heady.

Some men however, were overly picky, and refused many women before finally deciding on one. The process could take years if the man was too choosey, meanwhile his patron could resign, not willing to participate in a long drawn out search for the perfect bride. In this case the man would have to seek out a new patron, but often word spread quickly about the man's tendency to be picky, in which case he would have trouble securing a new patron, which could mean no wife at all.

If a man did not marry he was viewed critically by his fellows, but his condition was not as bad as a woman who did not marry.

Women who were not chosen through patrons for marriage were destined to stay in the baths and forum permanently. They would become the matriarchs, who looked out for the young women who came under their care. They would never have a family of their own, or a husband, and as such would never be allowed to participate in public life.

As Marcus passed the market he began thinking less with emotion, and more with reason. He watched the young children with their fathers and mothers running about the stalls, looking for ingredients for meals, or hunting through the stalls for toys.

It couldn't be that bad, could it? He might not like the system which gave so little power of self determination to women, and so much to men, but that didn't mean he couldn't make the best of the situation. He could live with a woman who didn't love him. Perhaps even one that hated him.

He reasoned with himself that if his new wife did not wish to be acquainted with him personally, or intimately, he would not press the issue. He could let her decide the scope of the relationship. In this way he would attempt to make up for her previous lack of input.

As he passed by the last stall in the market he was stopped short when he remembered that he would need to purchase his wife her insignia.

When a woman was married she was obliged to wear the rank and battle honors of her husband on ornate rings. As Marcus was a commander, his wife was entitled to wear three gold rings on her right hand. A captain's wife would wear two, and a lieutenant's would wear a single golden ring, reflecting the insignia on their husband's right shoulders.

For the lower ranks the insignia was slightly different. The wife of an un-promoted legionnaire would wear a single silver ring, a corporal's would wear two, and a sergeant's would wear three. In this way the standard ranks of The Legion wore silver insignia, while the officers wore gold.

Battle honors were worn much in the same way by both husbands and wives. While the husbands wore their honors on silver and gold shoulder cords on their left shoulder, their wives wore the same amount, but in silver and gold rings on their hand instead.

He stopped, and asked the vendor for a commander's rings, and three gold battle honors rings.

His most recent kills from the South African Campaign had been reported, and he now wore three gold cords around his shoulder. His kill count had been updated 150, a number that was verging on impressive by Durosian standards. As he paid for the bracelets he was reminded of how heavy his purse was.

The town they had destroyed had been quite rich, and the contract had stipulated that looting was tolerable. While Marcus and his captains felt that such behavior by senior officers was inappropriate, their men felt that they were entitled to a share regardless. Nearly every man gave a small fraction of their loot to Marcus and their captains. Marcus was always touched by the gesture.

When looting was allowed, a great deal of wealth could be acquired even by a low ranking Legionnaire. To share even a little of their prize reminded Marcus of their fondness for their officers.

As he reached his apartment building, his nerves began to fray. The massive whitewashed building was dazzling in the late evening sunlight. A large open archway, ten feet deep, served as the entrance to the building.

The courtyard inside was enormous, nearly a thousand meters square, housing a large garden with walkways snaking through beds of flowers and plants. A large fountain stood at the center of the courtyard and misted most of the area in a cool breeze.

The courtyard had no roof, and was left open to the sunlight. Various patios and sitting areas made excellent places for the occupants to congregate and socialize. Personally, Marcus's favorite spot was a lounging chair hidden by large beds of sunflowers, a private area seldom visited by other residents.

In all, 48 men and their families lived in his building: The 16 commanders of The Legion, as well as all of the retired Commanders. One of the many perks of being a Commander was the security of position, as well as residence.

Commanders were the highest ranking officers in The Legion. As such they were not forced into mandatory retirement at the age of 40 like any other rank would be. Additionally, a commander would not not asked to leave his family residence upon retirement like a lieutenant or a captain would be. Once promoted to commander, a man could live in his provided quarters until he died, even through retirement.

Climbing the stairs to the left of the entryway to his apartment on the third level, Marcus took his time.

To the casual observer it would look as though he were weary, and struggling to climb the steps. In actuality, he was overcome with nervousness. He would have preferred to be back in battle leading a charge with sword and pistol in hand, facing a certain enemy across a battlefield, as opposed to facing the uncertainty of what lay behind his apartment door.

Reaching the door, he made as much noise as possible unlocking the door, hoping to alert her to his presence without surprising her. Finally he turned the key, slowly opened the door, and stepped inside.

******

Looking around the foyer he didn't immediately see any sign that a woman was present. He unbuckled his weapons belt and placed it on the chest beside the door. Next he took off his boots and set them against the chest, not wanting to track dirt into his apartment which he had left spotless before departing on his most recent campaign.

Something out of the ordinary caught his eye from the other side of the foyer: a splash of color on the opposite wall. Sitting atop a small table that held pictures of his parents, was an orchid. A brilliantly purple flower with a yellow center.

Marcus had never been one from flowers. The white interior of his apartment had never been particularly colorful, merely different shades of white and gray as far as the walls and furniture were concerned. Finished with his boots, Marcus turned towards the flower to inspect it.

It seemed to be a relavtively young orchid, with only four blossoms hanging on its stem. It was planted in a small ceramic pot that was painted to match the color of the flower. As Marcus's hands traced the cool, silky petals of the purple blossoms a voice made him jump.

"Commander Crassus?" The soft voice asked questioningly.

Marcus whirled to face the source of the voice, forgetting completely that he was not alone in the apartment.

At the end of the foyer, towards the living room stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen: her hair was jet black, pulled into a long braid that hung down in front of her left shoulder, nearly to her waist. It was silky smooth, and shimmered in the failing light of the evening.

Her face, which she had lowered respectfully as he turned to face her, was as smooth as her hair, but lightly tanned. Her eyes were large, and startlingly blue. Long eyelashes attempted to conceal them as she covertly made an examination of him similar to way that he was examining her. Full lips complemented her beautiful eyes, creating a strikingly sensual appearance, even though her expression was neutral. An elegant nose, and delicate ears completed her sensual, yet refined beauty.

Passing down her thin neck, his eyes traveled lower. Marcus could see the swell of her breasts through the nearly see through dress she wore. Her breasts were clearly larger than average, but not so large as to cause a hindrance. Her dark pink nipples were barely visible through the material, tapering into deliciously hard points.

Marcus realized he had been mistaken. What he had perceived as a dress was actually two separate garments made of a silky white fabric. A slight top covered her arms and shoulders leaving her upper chest and back bare with a great deal of skin showing. The fabric of the top slipped under her breasts and tied around her back to offer support, while still allowing the observer to appreciate their full, heavy shape.

Marcus's dress trousers began to tighten uncomfortably around his groin as he realized his cock was swelling at her beauty.

Directing his attention lower past her bare stomach he found the second part of the ensemble to be a long skirt which flowed freely from her hips. A slit along the right side from hip to foot afforded him an unhindered look at her tanned muscular legs.

As his eyes returned to her face he could see her pulse in her neck fluttering wildly. A blush had broken out over her cheeks. Probably a result of his unabashed inspection, he thought guiltily. The guilt did not dissipate as his gaze settled on her eyes, full of fear and uncertainty.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I am Commander Crassus. I was distracted by the lovely orchid. I assume you brought it?"

"Oh yes Commander, I did. I brought several with me from my room in the forum. I hope you don't mind?"

Her speech was measured and tinged with apprehension, as if worried he might find her initiative unbecoming. Still, to him her voice sounded sensual, slipping smoothly off her tongue like honey from a spoon, sending a shiver down his neck he was not familiar with.

"I had thought your apartment might perhaps be..." Her words halted as she searched for the appropriate word.

"Boring?" Marcus supplied, chuckling to himself.

"Oh no sir!" The woman exclaimed, terrified that she had insulted him. "I would never say such a thing." Her eyes dropped back to the floor, loosing her composure.

The woman, now trembling openly, made a pitiful sight, and Marcus's guilt only intensified. Nothing he did made her any more at ease, in fact, he was driving her in the opposite direction. He closed the distance to her quickly and took her hand in his.

"No it's quite alright, I find my apartment boring myself." He smiled trying to get a response from her. Receiving none he continued: "I love the flowers, they are very beautiful, almost as beautiful as you are."

Marcus was not sure what had possessed him to stoop to such flattery, but it obviously had the desired effect. The young woman's trembling began to subside.

"Really?" She asked hesitantly. "You like them?"

"I do." Marcus replied with a smile.

With his free hand he placed his index finger under her chin, pulling her eyes upward to meet his.

"I'm sorry I frightened you, I didn't mean to. Will you please tell me your name miss..."

"Barrigan, Chloe Barrigan... but I guess it's Chloe Crassus now..." She replied thoughtfully.

"Oh dear; Chloe Crassus. That doesn't sound very good does it?" Marcus chuckled at his wife's unfortunate new name, cursing his father again. "Chloe is such a pretty name, it doesn't go very well with a name Crassus, now does it?

"Oh sir it's not that bad!" Chloe replied with a giggle. "I had a friend named Celine who was married to a Lietenant by the name of Weiner. You see sir, it could be much worse. Besides, I don't mind your name, I think it's very noble sounding."

She was smiling openly now, and the tension seemed to be leaving her. On a whim Marcus brushed the back of the finger that had been on her chin along cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth to his touch.

At his touch her eyes softened and she bit her lower lip softly. Not wanting to upset the fragile peace he had established, Marcus decided to move their conversation out of the foyer.

Picking up his weapons belt from the chest where he had left it, he passed Chloe where she had remained standing, watching him as he went.

"Would you like something to drink Chloe?" Marcus asked, realizing he didn't know how long she had been waiting, and thought she might be thirsty. He knew he was after his walk through the market.

"Oh no that's alright Commander. I hope you don't mind, but I helped myself to some water about an hour ago." She replied

"How long have you been here Chloe?" Marcus asked, his curiosity now piqued.

"Oh, about seven hours Commander." Chloe replied nonchalantly.

Marcus blanched with the realization that she had been alone in his apartment for so long. "Have you eaten Chloe?"

"Oh no." She replied. "I didn't want to go through your pantry. It would have been rude."

"But you must be so hungry! You mean to tell me you've been here since before lunch, and now it's nearly dinnertime, and having eaten anything?"

"Well yes, sir." She said uncertainly. "It's really no problem, I'm quite alright."

She watched with a bemused expression as he darted into the kitchen began to rummage loudly through his pantry to find food for himself and Chloe. The shelves were rather bare, since he had not had time to restock since returning from the campaign. Finally he found a bag of rice and a small can of beans. While not a substantial meal, it would due for a light dinner, until he had time to resupply.

"Commander, can I help you sir?" Chloe asked from the door of the pantry.

"No that's alright Chloe, I've got it under control thanks." He replied as a pot fell from his hand and clattered on the floor. "Damn it!" He swore loudly as he attempted to bend down and pick up the pot, his hands still clutching his weapons belt as well as the rice and beans.

"Commander please..." Her voice trailed off as she laid a hand gently on his arm seeking to calm him while he twisted fruitlessly, attempting to pick up the pot without dropping anything else.

She picked up the pot, and gently took the rice and beans from his arms. A warm smile brightened her face as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Thank you, but why don't you let me take care of dinner?"

She turned away in the direction of the stove, and Marcus got his first glimpse of her ass as she walked away. It was delightfully full from what he could see, most of it being hidden by her skirt, and without a hint of sag. The desire to grab her, and knead it with his hands was almost overwhelming.

Just as potent was the tingle of warmth that he felt where she had kissed his cheek. Her kiss had been warm, and slightly wet, and Marcus wondered if she had made it wet on purpose. The thought of her mouth, combined with the view of her ass swaying slowly as she started their dinner was too much to bear as his trousers strained painfully against his rock hard cock. His mind was foggy, and not nearly as clear as it normally was.

Leaving Chloe in the kitchen he made his way to his bedroom. On the bedside table was another orchid Chloe had brought with her, this one a color blue that nearly matched her eyes. Dropping his belt onto the table where he kept his weapons he hurried into the attached bathroom.

Turning on the faucet he splashed cold water in his face in an effort to regain his composure. After several minutes of repeated attempts he felt his erection ease slightly, enough to rejoin her at least. He walked out of the bedroom, and back into the kitchen where he found Chloe humming to herself softly.

As he approached she turned and gave him one of her smiles he was already falling hard for. His efforts to reclaim his composure seemed woefully inadequate as he delighted in the glow of her smile.

"Will you come sit with me while we wait Commander?" She asked. "It will be a little while before the rice is ready."

"Yes of course I will Chloe," He replied as he allowed her to take his hand in hers and lead him to the couch. "but can I ask to you stop calling me 'Commander'? My name is Marcus... especially to you."

She smiled at his request and replied: "Of course... Marcus." She said his name slowly, as if trying it out.

Even the small courtesy of calling him by his given name seemed to be well received by Chloe as she sat down on the couch and pulled him down to sit next to her. She took his hand and turned it over so that his palm was facing up. Then she began to trace the scars and calluses on his rough palm that differed so greatly from her own, which was completely smooth. She sat, exploring his hand for a moment in silence. Marcus for his part was enjoying her movements too much to speak and ruin the moment. Finally Chloe spoke.

"I'm sorry I was so nervous when you first came in Marcus. I've heard a lot of good things about you, but I guess I was a little worried that..."

"I'd be less than friendly in person?" Marcus finished for her.

She looked like she was about to refuse, but instead she sighed.

"Yes, maybe... but I was sitting here for a while, and the longer I sat, the more time I had to make myself nervous."