Several days ago, Gaius had woken to find a box in the Inn common room, addressed to him. Inside, there had been writing tablets, bound together so that their writing surfaces faced together but could be opened, like the pages of his notebook. He'd never seen so many tablets bound together before, but he'd taken to them immediately.

He'd also found three tunics, purple-striped to denote the equestrian rank which apparently means nothing to anyone here. Whether anyone here is aware of the distinction the stripes convey, however, Gaius has been wearing the tunics every day since then, and today is no different.

Gaius has some small morsels of food in one hand, leftover from the village's midday meal. He approaches the fire, quietly, and tosses the scraps in, closing his eyes for a few moments to murmur a quiet invocation to the gods, in accompaniment to their portion of the meal.

It's only when he re-opens his eyes that he turns to the man sitting in a chair a little way apart from the fire.

He has, at least, learned enough English by now that he can offer the appropriate greetings.

"Good afternoon," he says, his voice heavily accented, rolling the r more heavily than he should.

"You are new here?" he asks, after a moment's thought to remember the words. In Latin, he could say it much more politely, much more elegantly, but he has not such skill in English.