A morning of jousting with a couple of experienced gladiators had set his blood coursing. It had turned out to be just the right thing to wake him up and make him feel alive. He had removed his armor and then his tunic contenting himself to walk back through the imperial gardens barefoot only in a pair of breeches. The rough edginess of the sand and gravel felt exquisite as it dug into his toes.
It was a beautiful morning. Commodus felt as he used to feel when as a child his father would take him down to the market on hot summer days to mingle with the people of Rome. They would don the simple clothes of the gentry and shed their jewelry and rings, the only vestige of their imperial status being the two severe praetorians armed to the teeth that carefully watched over them from afar. Commodus had planned to walk over to the imperial chancellery where he intended to berate the lord of the exchequer. Commodus had long ago set his mind on dealing with the corrupt aristocrat who through his minions had been allowed to do his larcenous bidding for way too long.
