After packing his things and making various arrangements, Publius Cornelius Dolabella arrived after some time in Ostia and set sail for Sicilia (Syracuse, to be exact). He wrote letters to both Cicero as well as his wife stating his new position. In his letter to his father-in-law, he said that Sicily had many opportunities and it was just such the chance to prove his worth. He said as much to Tullia, although he said to her that he would send for her in the next few months after he had gotten settled.

'There is a lot of opportunity down there, my dearest. I hope you can see fit to come when I send for you. I am very much looking forward to you seeing me be a success. You must know that I want to share such success with you!'

That having been gotten out of the way, Dolabella made for the next ship to Syracuse. He managed to haggle himself into first class with the captain (dropping the name of Caesar gets you a lot of places! he thought), and made his way to his cabin, which was small but at the same time...cosy. Cosy, Dolabella thought, giving a mirthless laugh to himself. That's what the landlords in Rome call a three story walkup to a place the size of a broom closet in the Subura!

Dolabella thought about his new position. Curator! Well, at least it rhymed with Praetor, kind of, not really...

What would he do? No extortion? That's what Roman Politics was all about! That's what made Rome great! That's how your father made his money! That's how you make your money! Argh! Caesar didn't even mention a salary. At least he did provide accommodation. Ha! If Caesar didn't, then that would be a sight. Dolabella, the homeless Curator! All bow before the authority of his office, which comes from Caesar! Curator! Where did Caesar pull that title? Out of his arse?

Get ahold of yourself, Publius, Caesar can probably read your mind, and you don't want him to change his! Just play nice for the first few months and then cook up some sort of scheme to get yourself some cash and not let Caesar know about it at the same time.

Dolabella looked at his meal, a small loaf of bread and some pickled fish. Ugh! He took a bite of the bread, which tasted stale. The fish he took one look at, and the sound of his stomach going 'Please no! Please, for the love of the Gods! NO!' prevented him from taking a bite.

He did however, look at the large jug of wine that the captain, upon hearing Caesar's name dropped at the haggling for the price earlier that day, had provided. Dolabella smiled, poured himself a large flagon, and happily ignored the sound of his liver going 'Please, no! FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, NO! Argh! You bastard!'

He drank another flagon after finishing that one up. And another, and another, and...oh well, when he discovered the second jug, that hardly stopped him either. The sailors on the ship, knowing that Dolabella was a neophyte of the defunct Clodius Club, locked him in as not to caused any trouble.

Dolabella realised this when he tried to open the door. He looked at it for a second, shrugged, and then collapsed onto the bed. With any luck he'd wake up after the journey was over.

Dolabella's head hit the makeshift pillow, and he fell instantly asleep.

It was then that Dolabella started to dream...

Little did Our Hero (that's what he called himself in his mind anyway) know that the dream would be part of a series of events, slowly unfolding, that would prove most...interesting.