The baker boy had come to wake up Octavius Picus from his afternoon nap. The delegation from the market at Nuceria had already arrived. They were early. Three people, the boy said, an elderly man with bad eyesight and a young woman guiding him, and another man who was carrying some scrolls. They could be heared chatting with Octavius’ wife Marcella in the atrium. No hurry. He sat up on the bedside and rubbed his eyes.

The landlords around Nuceria had recently founded a cooperative and had now come to bargain a new deal for their grain. He wouldn’t really know what to make of it, especially since his plan of opening a taverna would certainly require him to buy more wheat and he also wanted to have their beer. Would all that make it more expensive or less? –
Alright, let’s serve them something, he told the boy. Make us five of the speciality quick plates, with sausage, eggs and sweet wine, but not the most expensive one. And do not forget the basilicum and cheese sauce on the panem picum!