Octavia the Younger, who was still one year older than him, led him to the children’s corner. There was Livia Drusilla, of the Cloudii. Octavian, the brother to Octavia also come to them. Furthermore, there was Scribonia Libo and a boy who introduced himself as Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.

“Hello, my name is Constantine Romulus, I am pleased to meet you all,” Constantine did a slight bow. The children nodded in return. They were higher ranked than him, and so it was beneath them to do anything but.

“Constantine, how long has it been since you last invited me to Odessos? I thought you forgot me!” Whined Scribonia. Constantine had not missed her. His father, before he had found out Constantine was immortal after the sickness that should have taken him when he was five, had wanted them to marry as a reward to Scribonia’s father.

“You shine as brightly as ever, Scribonia,” when everything else fails, try flattery. That was what his father always said.

“Oh, you,” Scribonia giggled and hid her mouth behind her hand. Constantine supposed she was pretty. A bit too pale and fair for your typical Roman girl, but the Libo family did take the occasional barbarian bride. Provided the dowry was good enough.

“Tell me, star, who is here on this happy day?” Constantine saw Octavian roll his eyes, but ignored him. If he wanted to court Scribonia, he was welcome to her. Her overly coy manner was going to get on his nerves as fast as it had gotten on Constantine’s.

“Well, there are two nations here, would you believe it? Half-brothers, barbarians, the both of them. Both of them are the sons of a nation no one has ever heard of, Xiongnu. Supposedly it is somewhere in the east,” Constantine racked his brain for a Xiongnu.

The closest thing he could remember was something called Huhnu that was written with an X in the beginning.

“It is near China. It has dominion over the Silk trade and ravages China every so often. Xiongnu’s second wife is Scythia, his first, Persia,” came from the reserved Marcus. Constantine’s memory finally jotted.

 In his advanced lessons with Beshter, he had been told of the Bolgar family and the Adnan family. They were loosely linked by the father of the both of them. Kyla Bolgar was here and so was his brother. The one he assimilated?

“Is the son of Scythia Kyla Bolgar?” Constantine hoped to see him. He had to ask him questions that Beshter and Antonius would never answer. Not without masking the truth behind half-truths.

“How did you know?” Scribonia’s adorable nose, one of her few redeeming qualities, scrunched up. As it was her habit when she was suspicious.

“We have similar friends,” though, Constantine suspected that Beshter was no longer anything to Kyla Bolgar.

“While you are right about him being her son, she has two more that are his full-blooded siblings. One of them is here. Ak Bolgar. The second oldest. He looks like a rebel. Very dreamy,” Octavia gave out a sigh, probably already seeing herself as a barbarian princess, and Constantine scanned the room.

Two men indeed stood out in the crowd. One was decked in a strange red and white costume that reminded Constantine of something the Arab envoys that came to speak with his mother from time to time wore. And the other wore green and gold tunic and brown pants.

The one in red and white was taller and also wore a strange white mask that hid his eyes. The one in green and gold had an archer’s build and long hair tied in a ponytail that reached down his back. Kyla Bolgar’s ponytail had been shorter, Constantine remembered, and tied with a red ribbon, while Ak Bolgar’s was tied with a brown one.

“Octavia, could you introduce me to the nations?” Constantine pleaded. As the daughter of the host, it was only right that Octavia did the introductions. He could go to Atia Balba and ask her for help, but he didn’t like the idea of owing an adult.

“I don’t know, Constantine. Mother said not to bother them. They are already grumbling that grand-uncle is not here,” Constantine looked at the two brothers. Who were in some sort of drinking competition, if the many goblets under the table were any indication, and unwind his arm from around Octavia.

“It is important I get to know my peers, both mortal and nation alike,” argued Constantine. He could barge to the small table and introduce himself to the brothers, despite it being rude to do so. But, they were barbarians. Surely, they wouldn’t know the custom here.

“Ok, fine. But if mother scolds me, I’m blaming you,” Octavia wound her arm back around Constantine’s elbow when he offered it, and they headed to the two brothers. They were jolly, for people who were grumbling, and seemed to think that wine was something that flowed in the rivers here.

“Honored guests, may I present you Constantine Romulus, son of Rome and Helena, daughter of Greece,” the two brothers stopped their drinking and turned to look at Constantine.

“We weren’t told that someone with any real influence will be here,” came from the red and white brother.

“Sadik, don’t be like that. You will spook the children,” the green and gold brother extended his hand towards Constantine and Constantine prepared to have his crushed when they clasped hands, yet, the man was surprisingly gentle.

“I am Ak Bolgar, the most handsome and charming from among my brothers,” boosted the green and gold man. Sadik, the red and white dark-skinned man, snorted at that.

“That is because I wear a mask. And I only do so to give my unfortunate brothers a chance at catching a pretty las’ eye,” it was Ak Bolgar’s turn to roll his eyes good naturally.

They were close, these two half-brothers. Constantine’s older brother Herakles was prone to jealous fits every time Constantine was in sight. So, this was how a proper family acted.