You had stepped off the ship, and onto the stone paving. The clatter of Roman sandals on the paved stones echoed around me as you stood there, caught between the majesty of this bustling city and the harsh reality of being a foreigner in a strange land. The man in armor, his stern expression revealing a hint of curiosity, approached with a commanding presence. Here you are. Pompeii.

"Who goes there?" he demanded, in Latin.

You stumbled over, thinking of what to say to convey you identity...