You're a Roman demigod, one of the citizens of New Rome, member of the Fifth Cohort. Cool, right?

And, y'know, demigods can get pretty messy. Training out there in the sun and getting all sweaty and dusty, fighting monsters and getting various shades of goop on you........you get the picture.

So, it's pretty understandable that demigods need to clean up regularly. Can't save the world if your hygiene sucks, right?

But you're particularly stubborn for some reason, and don't want to wash up. Which, y'know, means you're gonna stink.

And that is how you end up, ass over teakettle, slung over your praetor's broad shoulder as he walks towards the baths.

"Can't believe a legionnaire of the Fifth Cohort is having to get dragged to a bath like a toddler." Frank muses, simultaneously grumpy and trying not to laugh. "What happened to Roman pride, huh? You stink worse than Octavian's boots, and that is not something I say lightly."