The boy’s eyes widened as he spotted the necklace. He had absolutely no idea what something like it was doing on the shore of an island like Sicily. Two golden chains in the shape of serpents formed the necklace, their mouths twisting together into a clasp. The whole thing was inlaid with jewels.

Overt lavishness and opulence, but the boy could help but stare. Despite its overly flashy nature, it was captivating. His eyes dilated and his breath grew short simply looking at the wonderful thing. Somehow, it was entirely undamaged and unblemished from what was undoubtedly a long journey drifting ashore from wherever it came from.

God forged, he thought. It was beautiful.

He ran at the necklace. As he sprinted onto the beach, he brought up his hands to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight glaring off of the waves. The worn bottoms of sandals rubbed uncomfortably against his feet as he ran. He would have to replace them soon, he figured.

The boy reached the necklace and gingerly picked it up with reverence. It almost felt like he shouldn’t have been even laying eyes on it, much less touching it. Nevertheless, he did.

Despite the heat of the sand underfoot and the sweltering temperature, the necklace was cool to the touch. And the minute the boy held the necklace, he felt an overwhelming desire to put it on. He did so, wrapping the snake-necklace around his neck and fastening the clasp.

The cool gold necklace settled around his neck, and undulating warmth cascaded down from the golden snakes, washing over his entire body. Clean and dirty at the same time, he thought. It was a strange sensation, but strangely welcoming.

The boy sat down on the sand, enjoying the warmth of the necklace for a while. His thoughts were of beauty, life, and nothing at all. Blissful daydreams.

“Garum!” The boy was shocked out of his pleasant daydreaming by a shout, “The hell are you doing just lying there on the sand?”

Garum, the boy, sat up straight, his head swivelling back and forth in search of the voice. The serpentine chains of his necklace sliding smoothly across his skin as he moved.

“Over here, idiot!”

Garum felt a light slap to the back of his head. Looking behind him, his vision was filled with tanned skin, sloppy black hair, sparkling mischievous eyes, and a grin far too wide.

“Hadrian,” Garum said, his quiet voice in stark contrast to the loudness of the other boy’s, “Hello.”

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“Oh man, you won’t believe what happened back in the city!” The other boy, Hadrian, began, “So I was just walking down the street, and there was this horse, right? Now, I swear it wasn’t my fault, but…”

Garum hummed and did a sort of absent listening with Hadrian. That sort of middle ground between actually listening and distracted thinking and daydreaming. Garum had perfected the art over the years, having been subject to Hadrian’s excited rambles for far too long.

It was Hadrian that had given him the nickname ‘Garum.’ Garum, as most people knew it, was actually a sort of fermented fish sauce. He wasn’t exactly certain how the nickname came about; he didn’t even like Garum that much. It was a bit too salty for his palate. He found the production process rather repulsive as well.

But the nickname had stuck for some strange reason, and Garum had learned to bear with it, even coming to like it. It was better than his given name, that was for certain. Volesus Livius Regulus was a mouthful, as most Roman names tended to be.

It didn’t help that very few people in his hometown, Messina, were of Roman origin. Despite the Italian peninsula only being a tiny distance away, just across a narrow strait, Sicily was mostly under Carthigian control, and Messina was a Greek settlement anyway.

With his long and clearly foreign name, he was grateful, even if he would never admit it, for Hadrian having given him a shorter and more natural-sounding nickname to fit in with. Even if it was a Latin bastardisation of the original Greek, it was still far better than Volesus Livius Regulus.

“... and that’s pretty much how I got that date! And you’re helping me prep for tomorrow, by the way,” Hadrian concluded proudly with a flourish of his hands and a widening grin.

“Interesting,” Garum said, playing absently with the hem of his tunic. He had tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear whatever activity Hadrian had planned. He always seemed to have something to do, and Garum was usually dragged along.

Hadrian pulled on his arm, “Come on, Garum! We’re going to the market! Gonna buy some new clothes for tomorrow’s date.”

“Okay,” Garum absently replied, allowing himself to be pulled along with Hadrian. He figured that the market wouldn’t be so bad to go to, even if Hadrian would be constantly sidetracked. He needed a scarf or something, he thought as he pulled his tunic a bit closer to his neck.

He felt a bit nervous with the new gold necklace around his neck. Thieves would no doubt be attracted to its golden gleam, even if it was rather small. He felt uncomfortably exposed with the necklace out in the open as it was, so some sort of neck accessory to cover the necklace was something that he would prioritise. He was certain that there would be something at the market.

Although a scarf may look out of place in the Sicilian summer heat, he thought as the walls of the city slowly drifted into his and Hadrian’s view.

It would probably be fine. There were stranger things that people wore anyway, and soldiers wore little neckerchiefs, focales, to prevent armour chafing on their necks anyway. It wouldn’t be too out of place, and no one would care anyway.

Garums’ ears were filled with the buzzing quality of Hadrian’s speaking. The other boy talked, but Garum hardly listened, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of the necklace and what to do with it.

Perhaps he would get a red scarf, to go with his white tunic. Or maybe something a little more subtle, a tan neckcloth.

He’d find something there.