The master received me as a gift for his sixteenth birthday. It was a kind of coming of age. He was old enough to own his own property, including land and people. I was twelve at the time and had already been singled out by the governess of the slave children as an avid worker who kept their mouth shut and priorities in check. The master's father had looked me up and down for an uncomfortable amount of time before he nodded to the plump woman and handed over the exorbitant fee. I wonder what I am worth these days? Much more than I ever have been I suppose.

        From the first moment I was presented to him in something akin to finery I knew my life would be easier than most. He never even really looked at me. A spare glance for his father's sake and a hearty thank you before he moved on to gifts he found more important. From a very young age, William Connely had loved Archaeology and all things of the past. His passions were history and artifacts of the empire. So much so he built his entire life around them. His mother had thought to get him an ancient tile mosaic that used to hang in the Hall of the Beloved. An even more ancient temple that I had been a part of building in a past life. I remember the day they placed that mosaic on a pedestal, and then I got to see its fate after the empire demolished the dilapidated temple. The moment he could peel himself away from his father, master embraced his mother and fawned over the relic. 

        I have found it very ironic. I am now owned by a man so stuck in the past you would think he actually was from there, while I have spent millennia trying to escape it. 

        Oh well. At least he pays me no mind and I can simply go on with my daily routine without too much fuss.