Oar Number Three on the Senator's Yacht
An Ancient Cruise Satire

About this book:

Lucius Luctor has the upper-body strength of a wet noodle and a career built on dusty tax scrolls—until a misplaced decimal on Senator Caepio’s garum import bill sentences him to the oars of the *SS Sulla*. This isn’t a warship; it’s a floating palace of marble floors, garum fountains, and velvet awnings, propelled by the sweat of sixty miserable bureaucrats and debtors. Assigned to Oar Number Three between two quarry workers who could bench-press an ox, Lucius survives his first stroke only by being flung into the overhead beams, saved from a pulping by a collar-grab and a stream of profanity.

But the gods of bureaucracy have a cruel sense of humor. When the Senator’s fastidious steward discovers Lucius can actually *read*, he’s promoted to Assistant Master of Maritime Protocols—a dual role that has him juggling seating charts for feuding patricians, plugging leaking garum pipes with paperwork, and lying to Caepio’s face about the "bouquet" of fermented fish guts. All while the stroke drum beats on below, the hull groans under its own opulence, and the VIP shuffleboard tournament looms.

*Oar Number Three on the Senator's Yacht* is a razor-sharp, laugh-out-loud voyage through the absurdity of Roman excess. Think *Up Pompeii!* meets *The Office* on a galley powered by administrative errors. If you’ve ever loved a reluctant hero, a tyrannical boss, or the sublime satisfaction of a well-placed bureaucratic loophole, grab your oar—Lucius has a seat for you.