The Emperor and I | IC [Closed: Ajax only]

[Lacus Magni]

OOC Note: This thread is the follow-up of the events in the Brothers War. The first post of this thread will pick up immediately following this post and will mark an end to Brothers War. These initial posts will be set in early January 2017 and will carry forward from there. This thread is closed except for members of Ajax.

The following thread may contain scenes of implied adult situations. Reader discretion is advised.

[Lacus Magni]

“Pain”
Pompilius
20 Via Julia
The City, Castellum ab Alba

“I think this room was actually my bedroom as a child,” John Verruscosi, the Lord of Istropolis remarked after sitting down with Consul Alexander Pompilius in an upper floor, study room of 20 Via Julia — the Consul’s official residence. Verruscosi scanned the room like he was looking for something to remind him of his childhood when the Consul took a seat next to him.

“It may have even been a bedroom under my predecessor,” Pompilius remarked, making himself comfortable in his seat. Is he going to waste my time reminiscing? This is why I prefer dealing with his brother. Straight and to the point that one. “…with all the children she had running about.”

“Terrible thing what happened to her,” Verruscosi added of Pompilius’s predecessor Maria of Vindóbona or as she was known during her Consulship, The Countess Rutupiae.

“Oh yes, a real tragedy,” Pompilius said with a dull face to cover his disingenuousness. “But I don’t imagine you came all this way just to talk to me about your childhood or how sorry we are about a traitor’s death. Your brother told me you had something important to tell me. Is there a reason why he couldn’t tell me himself?”

“The two of you have a close relationship, as well as a reason for more constant communication. Easier for discretion,” Verruscosi held his hands out and looked to the Consul. “If he reaches out it looks like business as usual. If I reach out and set up a meeting it could look like pay-for-play or simply suggest something about government and corporate interests that neither of us want to deal with at this time. And given...your party’s history with that sort of thing.”

“That’s not an answer. And you’re here all the same,” Pompilius’s face remained unchanged, examining Verruscosi.

“You’re to have your weekly audience with my nephew in the coming days I understand, yes?” Verruscosi asked, leading Pompilius to silently nod his head in the affirmative. “I managed to get a look at my nephew’s schedule, I noticed your daughter was recently added as someone who will also be in attendance.

“Hardly breaking news,” Pompilius grew tired of the pointless conversation. “My daughter and the Emperor have become very close over the last few months. There’s nothing unusual about that.”

John bit his lip and looked to the floor, sighing before looking back up at the Consul. “I’m here out of courtesy, because you have helped my family in the past. And I’d much rather my nephew marry a true Latin than some foreign girl to influence him,” Verruscosi said, drawing Pompilius’s attention. “Now I can’t say with any absolute certainty, but I am of the belief that my nephew will not marry your daughter.”

“What do you know?” Pompilius appeared to look casual, though on the inside was fuming with rage.

“When we arrived, I mentioned to my sister that she might like to meet your daughter soon. She refused, claiming that Constantine would never marry her,” John explained quickly. “I can’t speak to the veracity of her claim, but I do know there are a number of noblewomen currently residing in the Palace. I’m trying to get more information. I know that there is a Gentry girl there, as well as Catherine of Vannois, but things are surprisingly tight-lipped there for once. Most like my sister’s doing. And you and I both know that Florentine spoke of my nephew’s hesitation on more than one occasion.”

Pompilius looked at Verruscosi, running over the words in his mind before promptly standing with a faux smile. He extended his hand out to Verruscosi and said, “Thank you for visiting.”

John was puzzled, though stood and shook the Consul’s hand. “Prepare yourself, especially your daughter. Things might not go the way you both expect,” Verruscosi nodded before he left the room. “And if his mind is set on this course, there's little I can do to steer him away.”

The Consul watched with a stern face as Verruscosi exited the room, only slumping down into his seat once the man had finally left him alone. His hands went right to his forehead, with his fingers rubbing his temples until his head fully fell into his hands where they remained for a number of minutes as he collected his thoughts.

After a light tap on the door, his wife said, “Alexander, are you in there?”

Pompilius lifted his head, taking one last sigh with a hand running over his ever receding and greying hair. “Yes, in here,” he shook himself back to reality.

Sophia slowly entered and closed the door behind her. “What did he want?” she said, not yet noticing Alexander’s level of concern. But when she did, Sophia sat down next to him and when she started rubbing his back she said, “…What’s wrong?”

“He said the boy’s not going to marry Anna,” the Consul appeared to be static, and lost in his thoughts. Did I get outmaneuvered by a boy? He’s lying, the boy doesn’t have the gall for something like that. What’s his play?

“What do you mean?” Sophia cocked her head for a closer look at Alexander’s face.

The Consul thrusted from his seat and began to pace near his wife. “What did I just say?” he stopped pacing, shouting at his wife with a loud screech. Sophia’s pulled her head back while Alexander just looked to the floor and continued, “He said the boy’s not marrying her. He’s going to tell her at the next audience…I suppose.”

“But that’s tomorrow…how sure is he?” his wife remained still in her seat, observing Alexander’s every move for a hint at his thoughts.

“No.”

“No…but you believe him don’t you?” Sophia reached out for her husband’s hand but he pushed her away. “Is this going to be a problem, Alexander? I told you not to involve our daughter in these games of yours.”

“If this is true, you had better damned well fix it. Immediately,” Sophia’s familiar calm voice turned stern as she began to give Alexander orders. “Our daughter is innocent; she is a sweet girl and you are going to hurt her unless you fix this. Don’t you remember how she was when the boy left Adrianople? Of course not, because you hardly pay her any mind.”

“Quiet!” he stopped his pacing once again and turned to face his wife, almost appearing if he was ready to strike her.

“Do it and do it again,” Sophia told him. “Then watch me walk out that door and you can say goodbye to the precious Consulship that you’ve worked so hard for.”

Pompilius was labored in his breathing, his eyes furiously scanning his wife who stared right back him without any fear. His lips moved minimally, nearly mimicking words, though he said nothing yet. “I told you not to underestimate that boy, and look what happened. You did. You were overconfident. And now you’ve hurt our daughter and embarrassed our family.”

The Consul stared at his wife until he suddenly walked to the door, opened it and shouted, “Anna! Get in here!” His wife gave him another look of disapproval as he waited by the door. With his head just outside, Pompilius saw his daughter walking down the hallway with a cheery look on her face. When they made eye contact, he retreated back into the room and waited for her to enter.

“What’s going on? I heard shouting,” Anna looked towards her mother, her anger patently obvious. When she looked at her father she saw the same thing, only he was less tense than Sophia. “Were you two fighting again, weren’t you?”

“Quiet and sit down,” Alexander told his daughter, an order which she promptly followed and sat next to her mother. Sophia quickly wrapped an arm around Anna and began to rub her shoulder.

“Sweetheart…” Sophia attempted to explain first, but Alexander knew she would be far too soft and would only drag out the girl’s suffering. If she even cared in the first place.

“The Emperor’s not going to marry you. That’s why he’s invited you to the audience tomorrow,” the Consul blurted out, drawing ire from his wife and the start of tears from his daughter. “Get anything ill you want to say about him out of the way now. You’ll still need to behave yourself tomorrow.”

“Wh…what? Why?” Anna asked as her face began to turn red and tears start to pour out of her eyes. “You promised I was going to be Empress. He can’t do that. He…he…What did I do wrong?”

Sophia pulled Anna in close, holding her daughter’s head to her chest as the girl lost all of her words and continued to cry. “Stop that. It’s nothing you did, sweetheart. That’s just the way those people act,” Sophia glared at her husband. “They use you for as much as they can squeeze out and then toss you aside. They made some panettone in the kitchens today. Come on, why don’t we go for a walk and try some?”

“Feel free,” the Consul stated plainly to his wife. “But Anna isn’t going anywhere yet. We need to discuss tomorrow. Go on now, Sophia. Give us a moment.”

His wife’s face was red from rage, almost refusing to let go of their daughter. But she stood up and faced Alexander, looking him right in the eye. She turned to walk away but the Consul grabbed her by the elbow, pulled her close and mouthed the words, “I’ll fix this,” to her. She pulled her arm away forcefully, and gave him no indication of approval or recognition just before exiting the room and slamming the door behind her.

The Consul took a deep breath and found a seat next to his crying daughter. “I was always afraid he’d do this,” Anna offered up just as Alexander sat next to her and placed a hand on her back. “I saw it coming, he was always distant, awkward, or distracted. He hardly seemed interested in..well .me. It still hurts though.”

“There, there,” he patted his daughter on the back. “It’s ok.”

“You said he had to accept it...that I was going to be Empress. Mother said everything was perfect. He couldn’t refuse. You lied,” she lifted her head up and pushed a falling tear off of her red cheek. “You lied to me. You lied to me!”

“The way I see it, you have a choice right now. A choice, that only you can make,” Alexander cut off his daughter before she simply repeated herself like a bumbling fool. “You’re hurting right now, you’re angry. I understand. But while you may want to shout at me or go run to your room and lock the door, you still don’t know what to do.”

“But pain can do two things to a person. The pain you’re feeling now can push you to become stronger and towards greater things. A useful pain. Or it can make you weak and useless. Where it turns you into complete waste if you simply give in and let it take you over,” the Consul explained to his daughter, even brushing away a tear from the girl’s face as she still refused to look at him. “Your grandfather gave into useless pain. He never recovered from and it only brought him to an early grave.” Not early enough. “I have no patience for useless things. Do you understand me?”

Anna turned her head, and while looking her father in eyes nodded. “Don’t you worry though. Everything will work itself out in the end.”

“I want him to hurt,” she said plainly as she rest her head on Alexander’s shoulder, causing him to grin.

“Yet, we must be loyal subjects...tomorrow most of all. Don't forget that,” Alexander kissed the the top of his daughter’s head. “Now go run along. Spend some time with your mother before you go to bed. Show her she doesn’t need to worry about you.”

After Anna left the room, Alexander gave himself a push off the armrest to help himself stand, causing him to grunt. He approached his desk and picked up the office phone. He held it to his ear with his fingers hovering above the number pad before hanging the phone back up and sitting down behind the desk. Pulling open a drawer, he searched for a cell phone and pulled his own out after locating one from within. He scrolled through his phone book, and dialed the number into the burner phone.

“Peter, it’s me,” he said to his Chief of Staff on the other line. “I need you to come over. Bring whatever materials you can find regarding routes for the triumph. Oh, and an officers lists. We’ll need that too.” He paused as his Chief of Staff replied, and when the man finished Pompilius stated, “Yes. It’s going to be a long night.”

[Lacus Magni]

“Courage”
Pompilius
Palace of Augustus
The Palatine, Castellum ab Alba

The Emperor and Consul had been speaking during this week’s Consul’s audience for nearly forty minutes now. They had already discussed matters related to the investigation into what was being dubbed by government as “Prince Michael’s failed coup.” This included the testimonies of Antonia Frontalia, The Duke of Haenna and the long awaited arrival of former Lord Commander of the now defunct Scholarian Guard, Andronkios Mavrozomes.

They then moved on to the matter of officially reshuffling the Emperor’s Privy Council. It was clear to Consul Pompilius that changes would eventually have to be made. If anything because the boy’s mother is around now, which meant that Empress Dowager Marsealla was the most likely choice in being removed from her position as Lord President of the Council – a position she had first been appointed to by Jason VI Augustus in 2008. If his mad mother doesn’t try and have her removed from the capital entierly.

“After much thought,” Emperor Constantine began to explain his Council appointments. “I have decided to appoint my cousin, Leo, as Lord President of the Council...replacing my step-mother.”

The first of many Gentry concessions, Pompilius smirked with reserve as the boy continued. “I will ask my step-mother to carry on as Lord High Chancellor moving forward. She has served faithfully and I believe and hope she will continue do so as Lord Chancellor.”

“Very good, sir. And what of the Empress Mother?” Pompilius said of Constantine’s mother, assuming she would be presented with the titles fitting for the mother of the Emperor.

“My mother? What of her?” the Emperor appeared confused. “No, she won’t be on the Council. Her and Marsella together would be messy. And she won’t be Empress Mother. She wasn’t married to my father when he passed, so she will be Countess of some yet-to-be determined area when the time’s right. Nor do we do need four empresses roaming about.”

“Yes, I suppose three is less to keep track of. Though there are only two until you marry, my daughter,” the Consul said with a smile. “In fact, I think it might be that time...to ask Anna to join us, Caesar. She’s been looking forward to this for a very long time. Do we have the press ready to hear the announcement in the briefing room?”

“No, we’re not finished just yet. I’d like to move on to the…” the Emperor was cut off by Pompilius.

“Oh no, sir, it won’t be a problem. Just let me go fetch Anna myself and then we can continue. I’m sure she won’t mind if we finish up afterwards. In fact, she’ll probably…”

“Consul, about your daughter…” Constantine interrupted Pompilius as he had been rambling on in an attempt to overwhelm the Emperor with information. “I will not be marrying your her. I know promised both you and your daughter, but circumstances have changed. And after much thought and consideration I just don’t believe it is the proper course moving forward. It wasn’t a decision I came to lightly or easily.”

“The nature of promises is that they remain unchanging,” Pompilius furled his brow. He bit his lip and exhaled a heavy breath. “Your Majesty I…”

“I understand your frustration, and I deeply apologize for any pain or embarrassment I may cause your daughter or your family,” the Emperor appeared uncomfortable with the situation but continued. “If you would like call the meeting to an end and bring Anna in I fully understand. But I want you to know it wasn’t a decision I made because of your daughter or your family…nothing of the sort, I promise you.”

The Consul closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He turned his head away and interrupted, “What else did you wish to discuss, Caesar,” Pompilius held his rage back and listened while Constantine touched on the last few topics.

The Emperor coughed into his hand before carrying on. “When we last spoke I told you I would take some time to think about it and I believe that you are correct in your assertion that a full, early election is something that the people could benefit from. I will inform the Electoral Committee of these plans so they may prepare. And when everything is settled, I will make my announcement on the dissolution of the current Senate and formally call for new elections,” the Emperor said with a certain confidence, though still appeared uncomfortable. “I’ll make sure to add these appointments and new elections to the list of topics to discuss at the next cabinet meeting.”

“Thank you, Caesar,” Pompilius wore a false smile and said nothing else.

“As for our recent discussions regarding the Lord-Prefects, I will be exercising my Imperial prerogative to amend the various county and regional charters to afford them more capabilities in local police and in limited cases veto abilities, on my behalf, over the local councils,” the boy Emperor tacked on at the end, clearly wanting the audience to be at an end immediately. But Pompilius only nodded after the Emperor ceased speaking.

“Of course. I uh...I’ll have them send Anna in,” the Emperor leaned over before the Consul spoke up.

“If you don’t mind, I think I would prefer to get her myself,” the Consul stood, causing Constantine to stand as well and offer his hand to shake with the Consul. Pompilius looked the Emperor in the eyes, and shook his hand as he sighed lightly.

The Consul stepped out of the room and found his daughter seated quietly, maybe, twenty feet from the doorway by a window as the bright line shone in, bringing with it a strong glare off the floor. She appeared calm, and had waited patiently. Pompilius eyed the nearest Praetorian before he stood next to his daughter. “Are you ready?” he asked, watching her reply with a disappointing nod. “Get up then, and behave yourself.”

“You’re coming with me?” she ran her hands down her legs, brushing against her tan colored dress until there were no more folds. She looked up to him after hearing no response, and Pompilius just looked at her with his typical scowl. Anna sighed as she stood, giving her father one more hug before she approached the door, with Alexander walking slowly behind her.

When the doors were being opened, Pompilius looked on as his daughter took a deep breath, watching her shoulders rise and fall as she took it in. And when those doors finally opened, she walked in with confidence, almost as if she had no knowledge of what she was about to be told. She curtsied at first, saying “Caesar.” The Emperor looked stiff, and uncomfortable then, and even moreso when Anna rushed at him and leapt into his arms, planting a kiss on his lips and then his cheeks.

“I missed you so much, Constantine,” the Consul’s daughter said in a playful tone, kissing the Emperor once more on the cheek. But the Emperor recoiled and even took a step back from her after delicately moving her arms off of him. Anna must have sensed his apprehension, as she stepped back herself and caressed the Emperor’s arm, “What’s wrong?”

Emperor Constantine pursed his lips, and looked to Anna before he lifted his chin momentarily. “I will not be marrying you,” he said with caution, but still forcefully. “I apologize for any pain or embarrassment I may have caused you, but after much…”

“Excuse me, what? You won’t? I don’t understand,” Anna interrupted the Emperor, causing the Consul’s eyes to grow wide as he took a step forward. “Who are you marrying instead?”

“I am sorry, I truly am,” the Emperor said, placing his hand on Anna’s shoulder. “It wasn’t because of anything you did or even because of you. But I...I just felt that it wasn’t the…”

“Who are you marrying instead? There’s someone else, isn’t there?” Anna screeched as she became red in the face. This caused her father to approach from the back of the room and place his hands on her arms. She shook him off.

“I’m not marrying anyone right…” Constantine replied. But she didn’t believe him and slapped the Emperor in the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Anna shook her head at him, slapping him once more before stormed out of the room without so much as a word.

Pompilius expected his daughter to be upset, but not to lose her temper in front of the Emperor. He tried to grab ahold of his daughter, but she wormed away from him and right out of the room before he could grab her. Pompilius debated opening his mouth, saying something to the Emperor before rushing out after Anna, as she had acted against everything Pompilius had told her the night and even only hours before. But the Emperor’s hand reached up to his face, covering the side of his face that Anna had just struck.

Pompilius stared at the Emperor who also appeared lost for words. The two shared a moment of awkward silence before Pompilius simply neglected to bow, and turned to rush after his daughter. He reached her just outside of the room and down a nearby hallway, crying. “You had better explain yourself when we get home.”

“I hate him,” she mumbled, but thankfully no one was walking by at the time.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” she grimaced. “I…”

“Hush. What did I tell you?” Pompilius grabbed his daughter forcefully by the arm. He pulled her into a nearby, empty room. “Your little outburst was an embarrassment not just for you, but for me!”

“He embarrassed me, made me look like a fool. You both did. I don’t know why I even had to come,” Anna wailed as her father held her arm. “At least I had the courage to show my disapproval. You didn’t even…”

“Do you really want to talk about courage? Because anyone can run their mouth or lose their temper when things don’t go their way,” Pompilius narrowed his eyes and examined his daughter’s as he spoke. “But do want to know what takes real courage? Keeping your mouth shut...no matter what you might be feeling.”

“Father, let go,” his daughter squealed. “You’re hurting me.”

“Listen to me,” Pompilius shook his daughter.

“You’re scaring me, please let go.”

“Good. Then remember what I said last night. How you were to behave?” Alexander looked into his daughter’s tear filled eyes. She nodded. “Don’t let your feelings of anger cloud your mind. Remember what I said about useless things. Now, can you keep quiet until we get home? Can you do that for me?”

Pompilius slowly loosened his hold on her arm, and Anna nodded, “Yes, father.”

“Good, now let’s go home,” he wiped a tear from her cheek before leading her back into the hall and towards their town car which would take them back to the Consul’s residence.

[Lacus Magni]

“Return”
Leo
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba

The Palace of Augustus was bustling again, almost back to the way things had been before the death of Jason Augustus in early October 2016. Rooms had been restored, the gates, fencings and walls surrounding the Palace were repaired or currently in a state of being repaired. And most of all, the tensions present within the city of Castellum had finally begun to subside and make the slow return to normalcy that all within the Palace had been working towards since returning to the Palace over a month ago in early December.

Things still feel different, Leo thought as he noted the strange presence in the palace. He mostly attributed it to the loss of his uncle Jason in early October, and all of the tragedies that had befallen his whole family since that day, the things that people don’t want to talk about. But things were finally looking up for the Imperial family, and of course the new Emperor. The Imperial family had returned from Atmos in Ghant, and Constantine's younger brother Peter – the heir presumptive – was set to return from his undisclosed location within the next few days.

On top of that, it was only days ago that Leo was appointed Lord President of the Council, replacing the Dowager Empress Marsella who had held the position for the preceding ten years. This made Leo the chief advisor to his cousin Constantine, and presented him with a number of duties. And at today’s informal Council meeting, Leo was joined by the Consul; Michael Pinarius, the acting Lord High Chancellor; Flavius Vipsanius, the Master of Soldiers; Celus Fontieus, Urban Prefect of Castellum; and Laurentius Verruscosi, who was recently appointed Count of the Imperial Estate, but had not yet assumed office. Even the Emperor was present, though for only a moment.

Leo knew most of them well enough, though until this point had little in the way of interaction with the Consul, though that was due to a number of circumstances. And there was Laurentius Verruscosi, Constantine’s cousin from his mother’s family. Just like all Verruscosi, he didn’t care for Leo, though hid it far better than the Emperor’s mother ever could. Laurentius was a younger man, though still older than Leo and was likely to become a very regular figure at Latin Imperial court.

Aside from the usual military discussions and restabilization efforts that were commonplace, the primary discussion at the informal meeting was the plan for the triumph or “victory parade’ as Laurentius Verruscosi, another cousin of Constantine, sarcastically called it at the informal meeting. To be sure, a triumph was not high among Leo’s list of priorities, nor Constantine’s for that matter – each had made that clear. But the Master of Soldiers insisted it was an excellent way to both “show unity” and “affirm the Emperor’s control” of the county in the people’s minds.

Even the Consul managed to agree with Master of Soldiers Vipsanius’s sentiment, and those two men had never gotten along as far as Leo could tell. In fact, Pompilius and Vipsanius regularly clashed wildly in opinions over nearly every topic. Not to mention the fact that the Emperor had only days before spurned the Consul’s daughter and reneged on the promise to marry the girl. Thus far though, Constantine’s rejection of the Pompila girl had not seemed to be an issue for the Consul, who continued along with his business and prepared for the announcement of new elections.

But the triumph was still five days away, and before that was to occur the Emperor had summoned all those lords and ladies holding a hereditary or life peerage to the capital to swear their oaths of loyalty, fidelity and allegiance. Such an event hadn’t occurring since the ascension Emperor Jason in May 1997. Leo was a child then and only first arrived in Latium, making the event quite the spectacle to his young eyes. Back then the event took the entirety of two days to complete, and now it was expected to take even longer with the Emperor’s decision to obtain oaths from not only the peers, but their heirs as well.

As such, the lords and ladies began to arrive as early as a week ago when the summoning to Castellum was first announced. One of the first to arrive was Alexandros Euforbenos, the 7th Lord of Kepetta. Alexandros was the cousin of Dowager Empress Marsella and had been on of Constantine’s most steadfast supporters in Hellas during the succession crisis. He proved to be very useful when Leo began mustering the Hellenic based legions back in October.

After the Lord Alexandros arrived, other lords and ladies of various rankings began to file into the capital. The three Claudii cadet branches, in the form of the Lords of Balsa, Euracini and Nola, all arriving within quick succession of one another. But of the lords in the highest order of precedence, all except for the Duke Vindóbona and Doux of Akropolites were yet to arrive, though the Marchioness of Espo was the only to affirmatively state that she would not be attending her oath would be given by her daughter Constania on her behalf.

But Leo placed all of that in the back of his mind and walked about the palace from the Council chambers to his current quarters in the Aemlian Suite. Along the way, the Prince spoke with his former Legate during the succession crisis, Celus Fonteius, about the recent Council meeting they had just left. Fonteius was recently appointed Urban Prefect of Castellum, which afforded him the ability to sit on at Council meetings.

“You see that Verruscosi lad giving you shit eyes again in there?” Fontieus asked Leo with a laugh, referring to Laurentius Verruscosi. To Leo’s knowledge he hadn’t done anything to insult the man, but knowing the Verruscosi family the way he did, Constantine’s mother had infected all of their minds when it came to Leo, the Gentries or Ghantar in general.

“I’ve seen worse,” Leo stated plainly, as the two men passed by a recently completed portrait of his uncle he’d never seen before, where the Emperor Jason was dressed in all of the Imperial regalia of Latium.

“Leo?” the Prince heard a soft and cheerful, feminine voice call out to him. It was familiar, yet he couldn’t figure out who was calling him. He turned around to see a red-haired beauty just speaking to a group of others. She said some more words to those around her before walking away from the group. “Is that you?”

He squinted his eyes for a moment before it clicked, “Lena?” he smiled to the Gelonian noblewoman he’d first met in secondary school. “God, it’s been years.”

She was of a similar age to Leo, though a few inches shorter on a slender yet still shapely frame. Her skin was fair, her eyes were hazel and her red hair was wild, just as Leo remembered her. Today she was dressed in a white dress with floral print of pink, light orange and faint reds surrounding a neckline currently covered in flowing red, wavy hair that fell far past her shoulders.

She embraced Leo in a friendly hug once she reached him. It also had the side effect of garnering some movement from his nearby Praetorians, though they mostly remained where they were. Lena paid them little mind, and Leo welcomed her by returning the embrace.

“It couldn’t have been that long. I swear saw you about a week or so ago,” the girl said with a teasing smile. She spoke to the pair in Latin, though with traces of an accent, after letting go of him. The Prince squinted his eyes before Lena laughed again. “You were on the RAL last week. Again. They were reporting on your new, fancy appointment,” she sized him up with yet another laugh, even touching the pin placed on his jacket lapel to tease him. “Otherwise I’d say it’s been since that Transvectio at Olympia a few years back…”

“Far too long,” Leo smiled.

“Yes...far too long,” she smiled back at him. She stood there with her arms behind her back now, and gave a sly look to Fontieus and then back to Leo. “So who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is the new Urban Prefect, Celus Fontieus,” Leo introduced them to one another. “Celus this is Lena, the Lady Oxonia.”

“A pleasure, milady. Oxonia in Gelonia? I’ve never been before or met a Gelonian even,” Fontieus smiled curiously at the woman. He shook her hand, though someone passing by grabbed his shoulder and attempted to pull his attention away from Leo and Lena.

“Aye, we don’t come this way all that often. Gelonians prefer to stick with what and who know over all of the commotion and games people play in the capital,” Lena said playfully before continuing but this time with added sarcasm and boisterousness. “But when His Majesty Caesar calls, we do our duty.”

“I hate to be a bother, but sir, may I have a word,” some deputy politely interrupted and spoke to Fontieus.

The Urban Prefect nodded and said, “Apologies, Your Highness and Milady,” before departing with his deputy and walking down the hall. Each could hear Celus barking at his deputy, causing each to smile some.

“I didn’t think I’d run into you today,” Leo said as Lena drifted closer to him after Fontieus left them.

“I hadn’t thought to be here,” Lena raised her eyebrows with a closed-mouth smile. “But my father called me a few days ago and said I needed to be here with him. So here I am…in Castellum once again. Standing across from the great Leo of Ghant. Not much has changed really. But your hair wasn’t so long then. And I suppose you weren’t really as famous then, were you?”

Leo snorted lightly, with a bashful look he turned his head away and said, “Hardly…”

“I’m serious, Leo. People saw what you did. How you stood up to that maniac even though he had your sister. You’re a much more than that brooding boy I remember from school now,” Lena smiled at him before continuing with a playful laugh. “But you do look really cute with the long hair and scruff. If only you had the cloak or furs, then you’d really look like the barbaric northman you truly are.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you almost said something nice to me for once.”

“And if you knew anything at all, you’d know that I say plenty of nice things about Leo d'Ghish,” she showed the Prince a playful smirk and continued teasing him. “But you don’t.”

Leo laughed with her and then said, “How long are you in town for?”

“At least through the triumph. But hopefully not long after,” Lena said with a roll of her eyes.

“You don’t like the capital?”

“Nobody who lives outside of the capital likes the capital,” Lena said with a laugh, as palace staff walked around them, causing her to put on a more serious face. “The two years I went to school here were more than enough. It’s…it’s exhausting.”

“Aye, I suppose some can be a bit much at times,” Leo nodded after taking in a heavy sigh. Before he could get a chance to speak again, two older men and a young girl were walking towards Leo and Lena. The men appeared to be in their mid-to-early sixties or so, and the girl likely just a teenager. The two men had stern faces, but the girl seemed just as cheery as Lena had been at the start of their conversation.

“Father,” Lena smiled to one of the men that approached. “This is Prince Leo.”

“An honor, My Lord,” Leo reached out to shake the man’s hand.

“Yes, I know who he is,” Lena’s father, the Viscount of Durnovaria nodded towards Leo. Arthur Ròs-Gradloni, the current Viscount, was an ordinary looking man by standards in Latium, with traces of brown hair and dark brown eyes, with a stern but noble face. “We’ve heard tales your success and prowess on the battlefield all the way in Gelonia.”

Leo replied with a nod, “I’ve done nothing no other man wouldn’t do in the same situation.”

“I’d very much like to think that as well, Your Highness,” Viscount Arthur gave a nod of his head in agreement.

“And this is my sister Eva,” Lena added after seeing that her father and Leo had been properly introduced. Eva appeared to look much like Lena, though simply younger. Lena neglected to introduce the second man standing next to her father, so Leo felt it safe to assume the man was simply an aide of sorts.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eva” Leo nodded to Eva and Lena’s uncle George. Eva curtsied somewhat awkwardly with a smile.

“The Emperor Jason was a good man as far as I could tell,” Arthur stated while Lena shifted her feet. “He did right by the people…and to the best of his ability. The church bells rang for him all throughout Gelonia once we’d gotten word. We all mourned his death, and prayed for all his family and your’s.”

“Thank you,” Leo winced a smile. “And thank you for keeping faith with the Emperor,” he stated, noting the Viscount had kept order, peace and faith with Constantine through the crisis in his role as both Lord Palatine and Lord Prefect of Gelonia.

“There is no thanks required for doing one’s duty,” the Viscount replied, but still showed appreciation for the remarks. “I swore your uncle an oath that I would ensure local governments would uphold the Emperor’s peace throughout the Gelonian counties on his behalf and his legal successors.”

“You two know each other?” Eva smiled at her sister and then to Leo, all the while Lord Arthur leaned over as the other man whispered something to him.

“Yes,” Leo stated plainly.

“We went to secondary school together,” Lena added, though spoke towards her father instead of her sister. Then she turned towards Leo, “I knew he’d be here, just didn’t think we’d actually bump into each other. So we were just catching up some.”

“Good thing you’ll see him again when we meet with the Emperor in a few days,” Lord Arthur added before continuing. “Your Highness, I do apologize if you and my daughter were in conversation, but we made plans that we must keep to.”

“We’re going to Ristorante Ebor before we go to…” Eva said before catching her father’s glare and abruptly stopping.

“The Prince is very busy, Eva. As are we,” Lord Arthur added before bowing his head ever so slightly to Leo. “Your Highness, until next time.”

“My Lord,” Leo shook Arthur’s hand and waved to Eva as they turned to walk the other way, though Lena still lingered for a moment longer.

“That’s right, we were,” Lena looked almost disappointed, but turned towards Leo with a smile anyway. “Was great running into you again, Leo. Let me know when you get a moment away from all the work and monotony, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again before I head home. And who knows if I’ll ever be back this way again,” she gave him a light kiss on the cheek before smiling and starting to follow after her father. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Leo smiled before watching Lena and the Ròs’s walk down the hallway towards the nearest exit before heading to his suite and calling it an early night.

[Lacus Magni]

“Memories”
Leo
Imperial Crypt
Palatine Hill, Castellum ab Alba

Aside from the Palace of Augustus, the Imperial Crypt was one of the other few structures that was part of the small Palatine district of the capital. Any typical day, the crypts would be open for public viewing and visitation, making it one of the prime tourist attractions in the Palatine district of the capital region. But with control of the capital changing hands back to the legitimate regime, most locations of such importance became temporarily closed off from public visitation – including both the Emperor’s chief residence and the crypt.

It was the day before the victory parade when Prince Leo of Ghant and Latium traveled the short journey from his palace suite atop the Palatine Hill to its base so that he could visit his uncle Jason VI Augustus once more in the crypt. The short car ride, however, allowed Leo to look on to the city and see residents walking the streets – seemingly appearing normal once again or so he hoped was the case. However there was a stronger police presence than there would have been a few months before. Minutes after leaving, his vehicle reached the base of the Palatine and Leo was let out of the car.

The Prince approached the stone entryway, which was flanked by Praetorian Guards donning ceremonial, ancient battle uniforms and purple cloaks. They didn’t move a muscle as Leo walked past them into the imposing structure, his own security detail remained at the car. Inside, the crypt was dark. It was always dark, even on the brightest days, Leo thought as he walked underneath the central dome of the main room. The last time he was here, his uncle had been laid right in the center, beneath the dome and oculus above. He took a glance around the room, walking through the bit of winter sunlight that shone through the dome’s oculus.

Nearly two weeks ago his uncle’s casket had been placed in the center of the main room, just beneath the oculus. But it had finally been moved to its permanent resting place just a level below. Leo walked across the floor, his shoes sounding off with every step, echoing off the walls as he moved. He quickly found himself at the old stone steps, so old that they were indented by the many footsteps that came before his. At the last step he ducked to avoid hitting his head, as he’d seen some others do when not paying attention, and at the bottom step he turned to the right.

It was there he saw a dim light, and a figure already standing where his uncle had been laid to rest. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor continued to echo even after he had already stopped. “I’m sorry,” Leo said with a wince. “I didn’t know anybody else was here. I can…”

“Don’t leave,” he could tell by the individual's voice that it was his cousin Maria. There was a sadness in her voice unlike anything he’d heard from her before. “He’d want to see you too.”

Leo took a deep breath and began to slowly step closer until he was standing near his uncle’s tomb. Maria was wearing a dark colored dress, that much Leo could make out from the limited light from nearby candles, though she had a dark shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she stood between Jason’s tomb and that of her mother’s – the two placed next to one another. Leo kept his focus forward, his eyes taking in his uncle Jason’s tomb and the marble sculpture of the late Emperor donning the ancient, traditional Imperial regalia with a laurel crown atop his head. His focus was only broken by the sound of paper being torn.

“I miss him,” Maria said in a strained voice.

“Aye. So do I,” Leo nodded after taking a heavy breath. He looked down to his feet and then towards his uncle’s tomb and marble sculpture of the man dressed like the Latin emperors of old.

Leo and Maria remained silent for nearly a minute or two, though it seemed to last far longer than that to him. That silence was only broken by Maria starting to laugh, though she wiped a tear from her cheek. “Do you remember that time you tried to jump across that creek at…at…”

“At the villa in Hagia Sophia,” Leo finally broke into a smile.

“Yes, that’s it,” Leo could see his cousin smiling at the thought of the story. “You told everyone you were the great Gaius Caesar crossing the Frusina at Cularo. Then leaped across that tiny creek, but you didn’t make it even halfway across. So you just fell right in the water. And father yanked you up out of the water like you were nothing.”

“I thought he was going to rip my head off,” Leo winced a smile and looked to the sculpture of his uncle while they spoke of him.

“I think we all did,” Maria’s smile faded as she wiped more tears from her face, and looked up to the ceiling.

“I know he had his problems, but he was a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known,” Leo nodded before he heard paper being torn. He turned his head ever-so slightly to notice Maria tearing paper out of a notebook and placing it in her handbag.

“Some of my earliest memories are coming down here with him,” Maria said after reaching her hand out of her bag. “I kept asking him and asking him about my mother. There was so much I wanted to know about her, and so little he or anyone else ever told me. I suppose one day he had enough of my pestering and he brought me here to see her.” She paused and made a weak smile before continuing. “I was maybe all of seven or eight at the time, and terrified to come down here. So father took my hand and he told me that there was ‘nothing at all to worry about, your mother is your guardian angel and she’ll always protect you, just like I will.’ I was still terrified, but I finally came down here and we stood right where you and I are standing.”

“I never heard him talk about your mother before,” Leo was calm and looked to Maria.

“We talked about her all the time. What she was like, what made her laugh or smile, what made her angry,” Maria smiled meekly. “It was easy to tell he loved her very much. People always said that father changed after she died, but I don’t think he did. More heartbroken and guarded maybe, but he was always kind and always tried to do what was right. That never changed.”

Maria reached back into her handbag, pulling out two candles that she just held on to. “Here,” she handed one to Leo, which he accepted and held onto it while Maria fetched a lighter from her bag and lit the candle. She then lit the candle she held and placed it down near her mother’s tomb, following which Leo did that same with his own candle and Emperor Jason’s tomb.

The candle faintly illuminated its surroundings at the tomb, drawing Leo’s attention to what looked like papers and even the spine of a book near the tomb of Maria’s mother, the Princess Stephanie. “What are these papers?” Leo asked her against his better judgement, not wanting to pry into his cousin’s business.

“Messages. Notes. Things I had on my mind that I wanted to tell my mother or needed guidance,” Maria said calmly. “Some might be father’s too, I’m not sure.”

The pair stood silently before the tombs, reminiscing over each Leo’s uncle and his late first wife. But what Leo had originally hoped would have been a quiet moment to pay his respects to his late uncle, turned into him only being able to think about the information Marsella had told him of Maria’s mother. “Your uncle was always watching his back after he learned the truth about what happened to his first wife,” Leo recalled Marsella telling him. A plot that was covered up for so many years, and still left largely uncovered. Few that knew that truth were still living, and as much Leo may have wanted to tell Maria the truth about her mother, he didn’t know whether or not he should. He felt a similar burden over the fate of his own father when speaking with his brother Nathan.

“Tell me about your father,” Maria said with the lighting showing her long, dark brunette-colored hair was all tied up in an intricate fashion.

“I don’t have any memories of him,” Leo hung his head for a moment before looking up at his uncle’s face. “Everyone always told me that he was a great man. An honorable man that the people loved and believed in. Ser Adrasto told me that my father was one of the finest men he ever knew.”

“That sounds a bit like you,” Maria looked to him with a smile.

Leo looked to her with an uneasy smile, before turning his head away from her as he felt a lump in his throat. He could hear Maria take a deep breath and saw her arm move with a slip of paper in her hand. She reached forward and placed the paper near what he thought moments ago was the spine of a book, before she sighed again. “Well, my father always told me that my mother never truly left us, not as long as we kept her memory. That way they’ll always be a part of us. Your father, and even mine, will always be a part of you, just as my mother and father will always be a part of me.”

Leo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He kept silent and nodded his head as he exhaled, feeling his cousin’s hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Maria looking at him, she reached out to give him a hug and said, “I was going to get going. Were you planning on staying much longer?”

He shook his head to say “no” then said, “No, I should get going too. I’ve got a lot to do before tomorrow,” he winced a smile after she let go of him. “I’ll walk you out.”

Leo helped Maria gather her things and together they walked along the hallways and other passageways until they reached those same old, indented stone steps. It wasn’t until they reached the main room and the oculus that either of them spoke. “I saw you speaking with a cute redhead the other day. Who was that?”

“Former classmate,” Leo said without hesitation.

“Former classmates usually don’t just happen to be wandering about the palace speaking with princes,” Maria said as she stepped out of the crypt, pulling sunglasses out of her handbag. “Nor do they look that cute and all dressed up in their best.”

“I’m almost positive I’ve seen you speaking to people you went to school in the palace more than once,” Leo tried to change the subject with a smile as he walked his cousin to her car which pulled around as they stepped forward.

“Really? Name one,” Maria laughed aloud as a guard opened the car door for her to step inside.

Leo paused, closed his eyes to think and drew a blank. “Zeno,” Leo finally said as he wracked his brain for an answer. And even then he knew it wasn’t a good answer.

“Ha!” Maria smiled. “Zeno wasn’t a classmate. Also, he’s a huge asshole.” Her security detail was about to close her door she turned to them, “Just a minute please

She then turned to Leo and said, “You’re not going back to the palace?”

“No, I have some meetings I’m probably running late too,” he took a quick glance at his watch as he held his hand on the open door. “I have to be at the Ministry of Defense by 9:30.”

“Oh, aren’t you a big deal now,” Maria teased him. “But isn’t that on the other side of the city? God, and they don’t even stop traffic for people like you or me.”

Leo nodded with a smile, “Aye, they don’t. I should probably be off then.”

“Take care, cousin. Try to enjoy those meetings,” Maria said with a cheerful smile. Leo responded in kind before Maria closed her door and the car drove off, back to the Palatine Hill and Palace of Augustus.

Leo remained standing as he watched his cousin drive off, one of his guard approaching him as he stood there. “Your Highness, Caesar has requested your presence at the palace.”

“Did he say what for?” Leo looked down to his watch.

“That he did not. But the Master of Soldiers has also been summoned to the Palace,” the head of Leo’s security detail informed him.

“Alright then. Best be off then,” the Prince nodded, as his SUV came to a stop just feet away from him. He walked quickly to it’s door, finding his seat inside. Once he was secure and ready, the SUV turned around and left the crypt’s main circle drive for the Palace of Augustus once more.

[Ghant]

“Devotion”
Imperial Suite
Palace of Augustus
Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Lacus Magni)

The plans had been made, and all of the necessary preparations were being seen to by the various Privy Council’s Great Officers of State, the Praetorian Guard and local officials. The first announcement of the triumph was brought to the nation two weeks ago, though Constantine had never liked the idea of a victory parade. During the height of the Latin Empire in its dominion over territories of southern Belisaria and even limited control over bordering territories in northwestern Scipia, triumphs were held for the Emperor and his victorious generals after great victories, conquests or subjugation of the barbarians or heretics surrounding Latium. Foreign and barbaric rulers who refused to submit to Latin rule were even paraded through the streets as prisoners if they refused to at least convert to Catholicism as was custom under the reigns of the early Claudii.

While triumphs had been scaled down from their traditional pagan roots over the years, the events were still one of tremendous spectacle. The parade route was adorned in purple banners, flags and banners of the Emperor and generals being honored.

But rarely, if ever, were triumphs held after civil war or internal conflict. In fact, it was generally considered distasteful to hold a proper triumph after a state of civil war, though this didn’t stop the Senate granting a triumph to each of Constantine’s grandmother and Constantine’s great-grandfather after the Social War over seventy years ago. But that was a different sort of battle, and not one fought between brothers, Constantine thought as he walked through the halls of the Palace of Augustus accompanied by his Praetorian guards.

And now the “triumph” was set to begin in the morning after a short service held at the Basilica of St. Maria Outside the Walls. In a perfect world there wouldn’t be anything else for Constantine to worry about other than getting through today, but as was become commonplace in the Imperial household, there were familial troubles. This time between him and his sister Selene. She hadn’t spoken to him since Audric, or Emperor Louis of Vannois as he was now called, returned to Vannois after the capture of Castellum. Normally it wouldn’t have been a problem, but Constantine refused to let her go with Audric just yet.

“We need to talk, Selene,” he recalled telling her. But she only told him it can wait until she gets back from Saint-Nazaire for the triumph. And when he said it was about Audric and his hesitance towards letting her marry him, she shouted at him and had since refused to speak with Constantine. And that was two weeks ago. On the rare occasion they crossed paths in the halls, she would look the other way or simply walk the other way.

Until today, Constantine tried to give Selene her space in the hopes that she would calm down and they could speak about things without setting each other off. That was why he found himself at his sister’s door and knocked on it. “Selene,” the Emperor said, his Praetorians standing behind him and at the each end of the hall. There was no response or hint of movement in the room, so he knocked again. “Please open the door,” he said.

After yet another knock and the faint sound of shuffling feet on the other side of the door, it opened and his sister stepped aside to let him in. “What do you want?” she said flippantly.

“You’ve been avoiding me, I want to talk.”

“Unless you’re here to finally let me go to Saint-Nazaire, I don’t want to talk to you,” Selene slammed the door shut, leaving just the two of them in her private suite.

“That’s what I want to talk about…can we actually discuss this or are you going to throw a fit again?” he said, probably regretting the last quip he threw in. Selene crossed her arms and looked like she wanted to slap him, but kept silent. He took the silence as a que to continue. “Do you remember that Audric was near Espo in October…around the time George and his army were defeated?”

Selene still kept silent, but at least acknowledged the events for Constantine to continue. “Selene, I don’t want you to marry Audric because…because I don’t feel you would be safe with him.”

“I’d be safer with him than my own family it seems. Michael keeps me locked in a tower, you don’t let me do what I want,” Selene remarked sarcastically.

“Stop it and listen to me,” Constantine sighed. “Audric is dangerous, Selene. He killed them all. George, Alexander, the whole lot of them. We’ve had intel on it for some time that pointed all of this out…that he tried to arrange some marriage with George and Catherine as some pretext for gaining his trust. Selene, I can’t let you go with him. You are my sister…”

“That’s what this is about?” Selene nearly laughed at Constantine’s concern. “Kostas, I know.”

“You know what?” he said, taken aback.

“I know what he did at Espo. What, you don’t think he tells me everything? Audric and I don’t have secrets. This is what you’re so worried about?”

“Selene, he can’t be trusted. He is a liar and a murderer. I can’t let you marry him, father wouldn’t allow it,” Constantine struggled to say, nearly in shock after hearing all she had said.

“Father loved Audric. Mother loves Audric. Of all the things those two argued about, they agreed about him. He is a saint, and he loves me,” Selene almost looked proud and shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand because you’ve never been in love before, but Audric would do anything to keep me safe. He took an army and did everything he could to protect me…to help our family.”

“He killed our family,” Constantine said slowly in the hopes of Selene figuring it out.

“Well, so did Adrian. He killed Michael,” Selene remarked. “And we haven’t talked about that. No one wants to talk about Michael.”

“Michael was my enemy,” Constantine sighed and appeared visibly upset.

“Michael was your brother. George and the other one…they weren’t your brothers, and you’re more upset about them than your own.”

“Selene!” Constantine shouted, causing her to pause and then drop the Michael talk.

“Audric killed them for me, for you…he killed our enemies. Two boys that we didn’t know…two boys that would have killed you or I if given the chance. They weren’t our brothers, even if we did have the same father,” Selene walked to Constantine and took his hand. “They weren’t raised here. You, Michael, Peter, Philip…Leo, those are my brothers.”

“I want to shout at you for making a big deal out of this and keeping me from Audric. But it’s not worth it because mother is right. We need to stick together. All of us.”

Constantine placed his hands on his hips and let out a heavy sigh between his heavy breathing. She stepped towards him for a hug, but he recoiled. She closed the gap anyway and wrapped her arms around him, but he did not do the same. Once she let go he immediately went to leave the room without uttering a word.

“Kostas, will you let me leave with Audric when he returns,” Selene asked just before Constantine opened the door to exit. “I’m…going to leave regardless, but I’d like your blessing.”

With his hand on the doorknob, he sighed once more and hung his head back slightly. “I don’t know,” he replied before exiting the room and entering the hall to find his Praetorians before walking away to his next appointment.

Elsewhere, in the palace, the Emperor of Ghant was in his designated quarters with his younger half-brother Leo, preparing for the parade by donning his finest garb. “Seems like a rather macabre cause for a parade, doesn’t it?” the Emperor asked his brother. “I mean, we never had parades in Ghant after any of those wars. Why, Emperor Nathan II even said that ‘there’s nothing to celebrate about civil war.’ he was a wiser man than most too..”

“That’s what I told them at the Council meeting. Even the Social War triumph was distasteful for some. Latins don’t like celebrating victories over Latins,” Leo replied, seated in one of the many chairs in the room. “But the Consul and Master of Soldiers were very adamant on the whole thing. We talked them down from a full scale triumph to something more appropriate at least. I still don’t like it.”

“The Anti-Social War, as Aunt Teresa likes to call it,” the Emperor chuckled as he adjusted the buttons on his jacket. “Speaking of Anti-Social, I find it odd how I’m the only allied Head of State that seems involved in this whole dog and pony show. Audric has seemed...especially cagey around Constantine, have you noticed? Something seems off with him, more than usual.”

“Everyone has been acting different lately. Not just Audric and Constantine…there’s so much to adjust to,” Leo sighed, and leaned over to reach for his military officer’s jacket as he dug in one of the pockets. “There was some chatter of Audric coming, but I’m not sure he’ll be here.”

“Well, what do we have to adjust to?” A cool glass of water sat on a nearby dresser, and the Emperor picked it up and threw it back. “Seems like we’re still doing the same old shit,” he laughed.

“You are at least,” Leo smiled and finally pulled his phone from his jacket, only to set it back where he found it moments later. “I’m not in the army any more, and I have new job,” he paused before chuckling. “Being in the army was easier.”

The Emperor puckered his lips as he glanced at himself in the mirror, and at Leo off to the side. “Grandmother used to say that people of our birth and rank don’t have jobs, merely duties and chores. You can get fired from a job...but we can’t get fired. Maybe from the army you can...I’m glad I was never in that...I wouldn’t want to wake up at dawn to do drills and run laps and shit like that. No thank you!”

“Grandmother said all sorts of things apparently. But it wasn’t so bad, I enjoyed it actually,” Leo’s smile receded some before he spoke again. “How are Sophia and the children, have you heard from them recently?”

The question made the Emperor wince. “They’re well, about as well as could be expected,” he answered. “Same goes for Diana and Theodora. Cassandra assures me that they, as well as Arietta, are getting along merrily.”

“You should make sure they watch things on tv since they can’t be here. God willing they won’t see another parade like this for the rest of their lives,” Leo nodded, checking his phone once more. “And Albert, has he reached out to you?”

“...He has not,” the Emperor spoke candidly. “That’s not his way. He doesn’t do the reaching out...you have to, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t like parades either, if I recall correctly. Says they’re ‘pointless displays of pomposity.’ Then again, he’s seldom wrong, is he?”

“Why do you…why do you think…he banished my mother, our sisters and I?” Leo asked with a great deal of hesitation. It would have been something Leo rarely, if ever, spoke to his brother about, and appeared conflicted in even bringing it up for discussion.

The question seemed to take the Emperor aback. He paused, and glanced at Leo sheepishly before coughing up some words. “...Because you’d have been better off in Latium, and you were. If I could have traded places with you, I would have. You got a good deal compared to me, brother. Had I lived your life, I’d hardly have any cause for complaint, and I’d be praising God everyday that he was so generous.”

“When we first got here, I couldn’t make sense of it. I’d thought that maybe everyone decided to hate us or maybe just hated us the whole time and lied to our faces for Grandfather’s sake. Mother never cared to talk about it or even talk about father for that matter. So I’d go to my uncle, ‘We don’t chase women and children from their homes here…you’re safe now, son,’ he told me. He would say that Albert had eyes for the throne and it made him worry for your safety too,” Leo looked right through his brother with a blank stare before sighing. He leaned forward and hung his head down, catching his thoughts for a moment.

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was luckier than some,” he said, lifting his head back up as he snapped out of whatever thought he was lingering on.

The Emperor took the opportunity to change the subject, unpleasant as it was. “So...when do we need to be wherever it is we need to be for this dog and pony show?”

“Well there’s some church service before everything starts. That’s on the other side of the Felixian Walls though,” Leo spoke of the city walls that marked that ancient boundary of Castellum. “After that it’s through the Golden Gate and then all the fun begins.”

There was a quick knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Anna Kinnamos, a close friend of Leo. She appeared not entirely dressed for the occasion, but Leo promptly rose from his seat when he noticed her. “Oh…hello, Nathan, I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Maria told me you’d probably be in here, Leo,” Anna said, looking like she had woken up not all that long beforehand.

“Nothing important, just killing time,” Leo smiled to her. “You’re leaving?”

“I am,” Anna looked to Nathan and then to Leo. “I just wanted to say good luck before I left.”

“Thanks,” the Emperor nodded deeply. “I appreciate that. Good to see you too Anna. See you on the other side of this business, alright?” the Emperor’s demeanor was like that of a man greeting a close female relative or other longtime friend.

“Of course,” Anna nodded with a smile, before turning towards Leo and seeing him staring at her. “Well, I should be going if I want to get a good view of the parade. Have fun today,” she added just before she exited and left the two brothers alone yet again.

Leo found his seat once again after Anna left. “I was hoping she’d join us today. I invited her, but she refused.”

“Probably because it would seem improper,” the Emperor pointed out. “Especially as far as I’m concerned. You know how the tabloids get whenever they see me with some woman. Imagine that woman being a politician, let alone my brother’s friend,” he sighed. “That’s probably why.“

“I know. I’ve heard the same speech from her countless times by now,” Leo appeared somewhat annoyed. “But if it weren’t for her I don’t think we would have gained the Hellenic support as quickly, or at all.”

“Perhaps you underestimate Marsella.” Nathan finished getting ready and then he turned around to face his brother, while taking a seat in a nearby chair. “While Anna probably deserves the credit, it’s the monarchy that needs a PR boost. Constantine is on shaky ground as it is, and Anna knows that. She probably doesn’t want a republic anymore than we do...because a republic means more power for Pompy.”

“I don’t discount what Marsella did, many played a part,” Leo stated quickly before moving on. “Earthquakes and shaky ground never lasts forever. Things are finally looking up, I think people will see that soon enough. Today hopefully.”

The Emperor of Ghant gave his brother a curious look. “People see what they want to see, brother, and very often it’s anything but the truth. If Constantine is to succeed, it will take time...certainly more time than just one day.”

Leo looked to his brother and then to his watch. “We should get going,” he said. Following that stood up and gathered his jacket and other belongings, quickly trying to throw it on and fasten the buttons while he moved. “Were you planning on going to the basilica with Ana? I haven’t seen her yet.”

“Aye, we should.” Getting up languidly from his chair, the Emperor stretched with a yawn. “I wasn't planning on it...but then again, I don't think I've ever seen Anastasia in church. That's something I have to see.”

“Is she afraid she’ll catch fire walking into a church? That’d only happen to Constantine’s mother,” Leo laughed, moving to exit the room. “Everyone in the Imperial party will be there.”

“...Knowing her, I’d say she’s just worried about getting bored and falling asleep,” the Emperor laughed. “I share that fear myself...but I’m sure you remember that from way back when. Remember when grandmother used to take us to church, and I’d ask you to poke me in the ribs once I started nodding off.”

“And those weren’t even Catholic services,” Leo joined his brother in laughter. “You might be in more trouble today than we thought.”

“I’m more worried about Anastasia due to that fact,” laughed the Ghantish Emperor as he got up and scratched under his chin. “We should get going before somebody notices that we are stalling.”

“We’ll just have to make sure whomever sits next to her prods her to stay awake,” Leo continued laughing with his brother as the two exited the latter’s chambers. Together, the two moved through the halls of the palace towards the main entrance where it was agreed everyone would depart from before traveling to the basilica for the short blessing and service to begin the parade.

As Leo and Nathan finally arrived at the corridors near the entrance, most everyone that was part of the Imperial party was present. Princesses Maria and Selene were first to come within eyeshot, each speaking with Laurentius Verruscosi. Master of Soldiers Vipsanius was off engaging with both the Praetorian Prefect and his deputy. And of course the Latin Emperor appeared to be in discussion with his mother for the moment, though she appeared more focused on what Marsella was doing.

Marsella was with her children Peter, Polyxena, Olivia and Philip, Princess Anastasia, the Vannoisian Empress Dowager Teresa and Constantia Caprenia. Mass hadn't even begun yet and Anastasia was already yawning with squinty eyes.

“Why is she staring at us?” Constantia said in reference to Lady Zoe, the Latin Emperor’s mother.

“Not us,” Marsella answered. “Me.” The rest remained unsaid, as Zoe’s feelings toward Marsella and her children were known in Imperial circles.

Of all those gathered with Marsella, only Teresa stared back at Zoe. “Maybe she has a stick up her ass...maybe I should ask her if she needs help pulling it out.”

“...I'd just leave her be,” Anastasia added to the conversation. “She's clearly angry, and sad about Michael. Her son was a monster, and that makes her the one partially responsible for creating it.”

Though at this time it appeared all had arrived, members of the palace staff began to show each person to their respective vehicles. Princess Selene was among the first to walk off with Zoe and Laurentius Verruscosi towards their vehicle. This allowed Constantine to finally escape from his mother and approach Marsella and all those she was with. The Latin Emperor was first met by a cheerful grin from his youngest brother Philip, causing Constantine to smile.

“I don’t want to go to church, just the parade,” Philip looked up and told his mother, whom he stood nearest.

“Few people want to go to church, dear,” Marsella told her son as she ran her fingers through his hair. “We do it because we must...that is what is expected.”

“It won’t be so bad. And the sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over,” Constantine said to Philip as the staff continued to show others to their rides. He took a look down the hall and saw his grandmother Diana Augusta finally joining them, walking with the Crown Princess of Sydalon, Melisende at her side. The two were both of the Anicii agnatic line, and Melisende was another of the rare foreign invitees to the parade.

The Latin Emperor turned towards Anastasia next, “Are you about ready to get going?”

“...Not really,” replied Anastasia with a yawn. “I'm too comfortable at the moment…”

Constantine smiled, “You’d be comfortable in the car too.”

“Your Majesty,” a guard approached Marsella, “your vehicle is ready whenever you are.”

“Very good,” Marsella replied before rising from her seat. “Come, it is time to go,” she told her children gently with hands on their heads. Teresa stirred Anastasia by tugging on a strand of her hair, causing her to jump up.

All four of Marsella’s children followed after her, including Philip who even turned back and waved at Constantine and the others that remained. The same guard then spoke to Teresa and said, “And Your Majesty, the Empress Diana was hoping you would join her for the ride.”

“Well, how could I ever deny such an invitation?” the old Dowager Empress said with a grin.

Constantine smiled and then continued speaking to Anastasia. “Still comfortable?” he said to Anastasia with a laugh.

“No, because I’m not sitting anymore,” laughed Anastasia. “I suppose the car will have to do then, won’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Constantine teased and reached out to take her hand before walking to the State Car.

Elsewhere, Princess Maria approached her cousin Leo and the Ghantish Emperor Nathan, “I think I’m stuck riding with you two for now.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Nathan teased. “You have to ride with me again, who would have thought?”

“Well it was either you two or Zoe and Laurentius. And I swear he’s always undressing me with his eyes,” Maria smiled to the two of them as a guard approached and took them to their SUV with Leo entering first. “Made it an easy choice.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything about having to ride with Zoe,” he laughed in response. “She’s always made me feel uneasy. I was there when her and your father split...somehow I took the blame for that, even though I didn’t really do anything.” the Emperor paused and then reluctantly added, “I don’t think Zoe’s forgotten that, either.”

“I don’t think she forgets anything, not to mention her hypersensitivity towards Ghantar,” Maria smiled in an attempt to make a light joke of things as the SUV began to drive and passed through the palace gates. “Just a bit ago she reminded me of how I ruined one of her dresses after spilling tea like twenty years ago. But you’d almost think Zoe would thank you for that. God knows I was happy when they divorced.”

“Me too,” Leo added with a laugh. The SUV followed along in the lengthy Imperial motorcade, flanked in the rear by a Praetorian jeep and local police cruiser. Along the streets, one could see decorations and purple banners draped along the parade route off in the distance. Off towards the Appian Way, crowds were even beginning to gather – though the occasional protesters could still be seen.

Elsewhere, Teresa remarked to Diana as they rode together that, “I assumed that the next time we rode together in a motorcade, one of us would be in the back of hearse.”

“I prefer this way, even if unorthodox,” Diana smiled weakly. Their SUV pulled around to the front of Basilica of St. Maria Outside the Walls, an ancient, yet more modest church within the capital. St. Maria Outside the Walls, and the pagan temples that stood in it’s place before it, had always served as the starting point for all triumphs and victory parades. It was where victorious emperors and generals received proper blessing before re-entering the through the ancient city walls with his armies.

Teresa turned to Melisende, and raised her eyebrows as she studied the young Crown Princess of Sydalon. “You don’t look much like your grandfather...I remember when he was your age. He would pick his nose when he didn’t think anyone was looking. Does he still do that?”

“Probably, though not many people look at him anymore…at least since I became regent. So I don’t imagine he’d be terribly concerned with being caught now,” Melisende smiled to Teresa and played along. “I hear I favor my grandmother, so hopefully that ‘nose picking’ gene doesn’t get to me.”

“I could see that,” Diana added as the SUV came to a stop, as did the others that followed. “You have your grandmother’s grace.”

“Yes, I remember her too,” the Vannoisian Dowager Empress nodded. “Splendid woman, very good for elevensies. As for you, dear...you’re much too young to be a regent. The youngest regent I can recall was Prince Imperial Nathan during the latter years of Emperor Nathan I, and at that time, he was only thirty-two. That was only after his grandfather became senile and his own father was imbecilic. Perhaps Constantia would have served, but she didn’t like attention. I wonder why...”

“Wasn’t she the one that slept with her husband’s brother?” Melisende smirked before continuing as guards opened the car doors for them. “But that doesn’t matter. If I recall correctly your own your great-grandson is Emperor of Vannois at only twenty-one. That’s younger than I or even Emperor Constantine. And by all accounts, Emperor Louis is a God-fearing man. Young or old, the world needs more rulers like the three of us.”

“...Don't be so sure about that,” scoffed the Dowager Empress. “Nathan was Emperor at nine, and look how he turned out.”

“Well, I suppose only time will tell, Your Majesty,” Melisende smiled and allowed both Diana and Teresa to exit the SUV before she followed. The front entrance of the church had five arches, draped in the Imperial standard, with the main doorway centered underneath. Atop the archways were four angelic statues, and above that on the outer wall was a fading mosaic of the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus.

Praetorians were stationed outside of the basilica, opening the doors as members and guests of the Imperial household arrived. Inside, pews closest to the altar were reserved for the Imperials, with the Emperor seated in the first row. Other pews were already filled with Senators and members of the nobility, including the Consul and his family.

Historically, either the Pope or Archbishop would be present to confer the blessing onto the Emperor and his commanders. Though with the Pope in Fabria and Archbishop Faustus Otovos still recuperating from his injuries in the Brothers War, the duty of providing the blessing fell to Theodorus Afinius, the Auxiliary Bishop of Castellum.

Not long after the Emperor and his party arrived, so too did Bishop Afinius. He entered the main chapel of the basilica at the sound of church music, and a priest following behind with a thurible to release incense as the Bishop proceeded to the alter. The brief processional followed along the center aisle, with Bishop Afinius leading the way in robes of purple, white and gold with a matching mitre atop his head. Those that followed were dressed similarly and once they reached the altar found their seats.

When the music ceased, Bishop Afinius rose and approached the altar. He began by offering a short prayer, “Dear Lord, our God, you defended us in battle. You were our protections against the wicked and snares of the devil. We gather here this most joyous morning to humbly pray and give thanks to those you have blessed to peacefully guide your flock and the people of this city through their trials and tribulations. We gather here to ask for your blessing, on this morning, to see that these brave men and women continue to be protected and guided in your salvation,” Bishop Afinius said with eloquence.

“Welcome,” Bishop Afinius, a relatively younger bishop who by all accounts appeared to be in his mid-to-late 40s, now spoke to all of those gathered. “We’ve all come together to celebrate end of uncertainty and what lies ahead. Now, I don’t intend to take up too much of your time, as this is only a blessing, and you all have a long day ahead of you.”

“But before that, I wanted to talk about family,” the Bishop stepped away from the altar and move to the front of it. “Family…is God’s gift to each and every one of us, as we in turn are a gift to them. Some here have lost family very recently. Some of those losses we may want to push aside,” the Bishop took a brief glance at Emperor Constantine as he continued, “and others we may try and remember until our own dying day. But at the end of the day, all we have are the Lord and family. And we must remember our family, and forgive them as Jesus forgave Judas. We must remember from John 1:5, that 'The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’ That our Lord and Savior did not give up on Judas even though he was led astray.”

Bishop Afinius looked across the guests who sat in silence as he finished. He made his way back to the altar where another hymn was being played, soon to be followed by the blessing. Once the hymn was completed, the Bishop spoke again from the altar. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Bishop Afinius invited Emperor Constantine to the altar.

“As you have not yet been coronated, I must be careful with what I say as to not accidentally anoint you in an improper setting,” he said to add some humor to the event. Constantine had already kneeled before the altar as Afinius took the Holy Oil and began to bless the Latin emperor. “The faithful ask You to give this man, Gaius Claudius Nero Constantinus Felix Alexander Caesar, Your blessing for this day and Your blessing for the brave men and women of Latium who are are here to celebrate Your glory.” Bishop Afinus took the Holy Oil and placed it some on the Emperor's forehead. “You may rise, Caesar.”

After all joined in the Lord’s Prayer, the Emperor went back to his pew. From there he watched the Bishop’s processional leave the altar and exit the main chapel of the basilica. Some followed the Bishop in leaving to reach their places for the day’s event, though most of the Imperial party remained for now. “That was...uh, interesting,” Leo remarked to his brother as people began to speak amongst themselves. “And a bit heavy handed though.”

“It kind of needs to be, after Michael’s excommunication and all,” Nathan pointed out. “No doubt the Church wants to put on a public display to ensure the masses that Constantine isn’t as dejected as his brother.”

“A very deliberately timed excommunication,” Leo noted skeptically as he looked to others begin to stand and file out of the basilica. In glancing around he caught the Consul looking his way, causing the man to turn on that trademark grin and appear to walk in Leo’s direction. Though as luck would have it the Consul Pompilius and his family kept on walking past Leo and Nathan.

“Good thing he kept walking, that’s the last person we want to speak with,” Leo added as he watched the Pompilius speak with Emperor Constantine and his mother Zoe, though the Consul kept it brief and departed just as quickly. Instead Leo saw his former Legate Celus Fonteius approach.

“Santella wanted me to let you know the horses will be around shortly, Prince Leo,” Fonteius gave a quick smile as Leo shook the Prefect’s hand.

“Nathan, this is Celus Fonteius. The new Urban Prefect,” Leo introduced the two of them.

“Good to meet you, your Majesty,” Fonteius nodded.

The Emperor inclined his head. “And you as well, Prefect. I have to ask though, if you’re the Urban Prefect, who’s the Rural Prefect?” he asked with a sly grin.

Fonteius looked confused for a moment and then laughed rather loudly. “Your brother always told me you were the funny one,” the Prefect smiled.

“Celus is in command of the gendarmerie Praetorians until some Scholarian replacement is found,” Leo interjected, catching the glare of Lady Zoe as she walked past them with her head held up proudly.

“I swear to God I thought your brother never smiled before I met that woman,” Celus directed toward Emperor Nathan. “But I have never seen that woman fucking smile.”

“Leo smiles more often than you might think,” grinned the Emperor mischievously. “You just have to make him laugh...which isn’t easy, but it can be done. Zoe on the other hand...yeah, I’ve never seen her smile, or laugh, or really do anything that didn’t involve having a giant stick up her ass.”

“Maybe she just needs to get laid,” Fonteius shrugged his shoulders with a laugh.

“Are you going to be the one to test theory that out?” Leo asked facetiously.

“The Emperor’s mother? No fucking way. If she were anyone else, maybe,” Fonteius laughed.

“Both of you are missing the point,” Nathan laughed after listening to the back and forth. “What brought her happiness was being Empress. Once that went away...so did the lights, so to speak. So unless you come with a crown in hand, I doubt she’d be receptive.”

Just then Praetorian Prefect Santella approached them and said, “Everything’s all ready. The rest of the party is meeting outside.”

Leo started to move towards the exit and meet up with the rest of the group, and said, “I think she’s pretty close to that crown already.”

“Hmm, I heard the Emperor wasn’t making her Empress Mother though,” Fonteius added as he followed along.

“She was pretty close to that crown when Michael usurped it too,” the Ghantish Emperor pointed out. “Yet I don’t seem to recall that she was around for that…”

“She was in Utica the whole time,” Leo said without hesitation as he walked through the church’s open doorway. Outside the entire Imperial party was being readied to enter the Golden Gate on horseback, with Praetorians helping those who required assistance with their horse, including Lady Zoe. However, not all were on horseback as Diana Augusta and some of the older and younger of the group were being ushered into cars that would take them right to the Seat of Honor on the Appian Way – from where the entire Imperial party would eventually reach and see to the review of armies.

The Emperor of Ghant and his cousin Princess Anastasia both rode horses, though the latter chose not to ride side saddle as may have been expected of her. “Reviewing the armies,” Anastasia laughed as her mare trotted along. “What am I supposed to review? Make sure that they don’t have any stains on their jackets?”

“They just march by and we pretend to be interested,” Princess Maria said with a laugh after being helped onto her horse. “The whole thing seems off if you ask me.”

“...That sounds exactly like something Nathan would say,” the Ghantish princess laughed whimsically.

“Enough of that,” Constantine said with a hint of frustration, as he finally caught up to the bulk of the group.

“What are you nervous or something?” Princess Selene mouthed off to Constantine, only to catch a glare from their mother.

“No, I’m not nervous,” Constantine replied quickly before trotting ahead of the rest of the the Imperial party.

Emperor Nathan rode up beside Maria, and then slowed his horse down to a trot. “He’s nervous,” Nathan told her. “He’s wise to be. So am I.”

“Is he? Seems to me you’ve all been in front of throngs of people before,” Maria kept her focus forward as she spoke to Nathan, her brother’s horse at the head of the party coming to a slow and sidling up to Anastasia and her horse. “Is today so different?”

With a smile, the Ghantish Emperor replied. “It is,” he spoke emphatically. “Today is a day where your brother takes a great step, and the rest of us walk in his footsteps. Every step he takes from here...every step we take, is towards the ultimate duties of our station. Sacrifice, suffering, and struggle. It is a sea, Maria, in which men either sink or swim. It’s killed greater men than I.”

Maria thought for a moment on her response, eventually sighing and then saying, “He’ll swim.” She looked to Nathan and then ahead of him to her brother. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“Neither did your father,” Nathan said with a heavy sigh. “If I could have helped him, I would have. I can help your brother though, I intend to. I may not have earned his respect in life, but I’ll still try all the same.”

“You already brought an army to help. The other things he needs help with…well, I’m not certain they’re within your power or abilities give,” Maria still kept her eyes forward, watching her brother smile next to Anastasia as the final preparations were being made. “Be that as it may, I’ve never known that to stop you in the past.”

“There are plenty of things that could,” he replied sagely. “Do you think so low of me that you doubt my devotion?”

Maria shook her head and sighed. “Do you want to know what I think?” she finally turned to look at him. “I think that your ‘devotion’ only goes so far as what you believe you will get in return. And that is not how devotion works.”

At this, Nathan exhaled deeply, and slumped back into his saddle. “Someday Maria, you may understand...some day you may see. That someone who would die for you, is all I’ve ever been.” With that said, he slowed his horse down and fell back, looking down at the ground beneath his horse.

Maria let out a deep breath followed by some rapid breathing. She gave her horse a jolt to speed forward, before looping back around the group to take her place with her brother Peter and sister Selene, in accordance with the order of precedence for entering the ancient city gate. Looking forward she saw Constantine appearing dignified and ready to enter as the lead, with Princess Anastasia close by.

[Lacus Magni]

“Saorza”
Via Appia
City of Castellum
Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Ghant)

While the Felixian Walls were constructed in the 9th and 10th centuries to mark the ancient boundary of Castellum, the Golden Gate remained as the only holdover from the now nameless predecessor. Since the earliest days of Castellum and Latin history, the Golden Gate stood in splendor and only open for the kings of Castellum and later the Latin emperors. Today was no different, with Emperor Constantine XX ready to make his triumphant entrance through the gates.

The Golden Gate, as the name suggests, was built into the Felixian Walls with a gate of gilded steel, and imperial purple drapes and flags fluttering in the January wind. The gate creaked open slowly, allowing the spectators on the eastern side of the gate their first view at Emperor Constantine and the Imperial party. The Emperor was dressed in a black, highly decorated military dress uniform as Latin monarchs often were for such events, while also sporting an imperial purple pallium cloak.

His Ghantish counterpart was also wearing a highly decorated military dress uniform, black with gold trim and a matching cape bearing the white two-headed eagle of his house on its back. Unlike the Latins, the Ghantish Imperials eschewed wearing the color purple, perhaps a homage to Emperor John’s famous quip that “purple is a feminine color.” Perhaps due in part to that, it wasn’t uncommon for Ghantish Imperial Princesses to wear purple sashes.

“I never understood the Latin need for walls at Castellum,” Anastasia remarked to Nathan as they rode beside one another upon their noble steeds in the parade procession. “There were no barbarians or great lords to threaten them like there were around Ghish. That actually made the Walls of Ghish necessary.”

“...It’s not entirely the same as in Ghant,” Nathan countered gloomily. “The powerful rival lords were further away in ancient Latium, but there were plenty of smaller ones in between that could be swayed to support one or the other to claim the principate, which was often the case. In Ghant, there were already so many men calling themselves kings that a few lords pledging support here and there really didn’t make that much of a difference.”

Constantine had been riding ahead of all in the Imperial party since entering through the Golden Gate. Trailing behind the Latin emperor and even the Ghantish Imperials were the few others that accompanied on horseback. Prince Peter, the heir presumptive, rode alongside Prince Leo, each dressed in lesser versions of the same uniform as Constantine, though Leo wore a black pallium cloak and Peter without one entirely. Princess Maria rode closest to Constantia Caprenia in the middle of the pack. Praetorian Prefect John Santella rode just ahead of the pair, himself separating Marsella and her other children from Lady Zoe and Princess Selene. Following the initial entrance, security personnel around the perimeters of the Imperials became more apparent, with Praetorians walking closeby and intermixed with local police at the ends of the sidewalks.

The large crowd of spectators along the Via Appia, and even the military band trailing the Imperials made it difficult to hear one another, even if only a few feet away. And after leading for the first few blocks of the procession, Constantine had slowed to equal the pace of Nathan and Anastasia. “It’s something else, isn’t it?” the Latin emperor said with volume to be heard over the other sounds as he waved to the crowd. “Imagine how foolish a full blown triumph would have appeared.”

“And this is no less foolish?” Anastasia asked with a laugh. “There’s too many people...too many ways this can go wrong.”

“I’d be more concerned if there were too few people along the streets. We want people here to see this and celebrate, just get things on the right track again,” Constantine tried to keep a smile on his face as they continued along.

Not too far behind rode Teresa on the back of an old mare, near Marsella and her children. Teresa skipped much of the earlier portions of the event in order to accompany Diana to the box at the parade’s end, only entering the procession once Diana was there and seated. Teresa wore a blue riding dress and cape, and yawned as her mare trotted along. She pulled up casually beside Polyxena and observed, “you missed out on all the action, hiding up in Ghant.”

“We weren’t hiding, near everyone knew we were in Atmos,” Poly commented. “And if there was any action, I would have rather everyone missed it.”

“Oh, is that so?” Teresa feigned surprise. “And yet, you seem bored all the same.”

Poly looked to Teresa and grew a smile, though an unconvincing one. “I’m not bored. I would just rather we all not be in the middle of the street right now.” She shrugged her shoulders and added, “I just…something doesn’t feel right.”

“Could it be that your sister Selene is getting all the glory, up front with your brother?” Teresa smirked mischievously. “She seems to always be where the action is too, doesn’t she?”

“She’s older than me, and she’ll be off with Audric soon,” Poly shrugged her shoulders again. “Constantine probably just wants to spend some time with her before she leaves. I mean if she had it her way, Selene would probably never return. You probably know how she and Audric are though.”

“...I don’t, actually,” the Empress Dowager feigned ignorance. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

“Oh,” Poly was surprised by Teresa’s response. “They’re just like way too into each other...and Selene has been talking about the wedding almost non-stop since he went back to Vannois. I think I heard her and Constantine talking about it this morning. You’d think she doesn’t even want to be here anymore. Audric doesn’t talk to you about that sort of thing?”

Teresa shook her head. “No, why would he? To him I’m just an old woman close to death, and until then an inconvenience. He is young, and naive to the ways of the world. I fear that your sister will enable his...radical tendencies. You though, you’re like your mother, a pragmatist. You see the world the way it truly is, not the way you wish it were. Am I right?”

“I’d like to think so, your Majesty,” Poly nodded to Teresa. “Father did say I took after mother. Did you know my father well?”

“...Not very,” the older woman answered earnestly. “Not as well as your grandmother. I do know that he was always spoiled though, especially by your grandfather. Leo was a hard man, but true. A better Emperor than a father though, if truth must be told, for his children were all ruled by their respective vices.”

“Even Uncle Theodosius?” Poly inquired of Teresa’s grandson-in-law. “I used to be afraid of him when I was younger. He’s always so serious.”

“...His vice is being incredibly nondescript, and far too discreet,” Teresa laughed.

Over the course of the procession, Lady Zoe gradually made her way to the other side of the Praetorian Prefect; moreso since Selene joined Constantine briefly at the head of the group with Nathan and Anastasia. And since the last city block, Zoe found herself close enough to Marsella for conversation. “Marsella,” Zoe made her presence known.

“Zoe,” Marsella responded with an incline of her head. “You look well.”

“Rumor has it that my son plans to name you Lord Chancellor,” Zoe stated, keeping her eyes focused forward and on Constantine ahead of her.

Marsella noticed Zoe’s expression, and then turned her eyes forward as well. “I wouldn’t know,” Marsella answered. “I don’t pay attention to rumors or court gossip.” The relationship between the two had always been tense, though in Marsella’s mind, it was mostly Zoe’s resentment that kept it going.

Zoe feigned a smile and said, “Rumor or not, you should turn it down when he does.”

Turning her head around to look at Zoe again, Marsella arched an eyebrow and asked, “and why should I do that?”

“You still have young children, your time would be better spent with them,” Zoe refused to look at Marsella even still. “And frankly, my son doesn’t need your help. He’s not the pathetic waste his father was.”

Marsella frowned at that last sentence, scoffing as she scrambled for a response. “I doubt your son would think very highly of you saying that. But then again, he already doesn’t think very highly of you hiding while Michael tore the realm apart. I suppose that couldn’t make him think any less though.”

Zoe quickly turned and looked at Marsella shocked. “Don’t pretend that you know what I was doing while…while everything was happening,” she snapped back, though struggled to find the right words to say. “…If you, or anyone, ever come between me and my son, know that I would do anything to keep him from harm. Anything.”

“As would I,” Marsella answered, now looking at Zoe pointedly. “I've only wanted what's best for your children...all of them. You don't have to worry about my intentions, Zoe.”

“We’ll see,” Zoe nodded before casually guiding her horse away from Marsella.

At the head of the party, Constantine continued to guide his steed down the Via Appia, quickly coming close to Via Sacra. He looked towards the intersection and saw a heavy crowd of spectators with one somehow managing to get on the other side of the police guarding the street. The Latin emperor watched a police officer grab the individual by the collar and then slam him to the ground. It caused Constantine to turn his head back, catching his mother veering off from Marsella with one of her typical smirks. “I told her to stay away from Marsella,” Constantine stated in frustration.

“...I heard Zoe called Marsella a whore and cursed her when Jason divorced her,” Anastasia shuddered. “I feel bad for your mom...she's had it rough.”

“I always wished things had been easier for her,” Constantine sighed, but kept smiling and occasionally waved to the crowd. “She comes off strongly, but she has good intentions.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Watching the spectator get slammed to the ground, Anastasia remarked that “oh look, at least one person already got through the police...imagine that.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her cousin the Emperor of Ghant ride up a little closer in order to get a closer look at the incident.

“They could have been pushed through by others for all we know,” Constantine turned to see Nathan approach the mess and Leo follow after his brother.

“Nathan,” Leo carefully guided his horse towards his brother. “Come on, let the police do their job.”

“...All it takes is one,” Nathan explained to his brother. “One man, brother...just one.” Looking ahead, he began to get his horse closer and closer to Constantine. “We should stay close to your cousin…”

“As long as it gets you away from all of this commotion,” Leo said as he continued to follow his brother in approaching Constantine. “Imagine what people in Ghant would think of me if one of them got too close and I just stood around.”

As the two brothers reached Constantine and Anastasia, they were finally making the turn from the Via Appia onto the Via Sacra. By their appearances, most in the crowd appeared to be enjoying themselves and cheering as the Emperor marched past, but the crowd was clearly at the thickest any of them would have seen along the procession. Just before Leo could get within earshot of his cousins, he could hear “Nizt! Nizt” being loudly shouted from a portion of the crowd.

Feeling a sense of unease, Nathan rode his horse close to Constantine, and pulled up beside him. “The crowd is thick here.” Behind him, Prince Paul rode on his horse with a look of alertness, and Teresa made her way closer on her mare, with a narrowed look of purpose on her face.

Anastasia, riding on the other side of Constantine, from Nathan, raised her eyebrows in alarm and asked “what’s nizt mean?”

“I don’t know,” Leo shook his head. “It sounds…Gelonian maybe?”

“What did you see going on over there?” Constantine asked Nathan, making the turn onto the Via Sacra. He looked forward to the crowd again, watching at least three individuals start pushing others. One of the three was pushed into a police officer, causing the officer to fall to the ground and the nearby officers to rush to that position and leaving their posts sparsely guarded.

With police, and what Praetorians were around, occupied, a man rushed out into the street towards Emperor Constantine. As the man ran, he reached to the back of his pants revealing a gun. He aimed at Constantine and shouted “Saorza!” as he pulled the trigger.

“Constantine!” Anastasia called out, while Nathan wheeled his horse around and got as close as he could to the Latin Emperor as soon as he saw the man reach for the gun. As the gun was drawn, Nathan vaulted off of his horse and tackled Constantine, sending both of the Emperors crashing down onto the paved street.

The gunshot caused chaos to erupt on the streets, and Praetorians to rush the gunman. He managed to fire two quick shots at Constantine while Nathan had pushed the Latin Emperor to the ground and away from the bullets. A third shot was fired, though was sent widely into the air as the gunman was rushed from all sides by Praetorians with their own weapons drawn.

Prince Paul jumped down from his horse with his sword drawn, and ran into the throng of Praetorians where the assassin was being swarmed, other Ghantish retainers in tow. Anastasia jumped down from her horse, while Teresa’s mare reared backward while she tried to force her forward towards the two emperors on the ground.

After watching his brother leap at Constantine, Leo lept off his own horse. He drew his gun and rushed around for a better shot at the gunman. But by the time Leo was ready to pull the trigger he saw Praetorian Prefect Santella rush at the assassin on horseback. The Prefect had his sword drawn and cut the man down before any further shots could be fired, causing further shrieks from the already panicked crowd.

Prefect Santella leaped down from his horse afterwards and shout orders at the Praetorians and police, causing Leo to rush towards his brother and Constantine. “Have they been hit?” he asked those around the two fallen and seemingly lifeless emperors.

Anastasia was the one who answered. “Constantine hit his head,” she yelled, cradling his unconscious body, before looking in horror at her cousin. “Nathan has been shot!”

Leo shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “We need to get them to the hospital,” he said as another gunshot went off in the distance. He turned to get a look around and saw the soldiers marching behind them in the procession rush forward and begin to attend to the crowd and make a perimeter. Santella had started making his way over to the Emperors with Fontieus taking command and giving more orders.

Princess Maria rushed over next, tired and out of breath, with Lady Zoe not far behind. “Oh my God, what happened?” the Princess said as she began to shake. “Kostas…Nathan,” she leaned over.

“Princess you need to move,” Prefect Santella made his way to the two Emperors followed by maybe two dozen Praetorians rushing around and through the Imperials to attend to the fallen men with police sirens becoming more and more clear.

Anastasia moved away while Paul closed in to check on the fallen Emperor of Ghant. Teresa sat there on the back of her horse staring wide-eyed, while Marsella rode up to see what was going on, only for her face to drain of color once she realized what had happened. “God be good,” she stammered as she took it all in.

“No, no, no,” Lady Zoe pushed through everyone in her path to reach her son. Before she could get close Prefect Santella grabbed ahold of her and she began to cry, “Let me go,” as a standard military truck pulled up to the scene.

“We need to get them to the hospital, my Lady,” Santella told her. The rest of his men picked up the wounded Emperors and lifted them into the truck, allowing it to speed away to safety.

“How the fuck did that man get through?” Leo approached the Prefect, who let Zoe free once the truck had begun to drive off. He walked towards Santella, breathing heavily, with his hands shaking.

“I don’t know, it appears they made a distraction and rushed through,” Santella said in the hopes of staving off anything Leo was likely going to say.

“You don’t know…The Praetorian Prefect doesn’t know how a fucking, raving mad gunman managed to push through, shoot my brother and try to shoot Constantine,” Leo stopped, standing eye-to-eye with Santella.

“Sir, I understand you’re upset right now but…” Santella began to stammer.

“But what? You did all you could? Do you want me to believe that?” Leo began to raise his voice to a near yell.

“You can believe anything you like, your Highness,” Santella appeared nervous, but continued anyway. “Being upset with me won’t change anything.”

Leo bared his teeth, and quickly grabbed the Prefect by the collar. “Leo,” he heard Princess Maria say behind him.

“And my brother taking that bullet just saved you from failing to do your job twice,” Prince Leo said as he held onto the Prefect, soon after letting him go and walking back towards Maria and the others.

The Ghantish present scrambled to recompose themselves, Anastasia chief among them. “...He took a bullet for Constantine,” she informed the others. “In the chest.”

Leo looked to Anastasia and then shouted, “Celus,” to get the attention of the Urban Prefect, his former Legate. The Prefect arrived almost instantly, “We need to get to the hospital, have cars, any car sent around.”

“Already on their way, sir,” Fontieus nodded to Leo.

“Sir, the Imperial family must return to the Palace. That is the protocol, that is where it’s safest for them. For all of you,” Prefect Santella mouthed off again.

“I am not a member of the Imperial family, so I may go where I please,” Leo replied, though kept his back facing the Prefect. “And anyone that is willing may come to the hospital.”

As Leo finished speaking, the first two cars arrived. Then he added, “Marsella, can you take the children back to the Palace?”

Marsella nodded. “Let’s go,” she told her children. “Back to the palace.”

“...I will go to the hospital,” Anastasia said firmly. “I was with them when this happened and I will see the matter through.

“So will I,” Teresa agreed.

“And me,” finished Paul, the three of them exchanging looks between each other. “Birds of a feather must flock together,” he said, with the women nodding in agreement.

Leo allowed Marsella and the younger children to have the first car so they could get to the safety of the palace. After he saw them into the car, he followed after his cousins and Teresa who were already being filed into the next vehicle. Before he could enter he was approached by Zoe and Selene, who had been consoling one another since the assassination attempt occurred.

Zoe glared at Leo intensely, making Leo stand uncomfortably until Selene moved to give him a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and started to cry, “We would like to come with you.”

“I’ll wait for the next car and go with them,” Princess Maria joined in. “You go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” the Ghantish present spoke words in agreement that they would do the same. At that, Leo nodded and got into his car so they could reach the hospital.

[Ghant]

“The Ring”
St. Maria National Hospital
Velia, Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Lacus Magni)

The car sped through the city with a police escort, not stopping for any other traffic or obstacles. Looking out the window, one could see the police and Praetorians pushing their way through the city to assert control and apprehend dissenters or what appeared to be any possibly suspects. One instance of this was when looking out Leo saw one Praetorian with his guns drawn at a handful of pedestrians with their hands up in the air, and another preparing to make an arrest.

All were silent in the cramped car as it took a sharp turn onto the next street, causing all within to lean into one another. Moments later the hospital was in sight, and as they neared the facility it became clear that the building was surrounded by armed Praetorians. The car kept it’s quick pace until coming up to the emergency entrance of the hospital, only slowing down as it pulled around to the guards. Leo was the first to exit, hardly waiting for the car to completely stop.

“Where are they?” he asked the guard who received them, Latins and Ghantish alike.

“Third floor, Your Highness. Doctor Vera is expecting you,” the guard replied as Leo turned to see the others exiting the car after him.

The group from the first car quickly made their way to the third floor of the hospital, and were joined by Selene and Lady Zoe soon after. It was there they were met by a woman in a white lab coat and medical scrubs that would have otherwise been a royal blue if it weren’t for the markings of blood spotted along them. “Welcome, I’m Doctor Antonia Vera,” she stated. “I’ve been charged with the care of Their Majesties. I know you have a great many questions, but first I need to know if anyone here shares blood type with the Emperor of Ghant.”

“He’s O negative,” Paul responded disappointedly. “The universal donor...but can only receive that very same blood type.” Both Teresa and Anastasia shook their heads, the latter of the two looking down at the floor afterward.

“I’m hoping we can make do with what we have, but he has lost a great deal of blood. And he is heading into surgery as we speak,” the Doctor frowned. “As for the Emperor, he remains unconscious and we are prepping him for a CT scan.”

Dr. Vera turned away to leave, but stopped to say something more. “There is a chapel on the floor above if you would like to go pray. Hopefully I’ll have some good news for you shortly.”

“Someone should tell his wife,” Selene suggested after Doctor Vera walked away towards the emergency room. “She deserves to know.”

“This needs to be handled carefully,” Anastasia said pointedly to the others. “We don’t want a media shitshow getting any worse than it’s already like to get. So why don’t we just wait and see what’s going on before we take our next step.”

“...I agree,” nodded Teresa. “There’s no point in spreading this around just yet.”

Selene shook her head and mumbled something quietly to her mother, but Zoe only shushed her daughter. Zoe took Selene by the arm, likely to find out some more information about Constantine.

“So you say we do nothing? I can’t do that,” Leo stood there with his hands at his hips and an angry look on his face. “There has to be something I can do for him.”

“Pray,” Paul answered. “Pray, cousin...things will not be well in Ghant should the Emperor perish. Not with Cassandra holding the reins of imperial power.”

Leo gave no response, only sighing in frustration as he shook his head before walking away from the main group.

“He’s not going to die,” Maria added with a weak voice. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes briefly. “Maybe we should go pray. Or maybe we should just wait here. Maybe the doctor will be back…what if she needs us for something and we’re gone,” she began to ramble on.

“Let’s wait here,” Teresa spoke gently to the clearly distraught Maria. “For when the doctor comes back.”

Maria sat and waited, just like the others, though Leo was sulking off by himself, and Selene and Zoe were nowhere in sight. After waiting for nearly twenty more minutes, Doctor Vera appeared once more, followed another doctor who was holding something in her hands. The sight of the doctor caused Maria to stand, and saw Leo finally rush over and rejoin the others. The doctor and her associate stopped when they came to the Imperials, with Doctor Vera being the first to speak.

She took a deep breath, and pursed her lips momentarily, then said, “Surgery was successful in removing the bullet fragments; however, The Emperor of Ghant has stopped breathing on his own, and his heart has stopped beating in a regular fashion. He remains on life support, but otherwise is clinically dead,” the doctor paused while her assistant handed Leo his brother’s clothing and belongings. “I’m so sorry.”

Maria’s hands instantly covered her mouth as she gasped so loudly the whole floor might have heard. And Leo was shocked, his face going pale while he slumped down into a nearby chair. “Dead…are you certain?” he said to the doctor but only looked forward and through everything in his line of sight as he grasped onto his brother’s belongings.

“I am, your Highness. We’ve done everything we can for him. His fate is in God’s hands now,” the Doctor said quietly before moving away to give the family space.

Anastasia covered her mouth and began to sob slightly, while Paul hung his head in shame. Teresa frowned, but otherwise remained calm. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”

“I should have been there…I told him not to worry and I ignored him. If I listened, I could have stopped this,” Leo’s eyes flickered for a rare moment as he went silent and gripped his brother’s belongings tightly. As he gripped he felt something in a pocket, causing him to reach for it. When he pulled out what he felt, he saw it was a black ring, lined with gold on the band. He held it out in his hand, thinking it was Nathan’s wedding band.

The light caught it in such a way that Teresa noticed it’s gleam. She gasped, and then shuddered, before taking a few steps towards it. “...Where’d you get that?” she asked Leo.

“Get what, his wedding ring?” Leo replied without thinking. “It was in his pocket.”

“...That’s not his wedding ring, Leo.” Teresa approached it, and stared intensely at it for a few moments before speaking again. “This ring is named Eraztunbeltzak...the ring of spirits. It belonged to my grandfather, the Mad Emperor of Ghant, and was lost when he died. He found it in the north during the Third Mazadar War, and it is said to be a ring of great power. I had hoped I’d never see the cursed thing again.”

“If it was lost, why did Nathan have it?” Leo stated, briefly looking towards Maria only to see her crying.

Teresa shook her head. “I don’t know...did you ever see him wear it?” she asked him as she grabbed him by his collar. “Please tell me you never saw him wear that ring.”

“I...I don’t know,” Leo shook his head and brushed her hands off of him gently. “I had hardly seen him for months until he arrived a few weeks ago.”

Exhaling deeply, Teresa replied, “that’s a good sign.” Looking to everyone present, she said “we need to take his body back to the palace...the sooner the better.”

“What are you on about right now? A ring?” Leo stated as Maria finally had enough and walked away. “My brother just died and you’re talking about some silly ring.”

“You don’t understand,” Teresa shook her head. “He’s dead...but not dead dead.”

Leo snorted and shook his head before standing up. He closed his hand around the ring and said, “Aye, the doctor says he needs an act of God. When was the last time you saw one of those?”

“...The last time I saw that ring, actually,” she said to him sternly. “If you want to bury your brother in the ground and deal with the the succession politics in Ghant, go ahead and do nothing. But if you want to actually save your brother...then you’ll secure his fucking body and take it to the palace. Do you understand?”

The Prince put his hand, and the ring, in his pocket and nodded. “I’ll go talk to the Doctor about moving him,” he said before walking away.

Just as Leo started to walk away, Selene came running out from a hallway further down the way. Once she saw the others, she slowed to a walk and approached while she tried to hide a smile. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“He’s dead,” Anastasia answered sadly.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” Selene’s smiled faded. “…Kostas is awake. He wanted to see you…and Nathan and Leo at some point.”

Anastasia turned to Leo. “We should go see Constantine. He will want to know.”

Leo had stopped and turned around when he noticed Selene. He listened to her speak and then to Anastasia and smiled momentarily before saying, “I’ll speak with the doctor and be right there. I promise.”

“Go,” Maria told Leo. “I’ll talk to the doctor. Teresa, could you join me?”

“I shall,” the Dowager Empress agreed.

Paul on the other hand, stiffened his back and said “I’ll wait here while the rest of you go about your affairs.”

Leo nodded and followed Selene with Anastasia, where she led the two to Constantine’s room. She led them down the hall, and turned a corner to find a door flanked by two Praetorians. As they approached, Zoe exited the room with her head held high and said, “The doctors said to try to speak softly and slowly for now.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” the Ghantish Princess inclined her head towards Zoe and walked with Selene and Leo. “...this day...has been insane. I’m having a hard time just wrapping my head around it.”

Selene stopped at the door near her mother and allowed Leo and Anastasia to go in and see Constantine. When they stepped inside, Constantine was laying in the bed with his eyes closed. His head was wrapped in bandages, though primarily in the area where his head hit the pavement. “I thought they said he was awake?” Leo said quietly to Anastasia once they walked in and saw the Latin Emperor.

“I am awake,” Constantine groaned while slowly opening his eyes. He tried to sit up in the bed, but eventually just laid back down. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Anastasia answered the Latin Emperor as she took his hand. “Everything happened very quickly...we’re just glad you’re okay.”

Constantine gave Anastasia’s hand a light squeeze. “Just a bump on the…head,” the Emperor winced a weak smile, followed by a deep breath. “Is everyone else back home?”

“Nearly. A handful came here with us,” Leo gave a half-hearted smile. His eyes shifted to Anastasia and then back to Constantine, though paused before saying, “But it’s good to see you up so soon.”

“Aye, it would be better if my head wasn’t…throbbing though,” Constantine said, though his eyes struggled to stay open. He sighed and managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see Leo acting oddly. “You’re hiding something.”

“Nathan…he was shot, Constantine,” Leo said.

Constantine narrowed his eyes, he appeared confused and took a moment before speaking. “Wh…what do you mean he was shot?” How did it….I mean, is he alright?”

Leo took a deep breath, with his eyes fluttering as he looked briefly towards the ceiling of the hospital room. “He’s dead. We’re, we’re seeing if we can take him to the palace.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Constantine’s confusion quickly changed to a look of defeat. “It’s my fault…if I would have pushed harder, this wouldn’t have,” he winced and felt his head with his free hand before continuing, “happened.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for this,” Anastasia reassured him, teary eyed with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, or any of ours either. Terrible things like this...they just happen, and there’s nothing we can do about it other than adapt after the fact.”

Constantine placed his hand atop Anastasia’s, and closed his eyes with a shake of his head. “It’s not right,” Constantine mumbled. “Did they catch the shooter? Who was it…why did they want to shoot your brother?”

“No, Santella split him in two,” Leo stood still, with little emotion showing on his face. “Do you not remember what happened? No one’s said anything?”

“He hit his head on the fall,” the Ghantish Princess answered. “He’s like to sustain a concussion, at least” Looking back at Leo, she further explained that “We need to figure out what we are doing. I doubt this country can take another imperial fiasco. Hopefully the doctors will let you come back to the palace.”

“He’s the Emperor. If he wants to return home, they’ll let him,” Leo replied and then lowered his voice some. He looked up and ran his hand over the back of his neck, “What we’re doing is we’re taking him and Nathan back, and then we make sure everyone is following their orders. It would do some good to at least tell the press Constantine is alive and well. Then we inform Ghish. We need to tell them something. Surely someone in Ghant was watching on television when Nathan was shot.”

“They saw the Emperor jump off his horse,” Anastasia countered with a pointed finger. “Tell the press he’s in intensive care for injuries sustained in the parade attack. If he’s well and truly dead, then we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Fine,” Leo shook his head then looked to Constantine, only to see the Latin Emperor labor to lean forward in his bed. “I’ll get everyone else together, you deal with his mother.”

“...I’ll do my best.” Sighing heavily, Anastasia looked to Constantine and said “I’ll stay here with you...you’re mother will no doubt return here soon to check on your condition.”

“Good,” Constantine said to Anastasia, then laid back down in his bed just before Leo turned to leave. Just before his cousin opened the door, the Emperor said, “Leo, I’m sorry.”

Leo already had his hand on the doorknob, though before he left the room, he revealed a weak smile and nodded his head. He found Zoe waiting just outside of the room, as if she was waiting for him to leave. The way she glared at him never changed, and reminded him of his first day in Latium nearly twenty years before. And just as he always had, Leo stared right back at her; though this time he saw something different in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to speak, or was at least contemplating it. Leo stood just outside for a moment longer until he walked away without a word.

Waiting until Leo stormed off, Zoe entered her son’s room to find him laying in bed with Anastasia close by. “Are you feeling better?” she asked her son.

“Mother…” Constantine said with an air of confusion. “I thought you’d be home.”

Zoe’s face went weak, and she shed a small tear just as her son reached for Anastasia’s hand. “I needed to make sure you were safe,” she said and turned to Anastasia. “What were the three of you discussing just now?”

“...We were informing the Emperor that the Emperor of Ghant died taking a bullet for him,” Anastasia explained. “The same Emperor of Ghant that you so despise, died so your son could live. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.” There was a certain tinge of acid in her voice as she spoke.

Zoe softly bit her tongue as she thought on her response then said, “You had better watch your tone. My son doesn’t need to hear any of this right now. If you truly care about him, you’ll accept that.”

“Don’t argue,” Constantine stated, which quieted his mother. “The last thing…thing I want is the two of you to fight.”

“...No one is fighting.” Standing up from the edge of the bed, Anastasia pointed out that “he needs to hear it, and that’s why I said it. Let’s not kid ourselves, relations between our countries, and indeed our families, have not been good for some time. Too many egos, too many personalities, too many intrigues. That’s all done with now that my cousin died to ensure peace in this country. I’ve already accepted that...I hope you can too.”

“I don’t care our countries, I don’t care about our families…only my children,” Zoe snapped back without much thought before catching herself. “After all those years, all the shame I felt, and all gossip I suffered, I never wished your cousin dead. Either him or his brother really. And I certainly never wanted to witness what I witnessed today,” she paused and looked to her son, who appeared to understand what was happening, but looked tired. She turned back to Anastasia and continued, “But I am not ungrateful for what he did for my son, nor am I ignorant of the threats the two of you face, the threats we all continue to face.”

Anastasia nodded solemn understanding. “And we shall face down those threats, rest assured. If there were others responsible for this attack, then I’m sure they will be dealt with swiftly.” the princess sat back down on the edge of the hospital bed again, and exhaled deeply.

“Oh, they will,” Zoe nodded in agreement. “That I’m sure of.”

“Mother, could you tell the doctor I’m going to the Palace,” Constantine tried to sit up in the bed once more, and rested his back against his pillow.

“When, tonight?” Zoe cocked her head to the side.

“No, right now,” Constantine said, turning to look at Anastasia.

His mother narrowed her eyes, shifting them from Constantine to Anastasia, and then back to her son. “Sweetheart, the doctors say you have a concussion at a minimum. Stay in bed, you need to rest. It won’t do you well to be up and about so quickly,” she said, and then looked to Anastasia. “Please tell him, he needs to rest.”

“Stop it!” Constantine raised his voice. He took in a deep inhale and closed his eyes, releasing his breath slowly. “I’m sorry,” he lowered his voice and continued, “We’re going home. Find Prefect Santella, and tell the doctors.”

“He can rest at the palace,” Anastasia reassured Zoe in a much more polite tone of voice. “I’ll make sure of that, you have my word.”

“I’ll go find the doctor then,” Zoe smiled to the pair before exiting the room.

Elsewhere, Prince Leo went to find out what Maria was able to work out so they could move Nathan to the palace. Soon enough he found Maria, with Teresa, just outside of the room where Nathan was on life support. “Any luck?”

“...They can pack him up for us,” Teresa replied, in reference to the Ghantish Emperor. “Discreetly, we move him from here to the palace, and once there, we’ll need a good room to take him. Preferably someplace naturally dark, quiet and not easily accessible. Do you know of such a room in the palace?” she asked.

“The chapel, maybe the tunnels leading to the crypt…it would be harder to get him there though,” Leo shook his head. “Is he inside?”

“Yes,” Maria began to tear up again, and cleared a running tear from her cheek.

Leo took a deep breath and walked into Nathan’s room. Inside, Leo saw nurses and a doctor gathering their medical supplies and utensils, while another nurse readied a portable bed to ease the transfer of Nathan from the hospital. “I told your cousin and the older woman that this is a poor idea,” Doctor Vera said to Leo as he watched two more nurses move from the bed to Nathan’s motionless, seemingly lifeless body, where they began to delicately move him to the new bed. “We are best equipped to handle his care here and if need be carry out his last rites.”

“…You already said you’ve done all you can,” Leo shook his head, watching his brother’s arm dangle off the side of the bed before the nurse lifted it back up and secured the body to the bed.

“That’s right,” the Doctor nodded her head and stepped out of the way as nurses pushed Nathan out the door on the portable bed.

“What difference does it make where he goes?” Leo said, then walked out of the room where Praetorian guards took over for the nurses and began to walk Nathan’s body to an exit.

Paul checked the dead Emperor’s pulse, and his heartbeat. “He is well and truly dead,” he lamented to the others. “He has no pulse, no heartbeat...he’s gone.”

Pursing her lips as she stared at the Emperor’s corpse, Teresa exhaled deeply as she turned her gaze towards towards the exit. “It will make all the difference,” she told them. “We go to the crypt.”

“No, take him to the palace,” Leo chimed in to correct Teresa. “I’ll direct the drivers to an out-of-sight entrance. Constantine,” he turned to look at Constantine seated in the wheelchair, “Constantine, or I, can ensure no eyes when and get him somewhere below and secure.”

“...Very well,” the Dowager Empress answered. “That is where we shall go then.”

“This is insane,” Anastasia shook her head. “I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. Are you sure about all this, Aunt Teresa?”

Prince Paul raised an eyebrow at his cousin and asked her “do you know anything about any of this, Anastasia?”

“I don’t know anything,” she answered bluntly. “This...whatever the hell it is, is shit that I’ve never heard about in my entire life. It sounds absolutely crazy.”

The Dowager Empress nodded as she turned her eyes towards the ground. “I’m sure. This is what must be done.” the Emperor’s body was loaded into the back of a van, while the others climbed into various black sedans. From there, they would head to the Palace of the Augustus.

[Lacus Magni]

“Chaos”
Melisende
Via Appia
Velia, Castellum ab Alba

While nearly every other member of the Imperial party continued on to the streets for the parade procession, Crown Princess Melisende of Sydalon accompanied her grandmother, Empress Diana Augusta, to the viewing box. Though Diana had decided to forgo the procession portion of the parade due to health concerns, Melisende did at the suggestion of her security detail before she departed from — not to mention her own personal feelings of the parade, which were less than favorable.

After being directed to a state car, Melisende and Diana quickly reached the viewing box. It was a large, temporary structure built for the Review of the Army and parade procession. The Imperial box offered a great view not only of Via Sacra, but also Via Appia – two of Castellum’s most ancient roadways. As they waited for the main Imperial party to catch up, Melisende kept Diana company. They were able to take in the great view of the Palace of Augustus looming atop the Palatine Hill to the north, reaching above the Senatorial viewing box directly across the street from the Imperials. Seated behind them in the viewing box were members of the Emperor’s Privy Council, including some older generals that Melisende didn’t know and the man who introduced himself as Laurentius Verruscosi, “the Emperor’s cousin” when she said she didn’t know who that was. Even though I did.

“You haven’t been to Latium in some time, isn’t that right?” Diana asked Melisende after the two were shown to, and helped into their seats by nearby Praetorians. Diana weakly raised her arm while waiting for a response, and briefly waving to the crowds from the Imperial box. Though 83 years old, Diana had alway appeared to be in good health, as far as I can recall Melisende thought to herself before responding as she took in the sight of her grandmother smiling to the crowds below.

“Nearly four years I believe,” Melisende replied with some surprise as to how long it had been, as she ran her hands over the top of thighs, brushing her knee-length, cream colored dress to either side. Previously smiling, it now faded into a plain, emotionless glare towards the Senatorial box across the street, “I was here with Grandfather and his wife…it was before he took to regency.”

“There was a boy with you, wasn’t there?” Diana stopped waving and took to lean back in her seat some, though still clearly aware of keeping a proper posture. Mother always said Empress Diana was the epitome of elegance…even in her old age it seems.

“My brother perhaps?” Melisende mentioned shortly in a feigned ignorance. “I know Maurice was hoping to see Maria, so he came along.”

“No, no, no,” Diana waved her hand to shrug the answer off. “Not my grandson. This boy’s name was Go…Godf…”

Melisende placed her elbow on the curule seat’s armrest, soon resting her head against her hand as she sighed. “Oh, you mean Godfrey,” she said unenthusiastically.

“Yes, that was it,” Diana nodded, unaware of Melisande's. “He was very handsome as I recall. Why hasn’t he accompanied you for this trip?”

Melisende lifted her head from her hand, regaining her cool and collected demeanor that she had quickly become known for in her home country of Sydalon. “We’re not together any longer,” she looked to Diana with a smile before turning her attention towards the crowd.

“Oh,” Diana said with a sigh, also turning her attention back to the crowd. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Looking at the crowd in front of her, Melisende simply smiled with a nod in reply to Diana. On the street below them, a growth in police and Praetorian presence became clear, of course meaning that the Emperor and the Imperial party was nearing the end of the parade procession. And following the forward reaching security detail, the sound of trumpets, drums and other instruments blaring ancient marching sounds and melodies of the Latin legions echoed through the streets long before the Latin Emperor could enter view of the Imperial viewing box.

But for as loud as the melodies and sounds of the marching men and the crowd was, the shout of a man yelling “Nizt,” pulled her attention to the intersection of Via Sacra and Via Appia. “Oh look, here they come,” she tapped Diana on the arm. Melisende rose, quickly helping Diana up from her seat, and together they approached the edge of the box nearest to the street for a better view.

Around the corner, the Latin Emperor was the first to come into view, wearing his decorated black military uniform and purple pallium cloak. As they were making the turn to Via Appia, they watched as the Ghantish Emperor pulled up awfully close to Emperor Constantine. In fact, most of the riders near Emperor Constantine, and the woman who had been accompanying him throughout the day, had begun to tighten up around Constantine; though only Emperor Nathan got so close with it appearing as Prince Leo was still attempting to catch up after veering close to the side of the street, Clearly showing off and loving his new found fame.

“What’s going on over there?” Diana stated, though Melisende didn’t see anything as she was focused on the Latin Emperor and the others turning the corner onto Via Appia. The elderly Diana raised her arm and pointed to the crowds where police appeared to have an individual pinned to the ground. “Right over there…oh God.”

Melisende turned her gaze away from Diana and to where she was pointing. By the time the Sydalene princess looked back she saw a single man rushing forward in the street with his arm pointing at Emperor Constantine. Her hand immediately covered her mouth as she saw a man in a black uniform and cloak vault off of his own horse and push Emperor Constantine to the ground. As the pair were falling to the ground, the sound of a loud blast – a gunshot – reached Melisende’s ears. She and Empress Diana both ducked and looked around frantically. Then another gunshot, followed by another were heard as Melisende felt a pull on her arm. She spun her head around wildly, finding the Praetorians stationed in the Imperial box rushing towards her, Diana, and all the other VIPs situated in the box.

“What’s happening?” Diana muttered as Praetorians began to push the heads of all VIPs down and begin to move them from the box. But no one answered Empress Diana as they all rushed towards the minimal box steps, finding an influx of Praetorians armed with military gear and automatic weapons. All the VIPs from the box were surrounded and pushed through the crowds as other guards and police began pushing the crowds as far away as possible. Before Melisende knew it, she, Diana, and Laurentius had found their way into what looked like the Official State Car.

“Are you two alright?” Laurentius asked each of them, though primarily was looking towards Diana as the most senior of the group. Before anyone could answer they jolted forward as the car sped off. But Melisende nodded, as did Diana, though she held her hand to her heart.

Laurentius leaned forward and pounded on the glass divider between the driver and passengers. “Where are we going?” he said loudly.

“Palace,” the driver said through an intercom, as Melisende could see they were nearing the Palatine Hill. “The Emperor was attacked.”

They all remained silent until they drove past the gates at the Hill’s base, and quickly ascended to it’s top and the Palace entrance. All around the grounds guards were moving into position, even the Praetorians in the car had their radios going off, with the words “Emperor…shot twice.” Constantine she thought.

“…Fuck,” Laurentius slammed his fist against the side of the door when he head the words sound out of the Praetorians radio. His head fell into his hands while Diana only appeared confused at everything that was happening, and Melisende attempted to comfort her. The car quickly drove past the main entrance of the palace, continuing towards the rear of the structure and the covered, back entryway.

The car came to an abrupt stop just feet away from the door and underneath the covered drive. Melisende took notice of Laurentius’s anxiousness, the man’s hands were shaking and he looked like he only wanted to run out of the car and find out what was going on. “I need to get to the Council chambers…speak with people,” Verruscosi said.

He even made a move to be the first out, but Melisende quickly thrusted her arm forward and slammed her hand against the seat to block Laurentius’s path. “She goes first,” Melisende looked Verruscosi right in the eye and spoke of Diana.

Laurentius narrowed his eyes at her, biting his lower lip, but Melisende turned her attention to Diana just as guards opened the car door. A guard offered his hand to Diana, and Melisende followed the elderly Empress out of the car and offered her arm as they walked into the building. “What is happening, commander?” Diana asked the guard escorting her and Melisende into the Palace.

“The Emperor was attacked, Your Majesty,” the Praetorian told her.

“We heard gunshots,” Melisende added as they stepped into the building and Laurentius sprinted past them. “Is Emperor Constantine…”

“No, your Highness, he only fell from his horse. Or rather, was pushed as the gun was fired,” the guard told them, leading them to an elevator and pressing the up button. “He is alive, however, and receiving medical care. Now, please,” he motioned to the elevator and followed the two women in.

The elevator skipped the second floor, and was coming upon the third as Diana said, “What of my son? Any news of him?”

“The Duke of Boroea?” the Praetorian seemed confused. “He isn’t in the city, ma’am.”

“No, my eldest. Jason. Is he alright?” Diana added with added vigor.

Melisende soon joined the guard in a shared state of confusion, looking at the man as he searched for an answer. She shook her head at the guard, but he began to answer all the same,“Ma’am, Emperor Jason…”

“Oh, would you look at that. We’re here already,” Melisende said as the elevator doors slid open. She looked to the guard and said, “Could you bring a phone, I’m sure Her Majesty would be interested in calling the hospital to check on her grandson.”

“Yes, I would,” Diana shuffled out of the elevator and towards the door of her temporary suite in the palace. Melisende went to open the door and Diana added, “I would also like for someone to tell me where my son is.”

“Of course, Avia Didi,” Melisende followed the elderly, abdicated Empress into the commons room of the suite where she would begin to wonder what exactly was happening on the streets below.

---

Pompilius

In the Senatorial viewing booth, the Consul sat in the position of honor, as was befitting any Consul of Latium by their role as the primus inter pares, or first among equals, in the Emperor’s Government. Consul Alexander Pompilius sat with his wife, Sophia, to his right, and his daughter and only child, Anna, seated to his left. Behind him were other VIPs including the Belisarian High Commissioner Florentine Verruscosi, who as luck would have it was the Latin Emperor’s uncle; Senator Alexandra Sulpicia; Opposition Leader Flavia Lepera, just to name a few. But they all sat behind the Consul, a man who finally achieved what he had sought his entire career, or perhaps as a goal he set so long ago as a child he couldn’t even recall the exact moment.

Born the son of an illiterate and impoverished farmer, Alexander Pompilius had risen to a level unheard of for any man or woman of his station, now ranking only below that of the Crown itself. The Senatorial class was difficult for most to even enter, let alone rise to the top of, but for Pompilius that wasn’t enough. The recent succession crisis exposed a weakness in the Imperial office, and Pompilius saw early on that the chaos following Emperor Jason’s death could prove to be quite the boon. Pressing for a triumph, or even this victory parade was simply just the first of many steps.

“Father, I thought there were chariots in a triumph,” the Consul’s, soon-to-be, nineteen year-old daughter stated once Emperor Constantine and the Imperial party began to round the bend and turn onto Via Appia.

“Usually, but this isn’t a triumph,” the Consul was looking away from the street and at his daughter. “Simply a parade and review of the armies…”

Pompilius was interrupted by a gunshot. It sounded close, and he flinched downward, as did his wife and daughter. Then there was another shot, followed by a third. And before he knew it, he and his family were quickly rushed by Praetorians and taken to a car parked below on Via Appia. Just as fast as the guards got the Pompilii to the car, it sped off and drove down Via Appia with a police cars soon leaving their posts near the parade procession edges and flanking the front and rear of the Consul’s car.

The Consul only briefly looked to his wife, seeing that she was holding their crying daughter. He turned towards the window, lifting his arm and resting his elbow on the side door. He faintly tapped his knuckles against the car window, watching police take control of the situation and block off the street. Pompilius kept tapping his knuckle against the car window, soon his wedding ring clicking against the glass, much to the disdain of his wife who snapped, “Must you do that now.”

“What’s going on? What happened out there, father?” Anna asked her Alexander. The Consul licked his lips, and let out a deliberate exhale to show some sympathy for his daughter’s sake, if nothing else.

“We don’t know what happened, sweetheart,” Sophia answered quickly before Alexander even had the chance.

“Those were gunshots?” Anna said, clearing a tear from her face.

“Yes, sounded like three,” Alexander stated, now working on some of the phone controls in the official Consul’s car. He quickly readied the car’s built-in phone systems and said, “Call Peter Nasidienus.”

“Did they shoot the Emperor?” Anna asked. As if I know more than she does, but maybe if we’re lucky.

“I don’t kno…” the Consul stopped and quickly shifted his focus to the phone after the call connected. “Peter, what’s going on? Do you have any information,” he asked his chief of staff.

“I don’t know much yet, sir” Peter responded, though it was becoming difficult for Alexander to keep his focus as his daughter only started speaking with greater volume in order to get an answer. “Would you be quiet!” he said to his daughter in an authoritative tone before continuing with Peter, “I did hear that Emperor Constantine is at the hospital, and I have been able to get in contact with some of the cabinet or their staffers. But that’s it for now.”

“Was he shot, Peter?” Pompilius asked. “Has the Emperor been shot?”

The phone line was silent for far too long, even to the point where Sophia said, “Did they cut communications?” But Alexander gave her a stern look, and shook his head.

“No,” Peter finally said after being silent for over a minute. “Looks like the Ghantish Emperor was though.”

“Alright, thank you. We’ll be at the residence shortly,” Pompilius said before hanging up the call. The Consul was breathing quickly, even posting his elbow back up against the window and biting his thumbnail as he thought.

“What is it?” Sophia asked Alexander, but he only looked out the window and kept thinking, watching the car pass by the familiar city blocks and near the Consul’s residence.

“Nothing,” Pompilius stated. The Consul didn’t say another word the rest of the short car ride, and as soon as it came to a stop, he exited the vehicle and found his chief of staff waiting for him at the street front.

“Sir,” Peter nodded, but the Consul walked right past him with Peter quick to follow. “The Praetorian Prefect just called…”

“Well call him back,” Pompilius replied, as a guard opened the door to the residence.

“He left a message…”

“Well, what is it?” Pompilius swung an interior door open quickly, hearing it slam against the wall as it bounced back some. “Three gun shots and everyone loses their minds. Can we please stay focused for Christ sake!”

“He said the Emperor only hit his head as he fell from his horse. He’s at Saint Maria’s right now, but the Emperor of Ghant was shot after tackling Emperor Constantine to the ground.”

“That means I’ll be getting a call from Nymun shortly…that man is insufferable,” the Consul sighed, now catching a Praetorian lurking at the door, and knocking at it to get Pompilius’s attention. “What is it?” the Consul snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sir, protocol dictates that you seek shelter in the basement until the Urban Prefect gives the all clear,” the Praetorian said.

“There was one gunman, Praetorian. One,” Pompilius slowly approached the guard, and held one finger up. He examined the man as he met him face-to-face. “I saw your Prefect cut that gunman in half. I think we’re safe just where we are. Now excuse us.”

The Consul slammed the door shut behind him, “Call the cabinet, I want an emergency meeting at the Palace, so get on the phone with the Prefect to arrange things.”

“Sir, I’ve been in touch with staff members of nearly all the Cabinet, and they’re on lock down just as we are. The last I spoke with Prefect Santella and the Urban Prefect, we were to remain in a secure location until the all clear was given,” Peter informed Pompilius, who appeared to be growing upset with the defiance he was hearing on all fronts.

Pompilius nibbled on his lower lip, and turned his head to the side. “See if you can’t arrange for us to get to the hospital instead. Go.” The Consul glided over the hardwood floor of the room and over to the large, wooden liquor cabinet and pulled a bottle whisky from the shelf and began to pour himself a glass. There was a knock at the door, causing him to groan and tilt his head towards the ceiling. “Now what is it?”

He heard the door open and close without so much of footsteps to tell him someone entered the room. “You need to take a minute to breathe, Alexander,” it was his wife. “And think everything through.”

“I am thinking,” Pompilius turned around and held his glass of whisky near his mouth, yet took no drink.

“About?” Sophia found a seat in one of the chairs spread throughout the office, it’s black leather causing her light, powder blue dress to stand out even more.

The Consul looked down at his glass and swirled it slowly. “More than you could possibly imagine,” he said with a sigh.

“The election?”

“The election,” the Consul repeated. “…Trying to make sure that this country does not collapse. That my Consulship does not collapse. That we don’t lose our heads.”

“It won’t collapse,” she stood from her seat and approached him, reaching for his glass and taking a sip from it.

“I need that election, Sophia,” Pompilius said to his wife, taking back the glass from her hands. “If this makes him change his mind now…if he still has a mind after this, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“He won’t go back on his word again. He’s already insulted our family enough, the boy isn’t that foolish,” his wife suggested. “And if he’s lost his mind and the Gentry boy becomes regent, he’s not fool enough to deny you either. You’re focusing on things that aren’t a problem. What’s really wrong, you’ve acted strange since…”

“Since I saw someone get shot?” the Consul remarked sarcastically, taking a drink from his nearly empty glass.

“Since the boy rejected Anna,” Sophia stole the glass once again, and finished what was left.

Sophia placed the glass down gave Pompilius a coy look. He eyed her and said, “If there’s something you want to ask me, ask.”

“No...nothing,” she smiled, leaning back against the liquor cabinet. “I think I know.”

The Consul clicked his teeth and ran his tongue against the inside of his lip before pouring another glass of whisky for himself. “This election, Sophia…the people don’t know what they want, or what they need. I do. I will make them believe in their wildest dreams and desires, that they will come true. We’ll hold their hands, or drag them along. I will leave a legacy, and it will be far more than sitting in that Consul’s chair when two spoiled little shits tear everything apart. My mark will be left on this country, one way or another.”

Sophia’s eyes fluttered while her head scanned the room. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could utter a word there was a knock and the Consul’s chief of staff poked his head though the now open door. “Sir, we have a car ready if you still wanted to to go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be right there,” the Consul told his chief of staff before turning to Sophia. He sighed, placed his glass down on the nearest table and sat next to his wife. “We’ll finish later if you like.”

Sophia nodded, and Alexander took her hand. “Please,” she smiled. “I do have some plans I want to run by you once this chaos subsides today.”

“Don’t be so sure it will end today,” the Consul smirked and kissed his wife on the cheek.

The Consul promptly left the room, and soon after the residence. A single guard escorted him to the car, and along with his chief of staff, the Consul quickly sped off after getting situated in the back of the car. While inside he kept quiet, not interested in speaking to Peter. Thankfully Peter had been working for the Consul long enough to know when to take a hint and left him be.

Pompilius spent the entirety of the car ride looking out the window and taking in the scenes of Castellum. The immediate area around the car was still, eerie, and quiet. Police had closed off the whole of Via Appia in the Palatine and Velia districts, though the Consul was afforded the privilege of traveling along the famed, or as today has proven…infamous, street. Police and Praetorians could be seen throughout the course of the car ride and even moreso away from the Appian where city residents could be seen in groups, though by all accounts appeared peaceful, if not concerned for the events they had only just recently witnessed.

As the car was nearing the hospital, the site of the attack briefly came within view. The area was blocked off from any non-military personnel, though it was clear that the area was being photographed and observed by investigators. The Consul even saw what appeared to be detectives speaking with people near the scene. But as quickly as it came into view, it disappeared behind the buildings when the car turned to reach St. Maria’s National Hospital.

The car came to a stop near the visitors of the hospital. There were some police outside the area, but as far as the Consul could tell there were no Praetorians. “Seem off to you?” Pompilius asked Peter.

“Sir?”

“Not an imperial guard to be seen,” Pompilius remarked while stepping out of the car and buttoning his jacket. “That doesn’t strike you as odd. They swarm around like flies on shit wherever the Emperor is.” Pompilius expected no response and only got a shrug of shoulders from his chief of staff.

The lack of Praetorians outside of the building was corrected when Pompilius entered and was approached by a member of the guard. “Your Excellency, I thought someone called you,” the guard said after bowing his head. But the Consul only looked confused. “That Caesar has returned to the Palace. They left about five, ten minutes ago.”

“They left,” the Consul repeated.

“Aye, sir, they left. For the palace.”

Pompilius sighed and grew a smile. He looked to Peter and then to the guard and said, “Thank you for your help. We’ll be off to the palace then.”

[Lacus Magni]

“Est Apollo lux”
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Ghant)

After departing from the hospital in the state car, Constantine, along with his mother, Selene and Anastasia, soon arrived at the Palace and climbed the Palatine Hill. In lieu of stopping at the main entrance, the car, and those that followed, continued on the paved path and passed under an archway that led the them around to a covered entrance near the palace gardens. As the vehicle came to a stop, the Latin Emperor looked weary, though dressed comfortably in more casual clothing opposed to the ornate uniform he wore only hours before on the streets.

A number of figures stood waiting outside of entrance waiting for the Emperor’s car to stop. And when it finally did, Prefect Santella was the first person to reach the car and open the door. The Prefect swung his hand at the others closer to the palace, afterwhich they pushed a wheelchair towards the car.

Constantine took a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t need it,” he said exiting the car after pressing up against the car door to prop himself up just to be safe. His footing appeared weak initially, but once both feet were on the ground, he felt sure footed, and Santella, along with the other Praetorans present, dropped down to one knee.

“Welcome, Caesar,” Santella said to Constantine as Zoe, Selene and Anastasia funneled out of the car next.

“Leo will be here shortly, John,” Constantine addressed the Prefect before moving towards the palace. “He’ll be busy with something. Make sure he gets whatever he needs.”

Closer to the door stood the Emperor’s cousin, Laurentius Verruscosi. He comfortably leaned against the outer wall of the building, his arms crossed with an anxious look on his face and a cigarette in his hand. As Constantine and the others approached the doors, Laurentius stood more upright and pushed back off the wall. “Caesar,” Laurentius dropped and put out his cigarette with his foot before bowing his head towards Constantine.

“Laurentius,” Constantine nodded at his cousin while approaching the door. Constantine walked slowly, through on his own through the doors of the palace.

“The councillors and I thought you would be at the hospital still, Caesar,” Laurentius added after following Constantine and the others into the palace. “We’re all relieved that you’re safe and on your feet so quickly,” he continued to follow behind Constantine. “The Ghantish, Caesar, they keep calling and we have no new information to tell them.”

“What have you said?” Constantine stopped walking and turned to face his elder cousin.

“He fell from his horse and was in surgery,” Laurentius stated, shifting his eyes to Zoe. “That’s the latest we’ve heard.”

Constantine looked to his cousin and nodded his head. “Alright,” he said nothing else and started to walk towards the residential area of the palace.

“What do we tell them?” Laurentius asked once more, but the Emperor didn’t stop walking.

“Tell them Leo or I will be in touch shortly,” Constantine said before his cousin disappeared behind him. Leo had arrived separately with Teresa, Paul and the Emperor of Ghant’s body, and were moving it to the appropriate destination.

The Latin Emperor walked unimpeded the rest of the way to the residence, the guards standing at attention as he, along with his mother and Anastasia walked past them. When he finally reached the residence he walked right to his apartment, and found everything just as he remembered it though with some food and drink atop of an ornate wheel cart near the liquor cabinet.

“Can one of you dim the lights?” he asked of either his mother or Anastasia, now resting his hands on the back of a couch. He lingered, seemingly debating whether or not he should walk to his chambers or simply move to the front of the couch.

“...Your father used to do that.” Marsella slipped through the door and looked around the Emperor’s room. “Sit in the dark when he wasn’t feeling well. I think he found it relaxing...he was always so high strung.”

“Or fuck whores,” Zoe quietly mumbled to herself, and, as usual, glared at Marsella.

“…Marsella,” Constantine turned around and saw his step-mother. “I’m glad you’re alright. How are Peter, Philip, Poly and Liv doing?”

Marsella drew a deep breath. “They are doing alright, all things considered. There’s much for them to adjust to, but then again, that’s the case for everyone.”

“Good…good,” Constantine nodded.

“You know he has a concussion, yes?” Zoe stated aloud to no one in particular after dimming the lights as her son requested. “And that might not be the worst of it.” She then looked to Constantine and added, “You need to rest.”

Marsella puckered her lips. “I know...that’s why I came to check in on him.”

Constantine nodded and finally weaved around to the couch and sat down. “Laurentius said someone from Ghish called, do you know who it was?”

“Cassandra,” answered Marsella. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be whoever took that call.”

“I should call her,” Constantine took a breath and leaned his head back. “Someone needs to tell them what we know…what happened.”

Soon after, Praetorian Prefect Santella entered the room. “Excuse me, sir. The Consul has arrived and wishes to see you.”

“Tell him to leave,” Zoe ordered. “My son has had a long day and has seen more than enough visitors for today.”

“It’s alright,” countered Marsella. “I will speak to the Consul, with your leave,” she told Constantine.

“Of course, thank you, Marsella,” Constantine said to Marsella. He looked to Anastasia and added, “Nathan left your sister in charge?”


Anastasia had been sitting off to the side, distracted on her phone. She perked up when Constantine addressed her. “Apparently...she’s a capable administrator. I wouldn’t advise talking to her right now though...I can imagine she’s not happy.”

“You can’t be thinking of calling her or doing any work in your current state, sweetheart,” Zoe again told her son. “Why don’t we let the Consul, or Laurentius, or even me deal with them for you. You can’t do it all yourself, especially now.”

“With all due respect,” Marsella pointed out, “I have a great deal of experience dealing with the Consul, and I know how to keep him at bay.”

“Oh yes, we’re all aware of…” Zoe said in a hostile, sarcastic tone.

“She’s only trying to help, mother,” Constantine closed his eyes and spoke to Zoe, causing her to silence herself and move closer to him. “Thank you for dealing with the Consul, Marsella. I appreciate the help.”

Marsella inclined her head. “You’re welcome Constantine. I hope you feel better.” She glanced coolly at Zoe before showing herself out of his room.

After Marsella left, Constantine said,“Mother could you…excuse yourself for a moment.”

“If you’d like,” Zoe’s eyes shifted from her son to Anastasia and back to her son once more. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

After Zoe had departed, Anastasia turned to Constantine. “What are you going to do? Are you going to call Cassandra?”

“What?” Constantine said confused. “I mean, I should shouldn’t I? It’s the right thing to do And…they should hear it from me, I think.”

“May as well,” she answered. “Just...don’t tell her he’s...dead...yet.”

“Why not? It’s not really something you come back from,” he leaned over to the table at the end of the couch for the nearest phone. He picked up the phone and said, “Can you get a call through to Ghish?”

Anastasia hesitated. “Don’t...wait until you’re feeling better. Just have someone say that he sustained injuries...and that’s what’s known at this time.”

“Wait, hold on,” Constantine said into the phone and thought for a moment. “Nevermind. Don’t set the call up. Thank you.”

Constantine hung the phone up and instead brought his feet up to the couch and laid there. “I’ve never felt so weak before, so helpless,” he ran his hands over his face before they came to rest on his chest. “And my head…”

“Just relax, and drink some water,” she told him. “It will pass and you’ll feel better eventually. Besides, it could have been much worse, you know.”

“I know,” Constantine closed his eyes while he grew more comfortable on the couch. “I almost…almost died, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did to make that person do what they did. And Nathan pushed me? Why would he do that?”

“...He took a bullet for you,” she told him. “If he hadn’t, you’d be dead, more than likely.”

“Why would he…? Did you see it?” he mumbled with a deep breath and paused, almost to where it appeared that he fell asleep. “Ana, if something happened…”

Anastasia cut him off as his voice trailed off. “If something happened to you, it would have been disastrous. That’s why he did it. This country would go to shit in a handbasket all over again...but now it won’t, thanks to him.”

“…I was so angry with him after that feast. It was so stupid,” Constantine thought back to the feast he hosted following the recapture of Castellum nearly a month before. There was a knock at the door, after which Constantine sighed. “I can’t even thank him now.”

The knock hit the door again, followed by Zoe opening the door and sticking her head in. “Is everything alright, Kostas?”

Constantine ran his hands over his face once more and sighed. “Mother, not right now. I really can’t handle much more right now. Could you just…could you just check on Selene or something? Maybe you can talk her out of marrying Audric.”

“Anastasia, sweetheart, you can run off if you like,” Zoe ignored her son’s requests. “I can keep an eye on him for now.”

“I should stay here,” Anastasia countered politely. “Selene is going through a lot...she could use your comfort and wisdom, as Constantine said.”

Zoe smiled and inclined her head, then shifting her eyes towards her son as he lay on the couch. She licked her lips and said, “As you wish, but if you need anything…”

“Yes, mother, I know,” Constantine quickly interjected.

Zoe took a deep breath, lifting her eyes from Constantine and focused them on Anastasia for a brief moment. She said nothing else before turning heel and exiting the room with the door slamming shut behind her.

---

It wasn’t until Constantine and the entourage that followed him into the palace disappeared that Leo ordered the driver of the military truck to pull around the palace’s rear entrance. The entrance was clear of most people or staff, with the exception of those few that Leo knew wouldn’t ask questions including Urban Prefect Fontieus.

Princess Maria had arrived in a car just before the military truck arrived, and she waited nearby when the truck stopped. She approached as Leo lept out of the front and walked around to the rear where Paul was waiting with the Ghantish Emperor. As she walked closer, she saw a man walking near, though he stopped to salute Leo, and she continued to the truck’s rear. She saw Nathan, still laying on the hospital bed inside of the truck. The Princess climbed up into the truck bed and looked to Paul, “Can I…could you give me a moment?”

Paul looked at her with sad eyes, and then he nodded. “Yes your Highness...of course.”

Maria waited until Paul hopped out of the truck bed, then pulled back the white sheet that covered him, revealing his face. She ran her hand over his forehead and and then his hair. “I’m so sorry,” she told him as tears began to stream down her cheeks. “You were right…and I was wrong to doubt you. If it weren’t…I…my family owes you so much. And I’ll miss you…so much,” she lifted his hand slightly, and then leaned down to kiss it lightly.

“You done in there?” Leo said, standing on the ground below. Maria nodded, giving a deep breath with tears still falling. Leo reached out his hand to her, helping Maria to the ground. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Maria’s hands covered her face and she walked away from the palace and to the gardens.

“Do you know where we are going?” Paul asked Leo, who while being a relation, was practically a stranger to the young Ghantish Prince. “We should get there quickly before too many people notice and start asking questions.” Paul was helping push the Emperor’s body along on a hospital cart, covered with a thin white sheet, stark naked beneath it.

“Yes,” Leo told Paul while looking at his brother’s lifeless body. “Do you have people in place so we don’t run into anyone, Celus?”

“I mean as best I could. Santella has his own shit to worry about so he won’t be a concern, but there are a lot of people here today,” Fontieus replied as they all helped move Nathan from the back of the truck. Then Fontieus got a look at the Ghantish Emperor as the hospital bed was wheeled into the building. “Jesus, is he…? I think you should have left him at the hospital. There’s nothing for him here.”

Leo said nothing, only looking around at the empty entrance and opening hallway. It was a rare sight for the hallways to be this empty, though as Leo had instructed guards were standing on the other side of every doorway and where there were no doors, stationed down the hallway to keep anyone else as far away as possible.

“You saw nothing,” Teresa spoke in Latin to Fontieus. “There are forces at work that are difficult to understand. I wish there was more I could say than that.” Turning to Leo, Teresa added that “I will need some things. Candles, incense, black ink and a paintbrush. Can you get me those things?” she asked.

“Celus, could you take care of that?” he asked the Urban Prefect of Teresa’s requests.

“Aye, ‘Highness,” Fontieus nodded. “Where…where should I bring them?”

“Do you know the old wine cellar near the entrance to the residence?” Leo asked and Fontieus nodded. “Bring it there, someone will be inside waiting.”

And with his orders, Fontieus went off to gather the required materials while Leo watched his brother be pushed along the empty hallways of the Palace of Augustus. There was little in their path as the hospital cart was turned down one hallway and then another before finally reaching the old wine cellar Leo mentioned to Prefect Fontieus. Leo motioned to one of the few Praetorians that accompanied them through the halls, and the guard handed Leo a ring of keys.

The Prince tried one key, though it didn’t work. He did this again, and again, until on the fourth try he was successful and swung open the old room’s door. The floor was made of old, and worn stone, as were the steps that led down from the doorway to the floor below. Few bottles of wine were left on the nearest walls, though the wine racks remained. The room was dimly lit, with giving the room a small appearance, though where a wall would have been was only darkness, with the floor leaning towards the black.

“We’ll need to carry him down, and then we’ll almost be there,” Leo stated to Paul, Teresa and the sole Praetorian. He looked to the Praetorian before getting in position to move the bed, “Flashlight.”

Once they were in position, the three men carefully moved the hospital bed down the two stone steps and placed it on the old floor. Leo flipped on the flashlight and shined it on the darkness, revealing a series of other empty wine racks and a narrow hallway leading back far longer than any could tell. “Down this way,” Leo stated, and then to the guard, “You wait here, Prefect.”

Leo led the way through the dark path, it was so narrow that there was little room for anything on the either side of the hospital bed. “I remember the first time Nathan visited after…everything,” Leo said with his flashlight fixed on the path in front of him. “Constantine and I had only found this room maybe a few weeks before Nathan’s visit and Maria suggested that I show him when he came. It leads all the way to the crypts, if you don’t lose your way.”

“We got turned around when we came down here to explore. Ended up in an old room or chamber,” Leo continued to lead them down the path in front of them as they came upon a turn, which Leo took to the right. “It was old, I think from one of the first emperors or kings of Alba before that. Carvings on the walls to Apollo and something about Nox, his nemesis.”

“He always was something of an explorer, from what I’ve gathered,” Paul pointed out to the others. “He always wanted to go to places he shouldn’t and do things others wouldn’t. It was quite the headache for his charges,” he said with a sigh. “If only he had been more...conventional.”

After turning at the fork in the path, the hallway opened up and became slightly wider, at least enough for someone to walk alongside Nathan and the hospital bed. The old hallway was silent, except for their footsteps or squeak of the bed’s wheels. “Almost there,” Leo stated, shining his flashlight against the wall, which revealed an ancient carving of a chi-rho near an opening of the wall. “What are you going to do when we get there?”

“...I’m still trying to figure that out,” Teresa answered as she walked, her eyes blazing forward into the darkness. “Put him on a table and wait for the things I asked for to arrive. There’s not much more that can be said, I’m afraid.”

“This is it,” Leo said after recognizing the old chi-rho carving as the entrance to the old room. There was no door, only an entrance, and the room was empty except for a lone wooden table and interior openings carved into the walls and other ancient carvings dug into the stone. Leo left the hospital bed in the center of the room and scanned his flashlight over the walls finding the words Est Apollo lux. “This is about as about as inaccessible and out of the way we can find in the palace. Whatever you do, I hope it works.”

A few minutes later, Leo could see light coming down from the hallway, and then it disappeared. He walked out of the dark chamber and flashed his light, speaking loudly, “Celus.” He walked out a little ways further and nearly bumped into Fontieus. “You get everything?”

“Yes,” he nodded and handed Leo a bag. “How the fuck we supposed to get out of this maze? I almost got lost just now.”

“Just wait here, alright,” Leo took the bag and walked it back to Teresa. He placed it on the ground near Nathan’s bed and said, “Here. Anything else?”

Teresa looked between Leo and Paul and said, “move him onto the table right there.” Paul nodded and pushed the bed beside the table, and then walked over to the Emperor’s feet. “You ready?”

Leo nodded and, along with Paul, lifted Nathan onto the old table and softly placed him down. “What next?”

“Paul, you go outside and make sure nobody comes in,” Teresa instructed him. “When the things I requested for arrive, you set them inside the door for me.”

Bowing slightly, Paul nodded and turned to to leave. Before he left the room, Teresa said one more thing to him. “Oh and Paul...do yourself a favor. Go talk to Catherine after this matter is through. I’d like that… and she’d like that, trust me.”

“Thank you,” Paul replied with a genuine smile and then he showed himself out. With only Teresa and Leo in the room now, she looked at the prince and exhaled deeply. “The ring,” she breathed heavily. “I need it now.”

“Oh right,” Leo felt his pockets for the ring, finding it in the breast pocket of his jacket. He pulled it out and handed it to Teresa. “Everything else you asked for is in that bag at the side. You sure you don’t need anything else?”

Teresa glanced at the bag, and then she smiled at Leo. “No, that will be all Leo, thank you.” Teresa let the ring rest against the palm of her open hand. “There will be a storm coming...see to the palace’s security. Anything to keep yourself occupied. It will be a long night.”

“Alright. Good luck,” Leo nodded and took one last look around the dark room before grabbing his flashlight off the table and walking out of the room and into the hall to find Fonteius waiting with Paul where he ordered. “Let’s go, Celus.”

Teresa, now alone in the room with Nathan’s body, set about her work.

[Lacus Magni]

“Turbulence”
Otovos
Airspace
Latin-Fabrian border

In early December of 2016, Archbishop Faustus Otovos of Castellum became one of the many prisoners Prince Michael took captive during his short stint in power. The Archbishop had been ‘invited,’ or rather had been brought at gunpoint to the Palace of Augustus during Michael’s attempt to hold Latium’s capital city hostage. His living conditions were minimal, though better than he suspected many others had during their confinement was lifted by Emperor Constantine’s forces led by Prince Leo on December 6th.

The Archbishop recalled the rumors he had heard of other prisoners such as Jordan Clementius, then People’s Tribune and the highest ranking Senator still in the capital, and even more famously Maria Tarpeia, most commonly known as the Duchess of Vindóbona or during her consulship as the Countess Rutupiae. Each rumor of the two senators later turned out to be true — death. Both had young children, and bright futures still, though Otovos knew Tarpeia far better and often provided her counsel whenever she inquired. True and faithful children of God both.

Otovos was much more fortunate for, at least in his mind, not even Michael the Mad was crazed enough to kill the Church’s most prominent clergyman inside Latium’s borders. The might of all Belisaria would have come down upon him if the people didn’t reach him first and rip him limb from limb, Otovos often told himself while he was captive in the dark rooms within the Palace. And even then, he knew that God awaited him in heaven.

In truth, the Archbishop didn’t remember being rescued. One day he was in his cell, the next he woke up in a hospital and was visited by Emperor Constantine. Otovos had known the young Emperor since he was a young boy and Prince of Adrianople, long before even Emperor Jason was on the throne. At that time, Otovos was simply an Auxiliary Bishop of Castellum. Otovos always suspected Constantine and his siblings held some degree of disdain for him, having been the individual to initially sign off on their parents divorce. Though even the Holy Father had done the same, it was something that Otovos had always wished he’s stood up to, just as Julius would have done if he were on Saint Peter’s throne then.

And that was where Otovos, and his two Praetorian companions were travelling — Fabria at the request of the Holy Father, Pope Julius IV, himself. It had been sometime since Archbishop Otovos has seen Pope Julius in person, and in fact Otovos even cast a vote for the then Cardinal and Archbishop Claudio Atillio Baglione of Adrano. In his mind, the two had been friendly with one another, though as Otovos recalled hearing from Emperor Constantine, the Pope had called them “friends.” The Emperor told Otovos, as he laid in that hospital bed over a month ago, that the Holy Father wished the he return to Fabria immediately out of the Pope’s concern for Latium’s most prestigious Archbishop.

However, knowing the Vatican as he did, Otovos suspected more was at play. I’m ripe to be replaced, he thought as the plane felt like it hit some minor turbulence, causing Otovos to feel a sharp pain at the side of his ribs. The feeling was less and less of an occurrence for the Archbishop, though it still plagued him since he left the hospital. It took the Archbishop a month to fully recover enough for the doctors charged with his primary care to release him, though any recovery was largely lengthened by his age and not necessarily due to the severity of his injuries, which were minor as far as most other were concerned…I still have my head.

The turbulence passed quickly, and the Archbishop unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly stood from his seat. His legs felt weak, requiring him to push himself upright by leaning against the armrest. A guard followed in standing, and moved to aid Otovos, but the Archbishop waved the young man away. Otovos walked slowly from his seat on the private plane, occasionally feeling unbalanced and reaching his arms out to grab seats as he walked past.

Eventually he reached the plane’s small restroom, with the second of Otovos’s Praetorian escort seated just outside. He gave a nod to the Archbishop, and stood to open the door for him. Inside, the Archbishop braced himself against the sink, leaning over it. Looking in the mirror, he turned on the water, splashing it on his face and letting it run down to the sink below. I wonder if Afinus will replace me, he thought of one of the Auxiliary Bishops of Castellum while reaching for paper towels to dry his face. The man always struck me as too savvy for his own good…or even Furio, his mind ran at the thoughts of who would replace him if that was indeed the reason for his recall to the Vatican. The thought of Marco Furio Camillo replacing him as Archbishop made his skin crawl, thinking the Latin people would be less accepting of a non-native in the position.

Otovos truly didn’t desire to be replaced, feeling it was his life’s work to continue to spread the Lord’s word to the Latin faithful. But if my time is up, I must follow the Holy Father’s wishes he continued to get lost in his thoughts before there was a light tap at the door. “Your Eminence, is everything alright?” one of the guards has asked Otovos from the other side of the door.

He grabbed a few more towels and wiped his face once more before responding, “Yes.”

“We’ll be landing soon, Your Eminence,” the Praetorian continued.

“Yes of course, thank you,” Otovos replied, throwing his paper towels away before opening the door and slowly exiting the restroom. He adjusted his clothing, his jacket in particular, pulling the sleeves down to cover his wrists. His assistant was seated next to him, though across the aisle. For most of the trip she had been on her laptop, attending to emails or reading news as she could. She was still reading as Otovos approached, but suddenly she gasped and her hands flew up and covered her mouth. “What is it, Valeria?” he asked before slowly reaching her and seeing a news article from what may have been the RAL or another news agency’s website. It was difficult for him to make out without his glasses.

“…The Emperor, Archbishop,” the woman answered in a faint, cracking voice. “Someone tried to kill him.”

Otovos felt his pockets for his glasses, slowly working them out and then on. His eyes were drawn to the large headline reading ‘EMPEROR ATTACKED’ on the LTC News website. He read further, and learned that Emperor Constantine was attacked by a Gelonian ultranationalist during the day’s victory parade before reaching the viewing box on Via Appia. Continuing on he noticed that the Ghantish Emperor was also injured and pushed Emperor Constantine from his horse during the attempt. The Archbishop motioned the sign of the cross over himself and silently uttered, “Lord give us strength.”

He read over Valeria’s shoulder a moment longer before working himself back into his seat after yet another reminder came from the pilot that their descent was near. As near as the recent descent into madness back home. I pray for Latium, Otovos thought as he buckled his seatbelt and eyed the two Praetorians sitting still yet sharing a look with each other.

All throughout the plane’s descent, Valeria kept reading articles and informing Ototvos what she had learned about the recent attack the media had dubbed the ‘Appian Massacre.’ It frightened Otovos to see such madness overtake his home and the flock that the Lord and the Holy Father had entrusted him to protect. When the plane first touched down, Otovos felt a sharp pain in his side, causing him to wince and press against the pain with his hand, though it began to fade away once the plane evened out and finally slowed along the tarmac.

Finally, the Archbishop thought when the plane came to a stop. He leaned towards the window and saw a limousine with Papal and Fabrian flags or symbols adorned on the vehicle. The Praetorians and Valeria were quicker than Otovos in standing from their seats and gathering whatever valuables or luggage they had brought. Otovos reached to the side of his seat for his bag, but a Praetorian grabbed it and said, “I insist, Your Eminence.”

“Thank you, my son,” Otovos winced a half-hearted smile. The Archbishop gripped his side and slowly rose from his seat on the plane one last time. I don’t expect I’ll be back home as Archbishop again, he thought as all waited near the plane’s exit for him to disembark first as the highest in precedence.

When the plane door swung open and the staircar was in place, the Archbishop of Castellum descended the stairs and took his first steps in Fabria since the 2014 Conclave, ready to reunite with the man he held helped to elect as Supreme Pontiff.

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Latium | Global | Local | Sport | Economy | Culture | Science | Opinion | Delpha Networks

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Emperor Attacked by Gunman
Velia, Castellum ab Alba, Latium
By: Michael Plaetorius (@LTCworld)

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Castellum: In what was supposed to be a day of peace, unity and the future for the residents of Castellum and all citizens of Latium, chaos quickly erupted following an attempt on Emperor Constantine’s life. At approximately 11:24 am BST, a lone gunman managed to get through police and onto Via Appia before unleashing a fury of bullets at Emperor Constantine and other individuals of the Imperial Party including foreign guests such as Emperor Nathan IV of Ghant. The gunman fired four shots in Emperor Constantine’s direction before finally being run down and killed by Praetorian Prefect John Santella.

As the gunman approached, Emperor Constantine XX was tackled from his seat on horseback and thrown to the ground where it was originally unknown whether he was struck with any wayward bullets fired by the gunman. Caesar and the Emperor of Ghant were both rushed to St. Maria’s National Hospital for emergency care as Praetorian and Imperial Legions marching the in parade quickly blocked off the area and began to take over crown control. One eyewitness remarked, "These people just started shoving each other...then the police came in to break it up. Next thing I knew some guy ran into the street and the [expletive] Ghantish guy just tackled the Emperor to the ground. We didn't know what was going on."

Numerous inquires into the condition of both monarchs were immediately rebuffed by Imperial Offices, with information only recently being released. Maria Terentia, a representative of Imperial Offices, recently announced that Emperor Constantine was presently receiving medical care while confirming that he did not inflict any bullet wounds from the attack, only mentioning that he sustained minor upper body injuries from the fall from his horse. Lady Terentia also noted that the Emperor of Ghant had suffered lower body injuries after falling from his horse and was receiving the best medical treatment Latium could offer, noting that “representatives of His Majesty have been in contact with members of the Ghantish government, including Lady Protector-Princess Cassandra.”

The Imperial Offices press announcement quickly shifted to representatives from the Praetorian Guard and Frumentarii speaking of the incident. Director Jason Fosilius of the Frumentarii spoke first, detailing the event and the investigation into the would be assassin. “The assassin, one Lanig Kou Sezneci, managed to create a distraction by having associates instigate a small fight, allowing him to momentarily push through the police and enter the street. Sezneci was armed with a single, unregistered T95 semi-automatic pistol,” announced Director Fosilius. He continued by stating that the Frumentarii, in concert with Praetorian and local officials, “are looking into any and all connections Sezneci had with the [Gelonian National Front],” though claimed that all indications lead towards such a conclusion, including a note found in Sezneci’s Castellum hotel room. When prompted as to whether the suicide letter would be released, Director Fosilius claimed that the Frumentarii have no plans to “release any information to the press or public which may compromise an ongoing investigation.”

At the time of press, LTC can confirm that Emperor Constantine has not undergone surgery and his minor injuries will not require surgery. LTC reached out to both Consul Alexander Pompilius and Lord President of the Emperor’s Council HIH Prince Leo for comment, each have yet to respond to any press inquiries.

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OTHER NEWS STORIES

• #castellumshooting trending on social media. [ 14755 ]
• Gelonian National Front claims responsibility for assassination attempt [ 10290 ]
• Senators, nearly all foreign dignitaries in attendance reported as safe and secure [ 7162 ]

© 2017 Verruscosi Media Corp

[Ghant]

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.” ― Hermann Hesse, Bäume: Betrachtungen und Gedichte

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The Old Wine Cellar
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba

Teresa shivered in the dim light of the candles, flickering faintly in the otherwise dark wine cellar of the Latin Palace of the Augustus. The shadows that they cast were ominous specters of darkness, dancing on the walls as the writhed against the rough stone façade. This is all too familiar, the Dowager Empress realized. A dark, silent chamber not unlike the ones frequented by my grandfather, all those years ago…

Still, she remained undaunted, for she knew what was at stake. I know it all too well. Even after more than seventy-five years, specters of the past haunted her mind, occasionally giving her terrible dreams. No one ever knew about them, not her mother or her brothers or her husband or her children. None could ever know…for if they did, surely their attitude towards me would change…

Candles were lit, incense was burning and the ink ran black as oil against the floor as it dripped from Teresa’s brush. Carefully, she painted the runes upon the dead Emperor of Ghant’s flesh. She painted with broad strokes upon his hands, across his arms, his nick and face, his chest, then his legs and feet, seamlessly transitioning from one to the other. Not many people, even in Ghant knew Ghantish runes, yet Teresa did. Her grandfather the Mad Emperor eventually only wrote in them, and so she had learned after a time to understand their meaning.

Some of the words were ancient and powerful, and said to invoke certain spells lost to the world of men, but known to a few elder shamans of the northern Jendebasa. As she drew them she spoke Ghantish rites of old, spoken by the Jendebasa shamans. Silent as the room was, the words filled the chamber with subtle echoes, as though the very walls themselves were saying them as well.

Teresa regarded the corpse on the table before her, naked but for a cloth covering his groin. He was cold and stiff it seemed, empty of life, yet somehow it did not seem a natural state of death. For I have seen death in the truest sense, and this is not so. She had seen it before, long ago…and it is most unsettling. Still she painted upon him, through the sweat and hazy air that now swelled in the room. Upon his body were runes that read:

I am a soul that is pursued
Into a dark place
Lost in a land not meant for the dead
Yet I will rise again
Into the land of the living

Next to the corpse was the ring, lying there idly on the table. Teresa stared at it the black band, it’s form only vaguely identifiable in the dim candle light. There was no object that she hated more in her entire life than that ring, but she knew what had to be done. May God have mercy on my soul. In a rare moment, she prayed to the Christian God and did a sign of the cross, before reaching out and picking up the ring.

Teresa exhaled deeply and closed her eyes as she slid the ring onto her ringfinger. Though it had always seemed large to her, it seemed to fit perfectly, causing her to gaze upon its snug feeling. Then she waited as she looked around the room, feeling it grow more still, more tense. More evil. In the light of the candles, she could see the once flickering flames appear to dance, as though they were rejoicing.

On the wall in front of her, she could see it at long last, beginning to take form. Two great black pits like an abyss upon the wall, and a long narrow slit beneath them, only barely visible in the poor light of the chamber. The face’s eyes seemed to bore into Teresa, as though it knew her, and had long-held grievances. And so, we meet at long last, Teresa thought. And to think, I never truly believed you were real…

The face spoke, in a subtle, yet booming voice. “Little Teresa, we meet again…it has been a long time…”

“Indeed it has,” Teresa replied, coolly. “Though it hasn’t been long enough, if you ask me.”

Her response prompted the face to laugh. “After all these years, you still haven’t lost your edge. Once you were but a frightened girl and now you are an old crone. Such a shame…I had such great plans for you, Teresa of Ghish, and oh, how close I came!”

“Aye, such a shame.” Teresa walked around the table and approached the face, coming to a stop as she stood before it. When she reached out to touch it, she could feel nothing but the wall in front of her. “I hate you, demon. I’ve always hated you, for what you’ve done to my family. For what you did to my friends…for what you did to this country.”

The face laughed once more. “Oh, what little you know, child. Your grandfather did all that himself…I merely helped him along a path he had already chosen. Your family were nothing more than corrupt fools and false kings, your friends usurpers. This country…this country is mine. It had been stolen from me, and I intend to take it back.”

“And yet you can’t,” Teresa snorted at the face. “You’re still trapped, and you’ve already failed.”

“The power is still within you,” the face brooded menacingly. “I will not be trapped forever…I need your power. Surrender your mind to me, Teresa of Ghish. You know I can help you overcome your problems…I know of Selene the Latin, the scheming bitch who means to cast you aside and take your place. You want to thwart her efforts, I can sense that. I can help you if you let me…”

Teresa shook her head. “Like you helped me grandfather? There is nothing you can offer me that I want, demon. I may have put on your ring, but you’ve been a part of me for most of my life. I know how to resist you, better than any in this world. You have no power over me, nor shall you ever.”

“And that is where you are wrong, Teresa of Ghish,” the face smirked. “Your soul belongs to me now.”

I have to avoid thinking too much, Teresa thought, knowing that this demon could read her mind. “No, demon, it does not, because I defy you and your power. I wear this ring not out of desire, but out of sacrifice.”

The face scowled at Teresa as it shifted into a terrible visage. “Sacrifice…how dare you defy me child! What could you possibly consider worth sacrificing your own soul for?”

Despite her best efforts, Teresa couldn’t avoid thinking about her great-grandnephew’s body laying repose on the table behind her. The face noticed this, shifting it’s form to stare at the rune-covered body. “Oh…I see now. Clever girl…always so clever you were. Did you think you could hide him from me? The Emperor who bears his name…oh, how long have I waited for him to come to me…”

“You cannot have him,” Teresa snapped at the sinister visage. “He does not belong to you!”

“You cannot stop me, Teresa of Ghish. The spirit I have long waited for has come…the one that shall provide me with what I seek. I shall claim him…”

“And you shall fail,” she countered defiantly. “I have called upon one who shall protect him…one who is beyond your reach.”

The face smirked devilishly. “Nothing is beyond my reach, child. You shall see…you shall truly see, upon my return to your world.” With that, the abyssal eyes shut and the mouth of darkness closed tight, and neither returned. Once again, Teresa found herself in an empty, still room.

May God protect you, young Nathan, Teresa thought as she began to pray. May he protect you and shelter you from the storm that fast approaches. Indeed, Teresa could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, as a storm approached. It would be a long night…but not so long a night for me, as it shall be for the Emperor of Ghant…

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۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

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At first, there was light. Then, there was darkness…

When the Emperor opened his eyes, he could see nothing. Though it was dark, it wasn’t like any kind of darkness he had experienced before. It was a vast, black void of nothingness, very real and omnipresent, expanding as far as the Emperor could see, in all directions. Somehow, he was lying down, upon it, and yet within it. …What’s going on?

As soon as he asked that to himself, reality began to settle in. Oh no…am I dead? He had been shot, and hit his head upon the cold hard pavement of the road. He passed out, and then he was here. No…I can’t be dead! It wasn’t what he expected though, and looking around into the void, he noticed himself. He generally appeared as he always did, though he was hazy and out of focus, his arms and body a blur. This is rather bizarre…

Nathan stood up, and took a step forward. The void beneath his bare feet rippled as though it were shallow water, though clearly no water was there. He reached out with his hands to try to feel anything, but there was nothing there…only the void. Despite the feeling of apprehension regarding his current predicament, he felt perfectly content. He was not hungry, nor did he feel any bodily needs…nothing hurt, and nothing ached.

“Hello,” the Emperor called out into the darkness. “Is anyone out there?” His voice did not echo, no matter how loud he called out. His voice didn’t grow hoarse, nor did he tire. “Is anyone out there?” Nothing. he thought after a few seconds. I can’t imagine this is heaven…could this be hell, or something else? Nathan continued on, walking in one direction, though in truth it seemed as though it didn’t matter which way he went.

Then he noticed something…someone, standing alone, off in the distance. Taking a deep breath, Nathan ran in that direction, as fast as he could. To his surprise, he closed the gap rather quickly, and felt no fatigue as he ran. Then he was close enough to the figure, and noticed that she was a girl…rather a young woman, looking down at the nothingness that comprised the ground.

It was strange, seeing this girl here. I know who this is, the Emperor thought, though he couldn’t place a name to her. Her hair was long and as black as the void surrounding them, and she was tall and thin yet shapely beneath a pristine white shift. “You,” he said to her. “Where is this?”

The girl looked up and met his eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, dark blue nearly the color of purple, with a heart-shaped face and fair, unblemished skin. She searched his eyes with a sad expression on her face. “You shouldn’t be here,” she told him, as though she realized who he was. “You should go…now.”

“Go where?” Nathan asked, feeling confused. “There’s nowhere to go! It’s all darkness here, my lady.” Taken aback by this young woman, the Emperor asked her, “what’s your name?”

“…That doesn’t matter…not anymore,” she said gravely, before looking at him thoughtfully. “You look like him…I hope he had a good life.” It looked as though she wanted to cry as she put a hand over her belly, before her eyes shifted to the void behind the Emperor. “I’m sorry…I must go. So should you.”

“Wait!” Nathan cried out as the girl faded away into something like smoke, disappearing before his very eyes. There’s something behind me, isn’t there? The thought prompted him to turn around. Far in the distance, he could see something. Black things, moving against the void, for while they were of the same color, their forms were vaguely discernable. …This can’t be good…

They seemed man-like, for the most part, forms of shadow and darkness shifting like mirages. They seemed to fly through the nothingness in a manner akin to diving through water. Their number was beyond count, and betwixt them towered a colossal figure. Large beyond imagining was a spectral figure of blackness, without eyes or any other distinguishable features, aside from two horns upon its head, facing upward. It moved towards the Emperor with terrifying speed, making no noise as it approached, nor did it’s minions.

Shit. Getting the distinct impression that these things would harm him if he lingered, the Emperor turned around and ran away, as fast as he could go. Without any way to judge how far he was moving, he assumed he was going fast enough to avoid them catching up with him. When he turned his head to the side to look back, he saw them closing the distance even more. Fuck.

Then they began to appear in the distance in front of him, moving quickly in his direction. They were attempting to surround him, he realized. …This is it…this is the end. There was no where to go, no escape from these things, for what they were exactly he couldn’t tell. He stopped running once he realized it was futile, and instead stood his ground as the beings drew closer still.

After they were only what seemed like a few yards away, the Emperor could see that they were “spirits,” like the girl was, or like he was now. Many of them appeared like Jendebasa, wearing furs with painted faces, black hair and eyes of myriad colors like gemstones. Some appeared as shamans, others as warriors, men women and children alike.

There were others among them that appeared less human, however. Some looked beastly or monstrous, like the beastmen of horror movies that the Emperor had often seen. Others were not humanlike at all, but simply…things, writhing through shadow in incomprehensible forms. Rapidly they all began to converge upon him, though the Emperor turned around to look for the big one he saw earlier.

The colossal horned figure was there, and it had its head turned down to look upon the Emperor. A savage grin swept across its face, revealing a mouth of shark-like teeth. Up close, Nathan could see it’s eyes…they where like burning coals socketed into the black hulking form. “There is no escape,” the thing said to him with a sadistic expression on its face. “I claim you now…” It reached down with a great clawed hand in an effort to grab the Emperor, who could only stand helplessly and watch as the spirits of darkness surrounded him.

Something wrapped itself around Nathan’s ankle and began to pull, just before the colossal figure could reach out and grab him. The Emperor looked down to see what it was, but could see nothing as he was pulled down through the ground. Whatever had a hold of him continued to pull him down for a length of time he could not measure, until he passed through what felt like water.

Then there was light. The Emperor emerged from the ground, rising up through dirt and grass. The light was from stars in the dusk sky, casting an eerie twilight glow upon a small field of grass and flowers. In the middle of the field towered a great Sakratu Tree, spectral like everything else the Emperor had seen, with white bark as pale as bone and crimson leaves that filled its branches, drenched in radiant blood. The tree’s roots transected the field, going far off towards the edge of the field.

In tender tremors blossomed forth
A tree of gray and silver bark
With triple leaves in crimson trimmed
And flowers, gilded, fragile and bright

One of many trees to come,
The first to spread in spectral soil
Its roots, the ropes of life's' excess
Together twisted by the Old Gods' toil

A tree of life, it seemed, and was
In a world far beyond the shroud
Away from earthly dusk and storms
Which lands beyond the veil allowed

Beneath the leaves, which moisture dripped,
Above the water, in the plant's dense shade,
The timeless ones began and took their first steps
Before becoming aware, and went far away.

The Sakratu trees, the silent watchers of the Forests' Kin,
Those soundless, sleepless, ageless woodland wraiths
About them gathered cloak of life's new threads
And claimed all fallen, rising from the Falls beneath

They did not meet that day, the Old Tree and its fellows,
For Fall filled them with zest, and others still
Fought their battle 'gainst the elements' embrace,
Brought over the whole realm by the lands enmity

The ever-blooming tree had other gifts to give,
Through stone it shattered, and through the ages' weave
Its leaves, which brought with them the scent and sparks of life
Its bark, which all eight senses did restore

But greatest treasure of them all were ever-scarce fruit
Palm-sized and succulent, and almost all consumed
By those sprouted from pits of prior years' harvest
Beasts fair, strange, the guardians for pillar of the world

They lingered under leaves, the watchers of the one first sprout
The massive hydra, blind monster of the deep
The many-armed red serpent, tongue-less teller of new tales
Undying butterflies, the deafened gems of boughs

And nameless quilled one, weaver of the fates
Without their knowledge in the symbiosis tied
Unknown by the Winged ones, grew
Their own realm creating under primal plains

The Emperor scratched his scalp and walked towards the edge of the field. This is all getting more and more strange. Where the field ended, there was a drop, all the way down into the void. This was the case all around in a perfect circle around the tree, except for one somewhat narrow area that sprawled out before him. What is this place? Can I leave?

Aside from the field and the tree was a body of water, resembling a pond or a spring. The water was clear and looked fresh, still and unmoving with nothing in it. Rising from the center of the spring was a round stone pedestal, upon which rested a pale green sphere roughly the size of a bowling ball. Past the spring was a narrow corridor, and beyond that, the light of day, with a forest beyond it. That looks normal, Nathan thought as he walked in that direction, hoping it lead back to…where he was from…

“…Leaving so soon?” a voice called out from behind the Emperor, causing him to jump up and turn around. The giant Sakratu tree had a pair of eyes and an elongated mouth near the base of the tree, and it looked on at the Emperor with great amusement. “Mmmmm?”

The tree is talking to me. “I…uh…I was just, uh…trying to…”

“Sneak away,” the tree said as it began to laugh. The tree’s voice seemed friendly, like a kind old man. “I wouldn’t go that way though if I were you. If you’re here that means your dead, and the world of the living is no place for a spirit. Easy to get lost…easier to lose yourself and wander the world for ages without reason or purpose. Men are not meant to exist that way.”

…it’s a talking Sakratu tree! “…I can’t be dead…not yet…”

“Why can’t you be dead?” the tree asked curiously. “All men must die…such is the nature of life. What has a beginning must have an end.”

“…It’s not my time…not yet…” the Emperor was more confused now than he was before he arrived in this particular place.

The tree grinned, and let out a chuckle. “It’s never our time…until it’s our time. It is not knowing when you will die that gives life its truest meaning. That it is limited, and that makes it valuable. Is anything that is unlimited valuable? I think not,” the tree laughed.

For the first time since dying, Nathan flashed a smile. “You’re quite the philosopher…what’s your name, tree?”

This question prompted the tree to laugh raucously. “Silly man, trees don’t have names. What names we might have are the names that are given to us by men. I go by a few…but you can know me as the Spirit Tree, if you must.”

The Emperor looked on in bewilderment. “…Were you the one that saved me?”

“I was,” replied the tree in a serene voice, before sliding one of its roots out from the soil and wiggling it like a limb. “An old friend asked me to save you, so I did, and now you are here.” The Spirit Tree wiggled its root back into the soil. “You were in great danger, whether you realize that or not. Now you are safe.”

For now. “…So what happens now, then?” Nathan wondered if this tree was the God Tree, teasing him in some fashion, or if it was something else. Then there was the matter of the spring, and the pedestal and the sphere. Too many questions…

“I have not thought that far ahead. Though of course I am happy to have you as a guest…I don’t get many of those,” laughed the Spirit Tree. “The Darkness wants you, and that’s reason enough for me to keep you, so they cannot get you. They have no power over this place, fortunately for you.”

“…And what is this place?” the Emperor asked. It was no doubt beautiful, with the sky still in the colors of late dusk with stars filing the void above them. Bending over, Nathan ran his spectral hand over the grass of the field. It was soft and dewy, unlike anything he had felt in his life. His gaze then turned towards the water, and he began to approach it. It sparkled like freshly poured champagne.

The Spirit Tree looked on, and in his usual gentle voice, explained that “This is a sanctuary…for those things that should remain hidden. Like that water…do not touch it. It is the pool of reflection, which gives me the sight to see the things beyond, in your world. If you touch it, it will test you…it will make you face your greatest fear. Men have come before to drink it, but they cannot face their greatest fears, and they fail. What they did not realize is that what has great power also has great cost. Most men are eager to acquire it, but few are willing to pay for it.”

…Is that the Fountain of Youth? More importantly, the Emperor thought, is this the Tree of Life, or the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? “What are you, exactly? Are you the Tree of Life or the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? And that water…is that the Fountain of Youth?”

To these questions, the Spirit Tree laughed. “What good is eternal life to those who are already dead? Spirits are already eternal, but all the same, allow me to regale you.” The Spirit Tree closed his eyes, and began to recite his wisdom:

"There’s a fountain, a fountain of youth,
Where the elixir of life springs,
And all are dazed by the water’s truth,
Though the purity of it stings.

It’s housed by the holy,
A blessed temple of Man,
Held by walls that seem only,
Neither sacred nor damned.

I’ve seen great minds torn apart,
And greater still, dwindle away,
In some rhythm to night and day,
In rhythm to soul and heart,
The different things they have to say.

The fountain of life promises much,
To those who reach its glittering falls.
Though few can manage but a touch,
They rarely feel the effort lost.

But some of the disillusioned few,
That believe they see the fountain’s truth,
Preach the ignorance of their fellow man,
And thus are cast out, shunned and damned."

Nodding then, Nathan pointed at the sphere sitting atop the pedestal rising from the center of the pool. “That sphere then…what is it?”

For the first time since the Emperor had arrived, the Spirit Tree’s mouth wiggled as though it was unsure of an answer. “An ancient artifact of terrible power, hidden away for a very long time from those who seek it. I am its guardian…they all have one that they themselves choose. Such is the way of things. The less that you know about those, the better off you’ll be. The last man who sought them…became corrupted…”

In the distance, off to the right side of the tree, came a terrible crash that thundered throughout the Spirit Tree’s realm. Oh no… a great shadowy fist burst through the horizon, shattering the sky like glass. The fist opened to reveal a dark clawed hand that tore away segments of the dusk sky with a swift and powerful motion. From the hole poured forth the spectral beings that the Emperor had encountered before the Spirit Tree rescued him from them.

The Spirit Tree observed the ensuing event, and then turned it’s wide-eyed gaze to the Emperor. “It is true then…the days of reckoning are upon us. You are Bizitzaemanu, Lifegiver,” the tree exclaimed in astonishment. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time indeed. You question your actions, your nature, but nothing happens that isn’t as intended. Remember this, Bizitzaemanu, for your opposite approaches. You are the giver of life, and he is the bringer of death.”

As the beings of darkness entered the Spirit Tree’s realm, the void crept in with them, the far edges of the field of grass and flowers began to fall away into the void, while the shards of the broken horizon faded away in puffs of smoke. The gargantuan horned figure continued to tear apart the sky as he forced his way through the veil. “Did you think you could hide from me, young Nathan? I have come for you.”

Shaking it’s branches full of blood-soaked crimson leafs, the Spirit Tree bellowed. “You have no power here, fiend. Go back to the Abyss from which you came.” With a great heave, the Spirit Tree’s roots burst forth from the spectral soil, emerging like whip-like appendages. One after another, they lashed out and struck the shadows, causing them to fade away into clouds of haze upon impact.

Without looking at the Emperor, the Spirit Tree said loudly, “go now to the pool, Bizitzaemanu, and remember what I have told you. The water shall know of your greatest desires and your greatest fears, and judge your fate accordingly.” The beings of darkness lunged at the Spirit Tree, swarming it like ants while the tree lashed out at them with a great fervor Behind them the great horned figure continued to tear away at the veil in an effort to force himself inside.

…What is all this? Nathan thought in his confusion. What does all this mean? He had little time to ponder the question however, as some of the figures that escaped the Spirit Tree’s attention began to come for the Emperor, while more of the ground fell away into the void. Hesitating at first, he began to move towards the edge of the water. I must remain focused if I am to prevail…

Nathan reached out with an extended leg and let it fall upon the water, causing it to ripple beneath his bare foot. Despite the water being deep enough to fall into, his foot only went an inch under the surface, as though he could walk on it. He put another foot forward, and found that was the case. Wow…I can walk on water…

As he took a few steps forward, he could see things that he couldn’t see before. Beneath the surface, towards the bottom, were bones, distorted by the shifting water. Human bones beyond numbering, consumed by the pool, serving as a grim reminder of whatever came before him. …I can see what the tree was talking about now… When the Emperor looked around, he could see nothing, other than the advancing void and itsts denizens doing battle against the Spirit Tree. With one more hefty swipe of his clawed hand, the great horned figure came crashing through the veil, coming to stand at full height. The ground beneath the being’s feet disintegrated, revealing patches of nothingness.

Behind the Emperor came a noise that sounded like running water, prompting him to turn his head to see what it was. There upon the water between Nathan and the pedestal where the sphere rested manifested a figure, roughly the same size as he. After a few seconds the figure began to take on more discernable features, revealing itself to be the Emperor himself. He was dressed differently however, in glistening white armor and wielding a glowing white sword.

“You,” the other Nathan said, pointing his sword at the Emperor. “You have betrayed me. You have destroyed my honor…you have wronged the woman I love. Sophia, my one true love, you have disgraced her and brought shame and dishonor to her. You have let down the people that depend on you, and committed wrongdoings beyond imagining. There are none as disappointing as you.”

Having said that, the other Nathan rose his sword and scowled. “The price is death, knave.” The other Nathan took up a fighting stance, and began to approach the Emperor swiftly yet carefully, as though he endeavored to cut him down.

…What should I do? A part of Nathan wanted to attempt to flee, another part of him wanted to defend himself. Then he cast his eyes down through the water and saw all the bones. They were tested, and failed, he thought. My greatest fear is myself… All of those things that the other Nathan said were true, the Emperor realized. What should a man do when he is forced to confront the truth?

“You’re right,” Nathan told his copy as the latter advanced. “I am guilty of all those things, and it pains me everyday. I do not want any of those things…but they are consequences all the same. A man must accept the consequences of his actions and try to atone for them. All I want is to make things right…I’ve already sacrificed myself once, and I’d gladly do it again if I must…”

The other Nathan swung his sword with a savage fury, and the blade slashed through Nathan’s abdomen, lodging itself in his gut. “Sacrifice,” the other Nathan said sharply. “You want…sacrifice?”

“Yes.” The Emperor stood there with the sword embedded in his body, with his alternate version standing eye to eye with him. “Though I am not worthy, that much I can see. Let me end, for the wrongs I have committed, that is what I deserve.”

Staring at him with seething eyes, the other Nathan grimaced, still holding the hilt of his sword. “No…you are selfless. If it is sacrifice that you desire, than that is the fate that awaits you.” The other Nathan pulled his sword from Nathan’s belly, and faded back into the water. The way between the Emperor and the pedestal holding the sphere was no clear. A great rumble pulled his attention away, back to the action unfolding behind him.

The Spirit Tree was crawling with spirits attacking it ferociously, while the tree still lashed out with its whip-like roots. The horned fiend bellowed “you have hidden the sphere from me for too long, tree. My time has come at last, as prophecy has foretold.” With a mighty stomp of his clawed foot, the ground beneath the tree began to crack, and give way.

“Claim the sphere, Bizitzaemanu,” the Spirit Tree cried out as it and the spectral beings attacking it began to fall into the void. “Claim it before its too late.” Nathan watched as the entirely of the field began to fall in pieces down into the void below, as though a great vacuum were sucking it all down. The tree fell down into its depths, before it faded from Nathan’s sight. Soon, all that remained of the realm was the pool, as everything else had faded away, leaving only the nothingness.

Nathan turned back to the sphere hovering above the pedestal, and began to run towards it. However before he could reach it, he could feel something grab at him, causing him to fall face-first into the water. “You are too late,” the horned being said angrily. “I am a God here…did you think you could overcome me? Your line is weak…truly a pitiful lot. Such power would be wasted on the likes of you.”

The Emperor’s head went beneath the water, and without intending he caught a good amount of it in his mouth before he came back up, now in the grasp of the horned entity. “The tree told you who you are, Bizitzaemanu. I defy you and you’re nature.” It raised the Emperor up above the water, bringing him close to meet his gaze of burning ember eyes. “Not even the water can protect you now.”

Another stomp of his foot, and the water began to ripple violently, until it burst like a water balloon. However instead of the water falling down into the void like the bones it contained began to do, it fell up like upside down rain, as though the passage of time had been reduced. Amidst the globs of water floating up remained the pedestal, with the sphere floating above it. After a few seconds, the water began to harden into crystal shards.

“I’ve waited thousands of years for this very moment,” the being said to Nathan as the Emperor could feel the being’s grip tighten around his body, so large was his hand that only the Emperor’s head and feet were free from the mighty grasp. “You’re time has come. Make peace with your God, or whichever Gods you choose. My return to the world of men is imminent…”

Nathan was now quite close to the being’s face, and without anything else he could do, spit the water he held in his mouth out, causing it to spray the being in the face. This angered the being, causing his twisted visage to distort into something sinister, bearing his jagged shark-like teeth in the process. “Defiant even in your destruction, no longer. Now, I shall consume your soul and return to your body, where I shall I complete my work.” The Emperor could feel himself drain, as though the being were trying to enter Nathan’s own spectral form. …he’s trying to take me over, he realized. I’m fucked…

Off to the side, Nathan could hear a noise that sounded like running water. A form began to manifest there in the nothingness. When it was completed, there was a tall, gaunt man with hair as black as jet, pale skin and red eyes. The man was clad in black and was wielding a burning sword. He raised his sword, burning with spectral fire that illuminated the nothingness, and lunged forward towards Nathan and his captor.

The next thing that Nathan saw was the being constricting him wince in horror as the arm he was using to restrain the Emperor was cut through by the flaming sword. The man with red eyes cried out, “You, Demon King. You have betrayed me. You have destroyed my honor…you have wronged my family and my country. You made me commit unspeakable acts of terror upon those I care about. Even now, you harm the one who bears my name. No longer.”

Nathan and the Demon King’s severed arm began to fall into the void, prompting the Emperor to turn and look towards the pedestal. It was long, extending down into the void and ending in a fractured base that was slowing cracking and falling apart. I have to reach it. Forcing himself free of the dismembered hand, Nathan began willing himself towards the pedestal. He reached out with desperate hands and grabbed it towards the bottom, holding on for dear life as he could feel the void pulling down on him and the pieces of the pedestal that were breaking off.

The Demon King roared as he looked upon his stump. “How dare you, the one they call the Mad Emperor. I own you in death as I did in life. You are eternally bound to my will…you cannot defy me!” A new arm began to take form from smoke, and then the Demon King was whole once more.

“Then I shall spend an eternity exacting my vengeance upon thee, Demon King.” The Mad Emperor rose his flaming sword once more and arced it out, striking the Demon King in the chest, causing the latter to roar with fury. The Demon King lashed out with a savage swipe of his clawed hand at the Mad Emperor, who expertly evaded it. All the while, Nathan began steadily climbing up the pedestal, gradually towards the floating sphere.

As the Mad Emperor and the Demon King battled, the former cast a quick gaze towards Nathan. “Boy who bares my name,” he called out, sadness in his voice. “Tell Teresa that I’m sorry, and that I love her. I always did.” With a burst of energy, the Mad Emperor evaded one more mighty swipe and buried his flaming sword into the Demon King’s chest. With a roar, the great Demon King clutched at the burning blade, and then his shadowy form began to diminish.

The Demon King’s true form was thus revealed. His flesh was the color of a bleached skull, and the long hair which flowed from his head was milk-white. From his tapering, beautiful face stared two round eyes, golden and moody, and from the loose sleeves of his smoky-black gown emerged two slender hands, also the color of bone. Together the Demon King and the Mad Emperor plunged down into the void, until they faded away in the depths, until all that remained was the crumbling pedestal, the floating sphere and the Emperor inching his way towards it steadily like a caterpillar crawling along the stem of a leaf.

The pedestal was falling apart faster than Nathan could climb up it, until his legs began to dangle above the void. Still he persisted, using his hands to clamor up it unnaturally, until he finally reached the top of the pedestal. The pale green sphere shone a reflection of light despite being surrounded by nothingness, sparkling in its magnificence. Nathan was captivated by its beauty, and he began to realize that was a truly a great artifact indeed.

As the last of the pedestal began to crumble and fall into the void, Nathan reached up to grab the sphere, noticing that without the pedestal, he too was beginning to fall. Just as the Emperor began to fall into the abyss below, he took the sphere with both hands, holding it tight between them as he began to fall, feeling like he was falling off the edge of a cliff. This is it, he thought as he made his descent, the sphere in his hands.

Within a few moments, the sphere began to glow, emitting a stunning light-green colored light that shone brightly throughout the void around the Emperor. From it, Nathan could feel heat, and the light that came off it. …It’s doing something…oh… his skin began to glow and the veins that ran beneath his spectral flesh began to radiate a light green light. His body began to grow stiff as he felt the power surge through him, before it began to burst forth from his mouth and his eyes. He felt his spectral form begin to burst with the light, to the point that he began to scream, though he couldn’t even hear it.

Then there was a great explosion of light in the depths of the void, and when the light was gone, the Emperor and the sphere were gone, leaving only the nothingness…

---

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

---

This is pointless, Teresa thought with a heavy sigh as she paced around the room. Nathan’s dead, and the face is gone. Whatever happened was beyond Teresa’s capabilities, and with an exhale of exasperation, slumped down and stared at the cold, hard ground. She could hear the storms raging outside…the rain was pouring and splashing against the ground.

“I’m sorry, Nathan,” Teresa told the Emperor’s corpse as she placed a hand upon his shoulder, letting it slide off as she walked away. She gathered up a few things she had been working with and packed them back into the bag that they were delivered in. “May you find the peace in death that you were unable to find in life.” That was all that Teresa could do at this point, was wish him well in the afterlife.

Her things gathered, Teresa turned to the candles. I’ll let them burn out, she decided. I’ll come back for what’s left of the wax later. Teresa made her way towards the door that led into the chamber, and opened it slightly. Paul was still standing there, tall and dignified, though when the door had opened, he turned back to look at his great-grandaunt. “Is everything okay, Aunt Teresa?”

“No,” she told him bluntly. “It is as I expected…there’s nothing I can do. The Emperor of Ghant is dead…long live the Emperor. We need to go inform the others and call Inperiala Palace to let them know that Nathan is dead…and help them prepare for the young Crown Prince’s ascension. No doubt Sophia will want that to be done swiftly, before anyone gets any ideas.”

“Aye,” Paul said with a curt nod as he somberly offered Teresa his arm. “Let’s go…I’ll lead the way. We should leave this grim place…I find it unsettling.”

Teresa smiled as she took Paul’s arm. “Aye, it unsettles me as well.” Together they walked off, though Teresa spared one last glance over her shoulder back at the chamber. One more sigh, and she turned her gaze forward, and didn’t look back. Behind them the hallway grew silent as the echoes of their footsteps faded, and then it became as silent as a crypt, devoid of noise and with only the light of the candles in the chamber casting dim light on the walls.

Back in the chamber, there was an emptiness that filled its space, while the body of the Emperor laid on the table at the center of the room, painted in Ghantish runes and glistening in the candlelight. The flicking flames were still dancing, but then they began to grow still, while the shadows dancing on the walls stopped shifting, as though they were waiting. The body on the table was stiff and dead.

…and then his eyes opened. The Emperor drew a deep breath, his whole body feeling asleep, full of numb tingling. Slowly, sensation returned to his extremities while Nathan stared at the ceiling sucking in the stagnant air. He noticed the Ghantish runes painted on his body, as well as the headache. He clutched at the bullet wound on his chest, but felt nothing. His heart was practically beating out of his chest, and he was shivering from the cold. …I’m alive?...I’m alive!

Carefully, Nathan pushed himself up from the table he was laying on and put his feet on the cold hard floor. Standing up was difficult, but he somehow managed, while gripping the cloth wrapped around his groin. …I’m hungry, he thought as he located the door, and began limping on weak legs towards it. Breathing deeply, he pushed his way out of the door, and disappeared into the hallway.

In the now empty chamber, a subtle noise emanated from underneath the table. A pale green sphere rolled out from underneath it, coming to a stop against one of the table’s legs. It shone a bright green color at first, but then the light began to fade away until all that remained was a dull pale green color. It reflected no light from the candles, merely blackness….nothingness.

[Lacus Magni]

“Orders”
Leo
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba, Latium

Exiting the old antechamber, Leo flipped his flashlight on, shining it down a seemingly endless tunnel continuing in the opposite direction but it eventually faded too and what little light peered down the dank tunnel was soon swallowed by the darkness. He turned and flashed the light in the opposite direction, finding Paul and further down more darkness. At least going that way wouldn’t get him lost, so Leo walked past Paul and through the winding tunnels of the catacombs.

Every now and again, Leo looked to a side and flashed the light into a small chamber or even against the wall. Then suddenly he crashing into something, “Oh, what the fuck…” it was Fonteius, Leo realized as the two men stumbled and quickly regained their footing. Fontieus turned and then said, “Shit, you alright?”

“I’ll be fine once we get out of here,” Leo brushed off his slacks with his hands and picked up the flashlight he’d dropped just moments before.

“Aye, sooner I’m out of here the better,” Celus stated as the two men started to move through the latter portion of the tunnels. While usually one for excessive chatter or joking, Fontieus was eerily quiet. In fact he didn’t utter a word until they reached the old wine cellar and the lit room with only a door standing between them and the bustling palace. As Leo took the minor steps to the door, Fontieus added, “I’m not one to ask questions when I know I shouldn’t, but your brother…what does the old woman plan on doing in there?”

It was the first time Leo had ever seen Fontieus frightened, causing the Prince to search his thoughts and reflect. He stopped at the top of the highest leveled step with his hand on the door, looking around the room as if an answer were hiding on one of the walls. “Honestly, I have no idea,” Leo said before exiting the old wine cellar located near the Imperial apartments. Outside of the door, more people had started walking around and things appeared to be business as usual at the Palace. Servants, staff members and even men in military uniform, whether Praetorian, army or otherwise were seen walking the halls, or more likely rushing through the halls to make sure today’s events didn’t result in another ‘Brothers War’ type event.

We’ll have a hard time getting Nathan out of there now. We might have to close down the whole wing, Leo thought to himself as one passerby made eye contact with him before immediately looking to the floor. The Prince slide up his jacket sleeve to take a glance at his watch, though noticed a bit of blood had seeped into the cloth. He pulled his eyes off the jacket and rubbed his eyes. “I uh…I need some time to think,” Leo said to Fontieus. “Thank you for helping.”

“Always, your Highness,” Fontieus nodded and then did a quick bow to Leo for turning around and immediately barking orders at someone.

Leo didn’t care to stick around and see what the Urban Prefect was up to, if anything it was to catch up on whatever Leo originally pulled him away from. The Prince of two countries began his walk to his suite, and though it wasn’t all that far from the imperial residence, the walk felt like the longest walk of shame Leo had ever felt. The eyes of everyone else walking the halls seemed to draw on him and causing him to feel the weight of all that had happened today. By the time he reached the Aemilian Suite, the number of palace staff in the halls began to dwindle and it was only Leo and his Praetorian bodyguards.

As quick as Leo’s door swung open, it closed once again. Once he heard the door close he let out a deep sigh and unbuttoned the top of his jacket and then his undershirt. He loosened his belt and removed his holster and sheath, draping each over a nearby chair in the suite’s entry room. For the first time since Constantine recaptured the palace, the suite was as silent as it had ever been. No soldiers, or staff bringing him documents to review, sign or pass along to Constantine. Just as the rest of the day, even the relative silence of Leo’s suite was eerie and made him feel unwelcome.

He maneuvered through the main room, winding around one of the couches and passing by the ornate fireplace with a portrait of Leo’s great-grandfather The 36th Duke of Adrianople hung above the mantle. Eventually he reached his personal office, and while he walked towards his desk he loosened his jacket and undershirt around his neck. The Prince leaned forward, facing the desk, with his hands propping himself up on the back of his leather chair. As his hands gripped the seat, he let out a defeated sigh when his eyes took in wider view of his desk to reveal a handful of other personal effects, including a photo of when he was just a boy.

Leo loosened his grip on the chair, pulling it out as to sit, and once he did he reached forward for the photo. He let the picture sit in the middle of the desk and simply sat there in silence. He stewed over all that had happened today, all the chaos that was likely to come of today. But as he sat back, his face was still hiding all of the emotions he was feeling deep within – sadness, anger, disappointment, failure and confusion.

Looking at the picture again, his hair was just as long and dark then as it was today, likely even longer then, he thought. But the picture also featured his late uncle Jason, whom lifted Leo up in the air as if he was as light as a feather, with each showing large smiles of joy. It even made him break his emotionless face and show a weak smile now, though that too faded at the thought of everything he held so near and dear seemingly on the verge of collapse.

He placed the picture down and leaned back in his chair now. Leo noticed another, and looked on to see him smiling in the picture with his half-siblings, Nathan and Arietta and sisters Diana and Theodora at Nathan’s wedding in 2014. They were all smiling then, And now Nathan’s dead, and I couldn’t do anything about it, he thought before thinking of his sister-in-law Sophia and how she lost a husband and his nieces and nephews lost a father.

But the Prince remained seated and brooding with his hands clasped, and resting them in his lap, as all of these memories and thoughts stirred in his mind. Should I tell Sophia? What would uncle do, what would my father do? he thought, now starting to feel as if anyone he could have relied on advice was gone in some form. That was when he pulled open a desk drawer and reached for his personal cell phone. It was seldom used any longer, at least not since he’d moved into this suite, but it still held all of his contacts and was occasionally for texts and the like with family.

When the phone’s backdrop lit up, he saw a text notification from Lena. He opened it up and it read, "I hope you’re safe. They haven’t released any updates on Nate or your cousin in awhile, so I hope they’re both doing alright. I was hoping I could stop by the hospital to see cousin Nate soon. I understand you’re probably running around like crazy though". There was also a second that read, "I’m praying for you all. But you’re all tough, so not that you need it".

Leo smiled until he realized that Anna didn’t try to get in touch yet. It was upsetting, but that thought quickly faded and he returned to a search of his contacts for a direct number to reach Sophia. He paused after finding her number, and stared at his office desk phone as he contemplated what to say or even if he should call at all. Finally ending his indecision, Leo reached out for the phone and dialed a number. He closed his eyes, waiting only a matter of seconds before hearing, “Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” the other end of the phone.

Leo opened his eyes upon hearing the voice on the other end. “I’d like to hold an emergency meeting,” he stated to the secretary on the other end of the line. “Inform the cabinet members or councillors present to gather in the council chambers immediately…no, it won’t be a long meeting.”

The Prince waited for the secretary to confirm the order and quickly hung up the phone. He quickly fastened his collar, followed by his jacket’s and without hesitation exited his office, followed by the suite all together. When he exited, he walked right past his security detail and proceeded down the hallway with conviction as he was flanked by three Praetorians.

Eventually reaching the council chambers, Leo found the room appearing void of any councillors, with only a single staff member swapping an empty pitcher of water with a full one. When the staffer noticed Leo she stopped what she was doing and promptly bowed her head, causing Senator Alexandra Sulpicia, whom was standing inside the room, to become visible and also bow her head to Leo.

“Your Highness,” the Count of the Imperial Treasury said respectfully.

“Senator,” Leo said with a hint of relief at someone having heard his request to meet. He entered the chambers, rounding the large table to find the Lord President’s seat, which was next to that of Caesar’s himself as embroidered with the Claudii coat of arms.

“Is there any word on Caesar?” Sulpicia asked Leo, who stood near his seat as a Praetorian set down a bag near its legs.

Leo knew little of the Senator, other than she held her first ministry and was one of the youngest cabinet members. Though that was the extent of things, as for the few cabinet meetings he had attended, he didn’t make a point of sticking around longer than necessary. Another council member, Master of Soldiers Vipsanius, funneled into room with his aides stopped just outside the door and fanning off in either direction. “He’s resting,” Leo replied to Sulpicia while Vipsanius walked towards the Prince.

“Your Highness,” Latium’s premier military mind extended his hand to shake Leo’s. “Any updates on your brother? What a thing he did. I’ll be praying for him.”

Leo shook Vipsanius’s hand, and his eyes blinked rapidly for a moment when the man asked of Nathan. “Not in some time I’m afraid. The doctors, I’m sure, are doing all they can,” Leo stated with a number of other cabinet members or councillors entering the room speaking to one another, particularly with the Consul walking in while in discussion with Praetorian Prefect Santella. No one knows Nathan’s gone, he felt conflicted due to the lie, and the other lies or secrets he’d been keeping to recently. They all ate at him, causing him to not quite feel like himself lately. But there’s a job to be done.

The Consul’s entrance, as Leo had taken to notice recently, proved to be a magnet of some kind, with the Senators, in particular, flocking to him. He’s either liked by many or surrounded by sycophants…I don't know which would be worse. Pompilius was an average looking man of an average background and below-average birth, though not even Leo could deny the man a charismatic aura about him, that alone was cause for concern, double that given the recent refusal of Constantine’s refusal of the man’s daughter. That coupled with a motivation is something to watch.

“Shall we get down to business,” Pompilius offered up while Leo had been lost in his thoughts. All in all, there were no more than ten people in the room, each finding their designated seats, which caused the table to have a number of gaps. Just as the Consul spoke, Fonteius walked into the room and found a seat. “Apologies Prefect, but I don’t believe the Urban Prefect is a member of Caesar’s cabinet,” the Consul said with a straight face, though garnered some smirks from his sycophants.

“He’s not, Consul,” Leo spoke up before Fonteius even had a chance to respond. “But this is not a cabinet meeting. I called this meeting in my capacity as Lord President of the Council.”

“With due respect, your Highness, all aside from the Urban Prefect are members of cabinet,” Pompilius rebutted, causing Leo to let out a puff of air and a smirking smile.

“And are all cabinet members not also members of the Emperor’s Council?” Leo offered in response. “No matter the terminology we label whatever it is this meeting is, there are greater issues at stake that require attention. Caesar did suffer injuries, and he needs time to recover if he’s to properly lead this country, which I have no doubt he will be able to do soon.”

“And what are Caesar’s injuries exactly, Lord President? All we’ve heard is upper body injury like he’s a footballer come a championship run,” Pompilius inquired, though Leo would not be distracted.

“Caesar suffered minor injuries after falling from his horse, though is well and in good spirits, and resting at his doctors request. I have seen and spoken to him, and I ensure to you all that he will be fine.” Leo offered more of the same answer to those gathered. “He simply needs his rest, but as councillors and minister, it is our duty to advise Caesar. That is why I called his meeting. An armed gunman managed to push his way onto the street and attempt to assassinate the Emperor, and was only stopped by my brother acting quickly and more lives saved by the quick action of police and the Guard.”

“And what is it you recommend, your Highness?” Master of Soldiers Vipsanius gave Leo a intrigued look.

“For tonight I recommend we institute a curfew, keep people off the streets, at the very least in Velia, Aventinus, Quirinal, the City and Palatine,” Leo said, seated straight in his seat, though trying to hide his weariness and fatigue. “But for no longer than tonight and lifting it at dawn. We only need to get what we can from the site, make sure that the people know that we are being proactive and that this was a tragedy, but business as usual will continue.

“You want to shut down the core of the city?” the obese Senator and Foreign Secretary John Pollius bellowed out in a snide tone, as if Leo has just suggested the country launch a simultaneous invasion of all nations of the world.

“No, I agree with the Prince. It seems an appropriate response,” nodded Master of Soldiers, who adjusted his glasses and opened a folder he had brought with him. “According to our friends at the Frumentarii and the due diligence of Prefect Santella, we know that the gunman was not acting alone when he entered the street. I am told by Deputy Director Ecdicius of the Frumentarii that the necessary arrests have been made in relation to accomplices, which as Prince Leo has already suggested, makes a total curfew of the city unnecessary.”

“And we’ve all had a chance to read the reports or be briefed on the pertinent matters? Prince Leo asked those seated around the desk. Leo looked around the table and saw most nod to his question, and noticed the Consul inspecting a number of documents in laid out in front of him. “Good, the curfew will allow the Frumentarii and Praetorians to properly assess the site of the attempt. Urban Prefect Fontieus, where do we stand with the assassin and the GSB?”

“As of yet, we’re uncertain if he was a fully fledged member of the organization. But the GSB has claimed responsibility for the attack. Prefect Santella and I are working with the Frumentarii to inspect a number of leads, including what appears to be a suicide note left by Lanig Kou Sezneci, the would-be assassin,” Fontieus managed to get through an entire sentence without cursing or otherwise devolving into his usual mannerisms, but the man had always seemed to control those tendencies in present company.

“Do we know how Sezneci managed to obtain a gun?” Leo inquired, leaning forward for the pitcher of water before pouring into his glass. “Was there any involvement from other parties, the NSPM or maybe the Riets, or even the Liothidians?

“Last I recall, the type of firearm he used was standard issue among the former Scholarian Guard,” Pompilius finally lifted his eyes off the files in front of him and offered up some input finally. “Perhaps it’s possible some weapons were obtained during the chaos of the transfer.”

“It’s possible though unlikely,” the Master of Soldiers remarked. “And I don’t believe so, Your Highness. All indications from the Frumentarii are pointing to Sezneci and his three associates acting alone.”

“I’ll have my men figure that out, Your Highness,” Prefect Santella spoke for the first time since entering the room. Leo hadn’t said a word to the man since the assassin shot at Constantine and Nathan was shot, and somewhat unfairly blamed the Prefect for allowing it to happen. “Our intelligence reports suggest nothing out of the ordinary relating to chatter from the aforementioned parties.”

“Perhaps we should consider additional Praetorian presence in Gelonia,” the Master of Soldiers suggested off handily, though received no takers to the idea. That’s best left to Constantine in the coming days, Leo thought, simply wanting to make sure things stayed on the proper course while Constantine was recovering.

“When might we be able to see Caesar?” Laurentius Verruscosi spoke up, to the surprise of Leo who had not really noticed the man’s presence in the room until then.

“I can’t say for certain, my Lord,” Leo stated as he took hold of his glass of water again, waiting to finish speaking before taking a drink. “Last I spoke with him, he indicated he wished to have limited visitors, though prefered none for the time being. I wish it were otherwise though.”

“If there is nothing else, we all have our orders,” Leo spoke up after a brief silence. “Prefect Fonteius, you’ll see to the curfew enforcement and liaison with local police.”

“What of the people, or the media?” Pompilius inquired just as Leo was preparing to stand up. “Something needs to be said, and it certainly isn’t prudent to keep them in the dark after everything that’s happened.”

“I’ll speak with those in the press secretary’s office to issue a statement and speak to the press, Consul. That should suffice for now, no?”

Pompilius smirked slightly, “I believe it will.”

“Thank you, that is all. If anything else is required, please contact my office,” Leo said from his seat next to the Emperor’s empty seat. Those seated at the table began to gather their things and funnel out of the room, and Leo leaned over to place his things back in his bag. As he lifted up his head, he noticed Laurentius approaching.

“My aunt told me about your brother,” Laurentius said calmly and quietly. “I hope he pulls through.”

Laurentius and Leo shook hands and the Prince said, “Thank you,” before Verruscosi left the room.

Leo reached over for his satchel before hearing that someone approached him; it was the Consul. “Your Highness,” he said, “could you spare a moment?” The Prince rose from his seat, and nodded after standing, prompting Pompilius to continue. “The two of us have never talked, properly of course. I’ve wanted to remedy that.”

“Well, now we have, Consul,” Leo stated, going to set his bag down on the table but letting it drop down onto the table causing a loud thud. But the Consul didn’t so much as flinch, only kept smiling.

“Yes, it appears we have. However, I was hoping for a bit more exchange than simple hello,” the Consul said with a smile, placing his briefcase on the table near Leo’s bag. “I am Consul, you are Lord President. The two of us should have some sort of familiarity, I’m sure you agree,” Pompilius paused, appearing to give Leo a chance to reply, though the Prince kept silent and the Consul continued. “Now I understand why Caesar selected you as Lord President. You have a difficult face to read, your Highness.”

“Are you coming to a point, or do you find the sound of your own voice so soothing that you’ve distracted yourself?” Leo said with a plain face and elevated pace of breathing. “I don’t mean to be curt, but it has been a long day I have many things I need to accomplish.”

“No, nothing to apologize for, the Emperor has been wounded and your half-brother shot. Two people, I’m sure, you’re very close with,” the Consul shook his head with a smile and placed his hand on Leo’s shoulder for a moment, causing the Prince to slowly turn his head and stare at the shoulder. It was only then that Pompilius recoiled and removed his hand. “Right…the point. My point is, you are a man that seems to know how to get things done. You give orders, and they are seen through. Tell me, your Highness, how is the Emperor? Truly, I want to know his condition, not that rehearsed speech you might have said to yourself in the mirror before calling this meeting.”

Leo slowly nodded his head, while smirking at the Consul’s insistence, “Last I’d heard, Caesar had retired for night. I believe Empress Marsella had told you something similar not all that long ago. I’m sure when he’s ready to schedule an audience he’ll be in touch.” Leo reached for his bag, lifting it off the table and he began to turn away.

“This is not simply a matter of your cousin’s health, Prince Leo,” Pompilius refused to drop the subject and continued to speak, drawing Leo’s movement out to room to a halt. “It is a matter most important to the functioning and very soul of this state. If he is unable to perform his duties, however limited in time or scope they may be, actions must be taken to ensure government does not cease to function. If that were…”

“Has this meeting led you to that government has ceased to function, Consul?” he stood with his back to Pompilius.

“I need only remind you that Emperor was not here, nor have I been allowed to see him at any point in time following the incident. At the very least I ask for some transparency, Prince Leo,” Pompilius said in a last ditch attempt to goad some positive response out of Leo.

Turning to face the Consul, Leo said, “You’ll have your transparency soon, Consul. You have my word.”

“And you are a man of your word, or more than some so I hear,” the Consul smiled with a slight bow of his head. While Leo had finally started to exit the room once more, the Consul spoke yet again, “I have wondered, and perhaps you have some insight, why is it that your half-brother was the only ‘allied’ foreign representative down on the streets with Caesar? Rather peculiar, don’t you think? I would have expected Emperor Louis to have had a distinguished place during the parade, yet he was not even present.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Consul,” Leo weakly smiled and quickly turned heel to exit the council room, his Praetorian detail immediately following after him. When he arrived back at his suite he tossed his bag aside and sat in a chair near the fireplace and slouched back in the chair with a sigh, closing his eyes. As he sat there in silence, he tried to keep his mind clear but his thoughts kept turning back to the failures of the day. That was when he heard a phone ring, just leave me alone, he thought for split second, simply desiring a moment to close his eyes.

He slowly stood and made his way to the office. It continued to ring as he entered, and was seated behind his desk. Leo debated answering the phone, even leaning forward as if he were going to in fact answer. But instead he recoiled as the phone rang one last time, prompting him to lean back in comfortable seat and run his hand through his long, black hair.

As he sat there in silence, he heard a series buzzes from inside his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out his phone and saw another text from Lena, but instead of opening the message he placed the cell phone down and picked up the desk phone to listen to his messages. Initially he envisioned that someone from Ghish had called, I’ve been putting off calling Sophia for too long, he thought before the first message began to play.

Hey, umm, thought I’d check in to see how things are going. I really hope that everyone is safe, Anna was the one that called when Leo decided not to answer. Hearing her voice caused him to smiled for a fleeting moment, though as she continued it faded. I know that you’re very busy, but if you find the time could you give me a call. I need to talk to you about…things. There was no more, no goodbye or anything, she just hung up and the message ended.

Leo closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck while he thought about what to do next. He hung up his office phone and lit up cell phone’s screen and navigated to the recent text from Lena, which read, Well, if you need anything or just want to talk, you know where to find me : ).

His fingers hovered over the keyboard until he pressed a button and called her. Leo sighed while he waited for the phone to ring and her to answer, and when she did he said, “Lena, it's Leo, are you free?”

[Lacus Magni]

“Home”
Adrian
Domus Ulpii
Vindóbona, Ulpiana, Latium

Three months. That was how long it had been since Adrian was last home in Vindóbona at the ancestral seat of the Ulpii family. The family, now headed by his eldest brother and the current Duke of Vindóbona, Justin, whom had taken up residence at Domus Ulpii after leaving the capital in the dying days of their mother’s takeover of Prince Michael’s ruling powers all the way back in November. A few weeks ago, Adrian might have even thought his brothers and sisters in Vindóbona were dead. But they were not. And if he could thank heaven for something, at least he had them still.

Adrian first headed north on the Raedavea towards Vindóbona over an hour ago. He traveled with a handful of his compatriots from his infiltration of the Palace of Augustus on the day that the fighting ended and Michael was finally silenced. This wasn’t by Adrian’s choice, though I did give them my word, and the men were finally hoping to cash in on the heavy payday Adrian promised them in late November.

Maurice Pilatos was among Adrian’s soldiers traveling along to ensure the new Duke of Haenna kept his word. “Can’t trust a kinslayer, can we?” Adrian had overheard one of the men comment to Pilatos after they learned what Adrian had done to Michael in the throne room. That was the first time, but certainly not the last time, that Adrian’s newfound fame was referenced by the men. Even now, as they shared a car with the young Duke, the more profane of the men continued to make mentions of the deed. But Adrian kept his mouth shut and minded his own business as they were then only just preparing for their short journey to Vindóbona.

As if I could ever forget that day. At least once they’re paid, I won’t have to suffer them any longer, Adrian thought as his SUV rounded a corner and turned onto a narrow dirt road with his family’s ancestral home becoming apparent in the distance. Centuries before, the land that the estate was built upon had formerly been home to a much more formidable castle, though over the years the upkeep and feudal reforms proved to be too much when the benefits of the defenses were no longer deemed necessary. And it was in the early 18th century that the current Domus Ulpii began to take shape with the main structure of the estate sitting at the end of the winding dirt road Adrian found himself currently on.

The white outer walls of the main home grew in stature as Adrian’s SUV neared and came to a complete stop at final gateway before entering they could approach the estate. By the looks of it, Justin had hired private security to guard the lands and entry ways, as Adrian eyed no fewer than a dozen heavily armed men around the gate and nearby lands. There are likely even more that what we can see, he thought as the Praetorian driver handled speaking to one of the guards.

After the driver finished speaking with the guards, they continued towards the main house, where at least five more armed guards were visible just outside of the home’s entrance. Adrian took a deep breath as his SUV came to a halt and one of the home’s guards opened the door. “Welcome, Your Grace,” the guard said to him with a heavy accent. Gelonian or Rhegedian by the sound and look of this one.

“Where are my brothers and sister?” Adrian stepped out of the car and pulled out his sunglasses to cover his eyes from the blinding sun of the day. He walked right past the guard, seemingly not to wait for a response and took in the sight of his home once more.

“Inside, Your Grace,” the guard stated, but Adrian kept on walking around the nearby grounds to inspect the home and all the lands he could see off in the distance.

Adrian adjusted his tie, as it had felt like it was tightening around his neck with every step he took since exiting the SUV. “My mother and brother are in the second and third cars,” Adrian stated to no one in particular, but could hear the footsteps of all the guards and staff moving behind him. “They should be placed in the crypt at once. And be careful.”

Adrian fiddled with his tie once more before turning his gaze from the surrounding lands and slowly stepping towards the home’s entrance. As he walked the short steps to the doors, they burst open and his younger sister Helena rushed out and wrapped her arms around him. The two said no words, but she held onto Adrian tightly only letting go of him when others started to follow in after him and Justin finally spoke. Adrian kissed her atop the head before the two separated.

“Welcome home, brother,” Justin, the current Duke of Vindóbona said with a smile. “You look well.”

“Well, my head is still attached,” Adrian remarked curtly.

“That you do,” Justin smirked, then looked past Adrian and towards the men who followed him inside the entryway. “Who are your companions? They friends of yours?”

Adrian sighed and took a look over his shoulder at the men, catching the glare of the man named Pilatos. The two of them had come to respect one another over the course of their expedition leading up to and following the death of Michael, but the others only want what they’re owed. “You could say that,” Adrian nodded.

“I’d be glad to call any friend of my brother a friend of my own,” Justin smiled to the men, whom all but Pilatos nodded without a smile. “I’ll have the staff show you to somewhere you can clean up.”

The men all exchanged a silent look to one another, one of the men eying Pilatos who shook his head suggesting ‘no,’ but the man spoke up anyway. “What of your brother’s debt?”

Justin had already turned to leave, but stopped and faced Adrian’s men and said, “I’m sorry…my brother’s debt?” he looked to Adrian now, who sensed something different in his eldest brother. He appeared more reserved, less arrogant, and thought more before speaking.

Adrian could feel the weight of his brother’s stare, it was almost like their mother was back and could see right through whatever lie they were going to tell right before they spoke it. “These men accompanied me in the capital. I’d promised them rewards for doing so.”

Justin pursed his lips, seemingly thinking carefully about his next words. “Well then, we’ll make sure that is taken care of as well. Now, if you wouldn’t mind following the attendants I can get right to that business for you all. Thank you.”

The home attendants proceeded to usher the dozen or so men out of the entranceway and to the accommodations that Justin had promised them, leaving Adrian, Helena and Justin in the main corridor. “Rewards?” Justin looked upset with his brother.

Adrian sighed and looked to Helena, he wiggled his head around due to his discomfort and couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eye. “Anything to stay alive, eh?” he was interrupted by the sound of a crying child off in the distance. “…is that?”

“Helena could you go make sure the nurses don’t need anything,” Justin answered the question by instead sending their sister to see after their youngest sibling. She nodded and gave Adrian one more hug before rushing towards the crying and disappearing from the entryway. “Let’s go to the study…talk about things.”

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything,” Adrian sighed at his brother’s suggestion. He took a cursory glance around to see if there was anyone lingering nearby. “I just want to be left alone.”

“Come on,” Justin stepped towards him, placing a hand on Adrian’s shoulder to help him get moving. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Adrian looked to his feet, breathing heavily until he felt his brother’s hand. He looked up at him and gave him a weak nod. Together, the two brothers walked through the home in silence. It was just as Adrian remembered it from the last time he was home before the whole mess with Michael began. He alway had a knack for making a mess of things. Eventually, they made their way out of the main structure and into the center courtyard and it’s fountains. They didn’t stop there, continuing towards the second, smaller structure on the grounds at the opposite end of the courtyard.

The second building was smaller than the main home, and more recently built, though it was constructed in a similar style as the other buildings on the lands. The two entered and eventually found their way into the library, where Justin closed the door after they both entered. Adrian immediately found a seat, lounging in an apathetic way.

Justin went to the liquor cabinet kept in the library. “I didn’t think you’d actually come home,” he said to Adrian, pouring him a drink.

“Surprised to see me alive?” Adrian remarked, still slouched in his seat and now taking his tie off.

“I thought you’d be at the parade…nor did I think Constantine would actually let you leave,” Justin walked towards his brother with two drinks, offering one to Adrian.

Adrian laughed, “Oh you mean the triumph?”

“I’m not kidding, I didn’t think they’d let you leave. I’ve been concerned someone would even come here for us,” Justin stated. “That’s why we hired extra security.”

“The only thing those guards are good for is housesitting and cashing your checks,” Adrian said with yet another arrogant chuckle. “But haven’t you heard, I’ve been pardoned by Caesar. And Full pardon means fully pardoned, brother,” Adrian said somewhat mockingly before downing his entire drink in one long swig. Even for killing that man’s brother. He sat there silently afterwards, occasionally looking at Justin who looked curiously at him. “Or so the lawyers tell me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Justin offered after the silence was too long to bear.

“Talk about what?” Adrian stood up and went to pour himself another drink. “Talk about how mother is dead? Talk about how our brother is dead? Talk about how Michael killed his father? Or did you want to talk about how I killed Michael? I think that’s the one. That’s the one everyone wants to talk about, or rather talk at me about.”

“We can talk about whatever is on your mind,” Justin stated as he watched Adrian’s hands shake while pouring his drink, missing the glass on two occasions. “How about those men that came with you. Who are they?”

“Soldiers. They were soldiers at least. I owe them money…probably jobs too,” Adrian turned to face his older brother. “They were sent to kill me when mother was taken by Michael. Offering them money was all I could think of to survive.”

“Why didn’t you kill them?”

Adrian smirked before going into a full laugh. “Even I can’t kill thirty men all by myself.”

“From what little I’ve heard, you and these men took on the entire palace guard yourself. Sounds like you don’t give yourself much credit.”

“The Palace was full of Scholarians…Scholarians for Christ sake. They’re glorified police, not quite the force it was hundreds of years ago. These men I was with, they are highly trained and I would be dead at least three times over if it weren’t for them,” Adrian leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms.

“You said they need jobs on top of the money you are asking me to give them?”

“I did,” Adrian nodded solemnly. “They were discharged.”

“Do they have any skills other than killing?”

“Presumably,” Adrian shrugged and raised his glass, holding it at his lips as he considered finishing what was left, but instead he simply placed the glass down.

“Well, reward or no, surely they’re an honorable bunch,” Justin bopped his head slowly, side-to-side while he thought over Adrian’s request. “I’ll speak with Uncle Jordan and the accountants, we’ll work out some arrangement.”

Loyalty means nothing to you. You are a man without honor. The words echoed through Adrian’s mind causing him to wince before responding to his brother, “Good,” he said with relief. “That’s all I needed.”

“There’s one more thing,” Justin stood and casually walked towards a portrait of their mother and removed it from the wall. Behind the painting was a safe, which Justin began to spin the combination. “When you were in Michael’s service, did he say anything to you about mother or father?”

“Do you really think he told me anything at all?” Adrian held the liquor bottle in his hand, though not pouring another drink into his glass.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,” Justin sighed. “It did always seem like you were around when the inner circle was meeting…at least in the short time I was around.”

“When those men came to arrest me, they told me that our ‘whore of a mother’ had been arrested for treason of the highest degree. Michael was always a bit over dramatic wasn’t he?” Adrian spoke back to his brother, who in all likelihood was still working at the safe. He could hear the clanking of the safe opening and closing, followed by his brother’s footsteps across the hardwood flooring.

“I received this days before…days before you killed him,” Justin told Adrian, holding a letter and envelope in his hands. When Adrian turned around, Justin was holding the letter out for Adrian to read. He grabbed the paper and flipped it open.

From the Desk of His Imperial Majesty The Emperor of the Latins

---

As your rightful Emperor, I hereby order you to return to the Palatine with your brothers and sisters immediately. Your mother is a treacherous whore, and you are not your father's son, just as your siblings are not his children. This I've heard from your mother’s own lips. As bastard, you have no right to the Dukedom of Vindóbona. You have 24 hours to reach the capital and forfeit your titles, claims to lands, holdings, and incomes and submit yourself and your family to my justice.

Your mother betrayed me, and she has been condemned to death. Your brother George betrayed me, and he has been condemned to death. Your brother Adrian betrayed me, and he has been condemned to death. Should you refuse these demands, I shall have you arrested for treason and you and your remaining siblings will be condemned to death.

Signed:
Michael VIII Augustus, rightful Emperor of the Latins, and Trueborn Son and Heir of Jason VI Augustu

“What of it? Michael always shit out of his mouth,” Adrian folded the letter and handed it back to his elder brother. “That’s what he was best at.”

“Don’t you think we should do something about it? I mean what if there are other copies or records in the capital? We don’t know where those records would be or who has control of them now,” Justin was taken aback by his brother’s apparent lack of outrage or even interest. “I mean, should we talk to our lawyers?”

“He was a raving lunatic who killed people for the fun of it. No one will care what he said or what he wrote,” Adrian slouched and rested against a nearby couch. “People just want to forget him.” I want to forget him.

“But what if someone…”

“No one will do a damn thing about it. Not unless you make it an issue. You always make things a larger problem than they need to be,” Adrian shook his head and stated with a raised voice. He let out a defeated sigh and started walking to the door, beginning to open it. “Just let it go this time.”

“Where are you going?” Justin quickly folded the letter and placed it in his jacket’s inner breast pocket. Adrian offered no reply, just walked out the door and began down the steps. Yet Adrian didn’t stop walking, and his brother shouted, “You can’t run away from this,” as the two finally reached the courtyard.

“I’m not running, I’m walking,” Adrian countered as rain had already begun to fall. He felt a tug at his arm, noticing Justin grab ahold of him. “I swear to God, you better let me go.”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” Justin said in serious manner that mirrored what Adrian would have expected out of their mother. “Are you going to…”

Adrian balled his hand into a fist and looked towards the fountain to his right. He took a deep breath but before he could utter a word Helena rushed out of the house and shouted, “Justin, Adrian, come quickly.”

Their sister looked worried, Adrian immediately thinking something was wrong with their baby brother. When he felt Justin let go of his arm, the two rushed into the home and saw Helena, and some of her friends surrounding a large television affixed to the wall. “Jesus Christ,” Adrian heard Justin say very slowly once they could read the headline on the news.

Helena’s hands covered her mouth in shock while Adrian closed his eyes and winced with a shake of his head. He heard the newscaster say, Praetorian authorities have just released the name of the would be assassin, Lanig Kou Sezneci. Sezneci was a Latin citizen and resident of the county of Gelonia, with known ties to the GSB according to the Frumentarii.

“I’m so glad you weren’t there,” Helena stated to either Adrian or Justin. But the newscaster continued, The Emperor is reportedly safe and only suffered minor upper body injuries from the fall off his horse after being tackled by Emperor Nathan IV of Ghant. At this time we are uncertain on the Ghantish emperor’s condition, though we are told that representatives of each government have been in contact with one another. The news anchor paused for a brief moment and then continued, Breaking news just in, a curfew is in effect for the boroughs of Esquilinus, Martis, the City, Pistorium, Palpatinus, Palatinus, the Forum, the City, and Velia. All unauthorized individuals stopped on the street past 6:00 pm will be detained and questioned. The Office of the Urban Prefect has announced that the curfew will be lifted at dusk tomorrow, and will not continue past this night.

“I hope they’re okay,” one of Helena’s friends that Adrian didn’t recognize stated, he assumed wishing both Emperor’s well. He tried to keep focused on the television, however, and watched the broadcast shift from the studio report to a camera crew near the scene of the incident in Velia on the Via Appia. The cameras were fixed on a reporter with local police and Praetorians clearly visible in the background and a number of cars and other vehicles rushing around.

…What we know for certain,, the street reporter began, is that Consul Pompilius, and other cabinet members have been called to the Palatine for an emergency meeting. It is not clear if the Emperor, himself, or a surrogate has called for this meeting, as our most recent reports suggest Caesar is currently still at the hospital. The screen cut in half to show the studio anchor who asked a question that Adrian couldn’t make out due to all the commotion in the room. But the reporter replied, We’re not certain, Flavia, but it is clear that Caesar and members of his government have been working diligently to ensure everything runs smoothly and business as usual does not cease or fall into the backdrop. It’s been chaotic today, but authorities have handled the situation well from…

Adrian sighed and thought, This country can't catch a break.

[Leasath]

‘A House of Pain’
Louis XIX
The Imperial Palace
Saint-Nazaire, Vannois

“Hmm… If you would lift your arm, your Grace…”

“As you say, Jean,” Louis murmured, raising his right arm for his valet. The man, who was roughly three times the Emperor’s age and rather round about the waist, bent close to examine the fit of the jacket Louis was wearing. He hummed slightly, nodding to himself, before stepping back.

“I apologize, your Grace, but I only wanted to make sure that the tailor had fitted you right with the material at hand. God knows he had a tough enough time with your father, and he was of a similar build to you in his youth,” the valet meandered, and Louis simply nodded along. He is not an insufferable man, but God is he clueless, he thought, stepping down off the short block that he had been set upon by the older man.

“Your apologies are unnecessary, Jean, as always,” Louis spoke softly, and adjusted his dinner jacket. “You are dismissed. Please inform the usual maids that they can leave the mess for the night; I am sure they will be wanting to head home.” The older man bowed his head.

“Of course, your Grace. You are too kind,” he said, and with that withdrew from the room. He left behind the young Emperor, who turned in his less-than-casual attire and observed his slightly messy bedroom. In reality, the room was nearly spotless; with grand, tall ceilings and enough floorspace to outdo even the largest downtown apartments in the capitol, any mess would only ever occupy a fifth of the room at most in any case.

But then, Louis was used to such large accommodations, and any little niggling bit would get to him all the same. In any event, he checked his watch only to realize he was becoming rather late for his appointed dinner date, and swept from the room as regally as if he was standing before a hundred thousand men, rather than just himself. He’d never admit it, even to himself, but he was fond of such things; the pomp and circumstance, the foolish glory and honor that being royalty -- being the Emperor -- brought with it. No, he would deny any admission and term it duty, always.

Duty was good; it was honest, godly work. It had not yet led him astray. At least, that was what he told himself.

He had caught himself up in his thoughts of duty and godliness when he reached the door that would lead to the small, minor dining room that he would be sharing tonight. Though there would only be one other attendee, and a family member at that, he still insisted on proper attire; especially for this one. Where he could get away with casual countenance with his youngest sisters, Catherine was a different story; not always, but now, surely. It did no good to think on that story anyway.

Shaking his head, Louis nodded to the man standing-by at the door to the small room, who turned his body to face the entrance and called out,

“Announcing His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor.”

With that, Louis brushed through the doorway, looking out over the small room to take in its contents. A chandelier, done up in gold and silver, hung above a reasonably large dining table covered in embroidered white cloth. Upon the table rested tonight’s dinner; roasted dodo, slaughtered just the day prior from the Palace’s own flock. Nearby was a number of bottles of wine, red and white, as well as champagne. Upon a small table to the side of the room, there were a number of harder alcohols, as well as a case of choice cigars. Louis blinked as he recalled many nights in this room, with his family and without, and turned his head to the only other person in the room.

“Sister.”

“Your Grace.”

Louis fought a grimace at that, and instead nodded passively to the table before them. They had gone through this charade often enough; he had insisted on dining alone with each of his sisters every so often, and it was usually a fine experience, but ever since Espo, since Latium, since him… Things had changed. Perhaps ‘changed’ is not enough to describe our lives, Louis pondered and, feeling the queerest mix of emotions clenching his stomach as he moved to sit, sat at the head of the table. Catherine, not one to be out done even in her best days, defiantly sat as far from him as she could, taking the opposite chair at the end of the table that had once seemed small; now, it was insurmountable.

“You look lovely, dear sister,” Louis spoke quietly, and he did not lie. In spite of the dark circles under her eyes that had been carefully masked with make-up, and the drawn countenance she had taken since their return from the west, she was ever stunning. Tonight she wore a brilliant red dress, long and conservative in the sleeves but not over the chest; a small diamond necklace dangled from her neck, and her hair was twisted up and away in a fashion that had taken Saint-Nazaire by storm some time ago. Truly, but for Selene, he was proud that the next most beautiful woman in the world was a Niort-Parthenay.

“Thank you,” Catherine murmured, not looking at him. Louis shut his eyes a moment, let out a breath, and then tapped a bell that sat directly to his left. At that, not even the ring, three young servants appeared from the woodwork and bowed.

“Would you like us to distribute the courses, your Grace?” One of the men spoke, head still bowed in deference to the Vannoisian Sovereign.

“As you will. I will have the red, though I care not what sort. I am sure you are well versed in pairing wines with this cuisine,” Louis spoke with a more commanding voice, now, though he remained soft; it was a habit of his, to save his most demanding tones for those that deserved it. He would not bare to see Catherine flinch at the voice of her own brother, anyway.

“Of course, your Grace. Would your Highness prefer a wine, as well?” The man turned to the withdrawn Catherine, who mustered a small smile for him before shaking her head. Thinking all was done, the trio went to go about putting together their dinner before the honey-sweet voice of the Flower of Vannois spoke quietly, almost tremulously.

“A glass of the Lambourd, if you please,” she said, and the servant nodded without a word. Louis was struck, but remained silent; Lambourd, with dinner? He had known Cath was fond of some drinks, cognac such as this being one of them, but it was unlike her to… well, was it? I don’t know what is like and unlike her, now, he thought unhappily.

They sat in silence as their meal was prepared, the light scrape of metal on fine dishes and the quick pouring of wine and cognac the only things making any sound. It was a few moments before they were settled, and when they were the servants took their leave silently as was customary of such occasions under the new Emperor.

“Cheers, sister,” Louis raised his wineglass and, though she did not look to him, Catherine silently did the same with her snifter of cognac. Both drank, though where Louis sipped his sister took a larger gulp, and the Emperor shifted uncomfortably. They went on in this fashion for a minute, then another, and then another, eating their finely made dinner in silence. Finally, though he was used to the calm quiet of church and prayer, Louis spoke to break their uneasiness.

“I received word from uncle Benoît this afternoon. Lady Marie is pregnant yet again, he says. They are to visit us in a week’s time,” he said, having rehearsed the line in his head a few times before speaking. “He says he wishes to bring little Aurélien and René, if you and Marie-Joseé are willing to bear them,” and at this he allowed a strained smile in the direction of his sister, who showed no sign of having heard him. However, it seems that she had, for she spoke in response.

“I would be happy to see both our little cousins. It has been too long. René was an infant when last we saw him,” Catherine spoke without inflection, and it almost made Louis clench a fist on the table. While it always worried him, Cath getting into this manner of talking to him, it also became an irritating and repetitive action. She was ever dead to the world, it seemed. Shunting his own position in such things away, instead he nodded slowly, betraying nothing despite the fact that Catherine’s eyes had not left her lap.

“Yes, of course… I, ah, also received a letter from the Duke of Vogüé, cousin Val’s intended. He wrote on behalf of his brother, Olivier, I am sure you recall him?” Louis noticed that Catherine had stilled entirely, and seemed paler than before. He shifted forward, trying to get a look at her eyes under her bowed head. “If not… I could provide a refresher, if you wish?”

“I need no such thing,” Catherine responded, and now there was certainly an inflection in her tone -- even if it was one of absolute iron. “I do not wish to be courted by Olivier de Damas-Pouilly, or any other little lordling that thinks that just because we played as children they have some right to speak to me,” she ground out, and Louis sat back, surprised. “Neither of us was ever to wed some little lordling, Audric; you were not meant for Marie-Victoire, just as I am not meant for Olivier, or Jacques-Marie de Le Tellier, or one of the Prime Minister’s sons. Never.”

At the sound of his given name, his name until not so long ago, Louis started. However, he remained quiet, allowing Catherine to finish. This was the most that they had spoken in some time; he would let her get out all he wished, within reason.

“No… No, I suppose not, but I recall you having been rather fond of the Duke’s brother around the time that cousin Marie-Paule and Stéphanie were presented to court…”

“I have been fond of many men, brother, but that does not mean that I would take them into my bed as my husband,” and now she was looking at him, actually looking at him, and Louis wondered (though only for a moment) what in the name of God he had done to earn the stare she was sending his way. “I will not marry Olivier. Nor shall I marry any other man who has been foolish enough to send a proposal to you,” she spat, and at that turned her flashing eyes back to her half-empty glass of cognac. Raising the glass to take another long sip, she did not see Louis’s gaze harden as he steeled himself.

“What shall become of you, then? What do you wish. I will not see you become a spinster, that is for certain. You are a good Vannoisian Princess, a great beauty, it would not do to-”

“Don’t you see?!” she cried, whipping her head back to glare at him again. “Are you truly ignorant to all that you have done to me, brother?” She stood violently from the table, and began pacing along the room on shaky legs. She seemed, to Louis, on the verge of both tears and some kind of psychotic break. Of course, he kept such thoughts to himself; at this juncture, he kept all to himself, not trusting his tongue. She whirled on him, after a time, her eyes still flashing and her mouth set grimly.

“Do you truly not see,” she began, and while there was a tremble to her voice it was otherwise all the steel that he had cultivated himself in preparation for his position as Emperor, “what you have done to me? I am ruined, Audric. Ruined for your games and schemes. Ruined for your own love.”

“You are not ru-”

“But I am, and you know that I am. Oh, yes, perhaps the world does not know. Perhaps Olivier of Vogüé, or Paul of Ghant, or some other poor fool is actually ignorant of my state. This changes nothing,” she hissed, leaning forward towards him. “All my life I shall live with the fact that I was a pawn, a fucking pawn, in the death of an innocent boy put up to war by old men and fools. I will never forget that dishonor. Just because the world does not know, does not mean that we don’t share in it.”

“Catherine, I did what-”

“You did what you did because you would have wanted Constantine, or Michael, or some other merciless bastard to do the same were they in your shoes. I know,” Catherine nodded to herself, and allowed a humorless laugh. “Yes, you would be one to destroy any threat to your stability. It has always been your way.”

“What is that supposed to mean, then? I did what I did to stabilize the reign of an ally. Would I wish for the same? Yes. You know me all too well. I did what I did for the stability of Latium -- and of Vannois.” Louis shot back, standing as well now, hands on the table and eyeing his sister unflinchingly as she paced.

“For the stability of Vannois!” She cried again, laughing that humorless laugh, and shaking her head. “I had to lose my maidenhood, for the stability of Vannois!”

“Sister-”

“No! No!” She waved a hand wildly, stopping her mad circuit and turning to stare directly at her brother. “No. You are not going to explain away what happened. I will not allow it. You will listen.”

Louis was silent, and Catherine took this as his consent.

“I gave myself for George, and for you, for the stability of the realm and for Latium. I gave myself so that we could help to rebuild the Latins and allow them rule under a just and good Emperor. That is what that poor boy would have been, regardless of his birth, no matter what would have happened to him in Vannois,” she said, teeth gritting, making reference to the less-than-pleasant but, to Louis, necessary treatment of base-born children in their home country. “Instead you deceive me, you deceive us all but for perhaps great-grandmother and murder my husband in our marriage bed. That is a treachery that even your own twisted version of God would abhor, brother.”

“I do all things in God’s light,” Louis responded immediately, automatically. “I seek His advice and counsel in all things. I would not do without Him, and I would not betray Him.”

Catherine was unmoved. She stood, mouth open, displaying shock rather than anger.

“You truly believe that.” It was not a question, but he answered her anyway.

“Yes. I am but a servant of God. In working in the interests of Latium and Vannois, I work in the interests of Him as well. You know that this is how I carry on, sweet sister. This is my duty,” Louis spoke sincerely, and was confused to see Catherine’s expression curdle like spoilt milk.

“That,” she spat, “that is a step too far.” She whirled around stepping toward the door, and thought better of it as she turned back. “I cannot suffer you, but I will ask some things of you.”

“... If I can provide an answer, then I shall.”

“Was there ever any chance of letting George live? Of truly siding with him, and of our marriage being law rather than a bloody sham?” Catherine seemed to speak with some modicum of hope, raw in her voice, and her eyes searched Louis for the brother she thought she knew.

He stared back at her, revealing nothing.

“Truly?” She nodded. “No. George was always meant to die. Your marriage was not meant to be consummated, no, but George was playing a game that he should not have. His family was always doomed for this failure.” Again, whatever other emotions that were in Catherine’s face were swept away by disgust at Louis’s words, and she fixed him again with an angry glare.

“I see,” she spat. “Who’s plan was it? From the beginning. Which of your cronies had the brilliant plan to risk the Princess and end the threat to Constantine’s reign?”

At this Louis hesitated, not sure entirely if he wished to divulge the name, but in this one instance he was of a mind to bend to another’s will.

“It was, in part, my own idea, to end the threat that is. The concept of putting you at such a risk had to go through me, and it did. But it came from the collective minds of Count Auriroux and his men. We needed a reason to get so close to George, and this presented the best opportunity. Had we more time…” Louis trailed, but shook his head. “It does not do to think of opportunities lost this long. We had to win for Constantine’s faction in order to unseat Michael --”

“In order to get Selene. Don’t lie to me,” Catherine spoke almost softly, though there was still a hardness to her eyes. “You believe that you did all of this in God’s light and interest, yes. But you did it for Selene, in truth. Anyone can see.” She shook her head, looking a broken woman, so young and so troubled. “For your sake, I dearly hope she is worth it.”

Louis swallowed past a lump in his throat as he looked upon his sister, and looked down at his feet for a long breath. He closed his eyes, seeing in his mind’s eye that night at Espo; the poor girl he had tried to shield from her brother’s death, who had looked upon him so kindly. He tried to recall just what he thought about dwelling on the past, but in this moment all he could see were the grief stricken faces of Constantia and her fool mother who had tried to crown a bastard. I did, what I did, for the good of Latium. For Vannois… For Selene, too.

“Perhaps you will think, now, of what you have done, brother. I know that you had a conscience once.” With that, the shadow of the Flower of Vannois curtseyed before him, and swept from the room with slumped shoulders but clenched fists.

As for Louis, he did not move from where he stood, not for a long while. Eventually one of the servants poked back into the room, asking quietly whether they ought to clear away the remains of their dinner, and the Emperor waved a hand. “I am going for a walk,” he said, though to nobody in particular, and he wandered. He did not know just where his feet were taking him until he stood in the middle of the dark palace gardens, dimly lit by the low light of overhanging lamps. Already there was dew on the leaves of the trees, the petals of the flowers.

Thinking naught of the brand new dinner jacket he wore, nor the other expensive finery upon him, he moved to a patch of grass in the grand gardens and sat down, hard. Looking ahead at nothing, he thought to lay back into the wet grass and look to the stars, and did just that. Though the Palace was just outside of the city center, there was little enough light pollution this night to see most of the brightest stars, and so the Emperor gazed as a child, recalling the constellations from lessons taught to him long ago.

“Have I wronged?” He murmured, to himself and, he thought, perhaps to God. “I did what I did, truly, for the betterment of us all. For the glory of the Christian Realms wrought by destruction and war. I did not… I thought sacrifice was essential for such things…”

Whatever the answers to his questions were, they were not given to him this night. It was now that he ached not for confession, or for prayer in the palace chapel, but for his future wife. Selene. She would know what to say, how to soothe his worries and calm his doubts. Of course, she was also in Castellum, alongside her brother and loving family minus one.

Before allowing himself to sink any further into some despicable self-pity, Louis looked again to the stars.

“I have gone so far. I have not done what I have done to hurt Catherine; nor even to hurt the girl, Constantia, or her mother; I would not have even hurt those foolish boys playing at being King,” he said, voice cracking, and he fell silent for a moment, eyes closed. He allowed, just for a moment, the feeling of regret.

It terrified him, and in its face he embraced the words of God and of those he trusted to serve his needs. Even then, he could not help himself.

“I never wanted to hurt so many. Never.”

[Leasath]

‘A House of Pain II’
Charles the Younger
The Imperial Palace
Saint-Nazaire, Vannois

Charles always slept peacefully when he was within the confines of the Imperial Palace. It had always been that way, for him. While his cousins and even his baby sister had at times struggled with the magnitude of the place -- the grand, tall ceilings in every room that could, to a child, harbor a ghost or monster -- he had always been comfortable in this place. Even with the death of his goodly grandfather and namesake, Charles XII, he found that the Palace still felt just as much a home as it ever had.

Of course, the atmosphere of the place could not keep him from its occupants.

“Charles,” he heard a woman’s whisper, a knocking coming from somewhere. He had fallen asleep at the desk, again, though a small blanket had been thrown over him by his valet he was sure. He raised his head from the pillow that had also been stuck under his head -- really, why didn’t the man just move him altogether? -- and turned, slowly, to look at the door. Eyes blurry with short-lived sleep, he tried to eye the clock nearby, ignoring the second whisper as he deciphered the time.

“What in God’s name does anyone want with me at 1 in the morning?” He asked himself, and ostensibly the woman’s voice outside his door. He slowly stood and stretched, and as he did the person outside took their cue to enter. As he oriented himself, he eyed his visitor; cousin Catherine, known to all the family as Cath, dressed in a nightgown and overshirt, looking distressed. Noticing this, Charles looked over himself, and was relieved to see that he was still fully clothed in what he had worn that day.

“I apologize, cousin. I know it is late. You were sleeping?” Catherine spoke softly, for which Charles was thankful as he rubbed the side of his face, feeling more awake. “I would not have disturbed you if it was not important.”

“Of course, of course,” he sighed, taking in his cousin’s expression and gesturing to the chair he had just vacated. “Please, sit. You look like you need it more than me.” And he spoke the truth, for cousin Cath looked a bit of a fright; eyes wide and red, puffy flesh around their edges, and shoulders slumped. Those wide eyes were a battle of anger and something else entirely that, in his still waking state, he could not decipher. He could, however, guess as to what had caused her state. As she sat, he spoke. “What is it that you would have of me?”

“I do not presume to demand anything of you, Charlie,” she said, tones still soft and using the nickname that precious few still called him. “I hope you know that.” Charles waved a hand in response, nodding. She spoke the truth, or at least the truth as he knew it, anyway. He wasn’t especially interested in the alternative. “It is about Audric, so if you would rather I not continue tell me now.”

“Give me a moment,” he replied, and did in fact give himself a moment. Speaking of Audric had become a risky proposition, lately. While he trusted that his cousin would never hurt his own kin -- at least, not so directly as to accuse them of some kind of treason -- he was loathe to tempt anyone or thing with such thoughts. He shook his head, though; they were in the Imperial Palace. They were both Niort-Parthenays, directly related to the reigning Emperor of Vannois. There was no trouble. If he could help his cousins, then he would. “Ok. What’s happened, then?”

Catherine took a breath. “I met with Audric, tonight. We had dinner. He spoke of… Well, he spoke of suitors,” she said, almost hissing the last word. Charles folded his hands before him, and sat on the edge of his large bed in front of Cath in the desk chair. He listened intently. “And more.”

“More?” Charles questioned, his mind not even taking the time to play through the scenarios that would have led Catherine to this state; it was obvious what topic had come up between the two siblings tonight, finally, and Charles was simply glad neither of them had been killed by the other over it.

“Espo,” she said, her voice whispy. It seemed she had spent much of her anger on Audric, for her countenance had now only the last vestiges of the rage he knew she would have turned upon the Emperor. Now, she simply seemed ready to cry herself to sleep.

“Espo,” Charles replied. He spoke carefully. “I see. What did he tell you of Espo, cousin? I cannot imagine you wished to relive the events.”

“No,” she ground out, “I certainly did not.” She took a moment, that stretched on into perhaps a minute, to compose herself. For his part, Charles did not look away from her; he knew that he must be attentive to engage with Cath when she was in such a way. Considering their great-grandmother was off in Latium, and Catherine had been isolating herself from virtually her entire social circle since their return from the foreign nation, he had to be the one for her to talk to if there was any chance of her being able to talk at all.

“He told me the truth, of the plan. For George.” She spoke haltingly, and Charles waited patiently for her to continue at each stoppage. “Of how I was not meant to- to be ruined, by him. I was to be ‘saved,’ and held outside whole instead of destroyed whilst my new husband was murdered in my marriage bed.” Catherine was looking at her hands, now, tracing a knuckle on her right with the fingers of her left.

“I am sorry, Catherine. For what happened. For what was supposed to happen, too,” Charles spoke in a matching tone to hers, though his was fluid. “Had I been a part of the scheme I would have done something, anything, to avoid your injury during its execution,” he said, and leaned forward to take one of his cousin’s hands. “Audric -- Louis, he was unwilling to take any delay in rescuing Selene. He wanted to prove himself to Constantine and the legitimist faction as quickly and succinctly as he could, and I had assumed that he would direct our military to take to the field in Espo to destroy George’s military capability. I was… I was wrong.” Charles’s voice faltered, and he could not bear to look at Catherine as he spoke.

“No, no. I know now that there is nothing you could have done then, for me or for George and his family. You say that Audric wanted to rush to be with Selene, to save her from her mad brother; you are right, but... I think you understand him only as well as I did, before,” Catherine spoke with a queer tone, and it caused Charles to turn to look her in the face. That odd glint to her eye was back, and now that he could see it he knew exactly what it was she was feeling: fear. Of what, he was uncertain, but she was afraid of something. “Charles, you need to… You need to do something. What, I am not certain, but my brother is not right.”

“Catherine, Louis is --”

“Wait, let me make my meaning clear. I was too vague,” she raised a hand and shook her head, and he noticed that she seemed to be shaking all over. “Charles, we both know Audric thinks himself a godly man. He has been pious since we were all little children; it is his way,” Catherine paused and, at her cousin’s nod, took a breath to continue. “I can attribute much of his eagerness to win the war to his love for Selene, just as you have, just as many have. But that isn’t the way he sees it in his head, cousin.” She shook her own head again, bringing a hand near her mouth as if to cover it.

“What do you mean, that isn’t the way? He loves Selene more than near anything in the world; I know he thinks himself especially holy, but… What are you trying to say?”

“He thinks himself some instrument of God -- and not in any normal sense, absolutely not in a normal sense,” she said, inflecting her tone with a touch of the anger he was sure she had exhausted earlier. “He literally thinks that he is acting in life on God’s counsel, cousin. I- I fear that he is mad.” Catherine wiped angrily at her cheeks before him, swatting away any tears. “He believes that what he did was in the service of God, that he could not betray God for he is his servant. I don’t.. I can’t understand.”

“I…” Charles was, for a time, speechless. He knew Catherine would have no reason to lie to him; despite his closeness to Louis, and what the Emperor had done to her, she knew that she could not influence the young man named for their grandfather in any way harmful to him. Taking this into hand, he was confronted with the terrifying possibility that, somewhere along the line, Louis had inherited some madness; through Gentry, Niort-Parthenay, or otherwise he did not know. “... madness? It can’t be…”

“Great-grandmother’s own grandfather was the Mad Emperor, you know. He was our ancestor, too.” Catherine spoke at a whisper, her tone conveying death and defeat. “Who is to say that his madness spared only those of us who were not to inherit the throne? Who is to say that we are not cursed, cousin? There is ample reason, I think, to believe… Well, to believe it.”

“Cath… Grandfather Charles was not mad. Your father was…” Charles was lost for a moment, but found his thread again. “Your father was a troubled man, and one who died young, but he was not evil. We are not cursed by the ghost of some long-dead Ghantish Emperor, and Louis…” He could not bear to think that his closest friend, his kin, was lost. “Louis is not mad. What he did to you, to George, to the people of Espo -- it was and remains abhorrent. This I do not deny on his behalf. I think… I think he is troubled. Just as your father was.”

“His troubles lead him to commit murder and slay the only future of a small family in cold blood,” Catherine retorted coldly. “My father was a drunken gambler. Forgive me, cousin, if I do not see the comparison.” She stood.

“Catherine, wait, that isn’t what I meant--”

“No, Charlie.” Cath’s voice was calm, and chilling. “If you will not see to Audric then I will do as I must. There are few enough in this family who are willing to see him for what he is now. I know that you do; if you will do nothing about it, however, I have only one other option.”

“Cath, great-grandmother does not hold sway with Louis as I do, let me--” Charles was cut off yet again by his cousin, who was taking none of it.

“You are my kin, and I love you. More than most of our other family, you know,” Catherine’s voice was still cold, but there was a hint of affection in it. “Audric does too, in his own way. That is why I came to you. That is why I still come to you. But if you are not strong enough to see this situation…”

“Let me try.” Charles spoke with some element of finality in his voice. “Let me try to see. I will seek out Louis. If I know him as I think I do, he will not be abed at this time; not after what you have told me happened. I will find him, and… Assess him, myself.”

“Assess him?” Catherine replied, slightly incredulous.

“If I think that what you have said carries weight, cousin, then I will do what I can to protect the body of the Emperor. This is my duty, just as it was yours to tell me of your concerns in a speedy and respectful manner,” and at this Charles nodded slowly to get the message across. What we are doing carries no suspicion. You are a caring sister, worried at the toll that being Emperor has taken on your brother. We are free of any crime. At her responding nod, he took that she understood. “Go to your rooms and rest, Cath. Try to sleep. I will do all I can and, should Louis be as you believe and… Should I fail, then we will do what we must to… to…” Charles could not finish, though by his cousin’s face he had gotten that message across, too.

“I will see you in the morning, then,” Catherine said this with absolute finality, as if there was no risk in what Charles was to do. “Goodnight, cousin.”

“... Goodnight, cousin…” Charles stood and exchanged kisses with Catherine on their cheeks, stepping back afterwards to let her on her way out. “I will see you in the morning.”

After her rather charged exit, Charles did his best to smooth his clothes and find his shoes. Wrinkly as he looked, it would do for a late night sojourn into the Palace’s chapel, where he was sure Louis was in prayer. It just so happened that his way to the chapel took him through a hallway just across from one of the large lawns in the Palace’s gardens, upon which he spotted a figure lying. He stopped dead in his tracks, trying to make out the dark shape on the dewy ground before opening the nearby glass door and stepping out into the cool January night.

“Hello, who goes there?” Charles heard a familiar voice, and realized that his quarry was in fact right here before him. Taking a hesitant step forward, he cleared his throat of the surprised exclamation he had been about to make; Louis was certainly not in the chapel.

“Cousin, it is me. Charles. I… was told that you were not abed,” he replied, and was relieved to hear none of the uncertainty that he carried in his voice. “I had thought perhaps I might find you in the chapel, but…”

“No. Not tonight, I think,” Louis replied, reclining on his elbows with a troubled look on his face. “Come, cousin. Sit with me. The stars are beautiful tonight.”

Charles took another slow step forward, and then moved to stand before his cousin, bowing.

“None of that, now. Please.” Louis spoke with some modicum of desperation, which struck Charles ever further. “Sit. Look with me. I would speak with you.”

“As you wish, cousin,” Charles replied lightly, forcing himself to keep his tone even. Louis was acting odd, and it did not help that he had words of doom and madness in his mind thanks to Catherine. “What would you speak of?”

“I assume Catherine has already told you, my friend,” Louis replied, having leant back flat onto the earth and turned his face solely to the night sky. Charles hesitated before doing the same, heart pounding as he, too, looked only to space. “Do not fret over that, at least. I know you are the only one she speaks to outside of my little sisters. I had… I had assumed she did it out of a need to feel understood, and you were as close to her as you were to me when we were children.”

“I apologize for not telling -”

“You owe me no apology,” Louis spoke in a rather imperial tone, and shook his head. “I am sorry. I should have taken a more… proactive role, for Cath. After Espo.”

“I don’t know that that would have been the best idea,” Charles replied. “Catherine is deeply unhappy, cousin.”

“I know. And I had wondered why for… for longer than I ought have.” Louis’s voice cracked, and Charles turned his head to see his cousin had shut his eyes. After a moment, he spoke again. “I thought I was doing what was right, cousin. What I did was in the name of God; that is what I told myself. Every night on the campaign, every day I had in new reports of battles and skirmishes, looting and intelligence on George or Michael or Constantine. I was acting for God’s laws of succession as put forth by the holy book… and for Selene, an innocent in it all.” Louis fell silent again, and Charles was at a loss of what to say.

“Cousin, your intent was surely righteous…”

“Was it, though?” Louis shot back, eyes opened again, blazing blue-green that fixed Charles intently. “Was I truly acting for God? I have asked him. Jesus save me, I have asked him so many times this night that I am sure he is sick of me -- and I have received no answer. Not even the hint of truth. Am I forsaken, now? Because I can see what I have done?” Charles was struck to notice tears forming in his cousin’s eyes, and for a moment he felt ready to flee before the wroth and grief of the Emperor. Instead, he sat up, looking directly at his friend, kin and sovereign.

“You were acting as you thought best to save Selene, the woman you love. You know this as well as I,” Charles began, and raised a hand before Louis could speak. “I love you as my own brother, cousin; we were both left with only sisters, and from our youth we have been close. Trust me when I say that you were doing what you thought was right… But also trust me when I say that, we cannot know when and if we are labouring in God’s light.” Charles paused, gathering himself. “It is not for us to say or think, but only to pray that we are… and I think that you have passed that point long ago.” By now, Louis had sat up as well, and was still looking at Charles with that intense expression.

“What do you mean, then? Do you think me some zealot, some madman intent on only the grace of God and caring nothing for my people? I love Catherine, with all of my heart, I would never -”

“That is precisely not what I am saying, cousin,” Charles interjected boldly, shaking his head quickly. “You are no madman, you are not insane, and you would not abandon the people of Vannois. I know you. You are a good person,” and with that established, Charles steeled himself for the tougher half of this conversation. “But you have let your faith blind you. In your devotedness to serving God and Heaven, you even forget Selene. You hide your true feelings and beliefs behind the shroud of faith, as if it can excuse you anything and everything that you do in life. It is not healthy, Louis. It endangers you just as it does the rest of us, too.”

“You would question my faith? It is the truest thing about me, I can assure you,” Louis snarled, acting as a cornered wolf. “I hide nothing behind God. I am his servant; I seek His advice -”

“- and counsel in all things. I would not do without Him, and I would not betray Him.” Charles finished Louis’s mantra quietly, but firmly. It was one he had heard countless times before, and not one he wanted to hear again. “I know. You cling to such sentiment like a drowning man clings to a raft.” He paused, allowed Louis to build up an obviously furious rant in his mind before interjecting once again. “If that is not an apt analogy, cousin, then you may rant and rave at me all you wish; but you are the one laying out here on wet grass staring at the stars tonight, instead of praying for guidance in the chapel.”

This shut Louis up before he could even begin, and seemed to deflate him as he flopped back to the earth in his expensive attire. He seemed to have fallen within himself, and Charles waited patiently, sitting cross-legged now in the grass before his younger cousin.

“I didn’t…” Louis sighed deeply, and this only after a few minutes of his silent contemplation. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I knew it was wrong to… to do what we, what I did, to George and his family. I thought… I was a fool, Charles. I was a damned fool.”

“How? Who fooled you, cousin?” Charles spoke quietly, softly, head bowed as he looked to his Emperor.

“Godly men,” Louis spat, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Godly men and false promises.” He fell silent again, not elaborating. Charles was ready to speak again when he finally burst out, “I have been played like a fiddle into the hands of those who would have my trust, and I have paid the price dearly.” He ground this out with some amount of anger in his voice, in his clenched face. “I know nothing of the true nature of God. Perhaps I never did. I have only known what these false prophets would tell me through their honeyed lies, cousin. I am, in the truest sense, a fraud.”

“Louis -- Audric. Brother.” Charles leant forward, urgent. “You are no fraud. Your identity does not rest on faith alone, Audric, it does not!” Audric made to stand quickly, and Charles followed him up, struck by how vulnerable his young cousin looked. “Look at me, now. Look. You are true to your future wife, to Selene. You are true to your allies, like Constantine, even though you have been led astray against them. You have made mistakes, and they have cost you with them and with others. Catherine is hurt, and I know not how to fix her. But you are not finished, brother.” Charles’s tone remained urgent, and he bent to look into the grief-stricken face of the Emperor, grasping his shoulders as he did. “This, this here and now is proof of that. You feel. You know what you have done, and you regret it -”

“God help me, but I do,” Louis cried, and threw himself forward at his cousin. Charles straightened, stock still at first; even in his most dire moments, even as children, Audric was not an especially touchy being. He was far from affectionate with almost anyone but for the smallest of innocent children… and Selene. So, it took a moment, but eventually Charles brought an arm up and around his young cousin’s shoulders. “I do, Charles. I regret.” His voice was muffled, but the elder Vannoisian royal heard him clearly.

“I know, cousin… Brother. I know.” His tone was still soft; still gentle. “I will do all that I can to help you, now. I cannot promise that it will be alright -- and you would not believe any such promise. But I will do all that I can, I promise you that.”

At his words, Louis stepped back, nodding and thanking him roughly. He wiped at his face, and looked around the gardens again. Then, unceremoniously, he dropped back to the grass, looking to the sky; his eyes were mostly sightless, but Charles fancied that he could see the inner workings of the Emperor through their panes.

“Sit with me, brother.” Audric spoke just as softly as he, and honored him with the same honorific. “I do not think I can suffer indoors tonight. I would have company, though.”

“As you wish, Audric,” Charles replied, maintaining his use of the Emperor’s given name for the first time in months. “Would you like me to send for blankets? I think I could do with a glass of wine, too, if you’re up for such a thing…” He smiled as that drew a small laugh from the Emperor, who nodded.

“Very well, then. Wine, warmth, and the infinity of space. What company,” Charles said sardonically, and both men broke into laughter once again. For a moment, to Charles it felt like old times, years ago; he hoped that it would be the new beginning, rather than just a glimpse, of such times returning.

[Lyncanestria]

COURTYARD
Palais de Beaulieu
Villeneuve, Lyncanestria
13 JANUARY 2017 11:02

Miniature hedges line the white marble pathways, flowering shrubs of roses and lilacs line its perimeter. At the centre, a gold-plated Apollo looks to the sky from his place in the courtyard’s stone fountain. Usually this place in the Imperial Palace was where she would go to relax, soothe her mind and read the latest popular novel but today, it echoed with the sound of clashing steel. Riposte after parry, parry after lunge, and lunge after thrust. Now Sophie stared down her brother’s blade into his piercing blue gaze.

“Yield!” he said holding the sword mere inches from her face, his heavy breathing attesting to the physical demands the duel had made of him.

“Dammit Guy you never go easy on me,” she said shoving the sword away from her face.

“If I went easy on you, you’d never improve,” he responded, “You’ve come a long way, sis—definitely not doing bad for someone who just started last year.”

“Perhaps if I spent more time with instructor Guillard than reading I would have bested you by now,” she teased as she took off her mask, medium-length chestnut locks falling gracefully from where they had been cooped. Her cheeks were rosy, blushing from the exertion—you could hardly make out her freckles anymore. She took a towel and ran it across her brow, drying the beads of sweat that had resulted.

As she looked to her brother, she saw him chuckle at her comment, but it was a shame he had taken off his fencing mask too—Sophie could see in his face a tinge of pain that disclosed the laugh’s insincerity. Immediately she regretted her words; not because they were particularly untrue—she probably could reach Guillaume’s level if she set her mind to it—but it was precisely because the truth they conveyed that she lamented saying it.

While Guillaume took things slowly, cautiously and carefully, from infancy Sophie seemed to have a talent for anything. From maths, literature and history to art, music, and dance, Sophie always did it “better”. And yet Guillaume had shown no sign of bitterness or anger—he contented himself with his mastery of sportsmanship and athleticism. Perhaps the sadness he showed was because he had begun to feel displaced in the one area she hadn’t already outshined him. She had already gotten the gist of badminton and riding—to be beaten at fencing would have been a real disgrace.

Sorry Guy, she said in her head, but you’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself; an Emperor doesn’t let petty things get to him. Despite being directed at her brother, she had spoken them mentally—she wouldn’t let him know she had caught his . But though she loved her brother dearly, it would be a lie to say the what if scenario had never crossed her mind—what if it were she and not him to succeed.

What if I had been born a boy? What if the succession had been absolute? What if my brother were to abdicate?

Whatever the daydream may be on that occasion, she would always circle back to one conclusion to banish those absurd thoughts, The Emperor these days is but a dancing clown anyways—at the mercy of the rabble’s opinion and without the true power wielded by Parliament—how could I stand that kind of circus?

“Sophie?”

Her brother’s beckon brought her back from her thoughts, “Wow, I only had to say your name five times to get you out of your trance today. A new record?”

“Sorry,” she apologised, shaking her head, “what is it?”

“Monsieur Vidocq is here,” gesturing behind her.

She turned around to see her father’s Chief Minister standing at the doorway to the courtyard. Marcel Vidocq was, to the eye, an unremarkable man; relatively short, completely bald save the grey goatee, with stern blue eyes and aged somewhere in his 70s—she couldn’t remember. He took a few steps forward, but still in the shade of the courtyard’s canopy.

“Monsieur Vidocq?”

“Your Highnesses,” he began, giving the two royals a courteous nod in acknowledgement, “I’m sorry to disturb—”

“—no need to apologise Vidocq, we had just finished.”

“Ah well, it’s good to hear I’m not interrupting. Alas, I’m here for you, Guillaume, your father wants you in the Council Room—the rest of the Council will soon be here.” Just as he was about to leave, he turned as though having suddenly remembered, “Oh and Princess, someone is on the line for you.”

She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. The palace’s private line was only used for official business or when the caller asks for a secure connection. If it’s Clément again, I swear… she thought to herself, rolling her eyes as she remembered her prep school admirer. How many times must I say no? She let out a sigh that projected annoyance, “I’m sure it’s not important, Monsieur.”

“It’s your cousin Cécile, Highness,” he clarified, “she says it’s urgent.”

Sophie’s face lit up. How long has it been? She tried recalling the last time she had seen her cousin. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had heard from her. Tossing her fencing equipment on the marble bench, Sophie made her way down the palace corridors to her room, almost in a skip as the clacking of her shoes echoed the empty halls.

Picking up the old-style sandy white telephone, she took a breath, “Cécile?”

“Sophie?”

“God it is you; I almost didn’t believe old Vidocq! I haven’t heard from you since you boarded that ship and sailed off to Ghish,” a smile formed on Marie-Sophie’s face. Cécile Palèmier was perhaps her favourite cousin and closest friend despite the four-year gap, and despite the fact she had left her… left her for that lecherous excuse of a man. It was about two years now since Cecy had gone to Ghant to be the Emperor’s mistress, or ohaide as they’re known. A match of that rank was something that Cecy had often talked about to Sophie as though it were a far-off dream yet here she is now. But while part of Marie-Sophie had wanted to be happy for Cécile, she couldn’t stop herself from judging her friend’s decision to up and leave, to abandon her home and family to live as just one of many glorified whores.

It’s no matter, she said to herself, It was her decision to make and I’m over it now.

“Hey I’m sorry to call so suddenly from nowhere,” she started, “but there is no one else I could reach.”

The shakiness of her voice, the highness of her pitch, the tremble in her speech was all she needed to come to the following conclusion: “he set you aside, didn’t he?” she responded accusingly. I knew it was a bad idea! I was right all along!

“No! It’s… I… I saw him get shot,” she finally said, through tears and sniffles.

“What? Who?”

“At the Triumph in Castellum—I was watching the broadcast as he rode down the street when gunshots rang out and they momentarily, but not before—and I swear this is not the imagination of a hysterical woman—I saw him fall from his horse.”

“Listen, Cecy, I’m sorry about that. I would be just as shocked as you but I’m sure he’s—”

“I’m not calling for pity, Sophie—God I wish we’d be talked under better circumstances—I’m calling for answers. The news isn’t saying shit right now, it’s bound to be hours before they say anything of substance and I can’t reach my dad in Castellum—I need someone to tell me what the hell just happened to the father of my child.”

Oh right, she recalled, I forgot you had a daughter now.

“Yeah, of course Cecy, I’ll ask for you and see if I can reach your dad. How is she doing by the way? Emma was it?”

“Yeah,” she let out in a sigh, “Uh, she’s doing fine… well, as fine as any one-year old can be doing, I suppose.”

“Well I wouldn’t know how a one-year old should be doing,” Sophie joked, “and I don’t expect to find out any time soon,” she finished with a laugh, trying to lighten the situation. She stood with the phone pressed to her ear for what seemed like a minute, waiting for Cécile to break it with a story of Emma’s first birthday, or the latest Ghantish court gossip. Instead she got nothing; the recent chaos in Latium had left her cousin mute so it seemed.

“Okay,” Sophie finally said, having amassed the courage to break the awkward silence, “I realise you’re in shock and like I said, I’ll do my best to get back to you with answers as soon as I have them.”

“Thanks so much, cous’,” Cécile sighed, “I’ve got to go, the wet nurse can’t seem to make Emma stop crying.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” she sighed, “duty calls and whatnot, eh? I hope to hear from you soon, don’t keep me waiting too long this time!” It had barely been a five minute call and already Cécile was hanging up on her.

“I’ll try Sophie, take care.”

It was all too quick for Sophie. After years of non communication, she felt owed an explanation, or a real conversation at least to make up for those lost months. She stood there, the phone still to her ear as the monotonous pitch of the line’s disconnection rang from the receiver. Ghant has made her a bitch, hasn’t it? she scoffed as she threw the phone back on its stand.

---

---

“I need to see my father,” Marie-Sophie told the guards walking up to the door with complete assertiveness in her voice.

At first they seemed confused, looking at each other as though asking themselves what to do. Protocol dictates the doors to the Council Room remain closed until the session is adjourned and only official business may enter. But as princess, is she not official business?

Just as she was about to demand again, the oak double doors opened from the inside, and a stream of people began to file out of the meeting chamber. She recognised a few of the faces: the King of Antenfoi, the Chancellor, the Grand Master, her brother. She’d always been jealous that her father gave Guillaume a place on the council and not her, but as he was heir it was expected after all.

Every time she’d been here, the rows of seats that lined both sides of the room were always empty. It was such a peculiar sight to see the stands actually have people in them for once. Walking past the crowd of ministers and councilmen, she made her way to the end of the room where her father stood in conversation with Chief Minister Vidocq.

“Your Highness,” Vidocq broke from his conversation with the Emperor to acknowledge the Princess as she approached.

“Monsieur Vidocq, papa,” she said, nodding at both men in acknowledgement, “I came with a question for you father, from a friend.”

“Let me guess,” Samuel cut his daughter off before she could continue, “Your cousin Cécy wants to know what happened at Castellum?”

“How…?”

“Vidocq told me she called you. That, and the fact Jean-Marie is unreachable, it could only be that she wants news on Nathan.

“What a horrible time for the embassy to go silent,” he sighed, his expression revealing his disappointment. Jean-Marie Palèmier is the current ambassador to Lyncanestria’s southern neighbour and one of Samuel’s closest friends since childhood. Who else would know more about the situation in Latium than his representative in that country?

“The Castellum situation was the last topic on today’s agenda, very last minute,” Samuel began, as he moved over to the table beside the Emperor’s seat. “There really wasn’t much to deliberate as the information we have is scant as it is. We did receive a typed memo from the embassy a few minutes following the incident.” He picked up a single sheet of paper from the desk and held it out to her, it’s couldn’t have had any more than a paragraph on it. The Chief Minister made a puzzled look, no doubt questioning why the Emperor was handing a council document to a non-council member, but he held his tongue. Marie-Sophie gently took it, and taking out her glasses began to read over the text; it didn’t add all that much to what she had heard from Cécile, but at least it confirmed what had seemed delusional rantings.

“So both Ghantish and Latin emperors have been shot then?” she asked flatly.

“It seems so. It also seems to be the case Nathan tackled Constantine from his horse as he fell. They were rushed to the city’s central hospital and that’s as much as we know.”

“How did they get this information?”

“One of our embassy staffers so happened to be in the vicinity of the attack, lucky for us. This is his account, so technically it could be all baloney but it’s what we’ve got…”

“Ahem,” Vidocq cleared his throat, “apologies, but if Your Majesty will excuse me, there are matters that require my attention” he said, clearly seeing that the Emperor was more engaged with his daughter than with him, “I will leave you and the Princess to your affairs.”

“Of course, Vidocq, thank you for your help today. I’m sorry I don’t have any more information than that which has been given to me, Sophie,” he said as he turned back to her. “Frankly, Nathan isn’t who I am particularly concerned about. Both Jean-Marie and his deputy have been mixed in with Latin officials and evacuated to God-knows where, as you read in the memo. We can’t get any concrete updates until he’s back on embassy grounds.”

“I understand, father,” she calmly replied, trying to sooth her father’s frustration. “I’m sure Cécy will understand the situation, and it won’t be long before uncle’s situation is resolved and he gets back to the embassy. To be honest I didn’t think we would have much else than what the public knows, the extent being what Latin Imperial Family lets out.”

“Well, I’m not God and I definitely don’t have his all-seeing eye; once again, as per usual you’re right,” he said, cracking a smile at her. “Is there anything else you needed to see me for?”

“That was it; I can’t say I’m surprised at the outcome.”

“Ever the insightful one, you are.”

“So I hear,” she joked, “Yesterday, I predicted I would ace my philosophy test, and it so happens I did—I’m convinced I may be a seer.”

“And ever the witty one.”

By now, all the councilors had scurried off and only father and daughter remained. They began to make their way to the end of the room to leave, albeit slowly, pacing themselves to their conversation.

“So have you given any thought about what your plans are following your graduation?”

“I’ve decided to take a gap year.”

“Your mind is settled, then?”

“Schooling is a hindrance to true education, father, and I’ve the desire to learn. I would like to have a year of that at least, before going back for another certificate to tell me how qualified I am.”

“You’re too smart for your own good you know,” Samuel replied, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of school, but you excel at it, and that’s good. For both you and the realm, don’t forget you’re not just my daughter, you’re a daughter of the realm, and the people need to see you partake in their institutions, do as they do, be as they are.”

“I know, it’s just all so tedious and feels so fake, to be something I’m not: a pretty face and nothing more, one-dimensional and cookie-cutter perfect.” If there was anything, that’s the one thing she actually likes about Nathan—that he gets drunk and has mistresses and bastards—he has his flaws and people see them; that he won’t put up an act . But then again, this monarchy was relatively weaker institution compared to those of Ghant, Latium, Vannois—her grandfather had seen to that.

They had made it to the double doors, and Samuel stopped at his daughter’s words; this time, he saw her frustration. A free spirit, and headstrong like her mother—the jewel of the family, he thought. “I’ll make sure you get to learn as much as possible this coming year, Sophie; you and your brother both, God knows he needs it. Now, let’s see if the Latins have finally let your uncle go.”

[Ghant]

“I see nothing but a world of ruins, where a kind of front line is possible only in the catacombs.” ― Julius Evola

---

The Catacombs
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba

A faint candle burned idly in the darkness of the catacombs as the figure lurched forward to take it. In the damp dark of the vast palace underground vaults, only the candlelight was visible. Limping on stiff legs, the Emperor of Ghant clutched at it with a feeble hand, seizing it in his shaking grasp. Pulling it close, he could see the stitches on his chest where he had been shot, tracing them with the fingers of his other hand. I should be dead, he thought to himself. I was dead…why am I here?

There was no doubt in his mind that he was alive. He could feel the cold breeze upon his naked body. He could feel the pain in his chest, the feebleness of his legs as they struggled to support his weight. Hunger, thirst, sorrow. He was in some place he did not recognize, some place strange and foreboding. And there are none but me, he realized as he looked around. Once he cried out his name in vain, listening to it echo down into the depths of the complex.

He began to wander aimlessly down into the dark passageways, using his free hand to feel the wall, supporting his steady stride. Nathan noticed a chi-rho carved into the wall near the chamber he awakened from, though he recognized it not. Where the fuck is this? the Emperor thought with frustration as he pressed on into the darkness. Wherever it is, I suppose it’s better than being dead…

When there was a turn to the right, he took it. Nathan wasn’t sure if that was the right way to go, and given the absence of knowledge or experience, trusted his instincts. They’ve seldom betrayed me, after all. There, it was so dark that he can’t see in front of him, and all that he could see was what was in the range of his candlelight. Which isn’t much, he realized, feeling a great sense of unease at what might be beyond the scope of his vision.

Walking further, he felt the floor begin to divot, though he couldn’t compose himself in time to avoid falling. His knees buckled out beneath him and he tried to catch himself against the wall, causing his bare skin to scrape against the slick stone. Nathan groaned in pain, wincing his teeth as he tried to stabilize himself against the wall, feeling old and crumbling bricks. Shining his candle upon them, he observed large carvings in the wall that may have been used as tombs. Some of these appeared to contain skulls, bones, and small pools of water. Tempted as he was, he did not drink from them.

Recomposing himself, he walked forward once more, tracing his hand along the wall so he could follow a path laid out upon the ground. Eventually the wall opened up on the left, where he noticed that the floor seemed to be leaning downward slightly. I don’t want to be going down, he thought angrily, yet unable to bring himself to turn around. I’ll keep going this way. The path was cold, like ice upon his bare feet, causing him to shiver and rattle his teeth. I’m going to fucking die down here at this rate.

Still running his hand along the wall, he started to notice carvings, feeling them against his fingertips. These carvings, in the candlelight, depicted the head of a bearded man wearing a radiant crown and a carving of a similar looking man next to him adorned with a larger sun crown. There was an inscription that read “SACRIFICO AD NOX,” translating to “I make a sacrifice to Nox,” who Nathan understood was the Pagan Latin God of Death. This was followed by the markings of “REX G. FOS. CAE. ARD. F. FL. F. G., translating to “King Gaius Fosilius Caesar, conqueror of the Aradians, son of Flavius, grandson of Gaius) CMI (901) AVC”

The Emperor stood there, the white cloth wrapped around his mid-section and the candle burning in his hand. In spite of himself, he laughed at the words, realizing the irony of what he read. Brought back to life, only to serve as a sacrifice to the God of Death. Feeling weak again, he slumped down against the cold wall, his back sliding down against it until he was sitting with legs outstretched. He rested the back of his head against the wall, and soaked in the silence of what he realized were the Great Catacombs of Castellum. Just my luck.

Contemplating the skulls nestled in the crevices of the wall, the Emperor wondered who they were. Kings, most likely, though he conceded that there could be anyone ranging from priests to peasants, laymen and lepers interred there. In a strange way it was almost soothing, the peace and quiet. No one to nag me down here, the Emperor thought with a grin as he closed his eyes.

A dearth of death in a den adorned
By skeleton tapestries scorned by time
Rife with forms who stalk the halls and stock the walls
With memories and fateful things at which you tacit mourn
To say what you must in the guise of silence
To relinquish what you cherish in the form of dust
For memories of any time are memories sublime…

The Emperor opened his eyes and stared into the darkness when he heard what sounded like a shouting noise off in the distance somewhere. It carried, echoing throughout the catacombs, sending a chill down Nathan’s spine. Slowly he rose from the floor and held his candle out, though he could see nothing. He could sense something though…a presence, growing stronger in the depths of the underground maze. …What is that?

Something was there…something strange. Something terrible. The Emperor walked forward, back towards the way he came, in the hopes that he could discern something…anything. Yet there was nothing but the stillness of the air, stale and heavy. Turning just then, he could make out something creeping across the floor, causing his heart to skip a beat and the hairs raising on the back of his neck. Oh no…please no…

Plumes of black mist crept across the cold dreary floor of the catacombs, ebbing and flowing like the tide, but growing all the same. The Emperor could barely catch his own breath as he began to lurch forward, scrambling as fast as he could upon enfeebled legs in an attempt to get away. To that end, he plunged further into the darkness in the direction he was originally going. Meanwhile, the dark mist was expanding…

---

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

---

Prince Paul escorted the venerable Empress Dowager Teresa from the wine cellar all the way back up into the palace interior, the whole time thinking that for a woman her age, she sure is spry. There was no point in asking her how, as Teresa was well known for being coy. She was the kind of woman that only said what she wanted people to know, the rest she kept to herself. Not that Paul minded, he wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming person either.

“I know you did everything you could,” Paul told the old woman sorrowfully. “I just with there was more that I could have done. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Teresa countered as the walked through the palace interior, illuminated by bright golden lights that complimented the palace finery. “That’s your greatest strength and weakness, you know. That you always want to do more, but at the same time always beating yourself up for when you think you’ve done less. Count your blessings, my boy, and know that things happen for a reason.”

That’s easy for you to say, the Prince thought. Everything’s worked out rather well for you. Paul admittedly had it better than most, being born a Prince of Ghant, but even so, he was motivated by the follies of his father and grandfather. His father Prince Peter was by all accounts an oaf, prone to gluttony, suffering from bad gas and being somewhat limited intellectually, though quite far removed from being mentally disabled or handicapped. Nah, father’s just an idiot…

“It’s hard sometimes,” Paul finally responded with a heavy sigh. “Having the feeling of being inadequate. I’m the grandson of a fourth son of an Emperor of Ghant, basically irrelevant…the expectations have always been low…”

Teresa stopped walking and turned to face Paul, forcing his chin up with one of her withered hands. “I’ve seen what that cursed throne does to the oldest son of the oldest son of the Imperial line, Paul. Consider your place a blessing, in spite of its disguise. I know firsthand how power can corrupt the minds of those who wield it. Think yourself fortunate too, that the expectations are low. That will make your achievements all the more remarkable in the end.”

“But what difference can I possibly make?” Paul asked in his state of self-loathing and despair.

At this, Teresa smiled, and told him that “maybe you already have and just haven’t realized it yet. I think you will sooner than you realize.” They weren’t that far away from Teresa’s room, and Paul saw her the rest of the way there. “You should get some rest, my boy. It’s been a long day, and we’re all tired and will need strength for the days to come. They will not be easy days ahead.”

Paul nodded somberly as he stood at the door. “…Aye, that’s probably for the best…”

“I sense there are good things waiting for you Paul,” Teresa smiled as she walked into her room and picked something up off the table. “Here, maybe this will help.” Only slightly struggling, she carried a sword in its sheath to the young prince and laid it across his hands. “I want you to hold on to this, until you return to Ghant. It will be for you to present to Sophia.”

Oh…my…God… the sword in his hands was a longsword of ancient make, one that Paul knew very well but never actually held in his hands until now. The hilt was a dull black, with a simple golden pommel. He knew the blade was a pale white color, almost like milk. The sword had many names, including the “Sword of a Thousand Battles,” the “Sword of Victory,” “Robert’s Sword” and the “Sword of the Eagles.” It’s true name was Ordainsari, Ghantish for “Retribution.” Twas the sword of Robert I, the first Low King of Ghant, and the ancestral sword of the Imperial House Gentry.

“Nathan never traveled without it,” Teresa added with a straight look on her face. “It meant a lot to him…it means a lot to the family. He’d want you to take it back to Ghant and give to his widow.”

“…I don’t know what to say,” Paul struggled to find the words to convey his sense of feeling honored. “…I’ll do this, of course.”

The Empress Dowager smiled wide and began to shrink behind her door. “Very good, my boy. With that I bid thee a good night.”

“And to you as well, your Highness.” Teresa shut the door to her room, leaving Paul alone in the hallway with his family’s ancestral sword in hand. He secured the sword to his swordbelt and began walking in the direction of his room. I had no idea he would have wanted me to carry it if something happened to him, he thought, feeling conflicted. Surely he would have wanted Leo to take it to Ghish…

Paul just couldn’t accept the fact that the Emperor was dead. How could this have happened? he asked himself over and over again as he walked. It all happened so fast… it suddenly dawned on Paul that he didn’t properly pay his final respects in the manner that he should have. He trusted me enough to carry this for him…I should do a better job praying for his soul. The prince was a Christian man, and one of the few that knew that the Emperor was secretly a Pagan of the northern Ghantish persuasion. Paul felt compelled to pray for the Emperor’s soul as an apostate.

Therefore, instead of going to his room, Prince Paul began making the return trip to the wine cellar in the catacombs, though not before getting a reinforced flashlight so he could see where he was going. His thoughts kept drifting back to Catherine, and about what she said. She told him that she doesn’t like him, Paul thought sadly. What about now? Does she even like me, let alone Nathan? A part of Paul assumed that Catherine was just nice to him, or maybe felt sympathy for him, being the naïve and low ranking Prince of Ghant who did whatever he could to stand out. Girls like her don’t go for boys like me…

Even if she were interested, there was no way her brother the Emperor of Vannois would let his eldest sister mingle with the likes of Paul, he suspected. Perhaps if he were lucky he’d eventually marry some middling Ghantish noblewoman that wanted the prestige or the wealth that came with marrying a Prince of the Blood, however low ranking he might be. I shouldn’t think about such things, he sighed heavily. Not when there was work to be done in the name of the Lord…

To the Catacombs
To find a bier balk
Where a corpse lay
It was a place of saturnine and peril
Everything inanimate and disconsolate.

The underground complex was unsettling when he was there with Leo and Teresa, but alone it was terrifying. The impression it left made him think that he was a kid again, scared to go alone into dark places. It was dark and dank and dull, the air was stale and had a subtle stench to it. For Paul it was worth going back though, if only so he could truly say his final goodbyes to his cousin the late Emperor of Ghant, taken from the world far too soon…

By the time Paul returned to the wine cellar, he nearly had a heart attack. He felt his heart sink in his chest and the color drain from his skin, struggling for a few moments to even breathe. He’s gone, Paul realized with wide eyes and gaping mouth. His body is gone! Almost immediately, Paul went to get his cell phone out of his pocket, only to realize that it was dead. Damnit!

It was then that Paul observed something on the floor, underneath the table. What the hell is that? he thought with narrowed eyes as he gazed upon a bowling ball-sized sphere resting against one of the table’s legs. that wasn’t here last time… without thinking too much about it, Paul scooped up the sphere in a pouch and threw it over his shoulder. For something that big, it sure is light…

Paul now had one of two options to choose from. He could either go and tell someone that the Emperor’s body was gone, or he could try to find the Emperor himself. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make. If I find him down in the catacombs, I can rescue him and I’ll be considered a hero, Paul thought excitedly. Catherine will like me then, I’m sure of it. Flashlight in hand, Paul left the room and turned left, but not before pulling out a ball of yarn he had in his bag from Teresa’s project, securing one end of it to the lamp fixture in the wine cellar so he could find his way back. Once it was secure, he began to run down the hall into the catacombs calling out “your Majesty!” while a trail of yarn unraveled behind him.

When there was a fork in the passageways, Paul kept going straight instead of turning right, wandering deeper into the subterranean labyrinth. No sign of him anywhere, he sighed in disappointment as he called out his name. “Your Majesty! Nathan! Are you there?” He called out until his voice began to wear down, and after a short while he had to slow his pace, as the ground became more treacherous as he walked.

This will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Several minutes went by, and to no avail. It was a silent as a crypt, and as black as pitch. It gave Paul goosebumps just thinking about his surroundings, and he quickly realized that he needed to take a break to catch his breath, as the air down there was not very good. A break…just for a little bit, he thought, not seeing the harm in that.

While he stood still and leaned against one of the walls of the catacombs, his mind drifted back to the sphere he carried in his bag. What in God’s name could this thing possibly be? Not wasting too much time, he pulled it out of the bag and held it in one hand in front of him, while shining his flashlight upon it with the other hand. It was a solid black orb that seemed to suck in the light cast upon it…

Until it didn’t. It started with a small speck of light within the sphere that steadily began to enlarge, to the point that Paul didn’t need his flashlight to see it, causing him to put his flashlight away. Now he held the sphere in both hands just in front of his face, his light blue eyes peering into the picture that was forming in the sphere, mesmerized by its sheer brilliance. Light green swirled within the sphere until he could see something happening…someone…happening…

There was a great reception hall, full of great lords and ladies all dressed to the nines in their ball gowns and court uniforms. A symphony was being played by an orchestra on a stage near the edge of the hall, with all of the guests gathered around two figures dancing solitary upon the ballroom floor. The man was tall and clean-shaven with brown hair, wearing a white uniform accented by gold. A sword hung from his belt, hugging his pristine uniform closely. Constantine…

The woman he was dancing with was wearing a luxurious blue gown that fanned out all around her and touched the floor upon which she so gracefully danced. Her long blonde hair was hanging loosely in little curls and ringlets that cascaded across the back of her neck and down her backside, illuminated by a subtle diamond-laced hairnet that made her hair sparkle. Paul didn’t even need to see her face to know who it was, for it was the angel that haunted his dreams. Catherine…

At least a hundred people were assembled in the grand ballroom to watch Constantine and Catherine dance ever so elegantly. The two of them appeared enamored with each other, the look in their eyes that unmistakable look of romance that burned between a man and a woman that harbored such feelings for one another. The longer he watched them dance, the more Paul could feel a biting sense of resentment well within him. There was that feeling that one gets when they watch the person they love with someone else, when it feels like your insides are all tangled up in a knot around an empty pit inside your chest.

It prompted Paul to shout as he threw the sphere against the wall. He expected it to shatter against the hard surface, but instead it merely made a thud and fell to the floor, causing another thud when it landed. Once again it was a solid black color in the darkness, laying casually on the floor. …What the hell is going on with this thing? Groaning, Paul threw it back in his bag and stormed off, feeling quite irritated about what he saw in his vision. Once again his flashlight was showing the path ahead.

“Hello,” the prince called out as he continued to search for the Emperor. “Your Majesty…” he strode on purposefully, while the shadow followed. After what seemed like a few minutes, he stopped to secure his footing against the dips in the floor. When he looked down to observe the floor, he noticed what appeared to be a dull haze of black mist creeping across the surface. …What’s that?

When Paul put his flashlight towards it, it didn’t dissipate or fade away. Rather, it absorbed the light shining down upon it. Paul kicked at it too, though it didn’t seem to go away. The black mist seemed to stretch as far as his eyes could see the floor ahead of him, and behind him was the same. Like flames, it would occasionally lick the walls and poke up here and there.

The shadow stood tall and distorted in the light, it’s form leaving the prince with an unsettling feeling. It wasn’t until he noticed it move independent of him that he yelled at the top of his lungs. What happened next happened faster than Paul could adjust to. The two-dimensional shadow began to convulse, and it rapidly assumed a three-dimensional form. It’s arms were long and gangly, ending in large hands with long, whip-like fingers that ended in points. It’s face was just a round black shape with two milky-white pebbles for eyes, otherwise it had no body, the lower part of it consisting of a cloud of black mist.

The Prince was in shock, his arms and legs shaking so badly that he thought he was going to drop his things and collapse. His breaths were as frequent as the beats of his heart, so fast that he thought it would explode. The shadow reached for him, but Paul was already running away down the hall, shouting like a lunatic as he desperately tried to flee from the shadow come to life.

Paul couldn’t run far, or fast enough. Without looking back, he could feel something grab his ankle, causing him to fall forward onto the floor. “No no no,” he cried out frantically as he tried to get away from the shadow. He turned around to see it looming over him, its long fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle. It began to squeeze tightly, causing Paul to yell in pain. The shadow flung him violently against the wall once, narrowly avoiding hitting his head but yelling in pain all the same.

In desperation, the Prince reached for his sword and drew it with one hand. He slashed at the shadow’s forearm, but much to his horror the blade passed right through it. Nearly as quickly as the blade passed through it, the shadow gripped it and flung it away, though not before loosening its grip just enough for Paul to wiggle free of its grasp. Once again, Paul tried to run away from it down the hall.

This time, he knew better than to think he could outpace it. Time to make a choice, he thought through his pain and despair. To meet this thing like a warrior or to let it have its way with me as though I were a child. Paul turned around to face the shadow that was following him. It was larger now, barely fitting in the passageway, moving rapidly through it upon centipede-like legs so quickly that after a few seconds it was standing over Paul again.

“Be gone, foul demon,” Paul shouted at the shadow. “Or I will be forced to smite thee!”

The shadow remained unfazed, unable to make any noise, and it continued to tower over the Ghantish Prince menacingly. Anticipating that it would strike, Paul reached for Ordainsari, remembering that he had it on the other side of his belt. The shadow’s milky eyes burrowed into Paul, and though he was scared, he would not flee in terror. No, not this time.

Finally the shadow lashed out at Paul with one of it’s flail-like hands, prompting the Prince to draw Ordainsari from its sheath and slash at the shadowy hand reaching for him. To his astonishment, the sword cut through the shadow, causing the hand to dissipate in a puff of smoke. The shadow recoiled as it pulled its arm back, though it did not retreat. Instead it lashed out with its other arm at Paul.

“Return to the shadows from whence you came, demon!” Paul struck out with Ordainsari once more and cut through the shadow’s other arm, before pulling his sword back and thrusting it forward through it’s midsection. Just like that, the shadow was gone in a puff of smoke, leaving only Paul and the flashlight laying on the floor behind him. He put Ordainsari back in its sheath and picked up the flashlight again, trying greatly to calm himself down, wiping the sweat from his brown hair.

Unfortunately, the trail of yarn was gone. Oh no. Paul desperately combed the floor for it, but could not locate it. In a fit of confusion and anger he pounded his hands against the wall and cursed. I need to get the hell out of this place before I lose my mind. Whatever was going on down here was something that Paul wanted no part of…and nobody would believe me anyway. Still panting like a dog, he began to retrace his footsteps, trying to go back the way he came.

---

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

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The Emperor of Ghant fled from the black mist as though his life depended on it, straight down the path ahead of him where the floor began to incline. Oh it’s going up now, thank the Gods. The walls become narrower and narrower, until there was just enough room for an average sized man to fit through snugly, which Nathan did. I really fucking hope this goes somewhere…

Eventually, a dim light began to be become visible in the far off distance. Oh thank the Gods! The walls still had carvings made for tombs there, and some contained coffins and bones. Nathan didn’t stop long enough to examine them closely, merely noting that they were there. At this point he had to assume he was nearing an exit, as there was light. Who cares where it leads to, only that it leads out.

Eventually the light grew stronger until he could see that that the path was coming to an end and there was a complete lack of carvings. When he finally reached the light source, it was shining through a grate above, though not so high up that he couldn’t reach it. If he were to place his feet on one of the nearby tombs to give himself additional height, he could push the grate off and climb through it.

In this chamber he began to feel better about his present condition, as he figured he was close to an exit, and the black mist was no longer surrounding his feet. He quickly began looking around to see the best way of climbing out through the grate. As he did so, he began to think about what he would actually do once he was free. Who shall I go to? What should I tell them? Not easy questions to answer in any event.

If I in somber silence
Walk slowly through catacombs
And play my fingers across the soft and silken muds
And lay my feet in light spoken steps upon the ground

If I in quiet solitude
Stroll through glowing meadows
And drag my arms through the sharp, swaying grass
And whistle songs of sadness to the dancing leaves

If I in blank expression
Smile at shining stars at night
And wonder when the sun will rise the next morning
And wait for the horizon to burst into flames

Would you still walk with me?
Would the catacombs be mine alone?

Taking a deep breath, Nathan set the candle down and climbed up one of the tombs. Once he was high enough, he reached for the grate in the ceiling. With a heave that took all of his strength, he pushed it up with both hands and slid it over to the side. In spite of his weak arm strength, he pulled himself up through the hole in the ceiling, emerging into a room above it.

This room he recognized. Once he reached up, he would in the palace’s chapel. It had a dark, dusty look about it and an even worse musty smell. The floor was rough and uneven stone, revealed only by the meager moonlight that peered straight through to the far wall, and down into the catacombs below. The center of the chapel was flanked by four rows of pews on each side draped in cloth, leading straight from the altar to the entrance.

Nathan knew this chapel to be the Chapel of Saint Pelagius the Martyr, older than the Palace itself. Such a place is truly worthy of admiration, he thought as he slid the grate back into place, before turning to gaze upon the doors that led out into the palace. He took a step in that direction before hesitating and turning back towards the altar. Walking forward, he knelt before it and did something he hadn’t done in quite some time.

He prayed to God. Nathan prayed for at least a few minutes, thanking him for delivering him from the catacombs, before rising to his feet once more and turning towards the chapel’s main entrance. Taking a deep breath, he lumbered forward, until he reached the doors. Carefully he pushed one of them open, and quietly slipped through into the Palace of Augustus.

[Rietumimark]

“A Nasty Surprise”

Skies Over Belisaria
The faint sensation of weightlessness that followed the Völund’s private jet taking off from the Dewedish royal family’s private airport several miles outside of Kralin was one the older Duchess of Slovdon and Grand Princess of Rietumimark could never get used to; not after all her decades of flying around the world; far longer than most people had been alive. And yet, somehow I can never get comfort flying. It has, for as far back as I can remember, it has always made me very nervous inside.

She leaned her head back against her soft and plush leather seat and attempted vainly to assuage her nerves and relax. Breathe my dear, breath... she told herself over and over again in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. The aircraft shook and vibrated as it entered a period of turbulence not long after reaching cruising altitude. Adelaide tighten her hand's already firm grips around the ends of her armrests and tried to take even longer deep breaths. Everything is going to be fine, she quietly mumbled to herself as though it were a pray. Everything is going to be fine, I can feel it in my bones.

Her eyelids fell shut and she began to imagine herself and everyone she carried about onboard landing safety at their destination, not a single hair out of place and the only thing they’ll have to worry about being the North Belisarian cold. Perhaps abstaining from indulging in a preflight drink in two was the wrong decision, the ninety-year-old Adelaide couldn’t help but gently chuckle to herself internally. She tried to think about what her darling great-great-great niece Alexia Maria - who she was flying o support - about plane crash statistics and how the possibilities of being killed in a crash were extremely low; but that fact never helped. No amount of assurances could ever make her comfortable, not after all the things she’d seen over the course of nine decades on this planet and all the terrible events which had ultimately led her to believe that the Baltkalns Dynasty was cursed.

Adelaide was born on 29 May 1927 to Annabelle XI and I, the Grand Duchess of Deweden and - at the time - Tsesarevna of Rietumimark - and her husband Nicholas of Grand Duke of Deweden and Tsesarevich of Rietumimark - the fifth daughter and child the sovereigns would have together; though in as she would come to find out in her later years the failure of Adelaide to be male, especially after the death of her older brother Grand Prince Alexi at nine months several years prior, was a major disappointment for her father and grandfather; both of whom hoped desperately hoped for another boy. As with every member of the royal family, Adelaide was still heavily dotted on unashamedly by her family - her Ghantish grandmother especially.

Adelaide let her mind wander to her first memory of Nathan III of Ghant when she was about four or five years old during a family get together with her Ghantish side of the family. She could still, even after all these years, recall perfectly the first time she set her eyes on that man; although he still retained some of his handsome looks which a great many Rietumish noblewomen would swoon over at the Imperial Court in Ivanburg, lingering just beneath the surface a malice present brood. The moment her gaze caught that of the Mad Emperor, a cold chill filtered down her spine and a sense of fear took hold of her. Nathan III seemed to be everything that Ynys would tell her about as a child and so much worst. Even at a young age, Adelaide knew at that moment Nathan II was destined to go further down the rabbit hole of malevolence and bring Ghant to run; which he eventually did not that many years later and in so doing so, sow the seeds of destruction for her family’s dynasty’s fortunes as well.

The chaotic days of the Ghantish Revolution and the consequences it had for the rest of the Baltkalns Dynasty, Adelaide, like her younger brother Ferdinand, could still remember well. Their father Nicholas ignoring the explicit orders from his own father - Tsar Yakov - to remain in Rietumimark to assist the looming surprise invasion of the FSA in conjunction with Ghantish forces to go gallivanting to Ghant with an army eight thousand strong to help crush the Mad Emperor’s rebelling lords. Those years, indeed for most years in Adelaide’s nine decades on the planet, seemed to pass her in slow motion as rumours of Nicholas escapades in Ghant began to slowly trickled out.

She could still recount her mother bursting into tears every time the latest string of horrible crimes in Nathan’s name reached her ear from one of her lady-in-waitings at the Imperial Court. The longer Nichols remained in Ghant, the worst the laundry list of misdeeds seemed to grow. Nobles who’d spent time in Ghabt during the war began to make wild accusation against the Tsar; claiming that Nathan III had poisoned his great half-nephew mind, sowing venomous thoughts into his mind about conquests of grandeur and false, heretic gods...how her father was dabbling in blood mage and dishonouring Adelaide’s mother with witches and whores. And when her brother Frederick was killed while illegally serving under his father’s command underage - where were some who daringly alleged that Nicholas had traded his son’s soul to the blood gods in exchange for victories on the battlefield - to this day, part of Adelaide still believes it might be true.

Nicholas was so mad with grief, that he was relieved of command and sent back to Rietumimark - where Adelaide learnt the hard way that her beloved father was a completely different man. Cold, reserved, and quiet - constantly mumbling to himself, seldom without a drink in either one of his hands. Nicholas was capricious, prone to random violent outbursts at a moment’s notice - a shell of the once attentive father he’d not so long ago had been. Adelaide’s mother quickly decided that she could no longer tolerate his behaviour and kicked him out into exile with his alcohol, whores, and old war buddies who were the only people - apart from his mother - Nicholas would listen too. Adelaide had hoped at that the return of her father and the subsequent death of the Mad Emperor would be the of her family’s misfortunes; only to learn that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

Her mother and father’s relationship never recovered when Nicholas returned and only seemed to get worse with time - along with the Tsardom economic and political situation. Abigail and Anastasia soon left, finding themselves eligible young noblemen of high standing to marry as things in Rietumimark slowly deteriorated. The May Day Uprising by the radical left in 1947 served as only a prelude to the chaos that would unfold during the run-up to the Rietumish Revolution and all the horrors it would further inflict on her family. The capture, repeated rape and murder of her younger sister Sophie; the extinction or push to the verge of it of many great and ancient noble houses; the death of her father in one of the more heart-wrenching ways to go - burned alive and consequence crushed by rubble from artillery shelling; all of which occurred in the matter of year and a half.

What remained of the Baltkalns dynasty eventually found themselves in Thule, at the very end of the planet. Adelaide detested Thule the moment she stepped foot in that godforsaken land of unruly savages. It’s a hellhole of extremes opposites, either it’s dark all the time or light’ endless snow followed by enough sunny days which made it seems like they might last a lifetime; full of a people who can be at each other's throats, almost killing each other in the process, one minute only to be laughing it off over drinks, food, and women not much later. What she hated every last thing about Thule - its barbarian people and their culture especially and when an opportunity came up to leave and marry an Eesti noble, she did so in a heartbeat.

Though her relationship with Peter IV Duke of Slovdon was a happy one, it was not one without trials and tribulations as with everything in Adelaide's life. The pair struggled to conceive, producing her darling baby boy Vasily and only child; Peter - never the healthiest of men - died at a relatively young age, joined by her baby boy in 1998 - murdered by the same Riet scum that was behind the deaths so many of her family members - and her subsequent exile to Lyncanestria with her daughter-in-law and grandson Mikael. Although such tragic events gutted her emotionally, mentally, and physically; it also enlighten her on how short and precious life truly is - one moment you could be at the happiness point of her life, the next, you find yourself reduced to the lowest point of your life and question the point of continuing on.

“Adelaide, Adelaide, Adelaide - I am so sorry to disturb you, my dear, but you must get up - we are almost here,” a soft, kind, gentle voice called out to her beyond the veil of drowsiness encasing her. She blinked heavily several times over to witness her great-niece's face come to view in full clarity. “You dozed off not that long after we departed and now we’ll be arriving in a few minutes. Are you already or do I need to grab anything for you?”

“You dear worry too much about this old bag,” Adelaide said with a huge smile, beaming unashamedly at Aleksandra from ear-to-ear. Even after all these years, she still couldn’t accept that she’d followed her sister’s lead in unrestricted abhorrence of poor Alara of Deweden and her brood by her mother Abigail for marrying a traitorous pleb Nikolajs - whose bitterness and vindictiveness ate her alive, dismantling the kind, sweet Abigail Adelaide had once known and left empty vessel, aimless and completely consumed with hatred of her daughter. “I am really quite fine, my dear. I was just a bit tired, that’s all and ready to go.”

Adelaide shot straight up from her seat, but got up a little too quickly and reached a hand out on Aleksandra’s shoulder for additional support as she was struck down by a sudden loss of balance. “Come on Adelaide, sit back down, we’ll be landing sooner than you'd expect,” Aleksandra said with patience, inflected with a strong commanding tone to her voice. Just like her mother, commanding when it comes to a topic she is passionate about; family, Adelaide thought with pride. “Steward, steward, could you please get me a glass of water for my great- aunt?”

Across the aisle, toward the aircraft’s cockpit, a younger gentleman emerged from his post and nodded firmly to Aleksandra’s request. “Certainly, your highness. I’ll get right on it.” before disappearing to the jet’s onboard kitchen, he turned his head towards Aleksandra and quickly added: “Is there anything else I can get you or your highness, Adelaide?”

“No, that will be everything...thank you very much,” Aleksandra replied with a smile. “Once you have retrieved the glass of water, that will be everything we’ll need for the rest of the trip before we land.”

“Of course, I’ll you a glass of water,” the steward briskly said with a flirtatious smile, promptly disappearing from sight into another part of the aircraft out of Aleksandra sight - leaving her alone with Adelaide.

“How’s Alexia Maria doing?” Adelaide asked aimlessly to Aleksandra, inflecting her voice with a far more serious consistency to it. “I’ve been terribly worried about her since the situation in Latium when south thanks to that ignoramus Michael - with him committing murder of the former Csear and threatening to kill so many of his blood. The past month must have been so challenging for the poor little thing - Alexia boyfriend...Petros or something like - going missing and without contact for what seemed have been an eternality.”

Aleksandra nodded concernedly in agreement. “I’ve been worrying about Alex as well,” Aleksandra began. “She hasn’t been sleeping or eating at all since everything in Latium came to ahead. Her professor recently told me that her grades - normally top of the class - have plummeted to the point that she almost had to redo the last semester - only managing to scrape through by her fingernails.”

“Oh really?” Adelaide said, taken aback by what she was hearing. “Isn’t Alex normally an excellent student, finishing school well before most of her peers?”

“Yes, yes she was until we lost contact with Peter,” Aleksandra replied briskly, looking down the aircraft’s aisle as the steward approached the pair of them equipped with the aforementioned glass of water and smile. “Thank you again,” she said, taking the glass from the steward’s hand and passing over to Adelaide; abstaining from continuing their conversation further until the steward was out of audible range. “Since then, Alex has been rather distant and reserved; rarely talking without being talked to and keeping to herself a lot.”

Adelaide’s older ears strained themselves attempting to fully hear what Aleksandra was saying, following Aleksandra transitioning the volume of her voice to that of just louder than a whisper. The one time that old age gives you, is the ability to read in between the lines. “I suspect the cause of that is lovesickness and we both know how that is cured,” Adelaide said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Has she seen this Peter boy in person since the crisis in Latium died down a month? If not, that mind explains the change in her behaviour.”

“No, no...I have forbidden it until it is one-hundred percent certain that the situation in Latium has fully stablised and that we won't get any more nasty surprises about more royals and nobles dying. I may not be Alex's blood mother...but I care for the girl as though she were my own child...it's what Annabelle XII would want.” Aleksandra said starting to get visibly upset after mentioning the death of her late older sister. With all my power, I won’t risk putting Alex in harm's way and get hurt in any way...I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed her to go and she ended up badly injured...or worst.”

Adelaide reached a hand out and placed in reassuringly on Aleksandra’s shoulder, smiling warmly at her. “I understand, trust me, I understand your paradox. Had I had the chance, I would have never let my precious Vasily travel to Estoni not matter how noble his cau...cause.” Adelaide said, herself starting to get choked up. “I’m sorry, even after all these years, I still find talking about Vasily to be difficult.”

“No, it is quite understandable. I may have relatively young, but I can still remember hearing the news breaking from Estoni about what those bastard Riet-proxies did to her poor son.” Aleksandra said with compassion inflecting her voice. “I look forward to the day those behind Vasily’s murder are brought to justice and receive the reckoning they rightfully deserve...” Aleksandra’s voice trialled off as she importunately shook her head. “It is a matter of time before the corrupt regimes of Estoni and Rietumimark collapse and we who stood against them dine of their graves.”

“Here, here girl,” Adelaide said, taking a moment to slip some of the water. “But enough talk about me and the evil Ozoliņš’s of this world - I did not travel all this way just to talk about pissants like them,” Adelaide said, seizing command of the direction of their conversation and spinning it around by 360 degrees. “What have you told Alex about Latium? Have you told her that blocking her from travelling there yet or have you danced around the elephant in the room.”

“No, I told her upfront that she can’t go to Latium to see Peter until the situation there has cleared up enough for me to believe that it is safe enough travel there,” Aleksandra said with a ruthless determination in her eye which reminded Adelaide of that of her mother Alara. “It is her best interest, only if she could see that.”

“As you must know by now, teenagers are very impulsive beings swayed by the slightest change of the direction of the wind,” Adelaide said of someone trying to reassure the doubts of a friend. “For all we know, her relationship with Peter may not last a year...six months at the most, but she must do see it that way, that the future is capricious and trying to predict is pointless. She may resent you now, but as she gets older and has children of her own, she’ll come to realise that what you did refusing to let her see a boyfriend out of concern for her well being is for the best.”

“I don’t hope so, we haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since I broke the news to her and I sometimes fear that we might never speak again.” divulge to Adelaide like she was telling her a dirty secret. “I’m concerned that our spat over going to Latium will permanently damage our relationship.”

Adelaide leaned forward and preemptively grabbed Aleksandra free hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Nothing last’s forever my dear...nothing, no matter how sometimes it may feel like that. Alex is a teenager, it comes with the territory.” Adelaide said, trying to assuage Alesandra’s fears. “Alex will come around, I can feel it.”

“Perhaps it is my bluntness that kept getting me trouble as a young girl and later woman.” Aleksandra pondered. “Not like my sister Annabelle, no...she always hate conflict and always did her damnedest to avoid it. That’s why she used to like having me around, to give her some bit.”

Adelaide lightly and cautiously laughed alongside Aleksandra as she reminisced about the past. “Uh yes, I recall meeting her for the first when she was what...five, six?” Adelaide said thinking back. “Yes, six and you must have been at the three. Oh Aleksandra, you should have seen her, the timidest little thing I’ve ever seen. Good thing she had her mother Alara in her life, to whip her out of that shell of her’s and force her to evolve into a far more fearless person...like Alara. The most fearless person, let alone person, I’ve ever met.”

“I could drink to that ten times over sister,” Aleksandra said, giving Adelaide a high five beyond her normal calculating and guarded self. “If I’m half the mother, wife, and person my mum was I would be a very happy camper, indeed...” Aleksandra trailed off again and wiped a small pond of tears collecting in her brown irises. “I can only hope that I can pass on the lessons of my own mother to my kids....I really miss mum and Anna, I really do”

Adelaide pulled Aleksandra close in, giving her a firm, motherly embrace. “If Alara was still alive today, I know that she would be so proud of the person and mother you have become,” Adelaide said, trying to hold back her own emotions. “I miss your mother and sister terribly as well, I truly do and there isn’t a moment in which I don’t wish that they were still with us; but we must remain strong for them and those who are still with us.”

---

Völund private residence, Kralin, North Deweden

“Now who is this little Lady Killer?!” Adelaide asked no one in particular, closely examining three-year-old Prince Ulf of Deweden as she rose him to the air. She immediately recognised the boy' strong resemblance to his great-grandfather, Prince Alexander of Ghant; from his wavy light brown hair and big light brown eyes to the stereotypical - especially male - Gentry broody look. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken Ulf as one of the Ghantish Emperor’s bastards. “I expect young Ulf will have trouble with the ladies when he gets older; I’ll bet money on it.”

“Well everyone here does know that Ulf does get all his devilishly good looks from his father,” Benedikt said jokingly, pouring himself a cup of coffee and helping himself to a handful of biscuits from the family biscuit jar stationed in the middle of the kitchen’s island. “My wife was lucky to snatch me up when she did, there was a whole line of suitors from far highest stations which wanted to get a piece of this.”

“Oh, is that so?” Aleksandra said, playing along with the joke as she entered the kitchen with tiny eighteen-months-old Thora, the couple’s youngest, clinging to her hip like a little money. Her penetrating green eyes gravitated towards Adelaide, watching her with intensely and curiously. “I’d beg your pardon, but if I remember correctly, it was your ugly mutt that was imploring me to even consider you on my waiting list.”

“I don’t know about that, Aleksandra; your memory sometimes can’t be the best.” Benedikt teased, leaning over to embrace and kiss his wife on the lips and his daughter on her delicate forehead. “Come on, help me out here,” Benedikt said to Adelaide. “Would you really believe my wife, Adelaide - with her forgetful track record?”

Adelaide rose her hands as though she was about to surrender. “After all my years on this planet, if there is one thing I’ve learnt, is that a proper lady should never get involved in a debate like this between a woman and her husband,” Adelaide said with a cheeky inflexion in her voice. “I think for this debate, I’m going to be like Fakolana and always stay neutral.”

“Oh Adelaide, that is totally a cop out!” Aleksandra interjected before her husband could get a chance to say the exact same thing. “Obviously you should support me, in solidarity with women power and what not.”

“It isn’t a cop-out, I’m simply pointing out that I am way too old to get in between a woman and man in such a heated discussion -” her voice trailing off as she felt something, or someone, eagerly pulling at her large pursue. She spun her head to take a look and caught Ulf pulling at handbag with an intense enthusiasm; the most zeal she’d ever seen from the boy. “Oh look what little sir has found,” Adelaide said, oozing with idolisation of the little package in her arms as Ulf began to pull greedily at her handbag. “Someone has found my little surprise for the family.”

The room’s eyes fell on Adelaide’s shoulder bag and both of Ulf’s hands tightly wrapped around the straps as he attempted to pull the handbag and all its content towards him with all Ulf’s strength. Aleksandra and her husband stared with admiring incredulousness at the boldness of their youngest son; Ulf’s eyes fixed on the handbag and what goodies laid inside. Adelaide was taken aback by Ulf’s robustness and determination, trying to sweep up the handbag with all his might. But while Adelaide may have long lost the brawn of Ulf, she had experience and used it to manoeuvre her body in such a way to make the laws of physics her ally. The pucky Ulf, however, had different ideas and when an opportunity presented itself, he took it and lunged, almost falling out of Adelaide’s arms in the process, sticking his hand into the pursue and victoriously pulling out a handful of chocolate covered pastries and plying them into his mouth.

Benedikt and Aleksandra looked at each other and laughed, while Thora - who’d been curiously watching the whole situation unfold, let out a loud, shrieking laugh and yelled, her finger aiming at her older brother: “Ulf eat poop, poop!”

“No, my dear - it certainly isn’t poop!” Adelaide said with a carefully constructed laugh. “Those are Lyncanestrian chocolate, some of the finest and most delicious money can buy - far superior to anything the faux Audonians in Vannois and Valyria.” she said with a mischievous smile, turning her head to look at Benedikt. “Where’s the rest of the family, I’m sure that they would love to try some of these chocolates?”

“Bea...um, Beatrice,” Benedikt began, correcting himself after referring to his daughter by her family nickname. “Took Vilmar to ice hockey practice with Daniel while on their way to their Latin tutor. I don’t know if you know this, but Vilmar has been taking ice hockey very seriously as of late, Aleksandra and I think he might want to pursue ice hockey as a career. Alex is also here, watching the Triumph in Castellum in the living room.”

“Oh yes, Alex - how is she doing?” Adelaide asked, fending ignorance on a topic already discussed earlier in the day as she walked over to the dining room table and carefully placed Ulf into a booster seat while he greedily feasted on his hard-earned prize. “I’ve heard that she has taken recent developments in Latium over the winter on the harder side - especially with her boyfriend potentially being targeted by that thug Michael.”

“Alex is as doing as well as one would expect from someone who went through something as traumatic as that,” Benedikt explained as he joined Adelaide and Ulf at the dining room, seating little Thora in her pink booster seat. “But I just have this feeling, that the worst horrors in Latium are over and only smooth sailing for the Latin people lay ahead.”

Adelaide nodded concernedly, her gaze meeting that of Aleksandra as Aleksandra followed Benedikt and herself into the dining room with two mugs full of coffee in each hand. “I hope you are right, Benedikt, for the sake of all the innocents that would suffer,” Adelaide said thoughtfully, slipping away at her cup of coffee. “But let’s discuss and turn our attention more uplifting matters; I’ve heard that Beatrice has made quite the name for herself on the worldwide web.”

Before their Benedikt nor his wife had a chance to answer, a loud shriek emanating from the living room tore through the house. Benedikt was the first to get to his feet - an ex-track-and-field man - and spirited towards the direction of the yell, with Aleksandra and Adelaide - who was armed with Thora - bringing up the rear; leaving Ulf in his own, chocolate filled world alone at the table. Seating on the couch was Alexia Maria, her elbows on her knees and palms covering her mouth; eyes glued to the television screech. Adelaide’s eyes followed that of Alexia’s onto the screen and were taken aback by what she saw: Shots fired at Triumph in Castellum; Ghantish and Latin Emperors in unknown condition.

On the tv screen, a handsome, middleaged newscaster with salt and pepper hair, light brown eyes, and a surprising epicanthic fold - indicating foreign lineage. “For views just joining, the Dewedish Broadcasting Corporation News can confirm that multiple gunshots were fired at the general direction of the Ghantish and Lation Triumph in Castellum parade being held today.” the forecaster said in accentless Dewedish while cellphone footage on the incident played on a separate side of the screen. “How many shooters nor the condition of the Emperors remains unknown at this time, but we will bring you any and all the latest updates as this situation unfold in Latium.”

Adelaide looked over at Aleksandra, who looked about as shocked about what had just happened as Alexia. “This is horrible...disgusting,” Benedikt said what the rest of the room was thinking aloud. “I hope the bastard or bastards that did this got what was coming to them and punched his ticket straight to hell with the likes of Michael.”

Adelaide nodded in agreement. “I pray to god that Constantine and Nathan are okay, neither of their respective country’s can afford to have their head of states die at such a critical time,” Adelaide said most concernedly. “For if one or both dies, only more death and suffering of innocents that will follow.”

The room’s voices died down as the newscaster continued: “Now we are going to get reporting from a DBC correspondent live, on the ground in Latium, where, up until this horrific event, was covering the parade for us and our affiliates,” the newscaster furrowed his brow and turned his look towards a different part of the screen, where a younger reporter, not much older than Alexia, was standing a few yards away from a police line - all dolled up ready for big-time television. “So, Iris Øster, what can you tell us about the unfolding situation in Latium right now?”

Iris fiddled with her long, blonde hair tied up into a pony hair and pouted her lips, her red lipstick still wet, as she began to speak. “From my sources on the ground, about thirteen minutes ago, heavily gunman or gunmen stormed their way past the crowd and security and left off several rounds before being promptly subdued by nearby security,” Iris said with a hint of uncertainty to her voice, subtle but noticeable to a trained ear. “Who exactly was the intended target/targets remain unclear at this time, those we can speculate that either one of the Emperors’ was the object of this...quite frankly, an act of terrorism.”

“Frightening stuff, really quite frightening that something like this could happen in a developed country Latium. It is really the stuff you except coming out of Estoni or Rietumimark - not a Belisarian country like Latium.” the male broadcaster said, fending fear. “Do you know of local authorities have any idea who was behind this attack or the number of casualties and/or who might the casualties be?”

“It is too early to say and the Latin authorities have so far have kept tight-lipped about who they might suspect be behind this terrorist attacks, but we can’t rule out the likes of the Riets, Michael supporters or Liothidians carrying out something like this; taking out two major figures of Belisarian politics in a single bow,” Iris said with the most apprehension in her voice. “Regarding casualties, it is still too early to say the number or who might have been killed or wounded; but it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities that the entire royal family and the Ghantish Emperor was wiped out.”

Alexia Maria upon hearing Iris’s let out a painful groan and buried her face in her hands. Adelaide grabbed the tv remote and muted the channel, before hearing any more fear mongering by the DBC correspondents on the television and put a reassuring hand on Alexia’s shoulder. “Do you...do you think that Pete...Pete’s de...dead?” Alexia struggled to say, as though vocalising it would make her worst nightmare true.

“No, I wouldn’t listen to those arsewipes, sensualist journalists looking to just drive more clicks to their blogs. Those fools would know what real reporting looks like if it struck them around the head.” Adelaide said, her eyes rising towards Aleksandra, who was on her cellphone. “Aleksandra my dear, could you get Anna on the phone, I’m sure she’ll be more than a help clearing up what exactly happened...far more than this blonde bimbo on the news.”

“I’ve already tried to contact her, but she is in an emergency meeting of the privy council and won’t be out for another hour; according to her lady-in-waiting, Lady Bente Signy,” Aleksandra said worriedly. “I could try the Dewedish Ambassador to Latium, who I believe was in attendance at the parade, but I doubt that she’ll have the time to speak with me so early on after this crisis.”

“Is there anyone else in Latium you could contact and get some real information about the shooting and who was hurt?” Adelaide said, running through a mental list of people who may have been Latium at the time of the shooting. “What about your eldest Salomon, isn’t he currently deployed in Latium delivering out humanitarian aid?”

Adelaide immediately recognised that she had struck a chord with Aleksandra the moment she brought up Salomon’s name. Her face tensed up and she appeared unwilling to continue down that line of inquiry. “I don’t think that would be best of ideas...I mean, I doubt alone infantryman with the 1st King Ferdinand's Own Marines Battalion could know much more than what the news people are saying.”

“It is still worth a try - for Alex’s sake and sanity.” Adelaide immediately countered, gesturing for Aleksandra to hand her the phone. Aleksandra over at her nodded and conceded to Adelaide. Within a few minutes, she had Salamon on the phone. “Hello Salamon, can you hear me?” Adelaide said.

“Hello, Adelaide...what’s up?” Salamon asked. “And why are you calling? Does it have something to do with the shooting of the Emperors?”

Adelaide could tell that she’d caught Salmon at a bad time and his voice seemed hesitant to press on with any long conversation. “I’m sorry if I caught you at a difficult time, but there’s something I have to ask you,” Adelaide said, hearing in the background the faint, unintelligible talking in Dewedish and the constant ringing of phones. “Is Peter, the Latin Emperor’s younger brother okay. I know it is not the most correct thing to ask you in light of recent events, but Alex is here on the verge of tears at the mere thought of something happening to Peter and it would put her mind at ease to know that he’s okay.”

“I am not really allowed to tell you anything more than what’s on the news, but if Alex is in a really bad way, I think I can may an exception if you don’t tell anyone else,” Salomon said with a hush to his voice as Adelaide turned the phone on speaker mode. “From what we at the embassy can tell, the only members of the royal families hurt are the Ghantish and Latin Emperors. To what degree is unknown and it will probably stay way for the next couple hours. So tell Alex that Peter is fine and to stop worrying, it will likely be a couple hours before he’ll be able to talk to her. If that’s everything, I really need to go.”

“No, that’s everything Alex needed to know and you have been more than a help. I’ll make sure to speak to you later - bye.” Adelaide said as Salamon hung up the phone, turning her head to look at Alexia Maria. “Did you hear that, it is more than likely that your Peter is fine - just like how Latium will be one it gets over this one last wobble.” And hopefully we’ll see no more nasty surprises...

[Fabria-Poveglia]

“Ecclesiastical Concern”
Otovos
Fabria, Fabria-Poveglia

After exiting his private, chartered jet, Archbishop Faustus Otovos The drive from Pope Leo X International Airport through the suburbs of Fabria to the beating heart of Catholicism, to many of the Cardinalate was no different from the triumphal marches of Emperors and Governors past. Even if the vehicle they travelled was blacked out, the flags of the Church and the Church-State fluttering on the bonnet, being the only indication of their status.

If Otovos was under any impression that his visit was surrounded in foreboding, it was the noticing of the lack of escort from the Sanfidesti. Such a high-ranking Prince of the Church travelling through Fabria without the flashing lights of police cars, irked him.

“No police escort?” Otovos asked of his driver. The uniformed driver turned his head a few degrees.

“His Holiness banned it for non-Magisterium members of the Cardinalate, your Eminence. Too expensive, too polluting and unnecessary, considering how safe men of your status are” he replied politely in the Fabrian accent.

“Of course” Otovos nodded, leaning back in his chair. How things change in only three years, he thought to himself. He returned to peering out of the window, taking notice of the tightly packed buildings of one of Catholicism’s most famed and beloved cities. Much had indeed changed, every street corner now boasted a Modonni, a stone or concrete cupboard containing a statuette of the Virgin Mary, beneath it, hundreds of candles and flowers. They were once the product of renaissance-era sculptors, charged by Popes to provide citizens with spots to offer prayer in the event of missing Sunday mass, now they were being constructed en-mass to provide the same, but also a reminder of God’s ever watchful presence.

Beyond the obvious monuments to the Faith, Fabria appeared as every bit a part of the 21st century as Castellum, Adrianople, or any other major city of Latium or the Belisarian Community: high-end luxury cars, the fashionable men, women and children. The smartphones, the tablets, the confidence of the new generation. The fashion labels mixing with the black cassocks and habits of the clergy who commuted the streets, just the same as the banker, the trader, the teacher, the lawyer and tech-savvy.

Eventually the routine of modern life outside the car window gave way to the historic, the vast domes of basilica, the imposing walls of the seminaries, the classical designed porticos of the theological libraries and eventually, the Bridge of Holy Martyrs and the Castel della Vita. One swift turn of the wheel and the Via Pellegrino, before him, down the ornate and spotless road, the wide arms of Saint Peter’s Square. Otovos took in a deep breath and collected his thoughts, the Palace of Universal Church, the Capitol of the Pontiff, the Soul of Holy Mother Church, the Citadel of the Magisterium was in sight.

The crossing onto the Square was seamless, it was empty, yet life was fully around. As the car pulled around the obelisk at the centre, placing the Cardinal’s door firmly beside the red carpet leading to the entrance, Otovos struggled out, exhausted by the travel, and no doubt due to this lingering pains and recent surgeries. He was assisted out by two Guardians of Saint Peter’s Throne, their orange and red striped uniforms, their metal chest armour glittering in the sun.

As he steadied his balance, he was greeted by none other than Cardinal Secretary of State, Marco Camillo Furio. The handsome Cardinal from the wooded north, this Pope’s most loyal servant.

“Laudetur Jesus Christus,” Furio greeted, a test already, to see if Otovos would reply correctly. His hand not outstretched, a successful answer, clearly to be rewarded with a hand-shake.

“Laudetur Jesus Christus,” Otovos replied without hesitation, propping himself upright with the help of a cane being held by his left hand.

Camillo smiled, extending his hand and taken Otovos’ firmly.

“Welcome to Fabria your Eminence, it is such a relief that you could be here with us. We’ve been concerned for your health and life for that matter, for months. Hearing that you’d gone missing tore at our hearts, especially the Holy Father’s. Though we all hope that you take some comfort in knowing that His Holiness was swift to, punish, the pretender for his role in your ordeal. Excommunication was fitting for his crime against you and the Faith” Camillo said, leading Otovos’ into the inner sanctum of Christendom.

“An honor to be back. I only wish that my arrival was not delayed, but alas,” Otovos smiled as he shook Camillo’s hand, before placing it down at his side and continuing. “I thank the Lord’s wisdom and guidance for seeing me through my internment…and His Holiness for his swift and just actions. The boy, Michael, was truly lost, I only wish that I could have done more to prevent him from becoming lost.”

“I do not think any one could have foreseen his descent into wickedness your Eminence. We must now be thankful that it is over, he is no more and Latium can recover. Our duty now is to provide the Latin people the spiritual guidance necessary for them to overcome that dark time” Camillo smiled and began to escort Otovos into the Vatican.

As they passed the doors, the two Guardians of Saint Peter snapped to attention, their arms raised into salute in complete unison.

Greeting them into the chasm of Saint Peter’s Basilica was the all-encompassing smell of incense and subtle melody of the Santa Stefania Academy of Music Choir hyming away in Latin, all the while nuns and priests busied themselves polishing the marble floors.

“The renovators looking at the frescoes in the Pope Leo X apartments have given us a quote your Holiness” Father Lucca Olivieri muttered as he peered down at the papers on his lap. The 66-year old rural Priest was brought in as General Custodian of the Vatican, a mostly administrative task, but no means small. He was charged with maintenance, renovation, expansion and modernisation of the entire Vatican. He had spent the past two years overseeing the construction of two new apartment buildings for the Vatican staff, the renovation of the luxurious apartments for the permanent Cardinal-residents and the repairs to various parts of the Basilica itself.

“Oh yes?” Pope Julius IV enquired, peering back from the open terrace doors that overlooked the Gardens and the terracotta rooftops of Fabria.

“Yes, they’re quoting at least 850,000 florins, for scrubbing and restoration using paints of the era. They’re also requesting that we empty the apartments of their occupants. The constant comings and goings of residents and staff will interrupt and slow their work” Olivieri continued.

“Less than we expected. What do you recommend about the residents?” Julius asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, according to the register, 33 people are resident at the moment. Mostly administrative staff for the Magisterium, as well as three Cardinals. Cardinal Matteo Giovanni Volpi, Cardinal Vittorio Renato and Cardinal Massimo Framicci” Olivieri smiled, “I recommend we move the staff into the Pope John III apartments and three Cardinals can go into the Holy Trinity Villa. It’s currently unused, since Cardinal Amadeo Amato is currently doing charity work in Scipia” he said.

“Very well, I trust you to make good on those suggestions Lucca” Julius smiled.

“Last item, the Benedictine sisters who work the gardens are requesting your intervention on a small matter. They want you to permit them to allow pets in the Santa Maria Dormitory” Olivieri uttered reluctantly.
“What?” Julius shot back.

“They’re not allowed pets in the dormitory. For some years I believe” Olivieri replied.
“Why not?” Julius asked, surprised.

“Cat shit” Cardinal Caio Terenzio Gaudenzi, the Prefect of the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Fabrian and Universal Inquisition shot into the conversation. Gaudenzi headed the inquisition, and was the Pope’s most loyal lieutenant – he played a central role in the so-called “Night of the Torn Cassocks”, in which the Magisterium was purged of Cardinals by Pope Julius, eager to assert his control.

“I don’t understand” the Pope replied, unflinching at Gaudenzi’s language.

“The Nuns used to take in hundreds of Fabria’s stray cats, they’d go out and shit all over the Gardens. It was a mess, so Lucca’s predecessor banned pets” Gaudenzi laughed.

“Oh, well, I see. Well, I do not like to deny the sisters the joy and comfort in an animal’s company. Allow them one pet, a dog” the Pope replied with a cheerful tone.

“One dog… for fifty Nuns your Holiness?” Olivieri asked.

“One dog, if it doesn’t make a mess then perhaps they can have another” the Pope replied, lowering his head slightly to darken his eyes.

“Of course your Holiness, I will inform their Mother Superior immediately” Olivieri took a breath, that is all for today your Holiness” he smiled as he stood.

“Thank you Lucca, may God bless your day” Julius smiled.

“And yours your Holiness” Olivieri left. As he did, his PA, a young olive-skinned Nun entered the room.
“Holy Father, his Eminences Cardinal Camillo and Cardinal Otovos are here” she announced in a bold manner, betraying her young age.

“Please bring them in” he smiled, taking to his feet.

As she left the door way, the two men entered.

“Faustus, welcome home” Julius grinned, extending both arms for an embrace.

Archbishop Otovos dipped his head, and bowed to the best of the ability after entering the room. Though anxious due to his cane and limited mobility, Otovos was polite and smiled as Julius welcomed him. “Your Holiness,” he said after meeting Julius’s eyes. “I am grateful to be back.”

Julius took Otovos’ shoulder softly, “come sit my friend.” As he led the elderly cleric to an antique chair before the Pope’s desk. The one of hundreds of chairs within the Vatican, priced well beyond the annual wage of the average Fabrian-Poveglian.

“Welcome back your eminence” Gaudenzi smiled from his chair in the corner. The balding bespectacled enforcer always had sly smile, but then his rural childhood denied much in the way of friendly, social environments.

“Of course, thank you, Holy Father,” Otovos said, feeling Julius guide him to a nearby seat. Otovos labored to sit, letting out a heavy sigh once he was finally seated, and offered Gaudenzi a smile as well before adding, “Thank you.”

“We invited you here, back home, for a particular reason Faustus. Times have changed, Latium has changed, perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse, only God shall reveal. But, when times change, the Church must change with them…” the Pope paused, “we are in need of a new standing in Latium, we have an opportunity now, to guide Latium and influence Latium towards truer service, to God, to family, to the Church” the Pope continued.

“I…I’m sorry, Holy Father. I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Otovos looked back at Julius as he replied with a strained voice.

The Pope offered a half-hearted smile, “what Latium needs, what Constantine needs now is a firm hand, a firm voice, one that echoes the love, strength and will of God. Someone, more adapt to the needs of our cause. We need a politician Faustus, and that, in honesty, is not you. You’re a theologian, a great one. You’re a man superior to the tasks at hand, I will not subject you to them, so we wish to see you return to us” the Pope finished, lowering his head ever so slightly.

Otovos, while previously looking Julius in the eyes, shifted to the floor. Archbishop of Castellum was a post coveted by many who took to the cloth in Latium, second only to the Papacy itself in the eyes of some. However, it was a post Otovos had always felt he never truly earned, but even still to see it slip away made the conversation surreal – no matter how impending he knew it may have been. “If that is what the Lord requires, Holy Father,” Otovos picked up his head to look at the Pope after contemplating within. “May I ask if you have considered a replacement or my future?”

“Of course, we would never appoint a foreigner to head Latium’s most prized archdiocese, a such we have chosen Theodorus Afinius. A man we can rely upon to play the political game at hand, the one that God himself demands we win” the Pope explained with a smile.

“A servant of the Mother Church who is understanding of what is required” Gaudenzi interjected.

“Indeed, does this allay your fears Faustus?” Julius enquired sincerely.

“Yes of course, I never feared, Holy Father,” Otovos swallowed the lump he felt in his throat. He looked to the Pope with the hint of a smile now, “And of my next assignment?”

“For you Faustus, a position here in the Basilica itself. During your… absence, Brother Tomaso Lurelli passed away, may the Heavenly Father bless him. Lurelli, was the chief curator of the Vatican Archives, our most cherished possessions lay within it, and of course artefacts and texts vital for understanding the Gospel and the life of Christ our Saviour, among other things” the Pope took a breath.

“We would like for you to become Curator of the Archives. With it, you have complete access, a theologian of our standard will surely find facts and secrets no others could. Do you accept?” the Pope asked.

“Yes, of course, Brother Lurelli,” Otovos recalled the man, motioning the sign of the cross in front of himself. “I’d be honored, Holy Father, should the Lord deem me worthy of such office.”

“The Lord would deem no other worthy” the Pope grinned, he knew deep down that Otovos could not refuse, the Pope had the power to dispatch the Princes of the Church wherever he wished, he could send him off to some dusthole of a diocese in Scipia or join the rabid republicans in Liothidia, but this man had suffered in the name of Christ.

“Very well then, we shall begin work on moving you into permanent residence here in the Vatican. Brother Afinius will immediately contacted and soon elevated to the Cardinalate. God blesses today” the Pope smiled again.

“Thank you, Holy Father,” Otovos smiled before attempting to stand. “I appreciate all you have done to accommodate me today, and for the Curatorship.”

"Of course Faustus, please join us all for dinner this evening. I wish you settle in quick" the Pope smiled as he left the room.

Turning to Gaudenzi and Camillo, he smiled, "shall we begin?"

[Lacus Magni]

“The Garden of Earthly Delights”
Palace of Augustus
Palatine, Castellum ab Alba
(Co-written with Ghant)

Maria did not bother re-entering the palace after saying her final goodbyes to Nathan in the covered bed of the military truck. I didn’t even get to say everything I wanted, she thought of how quickly Leo shooed her away, and tried not to spite him for it. Normally, Maria would inform her guard she wished to visit the crypts, to speak with papa and mama, when she was going through a difficult time, though when she asked the head of her detail, she was refused due to “security concerns” in the city and the curfew. While the crypts were ideal, the palace gardens were her favorite location on the grounds; even when she moved out of the palace and lived at Velia House in a different part of the capital, Maria would make time to come visit her father and speak with him there.

The main, and largest gardens were on the opposite side of the palace from where she said goodbye, off near the Imperial apartments. In fact, there was an entrance to the gardens from the Imperial apartments, with various others in that same area. But I don’t want to bother Kostas, she thought as she walked alone around the exterior of the palace, the Frusina to left of her. She could see boats anchored along the far bank, and their nearby lights reflecting off the unusually still water.

The Princess shivered some, still wearing her navy blue church and parade dress, though now it was covered in specs of dirt or grime. She brought her arms up, each hand rubbing over the other’s forearm, and with her next step kicked a stone and noticed that her tights had a tear in them around her left shin. Just lovely, she rolled her eyes though noticed she was nearing the garden’s entrance from the courtyard, with its miniature triumphal arch covered in vines and other decorative flowers.

At the entrance, a guard bowed his head as she walked past him without even a glance. Inside, the gardens stood elevated upon the Palatine Hill like the rest of the palace, though it held lower levels that could be reached from above or even were opened to the public on occasion. Though the lower sections were just as beautiful as those above, Maria always preferred the highest areas of the gardens; though for privacy or simply the beauty she was not sure. It was at a spot near a small fountain at the furthest edge of the garden that she and her father would always sit together.

She walked along a gravel path way, marked by trees, which lacked their usual color and vim that they carried in the summer; and flowers that shown a clear purple if the dark of ending day was not reaching ever closer. Maria, however, ignored most else of the garden along her walk to “her” spot. It was there that she was greeted by a short wall that obscured most paparazzi that were known to congregate on the opposite banks of the river to the south. Though the wall only provided partial coverage from the bench that rested in front of it, and almost none if one sat near the fountain, like Maria preferred to do most of the time.

Maria sighed, holding the end of her dress as she sat down on the edge of the fountain and looked out towards the Frusina River while she lightly ran her hand across the top of the chilling water. I’m cursed, I must be truly cursed, she scooped a handful of water out of the fountain and held her other hand underneath, letting the water run over her hands. “Is that blood?” she looked at her right shoulder, thinking it was probably Nathan’s, which caused her to begin to tear up.

She slouched some, her head beginning to feel light as she was dominated by profound sadness at the thought of not only having just lost papa, or nearly losing Kostas, but Nate…he’s gone now, “and I was so horrid to him,” she began to say aloud, though in a weak voice, as if someone else were sitting right next to her. “I was so cruel, and the last thing I said…I wish I could tell him I take it back. He died thinking I was angry with him, or hated him, and he still saved Kostas life.”

“Would you still think the same of him, papa?” she began to whisper as she fought back her tears. No, you would say that grandpapa said ‘a man cannot expect one great deed to make those forget all their wrongs, nor can a wrong make those forget all of one’s great deeds’. “But if you could see people as they truly were, like everyone says, surely you knew already.”

Maria knew her father’s reputation when it came to certain activities after the death of her mother and before her father father found Marsella. Was Nathan really so different from you then? And you managed to pull yourself out of it, Maria recalled shouting at her father once upon a time, only to have her father acknowledge his past impropriety and vow to set a better example for her and his other children. “But he’s not as weak as you thought, papa, and that’s why he died. I think you would be proud now...”

---

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

---

The Emperor of Ghant had a hard time adjusting his eyes to the light. They strained against it, causing him to look down at the ground, or try to cover his eyes with his arm, but no matter what he did, he could feel his eyes burning. Yet that isn’t the worst of it. His muscles still ached, feeling tense and strained, sending sharp stabs of pain shooting up his legs with every step. His throat burned, yearning for something to drink, and he hungered.

Even so, he couldn’t risk being seen. No...not like this anyway. The Ghantish runes still stained his skin black, all down his arms and legs and across his chest...no doubt on his face, neck and back too. No...I can’t be seen like this. Yet Nathan knew that he needed water, not only to sate his thirst but to help his body relax. There’s really only one place I can go, he realized as he lurched through the palace interior, avoiding anyone that he came across. Only one place I need to go…

It had been many years since he had been in the palace gardens, off of the corresponding palace courtyard. He remembered that there were trees there, and flowers and a great fountain full of clear, fresh water. Nathan didn’t even know if it was day or night, but there, he would surely find out, and be able to drink to his heart’s content as he got his bearings about him. Perhaps then...after a while at least, he would seek out his half-brother Leo, and then go from there.

Nathan realized it was in the deep of the night once he got outside, finding himself for the first time outside, just on the exterior of the palace. Oh thank God, he sighed with relief as his eyes relaxed, no longer in pain from the light of the palace interior. Despite no longer being in pain, his eyes still felt strained, only vaguely being able to make out the shapes of objects off in the distance, on the other side of the river. Boats, he realized then. Good, that means I’m going the right way…

The Emperor navigated his way into the courtyard, finding his way through the dark. He looked for the entrance to the garden, marked by a triumphal arch covered in vines and flowers. Unfortunately at the garden’s entrance, a lone guard stood watch. Damn it, Nathan thought as he hid in the darkness, waiting for an opportunity to sneak past the guard and into the palace gardens. Considering everything else I’ve done, surely this couldn’t be too hard…

The lone guard patted at his pant pockets, followed by his jacket until he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He brought one up to his mouth, followed by the lighter, though struggled to have the flame stick. “Damn wind,” he turned his back to the river and moved closer to the palace in the hopes of lighting the cigarette. His arm moved, as if shaking the lighter before giving it another go and providing Nathan a chance to move.

Nathan seized the opportunity without hesitation, passing under the arch with great haste, hoping that the guard didn’t turn around too soon. The guard turned back to his station moments after, and now with his cigarette lit, he resumed his patrol and started to walk away from the gardens entirely.

Meandering along the gravel path that wound through the garden, the Emperor passed beneath the trees that lined the path, trampling the flowers and other plants beneath his feet. At the far end of the garden lay the fountain, which even in the dark seemed to sparkle in Nathan’s eyes. He drew nearer and nearer towards it, his eyes never averting from the water, until he came upon it. Clumsily, he staggered forward, letting the cloth that wrapped around his midsection fall to the ground as he fell face first into the water, gulping it greedily as he became submerged in the fountain’s pool.

“Oh, God,” Maria screeched at the sight of him falling into the fountain. She leapt up from the fountain and stepped back towards the bench. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The Emperor heard the sound of a muffled voice while he was underwater. Damn...someone else is here. He rose to the surface and peered out into the darkness. The water was cold, and so he shivered once his head was above water. “...Who’s there?” he asked, unable to see anyone.

“I asked you first,” she said nervously, continuing to step back until she bumped into the bench and fell backwards onto it. “Don’t make me call the guard.”

Oh, God, Nathan thought as he realized who it was. It’s Maria… he wasn’t sure how to tell her, or what he should say. So he simply played it by ear. “Maria,” he said to her after clearing his throat. He rose from the water and stepped out, naked and still covered in Ghantish runes, painted black. “It’s Nathan…”

Maria shook her head fiercely, “But that. No, that’s impossible…I saw you, you weren’t alive, weren’t breathing.” She continued shaking her head and covered her mouth in shock. “I must be going crazy.”

“No,” he told her as he walked towards her. “You’re not crazy. You saw me die,” he told her as he closed the gap between them. Once he was close enough to her, he reached out his hands in order to touch her cheeks. “And now you see me again, arisen.”

“How?” she shivered when she felt his fingers touch her cheek. She reached up to her cheek for his hand to feel it for herself, letting out a stuttering breath while she stood to embrace him. “It really is you, isn’t it?” she added with a weak, fading voice.

“...I don’t know,” he answered her. “Some great and ancient power.” Nathan smiled as he brushed his thumbs against her cheeks. “I told you of this power, back in Atmos upon the lonely mountain. You wouldn’t listen then...you didn’t believe it. Perhaps you do now.”

“And now you are here, standing next to me…that’s good enough,” she was crying some, though smiled after kissing him on the cheek. Still holding onto him she remained silent until saying, “Nathan, I’m so, so sorry for what I said. I was wrong to doubt you, we were all wrong. And you still tried to save Kostas…please forgive me.”

Nathan smiled, telling her that “there’s nothing to forgive, Maria...I have been a fool. I’ve been to the other side of death...I know what’s there. Everything is...clearer now,” he explained to her, before looking down, suddenly feeling embarrassed about his nakedness, and about his arousal. “...I should cover myself,” he told her bashfully. “It’s a bit...chilly out here.”

Maria sniffled with a nod and finally let go of him, “Right, you should get inside quickly.” She took his hand and started to lead him to the palace. “There was a guard out here when before I arrived, maybe we can ask him for something.”

“...No,” he replied softly. “I don’t want to be seen...not yet...not like this,” he told her. “Is there another way inside?” he promptly picked up the cloth laying in the grass and wrapped it around his abdomen...not that it concealed much.

“The only other entrance away from prying eyes would be to Kostas’s apartments. Though we could run into him,” Maria’s eyes shifted over Nathan’s figure, and while trying not to stare, she did notice strange markings that were almost painted on him. “Where did these markings come from?” she traced a finger over one near his arm as she led him towards an entrance.

The Emperor shook his head. “I don’t know...they were there when I came to. I woke up in a crypt, with only this cloth and these markings.” he followed her as best he could to wherever she was leading him to.

“Why would they take you to the crypt?” Maria asked as they quickly came upon a set of doors that led from the gardens and into the Latin Emperor’s apartments. Maria knew that the double doors in the center led into a library, and the door closet to where they came from led to a sitting room. But the door furthest from them led to a utilities room, and that was where Maria led Nathan, though was careful to look through the windows of the library doors to make sure Kostas or one of his Praetorians wasn’t staring out the window. When they came to the utilities door, Maria knocked on it, with no answer coming from the otherside. “Do you need help walking?” she asked him while she opened to door and looked inside.

“Who’s they?” Nathan asked her. “I was dead...I don’t know who did what,” he suppressed a laugh. “I’m fine, thank you...just keep leading the way.”

“Oh, um, Leo and the overeager one, Paul, were doing something for Teresa or something. I’m not sure why though,” Maria bumped into a metal shelf once she closed the utility room’s door to the outside. “A bit cramped isn’t it?” Maria laughed lightly before wiggling another doorknob; it was locked. She took a bobby pin out of her hair and worked it into the lock, eventually opening it to reveal a larger employee room within the apartments. “I don’t know if we can reach your chambers without you being seen. Mine are just outside the apartments if you don’t mind that instead.”

Nathan shook his head. “Not at all...let’s do that instead.” Trailing close behind her, he added, “I didn’t know you could pick locks.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” she smiled with a shrug and carefully walked the room to the next door. Maria opened it slowly, looking out into an empty hallway and beyond that the apartments exit to the rest of the palace. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this, guards will be on the other side of the exit. Maybe if we stick to the staff areas?” she thought aloud. “That should get us there without being seen.”

Maria didn’t wait for an answer, and rushed out into the hallway while the coast was clear and took Nathan by the hand to make sure he followed close by before going into yet another room. That lead to the staff rooms, where if it was the middle of the day would be among the busiest in the palace, but because of the late hours were nearly empty. It was through this path that Maria led Nathan to her chambers out of any prying eyes.

Once they reached her chambers, Maria said, “You can sit anywhere you like,” as she moved to her bathroom only to reappear with a pink robe. Her chambers were not very large, or even all that impressive, since she spent most of her time in Castellum at Velia House in the neighboring district. But her room was very tidy and featured pictures of her family and friends all throughout – with a photo of her parents on her bedside table – along with decorations in the same palatial style found all around the palace. “This might not be your style, but it will cover you up more than this rag.”

“I’ll take it.” Nathan accepted the pink robe and began to put it on. “I’ve never been naked in your room before,” he sniggered as he removed the dirty cloth wrap from his abdomen again.

“And so close to my bed no less,” Maria returned the laugh. “Nathan, I still have no idea what you are doing here or how you are back…but I’m glad you are.” She found her bed, sitting atop it with crossed legs and looked at him as she twiddled her thumbs. “You said that you saw the other side of death, what was there? Were…were my parents there?”

Nathan sighed as he sat down beside her. “There was...nothing...until there was something,” he began to explain, his eyes closed. “There were shadows...like echoes. There were evil, twisted things...and then there was a great Sakratu tree, who said it was not my time.”

“I don’t understand,” she seemed almost disappointed, if not frightened as well. “That doesn’t sound like heaven, or hell…” her voice trailed off while her eyes found the wine in her room. Though Nathan was seated next to her, she rose and poured herself a glass, quickly taking a sip from the glass. “It sounds horrifying.”

“The Jainkozaharra teach that one man’s heaven is another man’s hell,” Nathan laughed as he looked around for something to drink. “There were moments of horror and moments of bliss. Everything just sort of flowed together, like a dream...except I was actually there.” wondering what all he should tell her, he decided to stick to the short and sweet version of it. “I think that what happens to you after death depends on...what the Gods have in store for you. That, and there’s no such thing as death, only continuation in other forms, in one place or another.”

“God…you mean” Maria sipped her wine, though found some water for Nathan. She handed him the glass, though found a different seat than before and said, “So what you saw is different than what I would see? That is, well, interesting I suppose.” Maria brought her glass to her lips, letting it hover before blurting out, “How are you so calm right now? This is by far the strangest day that I can remember, and there have been some very…strange ones lately.”

Nathan rubbed his eyes and groaned slightly. “If there is only one God, then he wasn’t wherever I was at,” he tried to explain before gulping down the water. “I’m calm because I’m alive, when before I was dead. I’m enjoying being alive again...aside from the pain, I don’t miss that.”

“Oh my, that’s right,” Maria’s eyes opened wide, while she jumped out of her seat and walked towards him. “You should probably see a doctor. How bad does it hurt?”

“I’m feeling better now, thank you,” he replied with a smile. “I just needed to get moving around and drink some water.” Looking at her thoughtfully, he told her that “you know, during that whole ordeal, I kept thinking about what I’d do if I was given a second chance, to do it all again. Then I realized how what’s done is done, so there’s no point in worrying about it.” Nathan put a hand on Maria’s cheek and added, “life’s too short for that, so instead of dwelling on the past, we should focus on the future. I wanted to be here, with you, and not even death could keep me.”

“Nate…” Maria leaned her head towards his hand, though closed her eyes briefly before pulling back. “What about your family?”

“...You’re my family,” he told her before leaning in to kiss her.

Maria hesitated at first, then leaned in the rest of the way until her lips met his, holding there briefly. She pulled back after a moment, looking him in the eyes, though breathing rapidly, and after swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, kissed him again.

One hand on her cheek and the other one on the back of her head, Nathan ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her cheek when he kissed her, and then again when she looked him in the eyes. When they kissed again, he kissed her tenderly, savoring the moment as though it were his first and last opportunity. With his hand in her hair, he held her close, so that the only thing he was aware of around him was her.

Maria brushed Nathan’s robe aside and started to press herself against him as she kicked her shoes off and grew more passionate with every passing moment. By the time she pushed him back against the bed, Maria laid on top of him and grabbed one of his hands, wrapping hers within it.

The feeling of her hand was electrifying, his whole body tingling with sensation. With his one free hand, he worked at her dress, in his now very palpable yearning to consummate his desire. It was at that moment then, that he realized the irony of his current situation. Nathan had sought out the palace gardens for air and water, only to find that Maria was there as well. In a sense, it was like the Garden of Earthly Delights…