A few days later the morning broke crisp and cold.
The golden sun rose sluggishly behind a veil of thin clouds, casting long, sharp shadows across the stone plazas of the Eternal City.
Bells rang low and deep across the whole of the imperial capital, not in warning, but in solemn announcement.
Today, the Emperor rode to war leaving his city, and citizens behind to join their sons in battle.
~
Julius stood at the northern gates of the city, clad in full imperial battle regalia for the first time since his coronation as King.
His armor was a masterwork of the empire's finest smiths — gleaming steel chased with blackened gold, the eagle of Romanus spread wide across his breastplate. A purple cloak billowed from his shoulders, fastened by a brooch bearing the twin laurel and sunburst of his reign.
At his side, sheathed in a simple leather scabbard, was his gladius.
The weapon felt lighter than it should have.
As if it knew that soon, it would be heavy with history.
