A Gladius, A Crown and A Broken Empire (Reichpol) [Hiatus]

The inauguration

Reichtangle's POV

After what looked like an eternity Rome seemed now like a distant memory, something long forgotten in the back of his head. Maybe there had been only a few years since he had parted to an awful war, but the days had been painfully slow and the times when he used to live here, walking the busy streets of the populated city, seemed like a mere dream.

He sighed, walking the halls of the enormous Domus, the guards firm in every corner. He raised his head to the space where the columns touched the ceiling, just to stop dead on his tracks.

Were those mirrors?

His father had started to go completely crazy.

He shook his head, continuing his way to the room that had been once his own. Everything was well kept, the hard work of the servants clear as day. He smiled, happy to know his precious books and rolls had been treated with respect.

He took what he needed and walked out of the building, a servant carrying some of his stuff and getting ready to receive his dusty clothes. He thanked the male, giving him some money so he could buy something for his family in the meantime.. The man was a hardworking individual, someone wise and loyal, and also very kind. He deserved to be treated with respect, so Reichtangle tried his best to show the male that his actions were noticed, rewarding him and thanking him.

He entered the warm water, feeling his muscles relaxing and his head clearing. The murmur of other people chatting while enjoying the public terms made him feel like a stranger on his own childhood town, the colors of their skin reflecting on the water, greens, whites, reds and blues dancing with the waves.

The white statues looked at him from the corners, their empty eyes digging his soul. He decided to close his eyes, concentrating in the conversations that flowed around him.

A small group was talking happily about the car races, some of them betting for the red team, while others talked about the Blue ones, hard enemies to defeat. In the far away corner two elderly man discussed about a dramatic actuation they had seen last week, something about a man going home after a war.

He rolled his eyes at the irony, getting out of the pool and deciding to leave the place, changing his clothes and preparing to see his father. The mere thought was unnerving but he brushed it off.

He would talk to the Emperor of the Roman Empire, talk about his greatness and his power, bow to him, repeat his name in the triumph parade, trying his best to stay calm while all the people in Rome screamed his name after a victorious return with gold and silver in great quantity and slaves to fight in the new amphitheater.

But deep down he knew his victory was damped with blood.

He lowered his head while putting on his clothes, breathing deeply to calm himself.

He just needed to forget, enjoy some of the ludii that were thrown because of his success.

After all, what was better than gladiators, car races and sacrifices when a whole enemy country had been reduced to ashes and slaves? It didn't matter if he had gained a new territory for the Empire, and most of the population was alive... Most of the slaves they had brought were fathers or sons, it didn't matter if they were soldiers, they had families and they were going to die in a mere show. Italy had been right when he had talked to him that night all those years ago, he wondered how had the legatus dealt with it for so many years. He envied the ability of the man to stay calm and collected through all of this...

He sighed heavily.

Maybe it was better to see them in the faces when they were murdered in the arena... Maybe with their lives his own guilt would disappear, maybe the weight on his heart would be devoured with the corpses of the fallen enemies.