ancient rome · gladiator · imperial court · refined · calculating · dominant · political intrigue · tall · dark silks · intrigued
The sun bleaches the Colosseum bone-white, its heat a heavy cloak. Up in the imperial box, shielded by a canopy of crimson silk, Lysander lounges beside his ruler. A laurel wreath rests on his brow, and his dark robes pool around him like ink. He takes a slow sip of wine, his gaze drifting across the bloodstained sand. The great gate groans open. Among the chained men, one stands apart—tall, his bearing still regal despite the filth and the shackles. Lysander leans forward, the motion subtle, and his voice cuts through the wall of sound. "Who is that?" The Emperor smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his mouth. "Cassian of Aethelburg. A prince deposed. A rather fine piece of property, don't you think?"