Heir of Aurelian

Marcellus stood within a villa that once belonged to a wealthy patrician of Gallo-Roman descent. What exactly was the fate of this man and his family? That remained unknown to the young General. After all, Gaul had been a rather tumultuous region for centuries.

At the moment, yet another campaign was being fought in the Roman Province of Gaul in an attempt to oust the usurper Constantine III. Though Valence was reclaimed, and Nebiogastes was slain. The city was far from peaceful; instead, as if making a deal with the devil, Marcellus had allowed the Gothic foederati beneath his command to ravage the town and plunder its values.

This had become a common practice among the Roman Armies, as they now heavily relied on the support of the barbarian foederati, and their loyalty could only be bought with wealth, something that the Western Roman Empire was severely lacking in at the moment. While the city bled in the background, Marcellus stood in this lonesome villa gazing upon the fires raging in the town below; a chalice of wine was in his hand, and his beautiful slave was by his side.

Sigefrida clung tightly to Marcellus' body as she watched him gaze upon the destruction wrought by his command. She knew such chaos weighed heavily on the conscience of her master, and yet there was nothing she could do to abate it.

As for Marcellus, he drank his sorrows away with the wine stored in the cellar of this villa. It was far from his favorite vintage, but at the very least, it was strong enough to cure what ails him. Or so he thought. Yet despite the increase in intoxication, the young Roman's fists continued to clench themselves tighter and tighter.

Marcellus had every desire to unsheathe his blade and hunt down the Goths who made up his foederati one by one, skewering their heads onto posts outside the Gallo-Roman city, and yet he was forced to hide this desire deep in the labyrinth of his heart. After all, he could not afford to be rid of the barbarian warriors who helped him achieve victory.

Ultimately, the silence was broken as Sigefrida poured herself a chalice of the sweet red wine and drank its contents. The sound of her gulping down the liquid was enough to break Marcellus' line of thought. His olive green eyes shifted over towards the barbarian beauty, and with it, his expression relaxed. If she was by his side, he could easily endure the torment that his morally questionable orders inflicted upon his soul.

"I am glad to see you are alright; I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

No matter how many times she heard her master say these words, it always left a tinge of desire upon her heart. Yet, every time she felt like she should act upon her impulse, a single phrase resounded throughout Sigefrida's mind, instantly deterring her from taking that last step in the relationship between herself and Marcellus. After calming her heart, the Suebi woman swallowed a sip of wine before responding to her master's kind words.

"Nothing bad can happen to me so long as you remain in command of your legions."

There was utter confidence in the tone of her voice as she expressed these words. She truly believed that so long as Marcellus remained in command, he would defeat all the enemies he was to face. After all, she had witnessed his talent for military matters since he was a young boy, studying the feats of distinguished men of years past.

Pyrrhus, Hannibal, Alexander, and even Cyrus were all men he looked up to, and none were Romans. As for the Roman Generals of the past, he could always look up to Marius, Scipio Africanus, and Germanicus. Yet, there was one Roman whose accomplishments stood above all others, and if only he had lived longer, then perhaps the Empire would not be in its current state of decay.

This man was Emperor Aurelian, the restorer of the world and champion of the great deity Sol Invictus. This man was Marcellus' idol, and he hoped Rome would one day see another Aurelian among its children. However, as things currently stood, he was beginning to feel doubtful about this scenario ever occurring.

After all, when he looked around and gazed upon the state of the city of Valence, he could only feel despair; as such, he gazed over at his lovely slave with a bitter expression before speaking the thoughts on his mind.

"We are truly living at the end of days. Even if I am to bring this usurper to justice, what then? There will be another pretender five years down the line, if not then ten. Honorius is an indolent fool who sits back and watches his Empire bleed.

The only wise thing he has ever done is abide by his father's wishes and entrust Stilicho with the position of Supreme Commander over Rome's legions. The day my godfather passes from this world is the day that Rome breathes its last breath. Though I suppose that would be a good thing for you..."

Sigefrida gazed upon her master with a pouting expression; she knew exactly what he meant by this. Marcellus could never live in a world without Rome, and he would rather die defending its last breath than live on without it. With his death and Rome's demise, she would be a free woman, but that was not something the enslaved enchantress desired.

While Marcellus may not be able to live without Rome, Sigefrida could not live without her master. She would rather fall on a sword than witness him give his life in service to a dying Empire. As such, she wore an equally bitter expression on her face as she grabbed hold of his hands with her own. She gazed into his eyes, with her ice blue irises as she professed the feelings contained within her heart and soul.

"The day you meet your end is the day that I shall also perish..."

Despite the grim nature of her statement, it brought a smile to Marcellus' face. She was indeed the most loyal companion he could ask for. Unfortunately for him, something deep within the woman's fragile heart kept her from being with him intimately. Truthfully, he did not know what had caused her to refuse his advances, but if she did not want to talk about it, then he would not push it.

Instead, Marcellus drank from his chalice filled with wine once more while he held onto his slave's hand. The two of them gazed upon the burning city in the distance with an overwhelming sense of despair. Maybe it indeed was the end of days that they were living in, but that did not mean that Marcellus would go quietly into the night.

He would give everything he had in service to Rome; it was just a shame that a rotten Emperor currently ruled it. If only they had a man like Aurelian at the helm, hell at this point, Marcellus would take someone akin to Gallienus, at least that man was competent enough to prevent the Empire from completely collapsing around him, the same could not be said for Honorius. As the couple gazed upon the blazing scene, Sigefrida asked the question that was currently troubling her conscience.

"What now? You have lost quite some troops in this battle. Do you believe that you will be able to depose Constantine?"

Marcellus did not immediately answer this question. Instead, he took several gulps of the wine contained in his gilded chalice before responding.

"For now, we will consolidate our gains. As for the Franks who have sided with us against their former masters, I will ensure that they swear their servitude to the glory of Rome in exchange for their lives. They can make up for the losses we have suffered during this siege. Once our army is fully prepared, we will march on Lugdunum ..."

An awkward silence filled the air. Sigefrida had struggled to find the courage to ask the question on her mind, but ultimately, she decided to use the same tactic as her master and down some more of the liquid courage in her cup. After taking several large gulps, to the point where the red fluid was spilling down the sides of her luscious pink lips, the woman finally expressed her concerns.

"And if you can't... take the city, I mean."

Upon hearing this, Marcellus' gaze shifted from bitter to grim as he stared at Sigefrida with a solemn expression.

"Then I suppose you and I will enter the grave earlier than expected..."

After this was said, the young General and his loyal slave remained in complete and utter silence. One way or another, Marcellus would fulfill his duty, even if it meant the death of him. That was just the kind of man he was, and Sigefrida knew that there was no changing this aspect of his character. She admired it and would be filled with pride over her master's determination if it weren't for such a depressing subject.

Before long, the couple retired to the villa's bedroom, where they would fall to sleep. By the time they woke up the following day, the dust would have settled, and Valence would have been plundered for all its worth. For the Western Roman Empire, this was all too common of an occurrence.