Third Person
The sun had set on the marbled city of Ctesiphon. Shadows grew long, slowly but steadily enveloping the streets. Light began to glow from the crystal torches that lined the thoroughfares; magic lived and breathed here, and all could take solace in its presence. Within the many manors and houses, wax candles and oil lamps flared to life to illuminate the encroaching dusk.
Yet, it was the happenings within the shadows that would draw concern tonight.
A man in a white toga, heavy with golden thread, walked the streets, followed closely by four similarly dressed compatriots. He had piercing blue eyes and greying auburn hair framing an aged, deeply lined face. The toll of the years was easily visible upon him, yet it seemed to have done nothing to diminish the fire within his gaze. He moved with strict purpose, entering the courtyard of a modest manor hidden behind a flourishing flower garden.
He was greeted by a taller man wearing the same patrician garments. They shared the same blue eyes, the same auburn hair, and a striking similarity in age and bearing. Blood tied them together undeniably.
The taller man moved forward, pulling the newcomer into a tight embrace. "Brother, it is good to see you," he said, stepping back. "Come. All is prepared."
"And you, Shamzai. Let us head inside and begin," the shorter man replied.
The group made their way into the manor. The inner hall was laden with exotic cuisines from the Imperium and beyond, an exercise in luxury reserved solely for the elite. Multiple lounging cots, plush sofas, and cushioned chairs were arranged in a wide circle across the floor. Several men were already waiting inside; with the newcomers' arrival, their number swelled to twelve.
Once everyone had settled into their seats, the man in the gold-laced toga raised his hands, gathering their attention.
"Welcome, good men of Rome. As you well know, I am Alexi of the Amai clan. We have long planned for this night, and we will continue our work to restore the once-great Tall Men to their rightful position as hegemons within the Imperium. Let this meeting be called to order."
A chorus of 'hear, hear' rippled through the room in assent.
"The Princeps has so far refused to entertain any petitions for peace with the Qohorik, while attempts to even seek an audience with Deus are outright rejected," Alexi continued, his voice echoing clearly in the quiet hall. "Apart from myself, you all, along with my brother, represent eleven seats within the Senate. With your approval, a motion for peace can be tendered on the floor—one the Princeps will be hard-pressed to ignore. Peace with Qohor is an absolute necessity if we are to keep our western trade routes flourishing. Qohor stands as our doorway to the Free Cities, and this war has already cost us hundreds of thousands of Swarnas collectively. The longer this carries on, the longer we bleed."
He paused as a hand was raised from the couches. Alexi nodded in assent. "Senator Argus, you have the floor."
"I thank you," said the plump man sitting across from him. "I have had the opportunity to converse with many of our fellow senators, most especially with Cato. He is of the firm opinion that our annexation of Qohor will provide us with far greater wealth in the long run. It would permanently remove the blockade that the Qohorik forest and the Free City itself pose to the Imperium. Certainly, you must all realize how exorbitantly we are taxed by them just to ferry our goods across their territory. The wanton slaughter of our clergy is also not easily overlooked."
"A most astute observation, Senator Argus," Alexi conceded smoothly. "Yet I must bring up the sour reality that, even with the Imperium supplementing our losses, the invasion of Qohor may well drag on for years. Just as the Silver Lakes War consumed eight continuous years of our lives. We may have ultimately purged the Dothraki from the region, but the true cost was borne by merchants and traders like myself and your patrons. Many faced utter ruin. Some incurred losses so devastating that, even after one-and-twenty years, they have yet to recover."
Alexi stepped forward, spreading his hands imploringly. "Yes, the Imperium will prosper from the defeat of the Qohorik—but we will not be the ones reaping the rewards. The matter of the martyred is just that, they are already dead we cannot continue to drain the living for them. So I ask you, is it such a daunting task to pass this motion for the continued prosperity of us all? We have dealt the Qohorik enough damage to force them to accept whatever terms we offer. We need not throw away precious Imperial citizenry to conquer them outright. Give us a few years of this peace, and our trade will have strangled them to the point of submission to Rome regardless. Tell me, then: is this not a path where everyone benefits?"