Night had cast its velvet shroud over the Roman encampment, a canopy of stars blinking through wisps of drifting clouds as the moon bathed the rugged terrain in a soft silver glow. The scent of charred wood and roasting meat lingered in the air while the faint crackle of a dying campfire echoed like whispers across the clearing. Marcus Antoinus, the famed general of Rome, sat near the heart of the camp, his weathered armor catching the moonlight in jagged reflections. His sharp eyes, half-lidded in thought, watched the flickering shadows cast by the firelight.
From across the flames, a voice broke the quiet murmur of the evening.
"Looks like the Emperor sent us here for more than just the mission, General," one of the soldiers said, chuckling as he tore into a loaf of bread.
Marcus Antoinus raised a brow, intrigued by the man's tone. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
