"Is everything in place?" Caesar asked calmly, his fingers lightly tapping the carved armrest of his imposing oak desk, the gold insignia of the Empire glinting in the candlelight. He sat in his private quarters within the towering Senate Castle, a room of marbled elegance and austere grandeur.
Standing at attention before him was Octavius. The younger man gave a firm nod, his polished armor reflecting the soft glow of the room's hanging lanterns.
"All as you instructed, Caesar," Octavius confirmed. "I verified everything personally. The arena is already overflowing—citizens, nobles, and foreign dignitaries alike. They're all waiting, breath held for the grand opening ceremony. All of Rome awaits your appearance."
A small, satisfied smile tugged at Caesar's lips. "Good," he said, rising to his feet with regal grace, the folds of his crimson cloak trailing behind him like a river of authority. He took a step toward the door but paused briefly, turning his head slightly.
