"Leave immediately, Emperor Caesar. I'll buy you time," Nathan said, his voice calm but firm, his blade already raised in readiness.
Caesar's laughter rolled out like thunder in the atrium, deep and unshaken. "Just buy time. Let these dogs run if they want." He turned without hesitation, his crimson cloak sweeping behind him as the Roman soldiers followed, shields clattering in unison.
That single command carried weight. It told Nathan more than words could. Caesar wanted Crassus and Pompey dead—his ambition demanded it—but he held back. He feared Medea. She had already slain Marcus Antonius, a warrior of renown, and Caesar could not risk losing Septimius, the young mercenary who had become his unexpected ace in this perilous game.
Nathan gave a brief nod, no further words needed. He pivoted sharply and met Medea head-on.
