Scorpius Tyrannus triumphant

The celebration of his victory over the Dawi had almost reached its end by the time Scorpius had returned to Aquila. Word of the success had come to Aquila by the fastest rider. Glavius and his Senators were quick to seize the opportunity to throw a grand festival in honour of his brother’s triumph. The fact that Scorpius hadn’t yet returned was overlooked.

Scorpius marched into the atrium of the Glavius' palatial home where he found the revellers already drunk. He had ridden non-stop back to the capital. He still wore his blood-stained armour and mud-spattered red cloak. Aquila’s elite were all assembled in their finery, Senators and nobles all, though to Scorpius they were a shameful sight. Some of the aristocrats were already comatose, while others staggered or swayed as they struggled to move. All appeared drunk to the point of lethargy. The air was heavy with incense, but it did little to disguise the stench of blood. All around the bodies of spent slaves littered every corner and alcove. The smell of it stirred the thirst in Scorpius and he frowned, inwardly suppressing his urges to join the feeding. He needed to maintain his focus.

Sitting upon the garlanded dais was Glavius himself, slumped in his chair and nodding gently. His purple robes were slick with the blood of the slave girl who lay cold and still at his feet, and the golden laurels of his office hung precariously from his brow. “How apt”, Scorpius chuckled to himself. As he approached, heads turned lazily to observe him through inebriated eyes. He halted abruptly before his brother, saluted, and announced himself.

“Hail, Glavius!” The Dictator stirred a little. More Senators began to awaken, roused by Scorpius’ voice ringing through the hall.

“HAIL, Glavius!” He announced more loudly. Glavius jerked up with a start, looking straight at his brother but taking a moment to recognise him. Scorpius pitched the captured standard of the Dawi at his brother’s feet. Its staff clattered against the marble mosaic that depicted the triumphs of their uncle Dominus. Now the whole audience chamber had become aware of his presence.

“Hail, Scorpius” Glavius looked up with surprise. “You do us great honour. You are Aquilus reborn! Hail the saviour of the Republic!” He raised his goblet, splashing its ruby contents across his lap. He slurred heavily as he spoke, grinning like a fool. Clearly he had taken more than his fill during the night’s excesses.

“No” Scorpius mused to himself. “I am not my grandfather”. Aquilus the Great would have been appalled at the excesses of the regime and the decline of his empire. He would have acted sooner. But there was time to make amends.

Scorpius glanced to his sister, Floriana. She met his gaze. There was nothing but sober cunning in her pale face and crimson eyes. He had trusted her to orchestrate the most lavish party conceivable and it appeared that she had excelled herself. The Senators were well and truly intoxicated.

“Brother!” Scorpius addressed Glavius again as he appeared to nod off once more. “I have not yet saved the Republic. But I mean to now.” Glavius barely comprehended him through clouded eyes. A confused murmur rose in the hall as the perplexed Senators and nobles looked to one another.

Scorpius simply stood and smiled. Behind him came a heavy, rhythmic clanking as a wordless command enacted his will. Into the atrium marched dozens Wight legionaries, the clatter of lobstered armour reverberating against the stone columns. Each had its sword drawn, illuminating the hall with a moonlight glow. Eyes widened in alarm as they saw the legionaries approach, but too late. As Scorpius stood motionless, his wolfish stare locked on Glavius, his soldiers went about their bloody business. The ghostly blades rose and fell. The screaming began. The Senators staggered and fought to escape, but they were too drunk. Some attempted to draw concealed blades but they acted clumsily and were quickly overcome. The hall erupted into chaos and confusion and terror.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the deed was done. Silence once again settled on the hall. The Senate was completely extinguished. Scorpius surveyed the remaining nobles who cowered like lambs beneath the blades of the looming Wights. They had been the lackeys of Glavius, but they were his now.

“Scorpius!” Aghast, Glavius attempted to rise, but stumbled on his robes and tumbled down the steps. He landed heavily, the golden laurels toppled from his brow. He looked up with a piteous face, but Scorpius could not see a brother at his feet. All Scorpius could see was the feeble ruler who had squandered an Empire. In a single sword stroke, Scorpius ended two centuries of misrule.

“Hail Scorpius!” The voice was that of Floriana. She stood upon the dais, her hand held high in salute. “Scorpius Imperator!” They beamed at one another, both imagining the new age of glory for Aquila. This was the night where it would begin.

The cry went up from the remaining aristocrats. “Hail Scorpius! Scorpius Imperator!” They were powerless to say otherwise. One by one they acknowledged their new master, and their fate.

“HAIL SCORPIUS!” The hall rang with the sound like it was music. He stooped and snatched up the golden laurels. He placed them upon his head and raised his hand in triumphant salute to his new senators. “SCORPIUS IMPERATOR!”