Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The echo of iron-shod boots filled the palace corridors, ringing sharp and steady like the beating of a war drum.

The Praetorian Guard moved with military precision, their ranks disciplined and unyielding as they swept through the palace.

At their head was Commander Leman Berta, his golden-plumed helmet marking him as the commander of the palace defenses.

His emerald-green cloak billowed behind him as he strode through the marble halls, his piercing eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, every detail out of place.

The intruder was gone.

He knew that.

But Berta wasn't the type to leave a stone unturned.

Not here.

Not in his palace.

The moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting long streaks of silver across the polished floors.

Behind him marched ten of his finest guards, their curved scuta shields and polished spears gleaming even in the dim light.

The infiltrator had slipped past the watch—an almost unthinkable feat—but they had left traces, small signs of their presence.

It was Berta's job to piece together the puzzle.

he came to a stop in the corridor outside the 'vault', where two guards stood at attention, their faces pale beneath their Steel helmets.

A faint trace of smoke still lingered in the air, carrying the acrid scent of burnt clay and charred oil.

"Report,"

Berta barked, his voice sharp as steel.

One of the guards stepped forward, his posture rigid.

"Commander Berta. The intruder breached the vault approximately twenty minutes ago. They used some sort of smoke device to obscure their escape. Two guards engaged them, but the infiltrator evaded capture, though did suffer a 'wound'."

Berta's jaw tightened, and his gloved hand rested on the pommel of his gladius.

His dark eyes flicked to the door of the vault, where the lock mechanism hung slightly ajar.

he didn't need to open it to know that something had been taken.

"And the casualties?"

he asked coldly.

"Only One, Commander,"

the guard replied.

"They were found dead in the courtyard—throat cut, Lieutenant Marcon—was stationed near the fountain. He was ambushed and killed before he could raise the alarm."

Marcon.

A good soldier.

Disciplined, loyal, and clever.

If he had been caught off guard, it meant the intruder was not only skilled but calculated.

Berta's gloved hand tightened into a fist.

"Lieutenant Marcon was no fool,"

he muttered, half to himself.

"Whoever did this didn't just slip past us—they planned for this."

It was only a simulation of an infiltration but Berta took it seriously, even more so than Miri and Zeff each time they succeed in breaking in was another time he failed to protect his lord, another time Julius couldv'e been assassinated due to his negligence.

Berta motioned for the guards to fall back as he approached the vault.

The door creaked open with a metallic groan, revealing the chamber inside.

The shelves were lined with scrolls and documents, the secrets of the empire written on fine parchment and bound with imperial seals.

His sharp gaze swept the room, taking in every detail.

Nothing seemed to be disturbed—except for one section near the back.

A small gap in the row of scrolls caught his eye, where dust outlined the shape of what had been taken.

Berta crouched by the shelf, running a gloved finger along the wood.

"They were precise,"

he said, his voice low.

"They knew exactly what to take. This wasn't a random thief. They had a purpose, and knew exactly what to take."

he stood, turning to the guards stationed by the door.

"Seal the palace immediately. No one enters or leaves until I say so. Triple the watch on every gate, every corridor. If there's even a rat in the pantry, I want to know about it."

"Yes, Commander!"

the guards barked in unison, saluting before marching off.

Berta paced the room, his mind working rapidly.

The palace was supposed to be impenetrable.

The Praetorian Guard represented the finest soldiers in the kingdom—handpicked, trained from the age of ten, and drilled endlessly in the arts of combat and security.

Yet someone had made a fool of them tonight yet again.

Whoever the infiltrator was, they had entered the palace undetected, bypassed multiple patrols, and escaped with classified materials.

Worse, they had managed to a Praetorian in the process.

Berta's mind raced.

The Praetorians had been breached like this before.

And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

It wasn't just the skill of the infiltrator that unsettled him—it was the implications.

This wasn't an isolated incident, these 'games' had been happening for months now.

Someone had sent this infiltrator along with all of the others and their efforts were growing by the day and the once impeccable record began to tarnish.

he clenched his teeth.

A traitor.

It wasn't a thought he entertained lightly.

The Praetorians were sworn to absolute loyalty to their king and Emperor.

Betrayal was punishable by death.

Yet the signs were there.

The infiltrator had known too much—guard rotations, blind spots in the patrols, the location of the vault.

This level of precision required more than just reconnaissance, especially since under the terms of the game as set by their lord julius, each operative attempting infiltration would be provided with nothing more than equipment and the mission itself but no further help beyond that.

Berta's hands rested on the edge of the table, his knuckles white with tension.

he stared at the empty space on the shelf where the stolen scrolls had been.

~

Later that night, Berta walked the palace grounds, his golden-plumed helmet tucked under his arm.

The courtyard was quiet now, the moonlight reflecting in the still waters of the central fountain in the dead of night.

The air clear and crisp but even still he swore he could smell the scent of blood not spilt from this attack

Berta knelt by the edge of the fountain, where Lieutenant Marcon had 'died'.

The sand around the stone base was still stained with red, and faint scuff marks revealed the struggle that had taken place.

His gloved fingers traced the marks in the sand.

"You didn't go down without a fight,"

he muttered, his voice soft but grim.

"Good man."

he stood, staring down at the fountain as his mind wandered.

The infiltrator had 'killed' with precision—throat cuts, clean and efficient.

A true professional, likely trained in stealth and assassination by the Great Tree.

But the timing of the operation intrigued him.

The infiltrator had struck on the night of the king's council, when most of the palace's attention was focused on the inner chambers.

It was a calculated choice, one that suggested they had knowledge of the palace's rhythms.

By the time dawn broke, Berta had ordered the palace to be locked down completely.

Every soldier had been interviewed, and every inch of the grounds searched.

Yet no sign of the infiltrator remained behind having long ago slipped from the grounds.

In the command chamber, Berta stood over a map of the capital, his hands gripping the edges of the table.

he traced the routes leading to and from the palace, his mind focused on the possible escape paths the infiltrator could have taken.

A messenger arrived, bowing deeply.

"Commander Berta, the King requests an update."

Berta glanced at the man, his expression hard.

"Tell his majesty that we are securing the palace. The situation is under control."

The messenger nodded and departed, leaving Berta alone with her thoughts.

he stared at the map for a long time, his mind spinning with possibilities.

The infiltrator might have escaped tonight, but they had left behind a trail—small, faint, but there.

And Berta would find it.

The kingdom was a vast machine, but even the smallest cog could cause chaos.

Berta would not allow the infiltrator's success to cast doubt on the strength of the Praetorians.

If the enemy thought they could strike at the heart of Romanus and go unpunished, they were sorely mistaken.

"This isn't over,"

Berta said quietly, his voice filled with iron.

Even though the lockdown was lifted not long after the Praetorians still acted as if the situation was real and continued to look for signs of the infiltration route and furthering their own efforts at regaining dominance in the shadow game going on between the two sides of the kingdom's elite forces.