Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The sound of hooves on polished stone echoed like a royal drumroll through the courtyard of the imperial garrison barracks at Callessa, the final city before the great inland roads curved northward toward Ramie.

Julius watched from the parapet as the new arrivals filtered in from their long journey.

She was there.

Serena.

Clad in an imperial riding cloak of crimson and gold, her hair braided back beneath a circlet shaped like a laurel wreath — not yet a crown, but enough to remind everyone who she was and would soon become, and a token that could be created quickly enough to sate her own vanity in ensuring everyone knew of their bond.

Their eyes met before their hands ever could, then silently they both left their escorts behind quickly heading for the other calm and composed before their respective legions — but broke their poise just long enough for fingers to clasp and foreheads to touch as soon as they reached one another.

"You've turned a province into a fortress,"

Serena murmured softly, her voice carrying for his ears alone.

"And you,"

Julius replied,

"have turned its people into believers — not of gods, but of their own future."

She laughed, quiet and graceful, though tired in a way he could recognize instantly.

It had not been an easy tour for either of them.

Smiles and speeches, scrolls and sermons.

Diplomacy masquerading as prophecy.

But it was done.

They stood a moment longer before stepping back and falling into stride, walking through the open archways into the shade of the barracks corridors.

"I saw them,"

Serena said.

"The faithful, I mean. At the border crossings. Leaving with carts full of their lives, heads high, prayers on their lips."

"And yet,"

Julius said,

"their priests wept more than they did."

Serena raised a brow.

"You still believe this was the right move?"

"I know it was,"

he said.

"The people chose. We gave them a road, not a blade. And they followed it."

He paused.

"Let the Principality preach about mercy. We showed it."

Serena nodded slowly, gazing out the window toward the distant southern road.

"It's strange. I always thought wars would be fought with iron and siege towers. But this... this was clean. Like a scalpel."

"And like all good surgery,"

Julius replied,

"the patient will scream later, not now."

They both smiled, but it was a weary thing.

Because they both knew this wasn't the end.

Not of their journey.

Not of their enemies.

And certainly not of their responsibilities.

~

That evening, in the dining hall of the garrison barracks, they sat together once more.

A quieter meal.

No royal procession.

No golden goblets or music.

Just food, shared among close advisors and friends.

Serena pushed aside her half-finished plate, eyes focused.

"It's time, isn't it?"

she asked.

Julius glanced at her.

"You mean—"

"Her. Yuri."

The name hung between them like a drawn sword.

Serena's sister-wife — taken, imprisoned, or perhaps worse, by the Francian Prince who no doubts paraded her like a diplomatic prize through foreign courts.

A spark of cold fury kindled in Julius' eyes.

"I have eyes in their ports now,"

he said.

"And hands in their taverns. The moment she's seen again, we'll know."

Serena leaned forward.

"But you still think she's alive?"

"Yes,"

Julius said without hesitation.

"Because if she wasn't, they would have made a martyr of her. And they haven't."

His words rang soundly but he had another reason for being assured of her life, the system still displayed her on his list of vassals

Serena exhaled sharply.

"Then we ride for Romanus. We'll gather what we need, and we will bring her home."

He nodded once, slowly.

"There will be war, Serena. Not like this one — not soft. Not bloodless."

"I was raised in Carthage, Julius,"

she replied.

"We didn't rise from salt and ash to cower from a spoiled princeling with a stolen prize."

She placed a hand on his.

"I will see Yuri again. Alive and whole. And if I must burn Francian palaces to the ground for that to happen, so be it."

A long silence followed.

Then Julius stood.

"Then we leave for the Eternal City at first light."

~

As dawn broke over Callessa, the imperial procession formed — Serena and Julius riding side by side under the joint banners of Carthage and Romanus.

The roads ahead were wide and smooth, each stone a testament to Julius' design, and each milepost marked the unity of once-separate nations.

They passed through cities draped in their empire's colors, watched by citizens who cheered from windows and doorways, waving palm branches and crimson ribbons.

News of their departure traveled ahead of them.

By the time they crossed the Parthian border into Latinium, the cities began ringing bells in their honour.

A triumph in war as their conquest of Ramie, and the capture of Carthage resounded in the hearts and minds of the core citizenry of the empire.

A return as conquerors, but also as builders.

And yet the weight they carried between them was heavier than any sword.

After days of riding hard against the wind, passing from province to province, until they finally had sight over familiar lands.

At the edge of a wide field where Legionnaires drilled in perfect squares, Julius looked to the rising horizon.

Romanus his true home waited.

And after that...

Francian fire where their enemies would learn the price of taking something dear to his heart and causing him and his people great mental and emotional harm.

~

Meanwhile this week of travel and touring for Serena and Julius was a hailstorm of flurry and worry back in the Eternal City.

News that their plucky nation had taken another giant step forwards and now they would need to plan not for the return of their king, but instead the return of their Emperor and future Empress.

The preparations for a grand occasion were near endless as people worked day and night to bring together flowers, people, soldiers.

Even the military planned to pause its daily rituals to bring together a grand formation meant to greet their greatest general and overall commander.

Julius empowered as he was, remained blissfully unaware of these actions.