When Sertorius visited his brother-in-law, he found him awake in time for the bad news.

The Judge’s wife wasn’t present under the Travian tent this time for a reason that escaped Sertorius. Andromache was at her companion’s side, as usual, her eyes darkened by fatigue. As if sharing in his master’s victories and sorrows, Kairos’ griffin had woken up from his own coma and promptly rejoined his side. The animal was missing his right wing, but looked as joyful and spirited as ever.

“I see you are both looking well,” Sertorius commented as he entered the tent. Kairos was still abed but seemed in far better health than a few days ago. His skin was unblemished, the dragon’s acid purged from his veins; though he was a little pale and had lost some weight like his griffin. “I worried that I would find you asleep again.”

“I worried as well,” Kairos replied with a smile. “But here I am.”

“I’m so hungry,” Rook complained as Andromache petted him on the head. “I feel I could swallow a whole bull, two lambs, and five goats! In that order!”

It still surprised Sertorius to hear a griffin speak. He didn’t know animals could develop a similar Skill to [Beast Tongue]. I wonder what my horse thinks, the Judge wondered. Perhaps he might prove a better advisor than my own officers.

“And you will, my dear songbird,” Andromache promised. “You will need more strength before you can take flight again.”

The griffin immediately sulked before glancing at his amputated wing. “Are you sure you can’t regrow it? Say zippity zapata, cast a spell, and bring it back?”

“I would have if I could,” Andromache replied with a sigh. “But alas, the foul king’s poison permanently affected your [Vitality] after I purged you of it and I haven’t finished repairing the [Hydra Crown] yet.”

Kairos’ face turned crestfallen. “I am so sorry, Rook. If I had been more careful—”

But his griffin wouldn’t let him finish. “Silly, I won’t let you blame yourself for something you couldn’t predict!” Rook protested. “And you were careful enough to save us both! Just find a way to make my wings shiny again and we’ll forget that silly dragon!”

His master’s sorrow turned into a smile. “I have the Skills needed to study the poison’s aftereffects,” Kairos reassured Rook. “In time I might brew a potion that will allow us to repair the missing wing. I won’t give up trying to find a solution… but until then we will have to do without.”

“Your new wing is almost ready, Rook,” Andromache said. “Thales will arrive soon to help give the finishing touches.”

“Oh, will it be golden?” Rook asked, wagging his tail. “I could settle for silver but it would look weird with my feathers.”

Kairos looked at Sertorius. “How long before reinforcements arrive?”

“Two days at most,” the Judge replied, preparing himself to give the terrible news. “Julia’s fleet should have arrived today but made a detour in the north.”

Kairos squinted, sensing the terrible implications. “What happened?”

Sertorius considered softening the blow, but by now they were beyond such niceties. “Dispater gave Zama battle, and his army was utterly crushed. The northern regions of the Thessalan League have fallen into Mithridates’ hands.”

Kairos remained silent while his concubine took his hand into her own. “What do you mean by crushed?” the Travian King asked.

“I mean crushed.” There wasn’t any other word to qualify this terrible fiasco. “Out of the ninety thousand troops Dispater brought, ten thousand at most made it out alive.”

Sertorius only had confused reports to base himself on, but from what he had understood Zama had managed to encircle the Lycean army with the help of saboteurs. Dispater’s spymaster Vulpes had caught spies at the rear, smelled the danger, and managed to pull back the two legions under his command before the fatal trap could catch them. His caution and Ultor’s contributions were the only reason why anyone survived the massacre.

“Wait, wait, wasn’t Cass and Tibi with them?” Rook asked, suddenly worried. “Are they—”

“Cassandra and Ultor managed to escape with Dispater,” Sertorius said, his audience sighing in relief. “Dispater was wounded and Cassandra assumed command of the troops in his stead.”

Kairos’ fingers tightened around Andromache’s hand, to the point of making the nymph wince. “There is someone you’re not mentioning,” he said.

Sertorius sighed. “Tiberius was slain in battle.”

To the Judge’s surprise, Kairos didn’t even appear surprised. He listened to the news with disappointment and fatalism. It was as if he had been forewarned of this outcome, but privately hoped it wouldn’t happen. The Travian King didn’t say a word, looking at his bedsheet in utter silence.

His concubine was more verbose. “It is a tragedy,” Andromache whispered with sorrow. “But it is Cassandra I pity the most.”

Sertorius privately agreed. Though he would never say it out loud, the Judge would rather have seen the father die in the son’s place. After this disaster, Dispater was done. The Senex would never give him command of an army again, and he had no more heirs to continue the family legacy unless Tiberius had managed to impregnate his older wife before his demise.

The gods spit on all of our hopes, Sertorius thought grimly. He prayed Cassandra had found more joy in her short marriage than he ever did with his own.

Andromache glared at Sertorius. “Have you told your wife?”

“No,” Sertorius replied. “I hoped that she would be here to hear it.”

“Her last brother is dead, and you intended to make it a public announcement rather than tell her in private? After all the sorrow you put her through?” Andromache shook her head. “Your heartlessness sickens me.”

Sertorius shrugged it off. He was above that kind of remark, and hearts had no place in his marriage from the very beginning.

Still… although Sertorius never quite liked his wife and their marriage’s usefulness had more than ended with Dispater’s disgrace, he guessed he could let her keep some dignity. “I will tell her in private,” he said flatly.

Andromache looked away, though her disdain didn’t abate.

“I have worse news,” the Judge said as he changed the subject. “With Dispater’s army destroyed and Zama gaining siege weapons, the northern cities decided to negotiate a surrender to Mithridates’ regime rather than be sacked. Cassandra’s troops were refused entrance to Apollonia and moved to the coast where Julia’s fleet will pick them up. Moreover, this disaster was made possible by sabotage actions by the Beast Cult. Romulus himself took the field at Zama’s side.”

Kairos looked up in cold anger, his teeth clenching. “Mithridates allied with them?”

“I didn’t think he would be this mad either,” Sertorius confirmed. “Though whether this was a single act of opportunism to bleed out the Senex or a more permanent partnership remains to be seen. I have taken measures to prevent similar infiltration in our ranks and increased surveillance, but we can’t exclude the possibility of wolves among us.”

Sertorius hadn’t yet informed Kairos of the attack against his children. His brother-in-law was already going through a tense recovery, and piling up alarming news on his head would only worsen his condition. Julia could always inform him in person and in private.

Nor did Sertorius speak a word about the intel Cassandra sent him about Romulus’ true nature. The Judge struggled to believe half of it, but the implications were too tempting to dismiss them outright. He needed to consult his spellcasters, Andromache included, to confirm the information.

“What next then?” Kairos asked, his expression thoughtful. No doubt he was already making plans to turn the tide.

“Julia’s fleet will make a brief stop to pick Cassandra’s troops up and then join us,” Sertorius explained. “It will take Zama time to occupy the north. He has to negotiate the surrender conditions of each city and leave a garrison behind to avoid foul play; this will allow us to act against other military targets long before he can secure his gains. The battle’s survivors provided useful intel on Zama’s [One For All] Legendary Skill, so we can prepare a counter to his ability and hopefully negate his trump card.”

Sertorius locked eyes with his brother-in-law. “Are you ready to take command again, Kairos?”

Kairos nodded with determination. “Yes.”

“Then you will make an announcement tomorrow before the troops. Your recovery will boost their morale.” Sertorius glanced at Rook next. “Perhaps we could make the wing grafting ceremony public as well.”

Andromache sneered. “You would make their recovery into a show?”

“If it helps the soldiers feel more confident, then yes.”

“I’m against it. It’s too early—” Andromache winced, her jaw clenching as she held her belly. Her face strained with sudden pain.

“What is it?” Kairos’ eyes widened in shock as he held his concubine. “Is it Nessia?”

“Oh, is the egg coming?” Rook asked with enthusiasm.

“I’m…” Andromache grunted. “I don’t know… I feel pain.”

“Somebody call Plinius!” Sertorius ordered the guards outside, stepping beyond the thresholds of the tent. To his surprise, the elderly healer was already making his way to the tent before the judge even summoned him. He was smiling ear to ear. “Here you are. The nymph is feeling terrible.”

The healer nodded to himself. “Probably pre-labor pains. Now would be the time. I should probably consider hiring an assistant midwife.”

Something in his amused voice raised alarms in Sertorius’ mind. Why is he smiling at me? The Judge wondered with a terrible gut feeling. “What do you mean, Plinius?”

“I came back from your tent after checking on your wife.” The healer’s smile only widened further. “It finally happened.”

Sertorius’ blood froze in his veins as he approached the man’s ear. “What happened?” The Judge whispered while worrying about the answer. “Speak softly.”

“My,” Plinius answered so low the guards wouldn’t hear. “Your wife is finally pregnant.”

Sertorius had awaited the day he would hear this sentence for years. Once he thought it would bring him great joy and satisfaction. That he would feel great relief at his dynasty being secured.

But instead, the words filled him with a cold dark rage.

It took all of his mental fortitude to keep a straight, calm face as his blood boiled in his veins. Sertorius heard his heartbeat in his ears while the world around him grew colder and more hostile.

“Who else knows?” Sertorius asked, struggling not to let the anger break through his stoic tone. In all of his years of politics and betrayals, he had never experienced an ounce of the anger he felt at this very moment.

Plinius frowned at his reaction, having expected joy rather than cold fury. “No one. I wanted to be the first one to give you the happy news.”

“Keep this information to yourself,” Sertorius replied before walking away back to his tent with a hasty pace. He felt Plinius’ surprised gaze on his back and the heavy steps of guards following him.

The sun was setting behind the horizon, the walls of Orthia casting a dark shadow on the Judge’s tent. Sertorius had elected to stay at the camp and leave a garrison in Orthia; staying at the city’s palace would look too much like a humiliation to the surrendering population. Letting them keep their dignity cost the winners nothing, but would earn them cooperation in the future.

Mayhaps he would consider moving to Queen Euthenia’s home before the night had fallen.

As he approached his tent, Sertorius double-checked if the privacy wards were in place. No sound should come out. “Is my wife inside?” he asked the guards at the entrance, who nodded. “Good. Stay at the entrance and don’t let anyone inside. Nobody gets past this threshold until my wife and I come out, do you understand?”

He didn’t want any witnesses or gossip.

No one would know.

“Yes, Imperator,” the guards answered as one.

Sertorius walked inside his tent without looking back.

He found his wife waiting for him near his desk, sitting on a chair. Lucretia had put on her finest dress and a delicate mantle of lion pelt while golden bracelets shone at the edge of her sleeves. She rose up at his approach, unable to see past the blank expression hiding his fury.

The moment Sertorius saw her, he knew what she had done. All his Skills confirmed his intuition.

“Husband.” Lucretia had the audacity to smile as if she were happy to see him. “I sent Plinius to find you. I have great news—”

‘Your heartlessness sickens me.’

Sertorius slapped his wife.

The blow sent her reeling back in shock and pain, her cheek red as blood.

“Who was it?” Sertorius asked through his gritted teeth.

Lucretia looked at him with a glare of pure hatred.

“Who was it?” Sertorius repeated, his voice brimming with barely-restrained fury.

“Does it matter?” His wife spat at his feet. “He put more heart in it than you ever did.”

Sertorius slapped her again, this time with enough strength to throw her to the ground. It hurt his hand almost as much as her face, and he didn’t feel any better afterward.

“You slapped me…” Lucretia hissed in anger while moving on her knees. “A husband shouldn’t beat his wife…”

“A wife shouldn’t cheat on her husband,” Sertorius replied as he looked down on her, clenching his fists so hard that they started to hurt.

“So I have to shut my mouth when you fuck your mistresses, but it’s a crime when I return the favor?” Lucretia’s lips had cracked from the blow, a drop of blood dripping from them. “I should have fucked your brother-in-law instead. He’s man enough to father children with two women, while you can’t even do one.”

Sertorius ignored the jab, trying to calm himself. Anger only led to mistakes and regrets. “You tried to pass somebody else’s offspring as my own. Why?”

“You dare ask me why?!” She shrieked like a harpy. “So you wouldn’t set me aside for some Thessalan whore!”

“So you would rather humiliate me before all of Lyce?!” For the first time since he could remember, Sertorius raised his tone. “No bastard son can inherit my family’s magic! Everyone would know and I would become a laughingstock!”

Lucretia looked into his eyes, her fingers trembling. “You are the sterile one,” she said. “You wouldn’t be so sure it wasn’t yours otherwise.”

Sertorius sneered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” his soon-to-be ex-wife rasped with hateful eyes. “You accused me of being barren in public… humiliated me… shamed me… but you knew all along that you were the one at fault!”

“Be thankful that this…” Sertorius looked at his wife’s belly with disgust. “Indiscretion will stay between us. If it had been known to the public, I would have had you stoned.”

She spat at his feet instead before rising up to her feet. Sertorius didn’t offer a hand to help her; if he had his way, he wouldn’t touch her ever again.

“I will have Plinius provide an abortive drug to get rid of this bastard,” the Judge said coldly. “Then I will divorce you.”

“You can’t,” she hissed angrily. “My father won’t let you.”

“Your father lost in the north and his last son perished,” Sertorius rasped, his wife’s eyes widening in shock. “He’s a disgrace responsible for the greatest military disaster in the Republic’s history.”

“Tiberius…” Lucretia whispered, tears of rage and sorrow dripping from her eyes.

“Even with his wealth, no one will take your father seriously again. No one will follow him. And you…” Sertorius raised a finger at her. “You are no longer useful to me.”

“I funded your fucking war,” Lucretia hissed, her teeth gritting so tightly that Sertorius could hear them grinding against each other. “You pretend to make the world better for everyone, but all you do is spill blood.”

“I only work for the law,” Sertorius replied. “To bring order and peace to this chaotic world.”

“What are order and law worth without happiness?! You can’t even make me happy and you never tried! While I…” A look of bitterness flashed in her eyes. “I loved you.”

Sertorius bristled. “Our marriage was a political union. Nothing more.”

“I hoped it would be more. I did my best to make it work, while you never cared.”

“I made your life safe and comfortable,” Sertorius argued angrily. “You were the first lady of Lyce.”

“A cold peace.” She sneered. “This is what you intend to bring to Thessala, is it not? Safety without happiness? You don’t care about the people around you. You tossed your sister to your golden boy, neglected me, cast away your allies…”

“For the glory of Lyce and House Flavius,” Sertorius replied icily. “For country and family. The only values worth defending.”

“For yours,” Lucretia accused him. “You did it all for yourself! To satisfy your spoiled noble ego and get your name written in history books! Your family spent so much time stewing on its own importance that you thought it made your house fit to rule the world! At least my father worked to get where he is, while you just piggybacked on your parents’ connections, my house’s wealth, and your brother-in-law’s successes!”

Sertorius lost patience. “This conversation serves no purpose. I will let you retire without making waves, and we’ll never see each other again.”

She laughed bitterly. “You will ship me back to a golden cage to waste away?”

“A quiet retirement is all you will ever get.”

“No, Sertorius,” Lucretia replied with frothing spite. “I won’t let you humiliate me again. If you divorce me, I will tell everyone. I will tell the world that you are sterile, that I cuckolded you. You’ll bear horns the rest of your life.”

“You will say nothing.” Sertorius glared at her womb. “I've had men killed for less than this insult. Your father can’t protect you anymore. He can’t even protect himself.”

“Men,” Lucretia said, her fingers trembling, her hands moving closer to each other. “Killed men… People only matter if they have a cock to you…”

“You don’t matter to me anymore.” Sertorius prepared to turn away and call the guards to escort his wife outside. “Take your belongings. You’ll be shipped back to Lyce at dawn, and I will marry Euthenia before sund—”

A flash of light cut his vision in two and the word died in his throat.

Sertorius opened his mouth, but only air came out. His wife was facing him, her face red with rage and tears. A sharp silver dagger that she had hidden beneath her sleeve was in her left hand, its edge tainted red with blood.

Whose blood? Sertorius thought in shock as he felt a warm liquid dripping down his throat. He put his hand on it, his fingers going through his skin and soft flesh. Blood poured out of the wound.

Only then did reality hit him like a volley of arrows.

You stabbed me, Sertorius wanted to say to his wife, but could only gargle muffled sounds. Lucretia breathed heavily, her eyes widening in surprise. She seemed as surprised as he was. Perhaps she had expected to defend herself and not to strike him with lethal force.

The guards, Sertorius thought immediately as his vision started to blur. They couldn’t hear the marital spat inside the tent because of the privacy wards, so he needed to get out. The Judge made a step to the side, holding his throat in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing out. I need a weapon!

His wife’s shock turned to fear and panic. “Stop!” she snarled and grabbed him by the shoulder before he could escape. “Stop here!”

Sertorius slapped her again, trying to get her off his back. The blow sent a tooth flying, but his wife didn’t let him go. In fact, her grip tightened as her panic turned to fury.

Lucretia stabbed her husband in the left eye.

If Sertorius had working vocal cords left he would have cast a spell and become a widower, but without his magic and weapon he was only a [Spellcaster] without magic. Half his vision went dark and they both fell to the ground. His hands moved to his wife’s throat and started to strangle her, but his strength left him when she stabbed him in the side of the head again. The Judge’s limbs went limp, his mind unable to coordinate his own movements.

I can’t die here, Sertorius thought in disbelief. I fought Cerberus. Thanatos. Death! I am a [Hero]... I can’t die… not this way… this is…

This was undignified.

The world wasn’t yet united, and his plan wasn’t complete. His life’s story wasn’t finished yet; it was barely halfway through.

And yet Sertorius felt the life slipping out of him with each stab. His wife screamed as she crawled over him, hitting him in the chest, in the groin, in the flank.

“Fuck you!” she screamed, Sertorius’ weakening mind struggling to make sense out of her words. Her tears fell on his face, joining with his blood the same their bodies had once intertwined. “Fuck you! Fuck you to Tartarus! Fuck you!”

As his own blood flooded his brain and turned his vision red, Sertorius remembered his first discussion with Aurelia; she had tried to sing her son’s praise so he would be accepted back in Lyce, telling him about how he had slain an overconfident [Hero].

Surprise and a dagger to the eye was all it took, Aurelia had said. When overconfidence meets opportunity, even the great can fall.

Sertorius thought he would lament the loss of his ambitions in his last moments. That he would pray to the gods for Kairos to take up where he had left. That he would curse his wife for her treachery. But when the icy chill of the Underworld came to claim him, his dreams of conquest suddenly felt so hollow and pointless.

Instead, his last thoughts were of Julia.

To his sister who had been so close to at a young age, and yet sent to semi-exile to a faraway land to be married to a man she didn’t even know. To bear children that would inherit his duties and burden.

‘Your heartlessness sickens me.’

I’m sorry I wasn’t a brother to you, Sertorius thought as the darkness overwhelmed all. Forgive me.

Julia watched on as Cassandra’s army embarked on her fleet. Aurelia stood close to her on the deck, giving milk to Rhea while Aglaonice asked riddles to Aurelius. The fact Julia’s son was too young to understand them meant little to the sphinx, who only wanted a silent audience to gloat.

The Thessalan coast looked so beautiful at nightfall, and yet so desolate. The only sound came from the blowing wind of spring and the footsteps of soldiers walking up to the ships’ decks with defeated faces. None looked more hollow and crushed than Dispater, who seemed to have aged ten more years since Julia last met him.

“My condolences for Tiberius,” the queen said. “His death brings me sorrow too.”

While Cassandra offered a sad nod, Dispater didn’t seem like he had heard Julia. His [Demigod] bodyguard gently took the old man by the shoulder and led him to the cargo hold.

Though many would scorn Dispater for his terrible defeat, Julia wasn’t one of them. No parent should outlive one of their children, let alone three of them.

Speaking of children, Cassandra was aghast when she noticed Rhea and Aurelius. “You brought them with you?” she asked in horror. “This is a warzone.”

“I can’t leave them at home without my surveillance,” Julia replied. Not after Caenis. “The only way they will ever be safe will be when Romulus and Mithridates are both purged from this world.”

And to see it through, she had brought many forces with her from Histria; the entire reserve accumulated on the island. General Petra and her mercenaries were patrolling the waters nearby, making sure none of Zama’s air and naval forces would ambush them. Thales was busy in a ship’s hold, studying the wreck of flying automatons to figure out their weaknesses.

But none of this mattered yet. Instead, Julia glanced at Cassandra. The poor woman looked paler than soured milk, her eyes blackened by sorrow and defeat. Julia moved to take her in her arms, holding her close.

“I’m sorry,” the queen whispered.

Cassandra returned the hug, though she didn’t cry on Julia’s shoulder. “I saw his head,” she replied. “Romulus beheaded Tiberius and showed his head to me. And his soul… they have his soul, Julia.”

“We’ll get him back,” Julia promised. “And we’ll nail Romulus to a cross. I swear it before the old gods and the new.”

“No, it’s… Romulus is not even at fault. It’s Lycaon. It’s all Lycaon, from the beginning.” Cassandra broke the hug. “I’ve seen it.”

“Seen what?” Julia asked with a frown.

“Romulus is like the Senex. He’s a composite being; one made of murdered souls and Lycaon’s malice rather than laws and magic. There’s a man inside, the thread binding the whole structure together, but he’s buried under all the pain and the rage.” Cassandra looked strangely determined. “We have to free him too.”

Julia wanted to answer that nothing short of Romulus’ torture and death would satisfy her, but her friend’s wording made her curious. “Free him?”

Cassandra nodded. “I need to see Kairos as soon as possible. Maybe your brother too. I think we may have a way of slaying Lycaon through Romulus and freeing all his victims.”

If so, then they could potentially save Lyce from destruction. “We will set sail as soon as we finish gathering the troops,” Julia promised. “Until then, you will take a rest. You need to sleep.”

“Julia!” Aurelia’s voice startled her. “Aurelius! Something is happening to Aurelius!”

Julia immediately turned to her son’s direction, finding him crying in Aglaonice’s hands. The sphinx had removed the clothes shielding the baby’s chest, and a light glow had appeared above his navel. Her maternal instincts immediately awakened and panic seized her.

“Give him to me!” Julia rushed to seize her son off Agloanice’s hands, much to the sphinx’s annoyance. Her son kept crying even in his mother’s arms, the light dying down on his navel. “Shush…”

As she tried to calm her son, Julia noticed words written on his belly. Tiny symbols were barely perceptible on his skin, forming two words shining with magic.

FLAVII GENS.

A notification confirmed Julia’s suspicions, filling her heart with dread.

Your son Aurelius has inherited the [Mark of House Flavius] effect. He is now a member of the [Senex] and shall help sustain the [Seal of Lycaon].

But if he did, then it meant Sertorius—

No.

No, no, no… it can’t be…

“You!” Julia turned to Aglaonice. “Check on my brother’s safety!”

“How do you want me to?” the sphinx asked with a sneer. “My divinations can’t pierce through the magic protecting him!”

“Do it!” Julia snarled, her outburst making Aglaonice flinch and people look at them. Tears formed in the queen’s eyes. “Find something!”

Aglaonice recovered her breath, glancing at Aurelius and then at his mother. “You know what this means,” the sphinx said with a hint of pity. “There is nothing to check. This is it.”

Julia was about to give her orders again, when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Cassandra’s sorrowful gaze.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I am sorry.”

Julia crumbled to her knees and cried alongside her son.