The autumn wind had brought with it more trouble than could be withstood. It was chaos in the throne room. Tribunes in white robes argued and ran frantically across the marble floor, yelling about how hope was lost, that they were going to die, and that the end times had finally come. Women and children cried. Among the commotion, the emperor hung his head, staring despondently at the barred doors on the other side of the room.

A tribune ran up to the white-haired emperor, “The guards have abandoned us. If you don’t want to fall on your own sword, allow one of us the honor of keeping you from enemy hands.” The emperor shook his head. A shriek echoed through the room. One of the tribunes had stabbed his own wife. As he bled onto the floor, he opened his own veins and lay beside her.

From the other side of the doors, came a crash. Someone was trying to force entry. The politicians flew into a panic. Some grabbed weapons. Others, sunk to the floor, cradling their legs in their arms as they wept. The emperor looked at the door and straightened his posture.

With enough violence, the doors broke open and barbarians poured through, hacking down any man in their way. The women and children had their hands bound and a lifetime of slavery ahead of them.

When the room was secure, a particularly tall and well armored barbarian strode through the horde with a man in chains and stood before the throne. In one hand, he held a sword. In the other, a chain that led up to a man’s shackled neck. The chained man wore bloodied imperial clothing.

The chieftain muttered some words in his harsh tongue and rattled the chain. The prisoner took a deep breath and spoke, “Imperator, the chief of the Malabodii brings to you an offer. Odomorus, offers to spare your life in return for the location of the imperial treasury.”

“To buy my own life,” scoffed the emperor, “it would only cost me everything I have? At my age, what good would come from buying my future?”

The translator delivered the reply to Odomorus who only laughed. Giving the prisoner another message, the man cleared his throat. “Odomorus says that his horde will find the treasury regardless but saving him time is worth mercy to him.”

Rising to his feet, the emperor stood nearly as tall as the barbarian. Both had scars of war, eyes fierce with determination, and hands calloused from hard work. “My name is Quintilius Lucius Varicus. I have brought to heel the king of the Eastern sands, crushed the Southern sea-lords, and eradicated the Northern raiders. I have won three civil wars within the past year and have no fear of the likes of you. Do as you will.”

Odomorus listened as the speech was translated. He nodded, perhaps with respect, then shrugged and made a vague gesture towards the balcony. Two large tribesmen walked over and grabbed the emperor by the arms and brought him to the balcony. Stoically, Quintilius chose not to fight. From the palace, he could see his vast city burning, barbarians running through the streets looting, and the screams of the plebs rang through it all. The warriors threw him over the edge. As he dropped, it was bittersweet. His fall would be over shortly, but the city’s, that would be days longer. Quintilius closed his eyes and embraced the fall. One way or another, everything ends.