The Grecian Manifesto

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A gust of wind whipped through Gaius Julius Caesar’s already tousled hair as he stood on the deck of the ship. The long wooden boat seemed almost empty, aside from the rows of oars and the single linen sail that flapped in the coastal breeze. The only people who remained were the emperor and his trusted general, Servius Galba.

“Is everyone off the ship?” Caesar asked, uncertain if they were alone or not. He turned his head around to confirm it.

The day was hot, and he’d removed his helmet, holding it at his side under his armpit. Even though it was late in the afternoon, the bright sunlight seemed to superheat his armor. He wore the legion uniform he’d donned so many times before, through battles, hardships, and scenarios mere mortals could never imagine. Some of the metal plates bore the scars from those occasions, a tribute to Gaius Julius Caesar’s abilities as a skilled warrior, and leader.

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