Phoenix Rising

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The heavy oak doors slammed shut. They muffled the sounds of the massed citizens in Empire Square but they could not mask the shame that burned in Martius’s heart.

He walked, shoulders back, head held high, as befitted the primus general, but inside he squirmed at the thought of what he had just witnessed and the terrible consequences it might have for the future of the Empire.

The Twelfth legion was no more, and the blame rested with him alone.

You should have stopped it. You could have stopped it. His subconscious railed against him. It was not true though. He could never have stopped it, and a small part of him at least knew the truth of it — that path was too dangerous.

Revolution.

Why not? There were many in the Empire that would support him. There were many who would positively encourage it. But it was not the Felix way. His house had ever been loyal to the Emperor; his soul knew no other option.

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