Disclaimer Felt like doing the story from the evil guy's point of view! Pious Augustus and Alex is the only character so far from the game! It starts 7 days before the death of Pious.

Author's note: I have changed the story slightly, I was going to have a Achilles/Patroklus style thing going on between Augustus and his deceased friend; however I changed my mind because it doesn't make much sense if I don't start the story from earlier than a week before Augustus' decease.

I would like to make some historical facts known about the Roman army as I included some things which some readers may not know (if you do already then I apologise!) The leader of the Roman army would be the Emperor and he would have appointed generals to lead some of his campaigns. Under the Generals command are several legions, each commanded by a legate, which in my story is what Augustus is. It was NOT uncommon for a Legate to be a man in his late twenties if he had influential friends and family in the senate, which is what I am implying Pius Augustus had.

Another thing I would also like to make a correction for Pious' rank, in my story he is a legate NOT a centurion - a centurion is an equivalent to a sargeant. From the little booklet which comes from the game it says he is a wealthy nobleman which means he has to be an officer! So if anyone from silkon knights is reading you should take note!

Night 1 – 3 hours after Dusk

The night was clear and the air crisp. The moon shone its pale face down upon the hilly landscape, illuminating the sand with a soft light. Stars twinkled from their place in the heavens with smug satisfaction that they would outlast those on the earthly plain. A single straight pathway wound its way through the desert, a vain attempt by mortals to navigate through the harsh Sahara desert. Just off the pathway a Roman fortress had been temporarily set up for defensive purposes during the Emperor Augustus' reign.

A tall man, by Roman standards, walked out of his tent. He wore the military red tunic with leather sandals. His hair cascaded in dark waves down his head, sucking the darkness into itself; its length was a little longer than was customary for Roman soldiers. But he was legate (commander) of the legion - even if there was no indication upon his person, and therefore above the rules. He had a generous mouth and doe like eyes, full of melancholy due to the burden of leadership and the fact that his best friend had be killed in battle the week before. His skin had a dark tan, like all the other soldiers, even the auxiliary troops from distant Gaul and Britannia, caused by the extensive exposure to the sun in the desert.

His tent was positioned on top of a singular hill; from the hill he had an excellent vantage point over the whole camp. There were little fires scattered around the camp some served as keeping the soldiers warm on such a chilly night, while others were funeral pyres burning the dead. On the other side of the hill was small Arabian town, undoubtedly most of the soldiers were there, getting drunk and enjoying the company of the Persian whores.

A woman came out of the Legate's tent. This woman was slightly smaller than the man, with curious blue eyes and mousy blond hair. She was wearing a white muslin toga, bordered with gold and sandals. 'Augustus come inside! It's freezing out here!' She tried to coax the legate back into his tent.

Augustus sighed mournfully in response, but did not answer nor did he turn and look at his lover. The woman approached him and put her right hand on his left shoulder. 'It's not your fault!' She assured him. Augustus shook her hand off and walked down towards the town. 'You can't go out like that! What if your men see you like this?'

She ran after him and grabbed his shoulder to pull him back. Augustus spun around; his hand was raised as if he was going to strike her. He thought about it then let his hand down to his side and walked off without saying a word.

He walked into one of the taverns. The place was fairly crowded and dimly lit by torches on the walls. In the centre of the room a fight was taking place between a few legionaries and some locals. Augustus avoided the fighting and made his way through the tables toward the bar. None of the legionaries recognised him as he was in as much uniform as they were and he showed none of his badges of office. He ordered a wineskin from the barmaid, which she obligingly gave him. Immediately afterwards he left the inn, again he avoided the fighting.

He wandered the streets for a while; he finished all his wine and resolved to get some more, when a couple of whores called to him from an alleyway. They offered him their services, to which he drunkenly consented; all the while their pimp was watching discreetly from the doorway of his brothel, a few metres up the path, making sure the girls' client did not hurt them too badly. Once Augustus had finished with them, he threw them a bag of gold coins. One of the girls picked it up and cried in exclamation at the amount he gave them both – more than double their usual week's earning.

With the purse gone, he had no money left, but in his intoxicated state he was not bothered. Without any warning he burst into tears and slumped against a wall. The fear of exile or even execution was hanging over him, the Emperor had suggested as much in his last letter. 'I've failed my Emperor!' He sobbed uncontrollably to himself. Passers-by crossed over to the other side of the road and looked disdainfully at him – just another drunk soldier on the streets.

A centurion, along with several other soldiers came across Augustus. They had been ordered by their tribune (low ranking officer), to round up all the soldiers and bring them back to camp. The centurion stormed up to him and prodded him with his staff. 'Get up! You piece of shit!' he ordered. Then he hit him around the head.

Augustus started to laugh hysterically and wiped away his tears. This infuriated the centurion even further. 'Arrest this man! He will be punished when we get back to camp!' Two soldiers dragged Augustus, still laughing, to his feet.

He raised his eyes at the Centurion. He paled as recognition sparked in his eyes and gave the legate the military salute. The two soldiers let go quickly of his arms, as if they had just turn into two poisonous snakes. Hastily they too gave him the military salute.

'Sir…I didn't…recognise…' The centurion fumbled over his words.

Augustus quickly raised his hand to silence them. He swayed slightly, and then composed himself. 'That is enough! Continue with your duties – I won't report thish inshident to your commanding offisher – excuse me my tongue'sh a little thick.' Augustus waited until the centurion relaxed his stance slightly; then his mouth curled into a cruel smile and he added, 'I will deal with your punishment pershonally!'

He was not usually cruel towards his soldiers; only his excessive unhappiness over the Emperor's faith in him in finding an artefact that was as lost to him as the city of Atlanta was to the Greeks. In addition he had been drinking heavily for the past few days since he received the fateful letter from the Emperor. They looked at him apprehensively.

'Get out of my sight!' He roared.