Gaius Caligula; the third Julio-Claudian emperor of Imperium Romanum. The Roman Empire had reached the borders of Armenia, a buffer kingdom between Roma and Parthia. Gaius Caligula – the mad emperor – was imperator. Caligula had fallen ill in the first October of his reign, in A.D. 37; a man once marginally sane was driven over the edge, and from then on, little else in the empire was safe.
January 24th A.D. 41
"Divius Gaius." Came a voice; the honour in his tone spoke for itself. Caligula allowed his lips to stretch taut in a proud, obnoxious grin as the words fell upon his ears. Such praise was often received after he had deified himself, but none had done so with such apparent glee in their tones; as though they lavished the praise upon him without orders to do so.
Caligula's lips peeled back to reveal a toothy smile. "Speak what you will before you make your departure, this is no place for one such as you. You are not of my family, nor are you so high in the cursus honorum that you are permitted any presence here. What brings you before me?"
Marcus Suillius Leonius; an equite though he may be, he was barely a man of any true consequence. Eager, stormy eyes flickered over the scene before him in disgust. It was the morning of the twenty-fourth, and Leonius' gaze settled on a movement beneath the table… A woman.
So the tales of Gaius are true. He is the man who demands such things at the dining table… Such things being so, would it truly be wise for Leonius to carry out his intentions here, at the dinner table? For if one tale had been true, surely the others were; throwing Claudius into the Rhine for attempting to congratulate the emperor.
"My lord, I am your humble servant alongside all others under your rule. I merely come to you to request one thing." The man lied expertly, dagger hidden well in the folds of his robes. "I request that I be permitted to pour libations to you in prayer and sacrifice bulls in your name. No other gods exceed you in brilliance, my lord, and I wish my household to be blessed."
Caligula almost purred as the honey-licked lies washed over him. Such sweetness, though it might rot the tooth, was too flavoursome to refuse. Smile still plastered across his features, Caligula nodded to the man. "I permit you such things. Go with my blessing to your household under one condition, however… Your wife and any daughters you might have are to seek me for themselves. I must receive their… supplications… for myself. You may chaperone if such are your perversions."
Leonius' gut twisted at the thought. The sound of lips against soft and tender flesh became all too noticeable to him, and the light moans of a young woman filled the air as he knelt before the emperor… He was offering to bed his wife, and any other women in his direct family… in exchange for the blessings of a false deity.
He refused to look to the table, too disgusted to see the woman on all fours beneath the desk, doing things no woman should be forced into at the dinner table, regardless of a man's stand over her.
"Thank you, my lord." The equite smiled falsly and proceeded to leave the room backwards. There was little else he could do, and so sweeping his robes up so that he didn't catch them with his sandals, Leonius fled the royal palace.
His heart still consumed with fury and lips still curled with disgust, Leonius would try again to slaughter the mad-emperor. Success was not something which he considered optional; Caligula, though out of his own mind and too foolish to command himself, was under the control of the Templars. They were the ones who pulled the strings, and they were the ones who encouraged his bloodthirsty ways, regardless of the undoubtedly cruel disposition of members of the imperial household.
And so Leonius steered himself toward the Palatine hill, enveloping his figure in a fresh robe that adorned his shoulders; the man delicately wrapped his fingers around the hem of his robe and pulled up until the fabric shielded his features from the sun.
While he walked, another strode alongside him, casting a suspicious glance in the direction of the assassin. "It is not done. Your task was to kill him, not converse with him about devotion to some false god."
"There were too many." Came the sharp, hiss or a retort. "I would rather make my attempt without the knowledge that the guard would have my heart ripped out before I could so much as graze him."
"But the praetorians are with us, for the most part, are they not?"
Leonius shook his head; "not these. These are chosen by the Templars for Gaius."
"I suppose they would have the intelligence enough to protect their assets with trusted men." The figure agreed with a sigh, his own face shrouded beneath a hood. A brief moment of silence passed before the man let out a breath of a laugh, dipped his head, and bid his ally farewell. "May luck ever be on your side, comrade."
Without another word, the man vanished. Again, Leonius walked alone to the Palatine. Gaius was due to make an appearance in a few hours, and so, brushing back a strand of dark hair, the equite made towards assessing his methods.
The walk was slow; an hour or two must have passed him by, and he was certain he had heard men and women calling out and cheering to the emperor while he walked, being sure to steer clear of the route Gaius would surely take. Instead he crossed buildings, leaping with agility from rooftop to rooftop, careful not to draw attention to himself. It was quicker this way; fewer people to run across and to slow him in his pursuit. Casting his gaze across the great Roman city, Leonius caught glimpse of what appeared to be a parade; the procession following Gaius to the Palatine.
It was only a short distance between the imperial house and the Palatine, but the emperor would not travel without protection, the guards were ever constant, and always stood by him through the day and outside his bedroom at night.
Leonius smiled; there was only one place this slaughter could take place.
A few praetorians would stand by him in the murder; the head of the guard, Cassius Chaerea, would be one of the others wielding some blade. The empire needed a new head, one who was not corrupted with illness and diseased with Templars. Once fallen ill, he should have been removed from the throne and cared for, rather than allowed such vile freedom to butcher innocents… And so, the guild of assassins would take their own precautions.
Long live Caesar.
Long live Rome.
He waited at the exit to the cryptoporticus, the one Caligula would leave through. It provided the perfect opportunity; a narrow tunnel, broad enough to stab a man, but not so wide as to allow those still faithful to the emperor to kill him for it. Cheers rose and fell at the other end of the tunnel, and Leonius grew impatient.
Anticipation crept through his body, an electric tingle shooting up his spine and back down while he waited in the darkness, under the cover of his hood and the black shadows of the tunnel. Laughter grew closer, a malicious undertone to each of his cackles, and Leonius let out a near silent snarl...
There – at the end of the cryptoporticus.
Head held high, and a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face, Caligula strode before the rest and at the head of his guard, too arrogant to realise even after the failed attempts on his life, there were more to come.
"Gaius Julius Caesar!" Came a cry from the end of the tunnel, and Caligula trained his eyes on a silhouette of a man. Arrogance overcame him. The emperor moved forward as though to strike the man who had so foolishly spoken his name without permission from the emperor.
Leonius grinned.
Now was the time. When Caligula raised his hand as though to slap the assassin, like a viper he struck; lunging forward and producing his blade, he buried the serrated edge of the dagger up to the hilt. Drawing himself close and straightening his back so he stood tall, Leonius met the eyes of the fallen emporer; holding him up with nothing more than the blade hooked under his ribs.
"Long live Claudius."
He had always been the better of the pair. Leonius was one of many who honoured Claudius by removing his cloak and laying it before him upon the entrance of the man. Ridiculed by many though he was, he was one of the few in the imperial household who Leonius believed had not been influenced by the Templars. He was the true heir to the empire, and one Leonius would likely follow gladly.
He did not do it for Claudius, but for the assassins; he did it for the sake of the empire.
Others started to join him, stabbing Caligula; Chaerea one of the first. It was then Leonius slipped away, being sure to disappear unnoticed by the guards, who were fighting among themselves while some took the opportunity to drive their daggers and swords into the heart of the cruel, malicious emperor and others clawed at the shoulders and clothes of those who stabbed. The guards' hands were sticky with the viscous red fluid that had escaped the emperor, who was slowly falling to the ground to bury his lifeless face into the dirt, where it belonged.
None noticed Leonius' absence, just as they had barely noticed his presence. As far as the guard was concerned, it was Chaerea who had struck first, and others had merely joined in the frenzy of eager stabs.
Some described it as like the slaughter of Divius Julius. Some described it as a liberator sent by the gods. Some described it as a horrific loss.
Diu in imperio Romano.