Triumphant Return to Rome

General Acacius's return to Rome was nothing short of triumphant. The streets were a sea of jubilant citizens, their voices ringing with praise as they hailed the hero who had annexed Numidia into the Roman Empire. Laurel wreaths rained down, and the sound of trumpets heralded his procession as it wound its way through the Forum.

At the grand entrance of the imperial palace, Emperor Geta and his brother Caracalla awaited him. Draped in regal finery, they beamed with pride as Acacius dismounted, his movements deliberate despite the fervor of the crowd.

"General Acacius," Geta greeted, his tone rich with gratitude as he stepped forward. "Your victory has brought Rome unparalleled glory. The empire is forever indebted to you."

Acacius inclined his head in acknowledgment, his face impassive.

Geta's voice grew louder, meant for the gathered crowd. "To honor your triumph, we will hold games in your name. Gladiatorial combat in the Colosseum, a spectacle to immortalize your conquest. These will be the grandest games Rome has ever seen!"

Caracalla chimed in, his tone smooth but laced with ambition. "The people adore you, General. And through their adoration, our empire will grow stronger. Imagine it—Persia, India... all within our grasp."

Acacius's gaze darkened as he turned to face them, his voice calm but cutting. "Conquest is a fleeting victory. We fight and bleed, only to do it again. How much more can Rome consume before it breaks under its own weight?"

Geta laughed, brushing off his words. "They can eat war, my dear Acacius. And when they tire of it, they will devour the fruits of our conquests. The people of Rome love you, Acacius. And they will love you even more after these games."

Acacius clenched his fists, his internal battle raging between his duty to the empire and the deepening sense of dissatisfaction that clawed at his soul. his voice calm but firm, replied, "I do not need games, nor the praise of the masses. I only seek peace and the return home to my dear wife."

But his words were met with indifference. The emperors, focused on their ambitions of further expansion, paid little heed to the toll it had taken on men like Acacius, who had witnessed the brutality of war up close.

Geta's expression darkened. "Your wife, however, has failed to honor your return," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "Despite all the leniency we have shown her, she has not come to the palace to celebrate her husband's triumph. Does she not understand the honor we have bestowed upon you, Acacius?"

Acacius paused, sensing the tension in the air. He gave a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the mounting strain. "The matters of the heart are not for politics, my emperor. She is simply... waiting for me at home."

He then reached forward, bowing slightly, and kissed the hand Geta extended to him in acknowledgment. "Thank you for the honor you've bestowed upon me," Acacius said quietly, his words sincere yet measured.

He bowed slightly, his voice steady. "Thank you for the honor you have granted me. I am, as always, your loyal servant."

The emperors exchanged a glance but said nothing more as Acacius departed.


That evening, Acacius stepped into his villa, the quiet of the countryside a stark contrast to the noise of Rome. As the door creaked open, Lucilla appeared, after months apart relief flooded her face as she embraced him tightly, overjoyed to find him safe.

"You're here... finally," she whispered, rushing into his arms.

Acacius held her tightly, closing his eyes as the weight of the day melted away. "I'm here now, Lucilla. I will always find my way back to you."

She pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on his chest as her eyes searched his face. "How did it go with the emperors?"

Acacius sighed, his exhaustion showing. "They dream of endless conquest—Persia, India. They will not stop until Rome crumbles beneath its own ambition."

Lucilla frowned, her concern etched into her features. "What will you do?"

His gaze hardened, a spark of resolve igniting within him. "I have a plan. On the final day of the games, we will arrest Geta and Caracalla. Rome must be freed from their tyranny."

Her breath hitched, her eyes widening. "Acacius, this is dangerous. If anyone hears of this—"

Her voice trailed off as her gaze darted toward a servant lingering nearby. Composing herself quickly, she straightened and spoke firmly. "Leave us. I will call if I need you."

The servant bowed and exited. Lucilla waited until the door shut before turning back to her husband.

"Do you realize the risks?" she asked, her voice low. "The walls have ears, and betrayal lurks everywhere."

"I know the risks," Acacius replied, his voice steady. "But I cannot stand by and watch Rome destroy itself. Will you stand with me in this?"

Lucilla hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, resting a hand on his chest. "Always. But promise me, Acacius, no matter the cost, you will come back to me."

He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I promise."