I think I'm really starting to understand Spartacus, now. I didn't before, but now I'm really starting to get it. The rage. The desire to tear down those who have hurt you, and burn them and everyone like them, so nobody ever has to bear this indignity again. The refusal to ever be reduced to mere
property again. I think I owe him an apology when I get back to Chaldea, to tell the truth.
But, all the same, it hasn't been easy. I had Cursed Arm kill and hide the bodies of the blacksmith and the praetorians who fitted me in this thing. It doesn't change that I still have to wear it, or else Her Imperial Majesty will get uppity. I could have her killed at any moment. That thought is a great comfort to me whenever she makes me go out on some menial task in order to "make sure I'm not getting ideas."
Boudica's been sympathetic, at least, as has Jing Ke. The latter seems to be contemplating trying to assassinate another Emperor. As for my Servants, well... Xuanzang healed my burns, although they left a nasty scar. Vlad was practically frothing at the mouth, and offered to stake her himself. Even
Galahad was angry at her over this. It doesn't matter, though. The mission comes first. Humanity comes first. No matter what it costs me.
I nod to the soldier guarding my tent flap, who looks at me with pity in his eyes. It's been a fifty-fifty chance, really, of whether they look at me with pity or disgust. I think I hate the pitying ones more, though. They make it awfully hard to hate everything about the Empire.
The conference is today. Two days after the messenger arrived, and Nero decided to collar me. I walk, my Servants at my side, Georgios and Galahad flanking me, to join my Emperor.
"Ah! Carlus! Excellent to see you!" she calls cheerfully, as if we're the dearest of friends. "Are you prepared to bear witness as I triumph over the greatest king of Greece?"
"Indeed, my Emperor." I say, my face as harsh and inexpressive as stone. The white robe she's making me wear is a bit drafty. She won't allow me the costume armor any more, nor will she let me wear my proper uniform. I honestly think she enjoys forcing me to dress according to her whims.
"Yes!" she cheers, before strutting off to meet with the King of Conquerors. I follow silently, my Servants still flanking me.
---
"Emperor Nero," Alexander the Great calls in greeting. I blink. He honestly looks nothing like the statues of him. Then again, the same could be said of Nero. "What do you want?"
She, of course, jumps at the opportunity to show off. "I desire no less than for you and all your foolish pack of dead men and traitors to bow down and pledge fealty to the one true Emperor of Rome, or else die!"
"Hm. Denied." Alexander clears his throat. "Perhaps I should make our position clear. King Romulus-" a great wave of awe-struck whispers goes through the troops at that- "is willing to set aside his dislike of you, forgiving you for your many, many, crimes and offering you a place as one of the many Emperors of the United Roman Empire. You'll be granted a territory to govern, and a seat in the Imperial Senate, that Rome's proud tradition of non-autocratic rule, established in the great age of the Republic, may continue, and the greatest men and women in Roman history might work together to build a brighter future!" He spreads his hands wide, seeming to be warming up as he talks, his volume rising as he goes. "So, Nero, what do you want? Why are you Emperor?"
"There is no emperor but me!" Nero snaps, black veins running through her eyes. "Your greatness is nothing compared to mine! Your insight is folly before mine! Your deeds are ash compared to mine!"
"Such audacity," Alexander rumbles. "And what, little Emperor, are your deeds? What dream have you, and what is your purpose?" He's indignant, but still challenging. Interesting.
"Great deeds are a waste of time," Nero replies, her tone scornful. "Conquest is folly, monuments a waste of good stone. While you who came before me wasted your time seeking greatness, I, born perfect, have attended to the purpose of a ruler."
"Which is?" Alexander asks, brows furrowed. He's testing her. I just don't know
why.
"To let one's subjects die happy." Nero announces proudly. "What purpose do great deeds serve? What's the point in extending one's life? Why waste wealth and resources on power and expansion, when they can instead be directed towards ensuring that one's people go to their graves with smiles on their faces.?"
There's a pause, and Alexander looks just as fundamentally disturbed as I feel right now.
"I see, then." Alexander frowns. "You are fit neither to rule, nor to live."
Nero looks like she's been punched in the gut. "But-"
"Enough words. Draw your blade, or brand yourself a coward."
'
Now.'
"
Delusional Heartbeat: Zabaniya."
"All I Do Is Kill!"
The two Noble Phantasms hit the King of Conquerors at the same time. I honestly can't tell which one killed him. And, as he falls, the army behind him surges into action screaming about broken parley. In particular, the sharp-dressed emissary leads the charge, firing blasts of magic into our ranks and marking himself as a Caster Servant.
'
Georgios.'
'
On it. We will discuss your dishonorable actions later, my Master.'
I stare at the advancing battle line.
'
Kojirou, drag the emperor back to safety. Galahad, protect me. Vlad, rip and tear until it's done.'
My orders are executed with clockwork precision. The unknown Caster Servant is easily overcome by Georgios (turns out that, against a heavily armored, skilled, and well trained knight they can't cast spells against, most mages die like lemmings. Who knew?) and Vlad throws the enemy into disarray. Off balance, and with their leaders killed right in front of them, the army is easily finished off.
---
"Slave." Nero's furious. To be expected, really. Still, I have to restrain a mad grin that keeps trying to crawl up on my face. For once, I'm the one who managed to completely destroy her entire plan and leave her furious. "You broke the parley."
"Yes."
"Because you doubted me." ooh, she's absolutely livid, now. Might have to organize a coup if she tries to have me executed. "Because you believed that I would lose, in my fight against Alexander."
"Yes." Hm. Better throw her off-balance a bit. Present myself as her most loyal subject. "While your various flatterers may profit from your demise, and, as a consequence, encourage your flights of fancy, I believe that Rome stands to profit from your continued status as Emperor, and as such will not permit you to endanger your life in order to satisfy your delusions of martial prowess."
She
snarls at that. But, all the same, I've made her doubt her yes-men. She can't throw me away while I might be the only one still loyal to her. "Give him ten lashes of the whip, and take down his tent. Let him sleep in the kennel with the hounds. It might remind him of his rightful station."
Joke's on her. I just got out of having to do her paperwork.
I have Cursed Arm kill the Praetorians overseeing my punishment and hide the bodies after the second lash, and Boudica's nice enough to let me sleep in her tent for the night (not that she needs to sleep, anyways.)