One Nation, Under Jupiter

JULY 6, 2766

It's become difficult to sleep lately. I've spent the past few nights tossing and turning in my bed, struggling with troubling thoughts. One night I was up until four, wondering if my mission would be all for nothing. Even if I finished the book, even if I could somehow get around the censors, print out thousands of copies and hand them all out myself, who's to say anyone would listen? What if not a single person is turned away from the gods by my words, not even the smallest solace to comfort me while I rot in my inevitable cell? On other nights, my mind decides to take me back to dark memories. I can still see Relicta being dragged out of the courtroom, jeered at by the crowd of strangers, spit on by her father. Our father.

Last night began not too differently. I was curled up in my bed, cursing my newfound insomnia. The arid air of summer filled the room, my body was completely under the covers, and yet I felt unbearably cold. Maybe I did need a doctor, I thought. Not that it mattered. I couldn't afford one anymore. Might as well just die instead. I began to imagine myself dead, my body placed in a beautiful marble sarcophagus, the deeds of my life inscribed on the side. People would see me then, at least, a work of magnificent beauty. I wonder if they'd give me my own tomb, a house to spend forever in, just for me? The thought of eternal rest soon took me to sleep, but not without a disturbing dream.

A bead of sweat trickled down my face. In my right hand I clutched a long sword, its blade in pristine condition. In my other hand was a great oval wooden shield, large enough to cover almost my entire body. I was surrounded on both sides by similarly armed soldiers, each of them clad in ancient armor. Looking at my companions, I could see a strange symbol on the front of their shields, the letters P and X on top of each other. No idea what that could stand for.

In front of me rode a man on horseback. I couldn't see his face, though his armor was a magnificent shade of gold, concealing purple clothing underneath. He could only have been the leader of our battalion. In front of him was a wooden bridge, providing safe passage over the unforgiving river churning below it. At the other end of the bridge stood a second army, not too different from our own. At the front stood their commander, clad in gold and purple. From the distance, he seemed to have the face of a young man, a poor child roped into this battle. Behind him was a vast cohort of legionaries, their shields adorned with images of scorpions. It seemed that they had outnumbered us. I looked at the soldiers to my sides, their faces unusually stoic in the midst of war.

The enemy's leader pulled out his sword, brandishing it into the air. Their soldiers lifted their shields over their face. The men on my side quickly did the same. I tightened my grip around the sword, my heart pounding furiously. This wasn't right, I thought to myself. Maybe I wasn't ready for death after all. Not like this. Not as another statistic on some cursed battlefield.

"Charge!" shouted our leader. My fellow soldiers and I raced forward, putting the commander behind us. Soon we were on the bridge, our neat formations collapsing into a mindless orgy of gore. Men screamed in agony as swords sliced through their bodies. The arrow of an enemy archer pierced the eye of one of the soldiers next to me. The noises he made could only have been described as unearthly. A horseman charged towards me, only for a friendly spearman to stab the innocent animal in its side. Both the horse and its rider fell into the river, the current carrying them away to where they'd never be seen again. I threw my shield over my face, trying my hardest to avoid the violent spectacle in front of me. Don't get involved, I told myself. Just ride it out. You'd have to wake up eventually. It's all a dream, after all. It must be.

"Retreat!" yelled the booming voice of the enemy's leader. The Praetorians promptly turned around, running back to the safety of the land.

"After them!" ordered our own commander. Our legions chased after the enemy, taking the fight to their end of the bridge. I stayed put, still cowering under my shield. Behind me, I could hear the slow trotting of a horse's hooves.