Page 99 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
Beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence, Livia sat in the chair next to me. As my recognised consort, she was dressed appropriately and my breath caught at the sheer magnificence of her. She wore elegant golden robes in the latest Empire style, but the countless necklaces and bracelets she wore were the ones Taveth had given her and her dark hair was braided back in the style of a Talfen warrior. I marvelled at how she could look so beautiful dressed in dragon rider leathers, gladiator armour and royal robes, but my favourite moments were when the only thing she had covering her skin were my hands and mouth. We’d stolen a few nights after the healers had cleared me for physical activity, but with her, it was never enough time. I wanted to spend the rest of my life worshipping her body and loving her beautiful soul. Luckily, I had secretplans she didn’t know about yet for when this ceremony was all over.
Livia caught me looking at her and smiled, brushing her fingers against mine in quiet reassurance. The gesture was so small, so private in this vast public space, that it made my chest tight with something I was still learning to call happiness.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice pitched low so only I could hear.
I looked out at the crowd, at the faces turned toward us with expressions of hope and wariness in equal measure. These were people who had lived their entire lives under the boot of Empire, who had watched loved ones die in these very stands for entertainment. Now they were being asked to believe in something new, something fragile and untested.
"No," I said honestly. "But that's never stopped us before."
The horn sounded, its deep note reverberating off the arena walls, and I rose to address the assembly. The crowd quieted instantly, and in that silence, I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the weight of history settling on my shoulders like a mantle.
"Citizens of the Republic," I began, my voice carrying to every corner of the arena through the acoustics that had once amplified the cries of the dying. "We gather today in this place not as subjects, but as equals. Not to watch others bleed for our entertainment, but to witness the formation of a government that belongs to all of us."
I gestured to the ten chairs arranged behind me, where the first ruling council of the Republic waited to be formally sworn in. Each represented a different voice, a different perspective, a different piece of the fractured world we were trying to heal. Livia and I made up the other two, and several of the chairs bore very familiar faces of the men and women I would trust with my people’s lives.
"Legate Santius," I said, and the scarred soldier rose, his weathered face solemn. "You have served with honour in war. Will you now serve with equal honour in peace?"
Santius placed his hand over his heart and spoke the oath we had crafted together in the long nights of planning that had followed our victory. "I swear by all the gods and by my own blood that I will serve the Republic and its people. I will never allow a single man to hold the power that corrupts absolutely. I will defend the weak, protect the innocent, and ensure that the military serves the people, not the reverse."
His voice cracked slightly on the final words, and I saw him glance toward a section of the stands where old soldiers sat in their patched cloaks. One of them—a centurion I recognized from the final battle—stood and saluted, tears streaming down his scarred cheeks. The gesture spread through the military sections like wildfire, hundreds of hands rising to hearts in a silent promise that the legions would never again serve tyranny.
"Mira of the Talfen," I continued, and the old woman rose with the fluid grace of her people. She had been elected by the citizens that held Talfen blood to speak for them in this new government, the first time in generations that these people would have a voice in their own governance.
"I swear to speak for those who have been silenced," she said, her accent thick but her words clear. "I will ensure that the crimes of the past are not forgotten, that reparations are paid to those who suffered, and that never again will one people be enslaved by another. The Talfen stand as equals in this Republic, and I will guard that equality with my life."
More murmurs, these tinged with shame from the Imperial citizens who remembered what their government had done to the Talfen. But there was hope there too, the possibility of redemption.
Marcus stood next, his greying beard neatly trimmed for the occasion but his hands still bearing the calluses of a lifetime of hard fighting. He had been chosen by the freed slaves to represent them, and as he spoke his oath, his voice carried the weight of every chain that had ever been broken.
"I swear to remember where we came from," he said, his eyes finding mine across the platform. "I will ensure that no one forgets the cost of freedom, or the price of slavery. Every law we make, every decision we take, will be measured against this question: does it make us more free, or less? Does it lift up the broken, or break down the strong? I will be the voice of those who have known the collar, so that none need wear it again."
Antonius stood next, and made his own oath, promising to act as trade and diplomat with the people he had come from in the eastern mountains - a valuable connection, and hopefully if he could pull it off, valuable allies moving forward, if they decided to trust us. The Republic had much trust to earn, and not just with the Talfen.
Quintus Flavius, a merchant who had been elected by the citizens of the capital, stood to take his oath. He was a small man with calloused hands and silver hair, someone who had built his fortune coin by coin rather than inheriting it. His voice was steady as he swore to represent the common people fairly and justly, but I could see the tension in the patrician sections of the stands—wealthy citizens with pinched lips and disapproving whispers, uncomfortable with this promise that wealth would not determine worth.
But their discomfort was drowned out by the roar of approval from the common citizens, people who had never imagined they might have a voice in their own governance. Market vendors and dock workers, seamstresses and bakers, all on their feet and cheering for the promise that they would matter as much as any senator.
Livia came next, her words strong and true, the fire of her spirit filling her voice, and finally, I rose to take my own oath, though it was not the oath of an emperor or a king. The arena fell silent, so quiet I could hear my own breathing, feel the weight of sixty thousand gazes like a physical thing.
"I swear to serve only as long as the Republic has need of me," I said, the words carrying across the arena like a bell. "I will never claim a crown, never name myself emperor, never allow power to corrupt me as it corrupted my father. When my service is no longer needed, I will step aside gladly, because the greatest strength of any leader is knowing when to let others lead."
The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, and then someone began to cheer. The sound built slowly, spreading through the stands like ripples on water until the entire arena thundered with the sound of sixty thousand voices raised not in bloodlust but in hope. The marble walls seemed to vibrate with the force of it, and I felt tears I hadn't expected burning at the corners of my eyes.
"The reparations," I continued when the noise finally died down, my voice hoarse with emotion, "begin today." I could feel the crowd lean forward, sensing that this was the moment everything truly changed. "Every person who was enslaved by the Empire will receive land, citizenship, and compensation for their suffering. The Talfen will be granted territorial sovereignty over their ancestral lands, with full representation in the Republic."
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Former slaves collapsed into each other's arms, weeping and laughing in equal measure. Talfen elders stood with their faces turned toward the sky, calling out prayers of gratitude in their ancient tongue. But I could also see the darker reactions—patricians whispering furiously among themselves, wealthy merchantscalculating what this would cost them, the old guard of the Empire realizing that their comfortable world was truly gone.
"And the dragons..." I paused, looking up at where Sirrax perched on the arena wall, his golden eyes watching the proceedings with what I could swear was amusement. Several other dragons had joined him, their massive forms creating shadows that swept across the crowd like living promises. "The dragons are declared free citizens of the Republic, our allies and equals, never again to be collared or enslaved."
Sirrax let out a roar that shook the very stones of the arena, and I saw several other dragons circling overhead, their cries joining his in what sounded almost like celebration. Dust scattered from the rafters as their voices echoed off the walls, and somewhere in the crowd a child laughed with pure delight at the sight of dragons flying free.
When the formal ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, I felt the exhaustion hit me like a physical weight. Three months of rebuilding, of negotiating, of trying to create something that had never existed before—it had taken everything I had, and I wasn't sure there was much left.
But then Livia was beside me, her hand slipping into mine, and Marcus was clapping me on the shoulder with his familiar rough affection. Antonius appeared with a waterskin and a concerned frown, checking my colour the way he had when I was still bedridden. Septimus stood quietly at the edge of our group, his presence as steady and comforting as it had always been.
"We did it," Septimus said quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of wonder. "We actually did it. We built something worth all the blood."
Livia slipped her hand into his, smiling up at him and he pulled her close and kissed her soundly.
