With Yazdegerd’s death and the defeat of his army on the beaches of Italia, Marcellus had successfully removed one of the major threats to his power. Those who took up arms for the Sassanid King who were not outright killed in battle were quickly rounded up and imprisoned. Their fate would be as prisoners brought back to Rome and held for the duration of the war.

Though not all was tranquil. Rather, the Gothic Chieftain Sarus had many concerns over what had just transpired. Because of this, he walked up to Marcellus, who was cleaning the blood off his blade, and voiced them.

“The Sassanid Empire will not forgive us for killing their King. Sooner or later they will send an army after us, and not just in support of the Eastern Romans…”

Marcellus continued to wipe away the blood on his blade, as if the Gothic Chieftain’s concerns did not phase him. For several moments, he applied a layer of water to his blade, until not a speck of red could be seen by the human eye. After finishing this task, he gazed up at Sarus and responded with a voice filled with utter confidence.

“Let them come. I will put all those swarthy bastards to the sword if they dare march on Rome. Such a thing does not worry me, for once I have incorporated the east into my domain, and reorganized what remains of their armed forces into my own, we will see just how long the Persians can resist my rule. I think it is about time Rome avenged Carrhae, don’t you?”

Sarus had served as a Foederati in the ranks of the Roman Army long enough to know which grudges the Romans held against their neighbors. He could hardly believe his ears when Marcellus suggested avenging a loss that happened over four hundred years prior, against a different dynasty of Persians. He could only shake his head before responding to the man’s claim.

“You Romans sure are a spiteful people…”

This remark only made Marcellus break out into a fit of laughter. He had seen enough of world history from the dreams he had of Frank’s life to understand that the people who held onto grudges longer than anybody were not the Italic peoples, but the Germans.

After all, the Germans had achieved a significant victory against the Russian Empire in the Great War of 1914; they renamed the battle to Tannenberg as a way to avenge the loss they had suffered in Grunwald a whole 504 years earlier.

If the German people could hold on to a grudge for five hundred years, then Rome’s bitter resentment towards the Persians for Carrhae seemed rather tame in comparison. Even if there was only a difference of roughly 50 years between the two. It was this knowledge that compelled Marcellus to speak his response.

“You’re one to talk…”

Naturally, Sarus did not understand what Marcellus meant by these words, as he was not gifted with the memories of the future and thus, he could not formulate a proper response. Instead, he just shook his head and shifted the topic to something else.

“So, what’s the plan now? Do we help our boys in Illyricum break the ongoing sieges, or do we sail towards Constantinople?”

After finishing wiping the blood from his blade with a flask of water. Marcellus then began to apply oil to the steel in an attempt to prevent rust. As he did so, he commented on the decision he had made long before this battle had even begun.

“I have the utmost faith in my Legates. Constantius can handle the eastern roman forces in Illyricum by himself. He does not need our support. Instead, we will sail for Constantinople and lay siege to it. After the eastern romans are defeated in Illyricum, they will be forced back into their own territory where Constantius will chase them towards their capital. Perhaps if we are lucky, we can annihilate the bulk of our enemy’s forces in a crossfire.”

Sarus nodded his head as he heard these orders. The reasoning was solid enough for him to remain unopposed. Thus, he was left with only one question, which he was quick to ask.

“So, when do we set sail?”

In response to this, Marcellus looked at the sea before making a decision.

“First, we should capture Yazdegerd’s ships, and incorporate them into our own navy. Then we will regroup with the rest of our fleet in Neapolis. From there, we shall sail to Constantinople and lay siege to the eastern capital.

I want to make something abundantly clear. Once we have captured the city of constantinople, no harm is to come to Theodosius. He is Placidia’s nephew, and I need the boy alive and well for my plans. Theodosius will give up his power, and declare me the true Emperor of Rome, where I will unite the two halves of the Empire into a single entity once more.

Once the boy has ceded all authority to me, I will allow him to live a peaceful life at my estate, where Placidia will look after him. After all, she is the last of his living kin. It would be wrong to spill his blood without reason…”

Sarus gazed upon Marcellus with a questioning look in his blue eyes before posing a question. That was half jest, half serious.

“Are you perhaps growing soft on me, Gothicus? Don’t tell me you intend to raise this boy as if he were your own child!”

In response to this, Marcellus chuckled briefly, before sighing. He gazed off towards the setting sun and posed his own question towards the Gothic Chieftain..

“And why shouldn’t I? I never wanted to be Emperor… One day I will retire from this position, and when I see fit, I shall leave the Empire in the hands of the most capable man. I have no desire to build a dynasty. All I care about is ensuring that Rome, in all its glory, survives the coming decades, and lives on as a prosperous state for centuries to come.

It’s not the boy’s fault that his uncle was an envious bastard who tried to rob me of my life out of an act of pure jealousy. He is Placidia’s nephew, and since I married the girl, it falls to me to raise the boy. Anyway, enough about that… Inform the men to make preparations for our journey towards Constantinople. I will not halt my assault until I ensure that Theodosius is safely placed into my custody.”

Sarus gazed upon Marcellus in a new light. Despite having absolute authority over the western roman empire for a few years now, he still desired to set his crown aside, and retire peacefully. The Gothic Chieftain had to admit, he thought for sure that the power that Marcellus wielded would have corrupted the man’s spirit, and yet, everything he did was still just a means to save Rome from its fate.

In that moment, he wished within his heart that the Goths had a King like Marcellus. Now that Alaric was dead, Marcellus would ensure that the crown passed to Sarus, and perhaps he should follow the example set forth by the Roman Emperor.

After thinking about this for several moments, Sarus sighed, and nodded his head before relaying Marcellus’ orders to the rest of the army. Now was not the time to think of such heavy topics. Now was the time for blood and iron!’