Camilla Ⅰ

 The Ides of March, 44 BC

---

The city was in chaos.

The hero who had led the Republic into a greater era was assassinated.

The man among the men themselves, who understood who the common people were and what the common people wanted, was now lying on the floor of the Theater of Pompey, blood pooling around his lifeless body as half of the Senate fled the meeting, the other half staring at him with knives in their hands, dripping dark red liquids.

The ones who are now angry and yelling and screaming in the streets are livid at the men who hold their knives.

But inside the protection of the building, the men are happy and satisfied. They know naught of what the people outside think. They have rid the possibility of a ruthless monarchy to their homeland. They have freed the people from the clutches of a dictatorship, and they call themselves the Liberators.

---

Camilla slipped silently behind her companion, under the cover of the dark night. It had been exactly seven days since the assassination of Gaius Julius Caesar, the man who was the first dictator granted a permanent position. If it were a different circumstance, the common people like herself would’ve rebelled. Yet it was ironic that the man granted the power was the man who was willing to help them, instead of the other senators who held her people in disregard and only kept the power between the privileged few.

Camilla’s companion was a boy in his late teens, but she wasn’t so sure. She had made a rough guess of him being just above eighteen or so; they hadn’t exactly had the time to talk about it, not being a subject important enough when compared to the other thing they were working on: this kidnapping mission they were currently on itself.

The doors of the house (Camilla herself would not call it a house, but rather a small palace already, given the enormous size it was) were shut and probably barred from the inside, too. Ever since the fifteenth, ever since the assassins went to the public in glory and returned in something that was definitely not glory, the wealthy patricians who had supported Brutus and Cassius had started to lock themselves in. The only way to gain access to the inner structure of the building was to climb over the roof and drop down in their garden.

And that was why Camilla was perching upon the rooftop of their target—a young man called Adonis, a son of an influential man—with the soft breeze of the night that occasionally swept back her hair, but was not strong enough to push her over. However, it was cold enough to make her shiver in her rather revealing outfit (she did not hate it; but she hated wearing it herself: it was too revealing for her, and also it made her too cold).

Her companion waved at her, a sign to indicate that the coast was clear. With incredible agility, the boy leaped onto the ground with a graceful landing, hardly making any sound. Camilla followed suit, though she barely could balance herself upon landing. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, but she had already made it so far. Ditching plans was a bad idea when you’re already halfway through with a companion with you. Her heart beat harder still. Yet on her face, she tried to mask any evidence of nervousness and replaced it with a seducing smile.

Camilla only hoped that Adonis wouldn’t hear the thump, thump, thump that rang through her ears.

She took a deep breath, then stepped into the young man’s room with a saccharine smile plastered upon her face.

#

A/N:

Okay, so after rereading this chapter myself, I've found it ridiculously short, but it was to me the best place to break off. I'm really sorry to those who may have expected a longer part though. (I wanted it to be longer too~)