Et Tu, Brute?

“And you, Brutus?”

There is regret in the older man’s scratchy voice. He lifts his head to face the one standing in front of him, the one with the silver knife that flashes every time it trembles in his bloody, clutched hands.

Brutus only shakes his head slightly, his eyes wide and mouth shut, not daring to speak.

I am doing this for the good of the Republic. For the good of Rome.

The dictator perpetuo sees the determination in the younger one’s eyes and lets his last words fall past his lips.

“Then fall, Caesar.”

The knife falls faster than Caesar’s eyes can follow, and it drives deeply into his flesh.

~

Alea iacta est.

~

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→ Part 2: The Temple of Venus Genetrix