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"May the gods have mercy upon our souls," I whisper, my gaze fixed upon the horizon. And with that final prayer, I spur my horse onward, the cliff's edge drawing ever closer as I brace myself for the confrontation that will decide the prospects of Rome.
The sun begins its descent, casting an ethereal glow upon the sea as if the gods themselves have turned their gaze toward this momentous event. I stand at the precipice of the cliff, my heart pounding within my chest like the drums of war, as I watch Romulus’s cold, twisted face.
When did brother turn into foe, I wonder?
My peacekeeper arrives from the other end. “What is it my brother wants?” I ask.
“Sire, he wants the people to choose.”
Just as I thought, I thought to myself with a smile. From the very start, I knew that Romulus would not leave this to fate itself. By uniting the diamond, he would have no control over who the diamond chose as the ruler to unite the city. He wanted to defy Mars’s commands.
But he’s been influencing the people, and the decision might already be in his court. The people’s vote shall decide the ruler of Rome and cast our lots for time to come.
“What method have the people chosen?” I inquire.
From a distance, I hear Romulus roar in anger. Soon, I find out why. Sordello inches closer and tells me that the people have chosen a sign from the gods.
How ironic, I think to myself. Uniting the diamond was to be a sign from the gods, and Romulus tried to beat it. Now, the very people whose hands he left this decision to, have chosen the gods.
I wonder, what tell will signify the ruler to be? What will satisfy the people?
A murmur of anticipation ripples through the gathered crowd below, their whispers carrying on the breeze like leaves caught in a storm. They eagerly crane their necks to catch a glimpse of the brothers who vie for power, their faces painted with equal parts excitement and trepidation. For they know, as do I, that the outcome of this day will alter the path of history.
"Lo, witness the culmination of our shared legacy!" I declare, raising my arms high in a grand gesture, my eyes locked onto those of my sibling across the chasm that now separates us. "Let the gods bear witness to this crucial moment, and may the winds of providence blow in favor of the just!"
As the tension builds, I feel my resolve harden like steel tempered in the fires of conflict. For though I love my brother dearly, I cannot deny the burning ambition that courses through my veins—the desire to lead Rome to greatness and secure a future for my unborn children.
"Let the people choose their rightful ruler," I whisper to myself, my breath mingling with the salty sea air. "May the gods guide their hearts and minds and bring about a new era of peace and prosperity."
As the crowd's anticipation reaches a fever pitch, I stand tall, poised to face whatever lot awaits me in this duel for the heart and soul of our beloved city.
Suddenly, a great shadow darkens the sky above. I glance heavenward to behold a magnificent sight: six proud eagles, their wings outstretched, gliding effortlessly toward my outstretched arms. The crowd's hushed whispers give way to raucous cheers as they bear witness to this divine omen.
"Truly," I muse, awestruck by the regal majesty of these noble birds, "this must be a sign from the heavens that my rule will bring prosperity to our people."
With steely intent, I grasp my trusty bow and nock an arrow, drawing the string back until it sings like the string of a lyre. My eyes narrow, focusing on the target before me – the space between my brother’s eyes.
"Let this shot ring true," I murmur, offering a silent prayer to the gods who watch over me.
As the last word leaves my lips, and I’m about to release the arrow, in that very instant, as if the gods themselves had intervened, a dozen more majestic eagles appear in the sky, their wings outstretched as they soar toward Romulus. The crowd gasps collectively, their cheers shifting from me to my brother, who stands tall upon the opposite cliff, his gaze locked upon mine.
"Twelve eagles!" a voice cries out amongst the throng of onlookers. "The gods have spoken! Romulus shall be our ruler!"
My heart sinks like a stone cast into the depths of the sea, and I feel the cold grip of the province wrapping its icy tendrils around me. At this moment, I realized how futile this whole exercise had been.
Romulus wanted to avoid uniting the Heart of Italy, yet the people chose to follow by way of the eagles. The arrow that was once destined for victory now seems little more than a feeble attempt to defy the will of the gods.
“My Lord,” Sordello whispers, his voice trembling with concern as he grips my arm, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What does this mean?"
"Fortune's favor hath shifted, Sordello," I reply, my voice hollow, my throat tight with emotion. "The signs have spoken that Romulus shall rule Rome."
"Surely there must be some mistake—" he begins, but his words are cut short by the sudden twang of a bowstring, followed by a searing pain that blossoms in my chest.
"Remu!" Sordello screams, his hands flying to cover his mouth as he stares at the arrow protruding from my body, its crimson fletching a stark stain against the white of my tunic.
I stagger, my knees buckling beneath me, my mind refusing to comprehend what has just happened. My vision blurs and I can hear the distant echo of Romulus' voice, thick with triumph, as he proclaims his dominion over Rome.
"Forgive me, Remu," he calls across the chasm that separates us, his words as cold and merciless as the arrow that has pierced my flesh. "But the gods have decreed that Rome must be ruled by a single hand, and their will shall not be denied."
