Letter from the Trajan Emperor

Chapter 1: A Letter from the Trajan Emperor

POV: King Maximus

The heavy oak doors of the Great Hall groaned open, echoing off the high marble pillars. King Maximus sat on his gilded throne, his thick fingers carelessly tracing the rim of a goblet filled with dark wine. He was a man who wore his excess like a second skin, with heavy silk robes, sunlight-catching rings, and a permanent sneer etched into his face.

His ministers formed a semi-circle in front of him, their heads bowed in submission. They were talking about the latest raid on the eastern border, a small, vulnerable territory that had produced a new crop of slaves and enough gold to fund Maximus’ next indulgence.

The sudden interruption caused the king’s eyes to narrow. A palace guard rushed forward, dragging a dusty, exhausted messenger by his arm. The messenger’s clothes were stained from travel, but the emblem he clutched in his trembling hand was unmistakable: the Trajan Empire’s golden eagle.

“I bring a missive from Emperor Decimus Trajan V,” the messenger exclaimed, dropping to his knees. “He directs that it be delivered right to your hands, Your Majesty.”

Maximus arched his brow. Decimus. The young western emperor. A man in his early twenties who had managed to secure his borders and command an army that inspired an inordinate amount of loyalty. Maximus had always dismissed him as a boy playing politics.

He snatched the scroll from the messenger’s grasp and snapped the wax seal with a flick of his thumb. The hall fell dead silent as Maximus unrolled the parchment.

His gaze scanned the elegant, sharp script. As he read, his smug amusement faded into something darker.

To King Maximus.

It has come to my attention that your kingdom continues to wage unprovoked warfare against its weaker neighbors. I’ve received reports of kidnappings, trafficking in women and children, and the sale of innocent people into brothels and slavery. These atrocities are a stain on the honor of the land, and they will not be tolerated.

I demand that you immediately stop all such campaigns and disband your raiding parties. If you do not stop these heinous acts, the Trajan Empire will intervene. You will discover that my armies are not as vulnerable as the villages you prey on.

Choose wisely. You’ve been warned.

Decimus Trajan V.

The silence in the hall was absolute. Maximus stared at the letter, his knuckles white as he gripped the parchment.

“Your Majesty?” a minister dared to ask, his voice trembling. “What’s the emperor saying?”

Maximus gave a sharp, bitter laugh. It was a devoid of humor sound that echoed throughout the vast hall like a crack of thunder. He rose from his throne, the heavy silk of his robes swishing across the marble floor.

“He demands,” Maximus spat, as if it were a curse. “The boy-emperor demands that I discontinue my campaigns. He writes to me as if I were a disobedient child, threatening to intervene with his valuable armies.”

He descended the steps of the dais while holding the letter aloft. The ministers exchanged nervous glances. They were aware of the rumors surrounding the Trajan military machine. They were also aware of the terror of their own king.

“He’s a fool,” Maximus said, his voice rising. “Decimus sits on a throne constructed by his forefathers. He has no idea how much blood and sweat goes into expanding a kingdom. “He hears whispers about my methods and believes he can dictate terms to me from across the sea?”

Maximus walked to the hall’s edge, where a massive bronze brazier burned, creating dancing shadows on the walls. He held the letter up to the light, his eyes full of malice.

“He believes that his power protects him.” “He thinks his reputation scares me,” Maximus sneered. “However, the Trajan army is stretched thin, and their emperor is a politician, not a conqueror. If he dares to step foot on my land, I will have his head mounted on my gate.

Without saying anything else, he tossed the parchment into the fire. The flames quickly consumed the thick paper, curling its edges to ash. The golden eagle of the Trajan Empire turned black and vanished in a shower of sparks.

Maximus returned his gaze to his ministers, his expression twisted into one of ruthless ambition. “The warning is empty. He’ll bluster and threaten, but he won’t take action. “He is afraid of the cost of a true war.”

He pointed a ringed finger at his chief general, a grizzled man who stood stiffly by the door. “You. Prepare the legions. The harvest season is approaching, and the northern territories are ripe for the picking. This time, I’m looking for a larger yield. More slaves equals more gold.

The general bowed deeply, concealing his fear in his eyes. “As You Command, Your Majesty.”

Maximus turned away from them and stared into the flames that had consumed the emperor’s threat. His thoughts turned briefly, almost dismissively, to his own legacy. He considered his publicly recognized sons, men he had raised to be as ruthless as he was, unaware of the quiet existence of a different son, a beautiful, intelligent boy born of a secret affair, hidden away where his presence would not complicate the royal lineage.

Let the boy have his quiet life, Maximus remarked dismissively. The future belonged to those who had the fortitude to seize it.

“Send word to the raiders,” Maximus said, raising his wine goblet in a mock toast to the West. “Tell them to get ready. “We ride at dawn.”

Outside the palace walls, the sun was setting on a blood-soaked kingdom, completely unaware that the flames consuming Decimus’ letter were only the beginning of a fire that would soon burn it all down.