The Fall Of Roman Empire Book の小説・ストーリー

The word hangs in the air. The others shift slightly. I study her for a long moment then smile "I will never settle for a truce." "You think this is a failure?" My voice is quiet. "Let me explain something to you." I rise from my seat "Empires don't fall because of one attack." I take a step. "They fall because of repeated weakness." "They fall because the person at the top..." I stop beside Elaine. "...allows themselves to be challenged without consequence." She doesn't move.

I glanced back at the book. Maximus the Fallen.

She caught her breath as best she could in two seconds before twisting the iron handle that controlled the plain, unpainted metal door. A voice boomed not too far from the door, loud enough for anyone in the next room to hear, “The Roman Empire was a post Republican period of Ancient Rome and as a polity, it included larger territorial holdings around the Mediterranean Sea in Europe, North Africa, and Western Asia, ruled by emperors. It was founded in 31BC when as you probably all know, Augustus Caesar proclaimed himself the first emperor of Rome. And of course when you can name yourself leader, you don’t just toss the crown to just anyone. Ancient Rome came to an end with the fall of Consta

Chapter 41 — The Fall of Loyalty ~LORENZO~ There were men who made history. Men who built empires from dust and blood. Men like Adriano Moretti. And then, there were men like Cassian Nero—snakes who slithered through cracks in the stone, feeding off the greatness of others until they grew fangs sharp enough to strike.

I stopped crying after several hours and JD stayed with me the whole time. Before long, the day finally ended. This marked the end of whatever illusion I had of ever being with Adrian and the end of The Decadence of The Fallen as well. We were a band no more after that and the girl who once fell for the "Ice Prince" had given up on trying to melt his frozen heart.

The empire would fall this time. And he would rise. END OF FLASHBACK

It would be answered by behavior. By who moved first. By who tried to seize control. And by who chose to wait. As Nathaniel stood at the window one last time before sleep, he felt no urge to intervene. This was not a crisis. It was a reckoning. And the empires he had inherited were about to reveal whether they could survive without being dominated. The fall, he understood now, would not be dramatic. It would be quiet. Marked not by collapse, but by choice. And that choice was already underway.

It was a vindication of every bitter thing he had ever believed, and it was utterly devastating. A savage, unholy wave of satisfaction washed over him. Let it burn. Let the world see what they are. Let Caius's precious empire crumble under the weight of its own corruption. His father's ghost was finally speaking, and its voice was a roar of damning evidence. But the satisfaction was immediately followed by a cold, gripping fear. If the empire fell, what would happen to him? To Anna? The gilded cage was a prison, but it was also a fortress. If the walls came down, they would be exposed to the wolves—to Marcus, to the press, to the chaos. Caius was a monster, but he was a predictable one. The

That wasn’t becoming of a slave. “Not very much, Lord Lane,” I admitted. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t interested—just that the tome did not hold much information about the empire. “There isn’t a lot of information out there for us…humans,” I explained. “I know only that the empire collapsed in just half a century. But I don’t know why. No one knows why. And no one knows what happened to the king and the princess.” Lucas smirked, looking somewhat satisfied by my answer. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Your history stories seem to be so selective. As if the fine details were plucked out and replaced with fairy tales. The truth about Cearysal isn’t so pleasant.”

I add, hoping that remembering him will pull me out of antiquity. But apparently I’m stuck here now, because nothing changes. The terrified screams of the slaves, their pain, shatters through the late afternoon as the roman soldiers hammer nails through wrists and ankles. They do their work methodically, unemotionally. They truly believed that they were better than the slaves, and that they deserved this terrible, painful death for not accepting their fates. A fate created by greedy humans, not the gods as they would have us believe. “This was one of the biggest empires,” I say. “It endured for a thousand years.”