Date: July 30, 2001 (Aether: September 8, 3908)
Place: Atrium - Hall of the Sky - Palladium - Haven
Cast: Arius, Cressida, Hesperos, Jana, Magnus, Olivia, Selene, Tiber
Scene: Arius has been gaining a following of soldiers in the Schola, each bearing the double-lightning bolt tattoo upon their forearms that marks them as the Emperor's "chosen." It is with this military backing that he is able to strip the Aegis of its power, and the Princeps of his life, in a bold move that will rock the Empyre to its very core.

Atrium - Hall of the Sky - Palladium - Haven:
      To step into the Hall of the Sky within the Palladium at Haven is to step out of the natural world and into a verdurous paradise. To each side of the wide, long room march columns that grow upwards into the great arch of the ceiling, supporting it where the compluvium gapes open to the sky. The columns' rotund bases and indeed much of their spans are clad in twining coils of ivy. Below the open arch of the compluvium, the sky in all its fashions (be it the fury of storm, the silent splendor of the stars and moon, or the glory of brilliant sun) is reflected in the still waters of the impluvium. Adrift within those calm waters blooms the unique and unfamiliar lotus, its pale petals stark against the dark green of leaf, and the many shades of reflected sky.
      About the sides of the impluvium grows a fascinating veil of papyrus, the long stalks of that foreign plant rising from marshy soil fed by the basin itself. Each delicate reed ends in several small and delicately blue blooms that sway and bob in the sun- or hypocaust-warmed breezes that constantly flow through the chamber, a clear sign of Jove's favor for His chosen. Acacia in massive pots grow and twist in every corner of the room, filling it with their sweet scent when in bloom. And along the walls between each tree, a narrow trough clad in porcelain tile holds a spill of color and scent in the form of blooms of coriander, jasmine, chamomile, marjoram and neroli.
      Within this opulent setting are settees and chaise lounges perfect for allowing visitors to sit and converse, with many groupings screened for privacy by the verdant growth. Statues of important ancestors and previous Emperors of note line the walls, showing starkly white in pristine marble against the warm greenery. At one end of the hall is the doorway leading out into the courtyard; at the other is a smaller one, though no less grand, leading into the Emperor's private chambers.

A meeting of the Aegis, even when called as an emergency session, is never a small affair. Each Aegian has with him or her at least two Schola, most with their respective Adjutors, many with associated staff, assistants, aides, secretaries, and miscellaneous sycophants. Thus into the Hall of the Sky they proceed, one after the other, in a steady line of stuffy politicos and stuffier wannabes.

The room is at least quieter than the norm for such a gathering, for muttering seems to be the mode of conversation chosen on the way in. No bombastic shouting yet, no: many mumble between each other about rumors, gossip, worries, fears, and the suggestion that One of Their Own Kind has been tossed into the Praetorians' holding cells for...well, what? That's what everyone wants to know, that and how Haven is going to be sliced up, or nay.

Decisions, decisions.

House Januarius is nothing close to important when compared with the others, Jove and the Emperor's own Thanatos among them. But the diminutive shape of Cressida Januarius, the House Aegian (under duress, she often protests) is among those to find the front of the room. Her smile to her more noble companions is positively dazzling, if not downright pissy.

Grim, grimmer than even his normal demeanor, Magnus paces through the gathering, taking a moment to talk with those Houses that usually follow Jove as if reassuring them, or himself, of their stance in recent matters. He proceeds through towards the front of the room, clearly intending to take charge of the meeting as his usual duties dictate.

She is here because the representative from her office, that of the Imperial Viator, is presently... unavailable, one may say, to attend the Aegian meeting, and as a visitor she must wait until even the least of the Aegians file inside and are seated. Rolling a little, her gait stately as much because of demeanor as by her present girth, Olivia Jove selects a place at the aisle and sits down gingerly, managing to keep her expression to its serene norm.

And it is with much pomp that the Emperor arrives, his escort of Schola splendid in their armor surrounding him as he enters the hall. The young Deus Maximus holds his head high, chin tilted upward and eyes downward looking at the assembled crowd. His wings are arched high and half unfurled, impressive in their white arches. He is hear to answer those rumors and questions, perhaps not in the fashion the Aegis wishes to hear. He looks about the room, eyes stopping on Domina Jove and giving her a faint smile. His face otherwise shows little emotion.

Olivia, startled by the unexpected attention, bows to the Deus Maximus insofar as she may, puzzlement registering in her aquamarine eyes.

Beside the Emperor, the tall razor figure of a man. A new, and ruined, face perhaps to those who keep track of such things, Ceterion Tiber keeps his gaze locked on some unnamed location in the distance. The actions occurring around him are spared the least amount of his cold attention. He is Schola, and though he may not be pretty, he is it seems a part of the Emperor's Chosen.

Chosen, schmozen. In the front row Cressida does not rise to greet the Emperor; here they're supposed to be equals of sorts, and besides, she's sort of tired. But she seems happy to see him and fixes this new Ceterion, the one closest to Arius and placed there on purpose no doubt, with a discerning gaze. Maybe she's speculating on the length of his...scar. Yes, that's it.

Seated as always with the military Houses, the Aegian of House Iolanus waits without much pomp. There is much to say, and the patience for the pomp and decorum of the politicians wears thin on the normally placid Hesperos.

Magnus steps up on the raised dais in front of the gathering, raising one hand for attention of those gathered about. He waits in that pose for a moment, to all appearances having not seen the entrance of the Emperor, himself. "Domini and Dominae, Aegians of the Empyre, we are summoned to hear the words of the Emperor." Now Arius is seen and acknowledged with a half bow to the man as he stalks in the company of his Schola. A smooth gesture with one hand seems both to invite and to give the Emperor his due place in the center of the Aegis' attention.

From halfway back, Olivia resettles herself on the bench, wings fluffing and unfluffing for a moment. She does, however, show a small smile at Magnus' speech, and in her eyes is unadulterated adulation for the Princeps.

Arius moves on to the dais, the scarred Schola closest to him at his side. He comes to rest in an almost languid pose. "Dominae and Domini, I come to ease your minds. To explain my actions and to issue in a new age of Empyrean glory. No doubt, many of you are displeased with my declaration concerning the dispensation of our quarter of Haven." The blond godling gives a shake of his head. "Unfortunately, I was left with little choice in the matter. This body chose inaction for so long, that when the time came, I could not wait. Nay, the Empyre could not wait longer. It is from that edict that springs the matter of one of your number not present, and... "

The Emperor pause to look around at many of the face. "To announce that I am changing the role of the Aegis to that of an advisor to the Emperor." That should ruffle a few feathers and his smarmy look indicates he expects little else.

Right in front, Cressida cannot quite hide her surprise should Arius look her way, but her eyes widen, then her brows furrow at this proclamation. Then, seconds later, she smoothes her expression over to turn her attention to the Princeps and gauge his reaction. Around her, of course, are more vocal reactions. She's just saying nothing yet.

Hesperos just shakes his head for a long moment, there being little surprise upon his features. He crosses his arms and waits, for surely the Princeps would not simply wave away centuries of tradition on the word of one man, even if he is an Emperor.

Ruffle is not the word for many, but Magnus makes no sound of shock, no sudden movement. The faintest hint of a scowl touches his features, drawing his face into an expression cast of disapproval. He steps forward, alongside and opposing Arius on the dais rather than deferring to the Emperor as he is usually wont to do. "You are mistaken, Deus Maximus. Your office does not give you that authority."

She very rarely has seen a meeting of the Aegis, but even Olivia knows how unorthodox is this moment. Like many, she is watching Magnus, breath held unconsciously to see what the next moment shall bring.

And still, the disfigured Schola besides the Emperor spares not a glance to anyone in particular amongst the gathered crowd. It is the distanced gaze of a soldier; seeing nothing, aware of everything, and prepared to respond to the slightest movement should the need arise. He is as a loyal dog at his master's side, waiting for the command.

While the murmurs and shouts flutter about the room, Arius leans over to the scarred Tiber, his blonde hair obscuring his lips as he whispers some word to the Schola. He turns then to Magnus. "No, but by the gifts of the Kronian I am claiming that authority. Dominus Jove, I would ask you not to oppose me in this, I do not wish to depose you as Princeps. You have served well, I would see that service continue. Side with me Dominus Jove." His eyes implore Magnus. Pale blue focusing on the older man.

"Preposterous!" one plump Aegian is heard to scoff to his companion. "Outrageous, a clear mistake of office!" is the answer. So, too, are the mumbles and mutters about the room growing louder, more vocal; most people do not reach the rank of Aegian without having their voices reach long distances.

Swallowing, Cressida paints a smile across her features and ignores the mutters of those around her. She's more interested in seeing how Magnus responds, and unconsciously she leans forward, eyes narrowing in anticipation of the answer. "You...cagey bastard," those very close to her might hear her whisper to herself. And her gaze is on the Emperor as she utters them.

Hesperos moves forward, a motion that would normally state his intent to speak, but in this case, he holds his tongue. He watches the answer of the Princeps and at the red-clad soldiers of the Emperor. Shall we have a repeat of the tragedy of Civitas Dei? Hesperos analyzes the scene before muttered words travel to his own purple-clad Schola.

Magnus lifts his chin, "It is not the way of the Empyre, Deus Maximus. You speak of setting aside the weight of our traditions, the strength of our ways." He seems almost sorrowful, near to expressing such in face and demeanor, but the moment passes and suddenly Magnus is not simply a man and a politician, but a very real obstacle in the path of the Emperor's desire. He draws himself up and meets the Emperor's eyes not as a supporter, or a follower along the path as he has so often in the past, but rather as an equal, and perhaps even his better.

"You forget yourself. The authority of the Empyre has been shared, decreed that way by the very gods you purport to give you the authority to overthrow us." Magnus' voice drops slightly in volume, but not in intensity, adding to it a dangerous edge rarely employed but used here with utmost authority. "In fact, your gifts are not unique, Arius, and it is the Aegis' power to decide whether or not you continue to hold the throne."

Olivia's fingers are at the base of her throat, as if such a gesture could will her breath into her lungs and out again. Her eyes, too, have ceased to blink, for the tension in the room between Emperor and Princeps - between her employer and her husband - is thickish and permeates all corners of the room. And the thunderous expression on Magnus' face seems to frighten her.

There is a shift in the Schola, but not, perhaps, the one the Aegis might expect. It is a subtle motion, but one likely to raise the hairs on the back of the neck of those that are perceptive enough to notice, canny enough to understand its import. Their eyes are not for the Aegis, or the Princeps, but upon the Emperor with the eager expression not unlike that of a dog looking to its master.

A sigh that brings with it the droop of Arius' wings. A shake of his head that makes his curls bounce faintly. "Dominus, Princeps. I implore you not to follow this path in opposing me." His wings rise up then and he stares at Magnus, chest rising faster as he seems to be growing angrier at the thought. "I would not treat you as enemy. I seek only to bring the best to our people. The Aegis has proven unable to decide. Unable to act in defense of our nation. Unable to unite. And I will unite the Aegis by any means I have available."

A deep breath is drawn in and the wind in the chamber stirs. Swirling and twisting. Many of the garments flutter in the breeze, a few worn by Schola reveal the double lightning marks that have become a fashion among soldiers of late. "Kneel, Magnus Jove and profess your loyalty."

Golden curls fluttering in the wind like the undergarments of a prankster's victim, Cressida first stares at Arius, then gapes as she sees the tattoos that have been rumored. "By Apollo's gilded spear," she breathes, fixing her eyes on those double lighting bolts, "the bloody things do exist." And as if riveted by high drama she then turns toward Magnus, mumbling to herself, "Don't be an idiot, Jove."

It is for just one instant that Magnus' eyes leave the piercing gaze of the Emperor, a mere fraction of a second in which they reach into the gathering as if seeking some sign, some recognition, or perhaps something more than that. Understanding. Forgiveness. His gaze returns to Arius' with resolve redoubled and that expression making him look every year of his age and more. Perhaps it is the comparison inevitably cast by his proximity to the young Emperor, or perhaps it is the strangely heavy way in which he carries himself, stance shifting as if he struggles against a great weight on his shoulders.

Whatever it may be, Magnus levels his gaze on Arius and states in a very clear, very quiet voice that none-the-less carries through the room, "I will not bow before a man who is not fit to rule the Empyre." He leans slightly forward, almost staggering with an awkward shift and bores further with his steely gaze into Arius' eyes before all of the Aegis, voice dropping that only the closest might hear clearly.

"We were wrong to name you. You are not worthy."

"Magnus." Olivia's voice is scarcely audible, though the room has fallen into a grave hush, save for the low hum of whispers and shared speculation. She half-rises, no easy feat in her condition; whether her intention is to interfere or simply to see more in this unfolding scene is not immediately clear.

On the front row Cressida shakes her head and sighs for her ears alone, "Oh, you are buggered..."

Hesperos smiles faintly at the words, before tilting his head as one of his purple-clad Schola return to his side. Gaze quickly darting around the room, Hesperos frowns completely, his gaze flying to the Emperor and the Princeps. Perhaps the madness that struck down Arius' uncle was hereditary, and the Aegis has given him the throne. Stepping forward, he walks to the point behind Magnus, just off the dais.

Drawing back a degree, Cressida looks about her as if wondering if this particular vantage point was...ill-chosen. The Deus Maximus looks, in a word, pissed; the increasing sense of a tempest building is drawing her to her feet. Others around her stand, probably interested in moving back if the Emperor remains this angered. The small Aegian of Januarius has interest yet in retreat, but she too must gain her feet so that she can see what is happening.

Rage wells up. Arius eyes widen at the whispered words given by the Princeps. The wind roars more loudly. Gathering about the Emperor in an unseen torrent. Fueled by his anger and his young vigor. Little trickles of static energy flicker about his eyes. He raises a hand, outstretched. Fingers close into a fist ever so slowly. And the weight upon Magnus' shoulder grows ever more crushing as his fingers curl. "Magnus Jove, I am worthy." He bellows, voice amplified by the winds. "I am worthy to rule. It is this Aegis that is unfit to lead. His wings tremble, his anger threatening to push his power beyond his control. He hears no words. All others in there are lost. Only his fury at Magnus fills his vision.

Two of the marked Schola draw their blades, placing them in front of Hesperos. A sign that it would be unwise to move to much closer. Lest they sheaf them inside the old war-horse. All over the hall, the hands of those bearing the twin lightning marks wrap hands about the hafts of their weapons. Their numbers enough to warn the few of their brethren without the marks to not take rash action.

Magnus trembles under a weight that cannot simply be the heft of one hand, wings drawn towards the earth and body trembling. The muscle in the line of his jaw jumps furiously with the tension pulling it tight and he grits through clenched teeth, "By the authority of the Princeps, I call upon the Aegis to vote on the fitness of Arius Thanatos.." Beads of sweat jump out on his brow in sharp contrast to the smooth dome of his skull. He covers Arius' hand with his own as if attempting to remove it, but is unsuccessful.

Magnus's suffering brings the bulk of the Aegis to its feet, but no one is saying anything, doing anything, moving many muscles. For one, they are fascinated by this first showing of Arius' might. For another, there is a legion of those oddly marked Schola around, and most of them are unknown to the Aegians...and they look as dangerous as the power that presently swirls around the Deus Maximus. And, lastly, no one wants a part of what Magnus is receiving. Not yet. Probably not ever.

Selene passes through the doors from the atrium and stands near the foot of the Hall.

Her features chalk-white, as if she is suffering along with her beloved, Olivia takes a half-step toward the stage before someone restrains her. Gently, mind, the dais is no place for her presently. "No...no..." The words can scarcely depart her lips, her horror robbing her satin-smooth voice of strength. It is all she can do to keep from pushing away those hands that hold her to plead for an end to Magnus' suffering.

Blond curls fly about around Arius' head. A mad halo of golden hair. Little sparks of electricity jump from curl to curl. The air in the room growing thin, save for at the dais where it grows ever thicker and heavier around Magnus. A crushing force slowly slipping through the fingers twisting into a fist around Magnus' hand. Where before his eyes implored, they are glassy with rage. Only a storming hatred that this one would deny him.

Hesperos frowns at the two Schola with drawn blades to his neck but moves no further. Speaking loudly, having to practically yell above the winds within the room, the retired Praetorian calls out, "House Iolanus holds that Arius Thanatos has overstepped the privilege and power of the Throne, and is no longer fit to hold it." His head turns to the others in the room, waiting, hoping for support. Have the vote done, have the motion carried, and then he is Emperor no more, but just a man holding the Aegis hostage.

This is obviously a bad time to slip into the meeting and the late-arriving Dea pauses with a gasp caught in her throat as her feet take only a couple of steps past the threshold. Her eyes are fixated on the activity involving her cousin, the Princeps and the Emperor and while she missed whatever activity had preceded this point, it cannot be good. Selene's gaze trips from one Schola to the next, searching for some protection, or perhaps some kind of answer to what is going on. Not that they would know, of course, they have arrived with her. Her wings tighten to her back and she remains near the rear of the room, should the need to escape become paramount.

Wings abnormally crushed as if a massive, invisible hand had him in its grip, toga twisted about his body, Magnus goes to his knees like a tree toppling, with agony twisting his features. Breathing, it is clear, is almost impossible. It is with the last fragments in his lungs that Magnus hoarsely gasps, "Consultum ... de ... republica ... defendenda!"

And then there is nothing more as he struggles in vain to fill his lungs once more. Blue slowly infuses his lips and face as he glares stubbornly at the younger man towering over him in the halo of his elemental glory. 'You are unfit,' are the silent words on the mouth of a dying man with no breath left to speak.

While her choice of words is relatively ... coarse in comparison to any iteration the other Aegians might have made, Cressida's reaction likely sums up the general sentiment. "Holy shit..."

A hush falls over the room, dense and expectant, until the silence is pierced by a single scream of anguish from the middle of the room. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Pressing past those who would seek to restrain her, Olivia hurries forward, already half-blinded by tears and the rapidly rising grief that threatens to overwhelm. "No, no, gods, lares, no, no...." she sobs, intending to lunge past the Schola, the very gates of hell, if necessary to get to her husband's side.

With a rough cry of his throat, the words enraging the Emperor beyond all measure. The wind wrapped about him tightens for a brief moment as the fist he makes clenches. Then opening his hand and making a dismissive gesture that sends a wind to hurl Magnus' body backwards to the floor where he kneels. He turns then to those assembled, a look of lust on his face at the exhilaration of his act. "Does anyone else defy me? How do you vote, Aegis? What say you all." The air is ripe with the smell of ozone. Perhaps his next strike will not be so slow. And those Schola, the ones with the lightning marks? They have all drawn their weapons now. Ready to strike should their Emperor order it.

Cressida blows out a breath as the most recent defiance to Arius' strength is crushed like a bald grape. She's not the one to step up and tell him to go blow. He just might, and she has no lightning-proof undergarments under her chimere.

There is the sound of breaking bones in the Emperor's final act and then Magnus falls limply to the dais, defiant no more.

Selene doesn't move, either toward her cousin and his wife, nor does she retreat, frozen in fear over the scene she has just witnessed. She cannot imagine what Magnus could have done to bring on the young Emperor's wrath, but she isn't certain, looking at his limp form, that she could even speak up against Arius is she wanted to. Her wings encase her like a cocoon, rustling around her like dry leaves in autumn. Her eyes remain wide, running from Magnus to Arius, her gaping mouth covered with a quivering hand.

"Will you kill all who stand here, Arius?" The title is discarded, for Hesperos has already cast his vote, "Will you leave here with a pool of blood to declare your new regime? Surely, you can not expect the people to accept this mockery. Will you, then, submit our Empyre to war and rebellion over your petty ambitions?" His arms crossing, Hesperos takes a breath before saying, "If so, take me as your first. It saddens me to see the Throne disgraced so far, and I would rather die upon the blade of your traitorous soldiers, before I see it disgraced anymore." Maybe the old war-horse isn't as spineless as the rumors would say...

The Schola, apparently understanding the lack of threat from the Domina who has raced forward, part enough to permit Olivia to the dais, where she collapses at the side of Magnus's shattered body. "Magnus," she whispers imploringly, brokenly, "Magnus, darling... please... please..." Then, to the nearest individual -- Schola, aide, whomever -- she pleads in the tiniest voice, "Find a healer. I cannot lose him. Find a healer."

Abundantly clear to the rest of the chamber, however, is the fact that Magnus is already lost.

The lust seems to drain out of Arius, his skin going its normal pale color once more. He watches Olivia move with a distant regard. Magnus crossed the young Emperor. He was given every chance to relent, but he would not do so. His gaze turns slowly toward Hesperos. His oratory gone, he makes a gesture to the Schola. And they draw back their swords and plunge them toward the old war-horse.

"I will give you an honorable death, though you accusations discredit you." His voice under control, Arius straightens his toga. Eyes slide about the room. "Does anyone else wish to question me? Or will you all work with me, to make our nation strong and powerful once again? The Varati do not war with us, we have only traitors within to deal with. And my Fulminaris will deal with those as harshly as we would deal with any enemy."

"What the fuck is a Fulminaris?" Cressida quietly asks her neighbor, trying not to look at the remnants of the Princeps and the woman wailing and such over him. Besides, presently it is not safe to turn away from Arius. "We stand strong with you, Deus Maximus!" her voice declares with startling clarity and strength. "Long live the Empyre!" She looks around at her brethren, muttering, "Come on, idiots, smile and support him unless you desire to join the Jovian up there on the floor?"

Sapphire eyes filled with shock and fear swing to Cressida, quickly filling with anger as well at her proclamation. Or perhaps just her general dislike for that woman in general, it is hard to tell. But Cressida is only given a moment's attention, for she is not the one doling out death sentences. Back to Arius Selene looks, and her hand has finally dropped to her side and her mouth has drawn closed. If it were not for the expression in her eyes and the quivering of her wings, she might actually appear calm.

The look of surprise widens Hesperos' eyes for a moment, as the Schola plunge their blades into his body. His knees weaken for a moment, and it would seem the blades of the Schola are all that hold him upright, as he turns his dying gaze to the Emperor. "You .. can't .. do .. this..." is the warrior's last words, as blood fills his mouth. Choking on it, Hesperos finally collapses, his wings rest upon the ground, the feathers slowly turning red, as blood pools from his body, and flows off the dais.

No one moves, however, to help the Imperial Viator, not with Arius still so irate, not with the fact that Magnus is so plainly beyond help. Olivia's fingers find his cheek and there linger, hand violently shaking before she sags to the dais floor, head on the still chest of her husband, silent sobs wracking her blossoming shape. Understandably so.

The young Deus Maximus need not reply with an already have. It is imminently clear about the truth of that fact. The two Fulminaris withdrawn their blades, plunging them back in once more above the fallen Hesperos' wings to ensure his death. The wipe the blades on the old man's wings and turn toward the other Aegians. Arius watches it all with cool regard. "Now then, I see there are no objections to the new order." He is calm once again and the winds have begun to calm. "I will speak of Dominus Augustin. And of a new order, my closest guardians who will see my will is followed."

She had been silent until now, but Selene's fear cannot contain itself within her pale frame. From the back of the room comes her scream, high and wavering as she nears tears. Not yet aware of the state of her cousin, she can only react to the violent death of Hesperos. Her knees buckle and while one Schola quickly grabs at her arm the other -- one bearing twin lightning bolts on his arm -- looks to her with a sneer as his gladius comes free of his sheath. "Leave her," she snarls at his companion who, shocked, drops the Dea without a second thought.

With a last glance at the bodies on the dais, Cressida grits her teeth, settles in her seat once more, and plants a smile on her face. She trains her eyes on Arius as if she adores him, body and soul. Knowing her, the former more than the latter.

Jana passes through the doors from the atrium and stands near the foot of the Hall.

The chest seems to neither rise nor fall, the Emperor's vicious act of violence having provoked a small trickle of blood to crawl from the Princeps' mouth. None would expect him to protest further, to raise his voice against the proclamation of the Emperor -- and he does not. But this seemingly dead form does shift in the slightest, hand rising to touch with obvious tenderness the crown of Olivia's head. The pain in Magnus' eyes seems not for his own plight, but for the agony of the woman hunched against a body he can no longer command. Bubbled words are forced from the pressure of crushed ribs and lungs that refuse to fill fully again,

"Sorry." Breath is struggled with again and beyond the bounds of what ought to be, Magnus whispers his last, "...Love you."

Continuing his oration as if Hesperos were not a bloody heap on the floor and Magnus Jove had not had the life choked from him, Arius speaks. "Gabriel Augustin attempted to conspire with foreign powers to overturn my edict declaring our quarter of Haven sovereign territory of the Empyre. For his treason he was arrested and has been placed in the Eyrie until such time as he recants." He makes a broad gesture to the Schola with tattoos, the one with swords still drawn. "These men, they are Fulminaris; Lightning Strike. They answer to me, and me alone. Men of courage and loyalty and honor from the ranks of both the Praetorian Guard and the Schola. When you see the mark of my chosen ones, you will treat them as my hand. For they are my presence in our Empyre just as I am the presence of the gods on earth." If he hears the words of Magnus Jove, his own rumble over them.

Knowing that she is dreadfully late to the meeting, Jana slips past the doors as silently as she possibly can. Last-minute, hurried adjustments are given to her chimere and hair, and nervously she clutches a scroll in her small hand. It does not take long for her to stop dead in her tracks, her face going dreadfully pale as she beholds the scene of violence. Slowly, one hand lifts to her mouth, to stifle the mere possibility of a scream.

Recoiling at the words, at the sound of the shattered remains of her husband's beloved, resonant voice, Olivia wipes at Magnus' mouth where the trickle of blood emerged, hope flaring in her irises. "I love you," she utters softly, kissing his lips as he stills once more, leaving her to sweep eyes across him, seeking with a frenzy further signs of life. Tears splash against the pale cheeks of the Princeps as his wife stares, studies, begs, prays for another sign.

None is forthcoming, and when such is realized, Olivia sinks down again, more aggrieved than before, as if she has lost her beloved twice this night.

From the crumpled heap on the floor -- more silks and feathers than flesh -- Selene watches the Emperor with her ragged scream quickly cut off, lest he take her outcry as defiance and strike her down as he did the others. She looks up but finds her Schola unwilling to assist her so she does not yet rise. Every few moments her eyes flutter toward the fallen Princeps and his mourning wife, but just as quickly she looks away, lest the trembling of her lip lead to more tears.

Cressida keeps her attention focused on the Emperor. Not to Magnus, not to the pale women (*silly pusses,* she thinks), nor to the recoiling men who cannot stomach the violence, but on the guy who offed two of her brethren and arrested a third. She's no dummy.

Hearing no objections, save the gasps and strangled screams. Arius nods once to those who understand, at least enough to keep quiet. "There is no more to discuss. Save that I would remind you to keep in your memories what has occurred here. I will accept no more disloyalty. No more weakness. We will stride forward as a nation of the strong, united under my leadership. Those who would bar the path will be trampled."

With that, Emperor Arius Stavros Thanatos I, Emperor, Lord of the Winds and Skies turns with a flourish and marches out of the hall toward his private chambers. He leaves others to clean up the havoc wreaked by the storm of her fury. A new order indeed.

On her feet at once, with a swift glance toward those who were squished and skewered, Cressida falls short of calling out Arius' name or other patriotic demonstrations because the other Aegians might not appreciate it, and besides... Arius' attention right now is not precisely a wanted thing. Best to suck up later.

Selene doesn't move until the proud footsteps of the Emperor have faded in the distance, and even then she remains where she is, taking stock of the situation. Finally one of her Schola sheathes his gladius and the other, taking it as a signal, offers the Dea his arm to aid her to rise. "My cousin," she murmurs weakly to him while testing the strength of her legs. "I have to ..." She doesn't finish, but with shakes steps heads toward Olivia and Magnus. She seems to have be blinded to the bloody carcass on the floor and soon the fine marble floor is marked with crimson footsteps left from her sandals. "Domina?" Her question comes softly to Olivia as she sinks to the ground near Magnus and his weeping wife.

Once the Emperor has cleared the room, along with his tattooed guards, the chamber erupts in sound, conversations swelling the noise until hearing one's companion may be less than easy. The bodies will be carted away to their respective Houses, that much is certain. And more certain still is the fact that word of this will be in Civitas Dei and throughout the Empyre swifter than can be imagined. News this grave, this profound, always travels quickly.

Unresponsive, clinging only to the bestilled, breathless figure of her fallen spouse, Olivia remains unmoving beyond the rattle of her weeping. Her world, her universe, her life and happiness have collapsed, and she is not easily distracted from her sorrow.

Cressida purses her lips a moment, thoughtfully, then with decisiveness she plows through the lingering masses to head toward the exit. "Bloody sheep," she sighs, vexed, but... is all the tension merely from being so short whilst trying to get through a crowded room?

Slowly creeping forward, Jana's gaze flickers from Arius to the bodies and then back. Her hand drifts back down to her side, and as she comes to the fringe of the gathering, she swallows down the bile in her throat. Her fingers restlessly crinkle the parchment of the scroll she carries. She opens her mouth to say something, but words fail her entirely.

Cressida steps through the doors and re-enters the inner courtyard of the Palladium.

Had she expected an answer? It isn't certain, but Selene doesn't attempt to gather Olivia's attention with a second call to her. She sits quietly near her fallen cousin and bites her lip, hard, to keep the tears from staining her cheeks and leaving her weaker than she already is. "Oh gods," falls from her lips in a mournful plea to every god in the pantheon.

Help arrives from the Houses eventually, of course; men to bear away Hesperos' bloodied corpse, men to carry the fallen Princeps back to Jove. Olivia does not wish to separate from Magnus's body, not now, not ever, but strong hands will pry her from him so that he may be taken home one last time. And then, only then, does she recognize that someone is near, a friend and one well-loved; against Selene she leans, like so many trusting herself to the Dea's strength. Bolstered by attending guards from their respective Houses, Selene and Olivia are escorted out to spend the night in more private shows of grieving.

The ominous air about the Aegis and, soon, the Empyre will suggest such a thing may soon grow all too common.

FIN  

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