I wear the
battle bloodied uniform of my rank.
Was it not
I, my Emperor, who grew up beside you? Held
your hand when the surgeon cut, stood by you to shoulder the scorn of your
father the Emperor Past?
Was it not I
who led your legions to victory?
Have I betrayed
you? By your orders I stand in this
arena to fight a barbarian before thousands of your intoxicated subjects. Is this how I shall die? In shame?
All my life I’ve
protected you, and you’ve left to make my grave.
