‘Iacta ālea est.’ The die is cast. The storm would follow.
Marcisus trooped with his legion over the Rubicon river, following their leader who had gone before them.
Within days they would be in Rome. Pompey would be forced to flee. Rome would be torn apart.
Marcisus saw it all unfolding. He had hoped his warring days were over. He had served Rome and her army all his adult life. His wife and children awaited him at home. All he wished was to spend his remaining days in retirement and watch his family grow up.
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