far."

Marcus could think of a lot worse places to stay than Peregoth, ancient founding city of the Empire—though now her glory was faded like a flower in autumn, and the center of power had moved mainland, she still held a place in the hearts of men.

He glanced at Tivera. Without thinking beforehand, he asked her, "Can we trust them?"

"Yes!" she answered. "Yes! They will do as they say..."

Marcus led Tivera onboard and soon the ship was on its way.

The city of Peregoth, though its name was no longer revered like in the past, was still impressive to look upon. Layers of white concentric walls, going ever higher and higher until reaching their pinnacle, stretched high above the waters of the bay. The Colossus—famous around the world—greeted them, anfurther.

"Solutions, councilors!" Bruesio demanded. "That is what we are called to do."

"I make a motion that we send the Nichaean Legion to face him," said Councilor Fabiano.

Bruesio shook his head. "The rebellion grows in the north."

"Are you really that worried about a bunch of runaway slaves?" Fabiano laughed.

Bruesio decided to play devil's advocate. "Winter nears."

"We still have time to transport the troops," said Councilor Arappo, a man from Bregantium who took an amateur interest in sailing. "We have one or two weeks before the storms begin in earnest."

"And where will the fleet winter?" asked Bruesio. It was an important question, one that needed to be answered.

"If they cannot return in time, they can winter in Megaris," Arappo said.

An easy solution, Bruesio reflected. "So we will send the Nichaean