"Was that truly necessary?"
The question echoed softly in the marbled corridor, spoken in a tone that hovered between curiosity and reproach. The sharp scent of oil lamps and the distant murmur of senators dispersing from the hall still lingered in the air, heavy with the residue of judgment passed.
The session had ended. Pompey's fate was sealed by Caesar's firm hand, his verdict final. With dignity veiling cold pragmatism, Caesar exited the Senate hall flanked by his fellow Emperor, Crassus. A few paces behind them walked Nathan—silent, composed, yet ever observant. A shadow at their heels.
Octavius, ever the strategist, had lingered briefly behind to deliver a calculated post-session address—an elegant performance of rhetoric and loyalty. But Nathan had seen it for what it was: a masterful piece of gaslighting, designed to shape the narrative and justify Caesar's ruthlessness in the public eye. Octavius had always excelled at these subtle manipulations.
