"To new beginnings!" Theodosius, the Consul of Calor, toasted the room as he stumbled away from the table. Through blurred senses, he saw the light wood paneling and decor reminiscent of a ship that adorned the walls. For a moment he thought he was at sea.

"To the end of the Novissime!" The tavern patrons, a mix of townsfolk and off duty legion soldiers, cheered back.

It was unlike him to drink so much, and quite a political misstep to do so in public. "Oh what would Stilicho think of me." Theodosius muttered to himself before choking back vomit. He took another swig of sweet white wine to wash the taste out. He knew he didn't have long before it would all come up. He raised the bottle and toasted Calor again, though even he could not understand the words. Theodosius chuckled as the bar erupted in laughter.

"Go home old man!" A soldier playfully shouted.

"Is that an order?" Theodosius responded before stumbling out of the tavern door and onto the smooth whitestone walkway without waiting for an answer.

He stared up at the stars and raised a finger trying to trace the constellations of the Old Gods. "I see you! Swimming in the waters of the sky like little baby fishes! Bwahaha!" Theodosius burst into laughter at the thought of the once mighty gods being cast away by humanity like a fish too small to eat. "Who's the God now, little fish?"

In Calor, the only plot of land densely populated enough to be considered a city in the southern province, one was never too far from the sea. As it was so easy to find, Theodosius managed to narrowly avoid falling into it by clinging to a wooden pillar at the edge of the raised walkway. He gazed down, and caught his own reflection in the smooth rippling waves below.

"Oh you are a God are you?" Theodosius mocked his reflection. "The God of Calor. The God King! Ha. You are a fool, little man." Theodosius vomited the contents of his stomach on to his reflection.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

He fell to his hands and knees and continued to vomit until it was only bile. Theodosius heaved for a while after that then sat back. Tears from the strain had filled his eyes. He pressed his palms to them and let out a pained scream.

"Don't do it! Don't do it!" He screamed as pain coiled and constricted around his head. "No no no. You are a God now. The highest of men. Beyond a man now." He doubled over and gripped the edge of the walkway before springing to his feet. The move was too fast but he caught himself. "Good. Collect yourself, you old fool."

Theodosius led with his chest and walked along the water's edge. He would lead Calor to the pinnacle of the world no matter how weak and foolish he was. No matter the sins or mistakes made thus far. He was no longer a puppet. Not a Consul. He was, "Theodosius the first, God King of Calor!" He shouted it, strong and proud. And fake. He knew it, but this was his path.

Theodosius turned down a wooden dock, strutting by the time he was at its end. He looked down again at his reflection and saw his hair bedraggled. He shook himself and smoothed back his hair as many times as it took, then a few more to get back to his stately appearance.

The ship came into view in the moonless night closer than Theodosius expected it to be. His eyes widened. He chewed at nothing and licked his teeth. This was it. This was why he was up at such a deviant hour. What he had waited for since the sun hung in the sky. This is why he ended up in that wretched bar and in this pathetic state. This night ship carried Calor's future. His future.

Theodosius stood tall and stern, kingly was his aim, as the ship came into dock. Why was this so difficult now? Just be, Theodosius told himself.

The captain deftly guided the mid-sized seacraft against the dock and two dark skinned deckhands leaped off with massive roles slung over their shoulders. They moved with an ease as if the ropes weighed nothing and secured the ship to the dock.

The gate was lowered to provide the ramp to the dock and two more deckhands carried a smaller package off the ship. They laid the sackcloth wrapped treasure at the feet of Theodosius. When the deckhands took a step back, Theodosius shoved it with his foot, unrolling it from the covering.

Stilicho's lifeless body laid at Theodosius’s feet. His throat had been slit open and the orange cloak of the Novissime he had treasured so dearly was shoved in his mouth and pulled through the wound.

Theodosius laughed.