Episode 25 (41 AD):

Days passed and Demosthenes could only think about the chances of success of the plot to assassinate "Augustus Germanicus", who was none other than his former slave, Zenodulos, who had caused him so much trouble. Remembering how he had made him the main target of his cruelty in the bloody games, and the murder of his friend Arsames, filled him with fury. The guilt for his own capture and the uncertainty about the fate of his lost wife also tormented him relentlessly.

Claudius had promised him help to find her, but only time would tell if he would keep his word. Hope then was nothing more than a thin thread that kept him sane in the monotonous boredom of the cell.

Without him noticing, the five days passed. A radiant sun filtered through a small hole between the stones in the room, when the door finally creaked open. A guard with a hostile look burst into the cell. Without a word, he shoved open the cell door and tossed him a set of armor similar to his, but of poorer quality. The bronze scales were blackened by time. Completing the offering was a small broadsword in a worn scabbard.

—I don't have to explain what this is for, do I? — The guard whispered suspiciously.

—No...

Demosthenes put the armor on over his dirty tunic. The soldier helped him with a snap of impatience, as the armor was strange to him. The similarities to Greek armor were only superficial, and even these required help to be put on.

Finally, they left the cell and went down the long corridor that led to the exit of that underground place. A couple of guards greeted them with humility, confirming that the military hierarchy in Rome was much more rigid than in their homeland.

Following the man who freed him, Demosthenes finally found himself under the sunset sky. It had been so long since he had seen the sun that it almost blinded him with its brightness. But there was no time to waste. It was time to change the fate of Rome and his own.

They walked with firm steps through the splendid streets of Rome, with their well-kept stones and flanked by a mixture of monumental buildings and others more humble. Their armor resounded on the pavement, making their way through the crowd: men selling products, drunks staggering out of taverns, nobles dressed in their finest tunics, surrounded by their escorts; and prostitutes loosely dressed, leaning on the balconies of pleasure buildings.

Ignoring the inhabitants, they crossed streets and more streets until they climbed a hill. The guard stopped Demosthenes in front of a colossal structure: large marble walls supported by dozens of majestic columns separated plebeian Rome from the patrician one.

That place was not their target but to the side: a large wooden theater roofed for the occasion, where various shows and plays were presented for the festivities.

—Remember, you must always stay behind me —Whispered the guard—. Claudius mentioned that Caligula might recognize you.

Demosthenes nodded. Both men reached the entrance of the building, where two soldiers were checking the people who passed. Upon seeing the imperial guard, they let him pass without any inspection. They also did not dare to search Demosthenes. Without a doubt, that soldier seemed to be someone of power.

Upon entering, they found themselves in a large structure with a high, inclined ceiling supported by large wooden columns. Reminiscent of Greek theaters, the seating rose in a semicircle, granting the most prominent spots to senators and high-ranking military officials. Unlike their Greek counterparts, women here seemed to enjoy more freedom, as several accompanied their husbands, fathers, and sons.

Without a doubt, the magnificence of this place far surpassed any construction in Athens. Not because they couldn't do it, but because if Zenodulos had done the same in his homeland, the other politicians would have him exiled for their own benefit, arguing that it was too wasteful. And without a doubt, this place was.

On the central podium, the lowest sunken part of the entire structure, a play was taking place: a fictitious battle where a man pretended to stab another with a wooden sword. The "victim" sprayed streams of "blood" from a hidden pouch in his tunic, staining the ground a deep red.

Ignoring the spectacle, Demosthenes and the soldier went to one of the ends of the place. In the distance he saw "Caligula", dressed in his finest purple and gold tunics, surrounded by his Roman escorts and others who belonged to other lands, those he had already seen.

Zenodulos, sitting right in the middle of the front row, was happily commenting on the play with his companions. The war veteran clenched his fists to contain the anger that face caused him. Sensing his anger, the soldier spoke:

— We must wait for Cassius and the others to ambush Caligula and then we will go to support them — the Roman whispered to Demosthenes. — Don't ruin it.

The Greek nodded slowly. He didn't really know what he was getting into and felt too strange in that place too extravagant for his liking. But he needed to endure it to rid the world of Zenodulos.

Both men stayed where they were, as they were far enough away from the imperial seats for "Caligula" not to recognize the other immortal.

As the play drew to a close, the audience erupted in cheers and applause as the actors bowed and exited. The emperor rose from his seat and, flanked by three guards, headed towards a side door of the stage. Among them was a gray-haired man with a military bearing. His sun-weathered skin, battle scars, and piercing gaze confirmed the man's experience on the battlefield.

— That one over there is Cassius, the one who's going to stab that idiot. — The soldier whispered, undoubtedly that man looked like a high-ranking military officer.

The four men disappeared from the theater and several minutes of tense waiting passed as the audience exited. Even Claudius was there, among the departing crowd, and as he limped past Demosthenes, he greeted him with a slight nod. The Greek returned the greeting cautiously, trying not to reveal his identity to anyone else.

The only ones who remained were a few senators who were animatedly discussing their coastal properties and the emperor's expansionist plans in Alexandria, oblivious to what was about to happen.

Suddenly, the echo of shouts and the metallic clang of clashing swords reverberated through the corridors. Demosthenes instantly recognized that discordant music: it was the melody of battle. Several Germanic guards quickly rose and ran to see what was happening. The immortal and his companion did the same, and as quickly as they could, they made their way to the same exit where the emperor and the Northerners had passed, as the audience fled the theater.

They entered a long corridor with stone walls and lit by torches. It was a passageway created to connect the theater to the emperor's current residence.

In the distance, they came upon a gruesome scene: men in armor lay dead, those still standing fighting the blond foreign warriors.

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Demosthenes quickly searched for his former slave and found him lying on the ground, next to a broken palanquin that was supposed to transport him to his palace. His body had deep wounds on his head, chest, and groin, but he would soon be resurrected.

There was no time to hesitate: Zenodulos had to die.

Unsheathing his sword, the Greek ran towards his former comrade-in-arms. A Germanic, fiercely interposed himself in his path, blocking his way with his own sword. But the war veteran had no time to waste. Remembering his confrontations against the other Greeks and their armor, he drew a perfect angle with his weapon towards his opponent's neck. The guard, anticipating the attack, raised his sword in a defensive position.

However, Demosthenes had already anticipated that reaction. Using his left hand, he struck the man hard in the face. The Germanic, reeling back from the impact, left his neck vulnerable. Demosthenes did not hesitate: a quick movement and the sword cut the warrior's life short. He would have time later to apologize to the gods for his brutality. However, if all of them were the guardians of such a cruel man, it was likely that they were involved in many of his questionable acts.

A pair of Praetorian guards watched Demosthenes in astonishment. Cassius, the same one who stood beside a wounded Zenodulos, smirked.

—So this is the immortal who fought in the games — The Roman said. — Impressive.

—Be careful! — Demosthenes shouted. — That man is like me!

Cassius was confused for a few seconds, but then, understanding what Demosthenes meant, he turned to look at his "emperor," who was rising without any wounds.

— Damn you all, I'll have your wives and daughters tortured mercilessly in front of you. You're an expert at that, aren't you, Cassius? — The false emperor said with difficulty. — The lapdog who had whipped, beaten, and stolen so many times in my name, now betrays me.

—Silence, little boots — Cassius replied, stabbing him again, this time in the heart.

Zenodulos fell to the ground again, watching the rebel soldier with anger. It was the perfect opportunity to end this bloody period. Demosthenes quickly dodged the attack of another Germanic and ran towards the ambitious man, however...

His skin became increasingly white, not from blood loss, but from something else...

— What the...? — Cassius whispered.

In a heartbeat, the man solidified, his frozen form a frozen in the position of a struggling figure. Only a madman would make a sculpture in such a shameful position. But that was the pose our dear "emperor" would have for years to come.

Demosthenes did not give up and attacked Zenodulos' figure with all his might, but it was like hitting a rock. His sword broke in half.

—What is happening? —Asked the leader of the guards.

— Damn Angra Mainyu...

Then a Germanic stabbed him from behind, quickly ending his consciousness. The last thing he saw was the ceiling of such a narrow corridor.

Abruptly, he woke up. It took him a few seconds to stand up and what he could see was that they were inside another building, austerely decorated, with only one floor and a wooden door held up by four Roman soldiers. Loud bangs came from the other side. To his left, Cassius watched intently the Zenodulos' white marble statue.

—How did he turn into a statue? — Cassius asked with a trembling voice, never taking his eyes off the figure.

— He's an immortal, like me. Impersonating your emperor — Demosthenes replied, still dazed by his recent death and resurrection.

— So all these years of military service were a farce... although I still have no forgiveness, my intention was to kill who I thought was the original Gaius — The soldier replied sadly. — This guy boasting about being a god... what a big joke.

Then he turned to the Greek.

— We did the right thing to kill him. — He muttered.

—He is not dead, rather he is... asleep— Demosthenes corrected him.

Cassius clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked back at the statue, a perpetual look of terror accompanied the figure, so realistic that it seemed like he was going to run away at any moment.

— We'll figure out what to do with this... monster — Muttered the Praetorian. His gaze then fell on his companions, who were struggling to withstand the blows the door was receiving from the other side. From their language, Demosthenes guessed they were Germanic people trying to enter.

—You must hurry, immortal! — Cassius shouted. — Claudius must be waiting for you at the palace. You must make sure he is well. As some of the other guards have left to plunder whatever they can.

Demosthenes didn't know what to respond to this. His first thought was to ask what the survival of Claudius had to do with the guards' looting. But then he remembered the massacres of servants and eunuchs in the Persian camp many years ago. They were possibly ready to take revenge on anyone affiliated with that tyrant.

— We must protect Claudius and restore the republic.— The commander finally said. With no time to talk further, Demosthenes waited for the soldiers to move away to make way for the northerners. A couple of them lunged at the door, which this time gave way easily and several fell to the ground. The Romans took advantage and stabbed them in their necks.

The immortal ran over their bodies towards the palace... however, he didn't know where it was.

—I will guide you — Said another man, one of those who had been fighting alongside Cassius against the Germanic people.

They both rushed towards the great building that stood at the foot of a mountain, the Palatine it was called; following the same stone corridor where they had stabbed Zenodulos.

They entered through the open gates of the wall and found themselves in a large garden made up of several sections connected by marble stairs and fountains along the paths that crossed the parks of square shapes. Exotic animals for Demosthenes, such as peacocks, fled from the sound of screams and clashes of swords coming from the royal residence.

With no time to observe nature, Demosthenes followed the guard and together they entered through a side door of the residence. Entering a corridor decorated with statues representing gods and ancient heroes. Demosthenes could recognize some, but there was a big difference from the deities he already knew: the heads of almost all of them had been replaced by the already annoying head of Zenodulos, with a clear cut on the neck.

The immortal almost threw up at the sight of such a ridiculous scene, so he headed towards another corridor.

Suddenly, screams of agony and the roar of swords cutting flesh could be heard. At the other end of a long corridor, now decorated with bloodstains, armed soldiers brandished their weapons against men and women who were trying to escape their killers without success. The floor was littered with the bodies of the palace servants, who were probably just victims of their emperor's whims. Two guards were removing gold door handles and another seemed to enjoy stabbing a young man in ragged robes, he appeared to be a slave.

Demosthenes drew his sword to defend those who were fleeing. Seeing him, the soldiers were alarmed.

— Are you trying to prevent us from taking what belongs to the people and what this man has stolen from us? — Said one of those who was taking the door handles, with a bag full of them.

— You are killing innocent people.

— They have done nothing more than stand by while Gaius mocked us. My father did not fight alongside Tiberius for this.

— I warn you, lay down your weapons or I will be forced to...

But the guard didn't let him finish. The man who had killed the slave lunged at Demosthenes, who with a quick movement let himself be stabbed in the chest to create an opening and end the life of his opponent by slitting his throat.

The pain made him take a step back, but his wound healed quickly and he began to move towards where the other guards were. Scared, they threw down their bags of loot and ran away in terror.

A couple of men who had huddled against a wall to wait for their death took advantage of the guards' flight to run towards the opposite side, from where Demosthenes and the other man had entered.

— Not bad — Said the man accompanying the immortal. — Claudius must not be far.

Angered by his companion's inactivity, Demosthenes thought about reproaching him, but they didn't have time for that. They continued on their way, going down one corridor and then another until they arrived at one decorated with strange sand-colored statues and images of people always looking to one side and worshipping beings with human bodies and animal heads. It was the Egyptian treasure room. There, Claudius was with another armored man.

It was the one who had rescued Demosthenes from the cell. That man was now crouched in front of the crippled man in a sign of adoration. The Greek didn't understand anything, but Claudius didn't seem to be in danger.

In fact, this was all part of the plot as well: Claudius had to pretend he was hiding from the massacre and then pretend that the guards "found" him. The Greek seemed to be starting to understand, but there would be time to reflect later.

—Oh, it’s Aquila and Demosthenes — Greeted the Roman when he saw them. — Don't worry about Gratus, he's with us.

The soldier stood up and looked cautiously at the other two, but when he saw Demosthenes, his posture relaxed.

— We must hurry to restore order to the city. — Said the fifty-year-old, breaking the silence. — Let's follow the plan and go to the Praetorian Guard camp.

Demosthenes, with his mastery of languages, understood that the Praetorians were the emperor's guard. He was about to ask if he would be accompanying them as well, but Claudius, as perceptive as ever, got ahead of him.

— Yes, you're coming too, Demosthenes. — Claudius said with a smile, as he gave Gratus an arm to lean on.