As Menelaus took him into a dark alley, sunk in shadow even then at noon from overhanging roofs and balconies and ledges, Ptolemy imagined that this would not be a pleasant place to die. To look up as you draw your final breath – the last thing you see of this world being some slither of the sky obscured by shoddy, rotting wooden constructions, charcoaled so badly that even the graffiti had graffiti on it. As he stepped his boots squelched in the mud – even at this time of day it remained damp, shielded from the drying power of the sun. Puddles lay next to the body, purple with flies sipping from them.

“No one’s touched him since we found him. Pretty gruesome what a blade can do to a man, isn’t it?” Menelaus said.

Ptolemy looked back at him in surprise.

“I’d forgotten that you never fought in a battle; a man of your strength, your grizzle.” Ptolemy said.

“I’ve served a decade now, never seen the face of war. I count myself fortunate that I was too young to join when the last army left this city for the East. It’s a terrible thing to take the life of another person.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Ptolemy turned back to the body and looked it over. A trail of dried blood ran down his left arm’s mail. It had clearly been torn back from the hand, which was exposed and in fleshy strands. The other hand had blood on it – maybe not his own.

The face was a mangled wreck.

“Can’t tell who it is, but sooner or later the wife might come forward and tell us her husband’s missing, if he had a wife.” Menelaus said.

The breastplate was covered in crusts of dried blood, smeared across it.

“Someone was on top of him, holding him down.” Ptolemy said, pointing at the blood smears.

“Ptolemy” said Menelaus, “I’ve spoken with Senator Nassos. He says that no one found the boy last night. He thinks that it’s likely this was him. See, this is a dead end. He was probably cornered, had no other way to escape. Just like his father, he’d never surrender. But how the hell did he do this to a fully armoured soldier? He probably had help.”

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“Bullshit” Said Ptolemy, “This could have been any old gutter rat, thinking a soldier’s purse might be a decent snatch.”

“The purse is still on his belt, see – there.” Menelaus said, pointing.

“I knew Soter” Ptolemy said, “He couldn’t have done this. He was kind and gentle, an avid reader of the philosophies, he’d never kill another person… especially not like this.”

“Well, no one knows for certain either way. We’d better get this out of here before it stinks the place up.”

Ptolemy placed the body, which had been washed and dressed in full plate armour, onto the reed barge. Then he placed an iron Ankh painted gold in the center of the soldier’s chest and pushed the barge into the river.

He made his way back to the congregation of soldiers who were standing on solid ground, watching respectfully as the barge meandered down the river until it had shrunk out of sight. Then an old priest hobbled in front of the congregation, supported by a long staff at the end of which was an orange Sun Disk.

--

The Senate reconvened as soon as the public servants had cleared the former Consul’s body from the Chamber. Now, for security, the Chamber was covered in City Guardsmen, including Ptolemy. Ptolemy had never been inside the Senate before - he'd always served his duty outside the building. It was grander than he had ever imagined, perfectly clean even after blood had been spilled everywhere, with long marble pillars holding up the high ceiling. Paintings adorned the ceiling and walls - of scenes from the city's history.

The extra security was not simply to ward off another assassinstion - the Daratines had begun terrorising what they considered their portion of the city – marching through the streets, extorting merchants in plain daylight. Just the day before a brawl had broken out in the streets when some City Guardsmen had tried to restore order. Their bodies were looted, stripped naked before they could be recovered.

Fabian, Commander of the City Guard, stood at the top of the senate steps with hands on hips, looking down on the senate floor as Senators entered the chamber and made way to their seats.

When those senators who were brave enough to come had all been seated, the Elder Speaker, who customarily stood in for the absent Consul until a new one could be elected, opened his mouth to announce the business of the day but was interrupted.

“We must elect a new Consul.” Shouted the Commander from the top of the steps.

All the senators turned their heads to him, shocked.

“It is usually the Speaker who announces-“ said the Elder Speaker.

The Commander slid his right hand to the pommel of his sword and stepped down towards the center stage.

“Well I’m announcing it now. Why don’t you take a seat, you look weary?” said the Commander.

“It is my duty to-“ the Speaker said.

“Please.” Said the Commander, gesturing to an empty seat, “Don’t strain yourself.”

The old man begrudgingly hobbled towards the stone seat.