Day 362 - Pax Aeterna

Pax Aeterna

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

 

Smeared, the message read “Pax Aeterna, 2999 auc.”

“What do you think?”

“I think someone plans on having a celebration.”

“You don’t worry something bigger than that?”

“No. Graffiti doesn’t scare me.”

“Novo Roma scares me.”

“The dream of an eternal empire? Every few years it’s the same thing, people dreaming of some past that never happened. The empire that was and always will be. They get riled up, wear costumes, hold marches, but it always ends the same. With alcohol and other bacchanalian delights.”

“Unless the knives come out.”

“Unless, unless, unless. You’re too worried all the time. Let the people have their fun. We were both young once.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I just think we worry about different things.”

“Well, maybe, but that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Vince almost said, but knew it would just prolong the argument of opinions. Novo Roma had dreams of destiny, and that destiny included reestablishing an empire through blood if necessary. The graffiti didn’t worry him, just that it was appearing more and more often. Pax Romana had been the rage a few short years ago, but that didn’t seem very menacing. This was something more than expansion. This was how men talked when they felt divine inspiration, when they felt they were owed something, deserved it and more. Always more. If there were no line, no boundaries, then they would take. And enough was never enough.

“I think we need to add more men to the watch…”

“You can do that. I plan on having a bottle in my hand.”

You fool, Vince wanted to scream. Marc was the sort of man who would follow. He didn’t care who was in charge. Rules and laws were just things people wrote down and said, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t holy or even necessary. Marc always thought he knew what was right. If one consul or another said something similar or close enough, then Marc was content. Force and violence were just things that had to happen sometimes. Death was inevitable. As long as he was allowed to keep clinging to what was his and fight anyone that dared look at him wrong, he was a happy man. A simple but happy man. Vince hated his simplicity, but was envious sometimes. Not right now though. Right now he was afraid.