Emperor Diocletian Speech

I follow the noise until I see some light coming from a grated window, not much bigger than a couple hands width. I crawl up on some stones that have been left from some repair work and see through the window easily enough.

A sudden cheer breaks out in the crowd, and the royal party walks up on the stage. The three heirs wear the color of the Empire on their cloaks. The bright scarlet cloth makes them look like soldiers rather than the noblemen they really are. Emperor Diocletian walks up with the party, his long, pure white toga and lined in purple gush out the fact that he’s stronger, and more powerful than Emperor Maximian, who wears the plain robe that every head of the house in the Empire wears in public.

All three heirs, Constantine, Galerius, and the one I have not met, Maxentius, bow to the two emperors,

and swear fealty and loyalty of service to the Empire. I notice Galerius wears a black cloak, and I wonder if it is him that visits with Kevor. If it is, I wonder why he would wear the cloak so publicly for all to see. Horns sound to announce the beginning of the ceremony.
A platform rises from the floor with a man shackled between two soldiers. I press up against the bars to see if it’s Father. His robes identify him long before his name moves through the crowd. It’s not Father. It’s Magistrate Lucrasis, tied to the stake like a criminal prepared for execution. He wears the same black cloak as the man in the training arena. The man I saw in the healing rooms with Brenna. But, it couldn’t be him? The magistrate wasn’t Favarshi, but Roman. Tola said I was the first Roman.
Some last minute senators enter on the stage, standing in a special area with the other senators. One figure stands out of the fine robes. A figure I hardly believe I’m seeing. Father. Thinner, and with more white hair in his beard, but he’s here. I peel my eyes away from Father as Diocletian steps up to address the arena.
“Citizens of the Empire, today you will witness the birth of a new era.

The Oracle of Helios has spoken to the Empire’s servant, Severus. It is time for the Empire to be cleansed. The fledglings must have sky enough to spread their wings. So that they become the eagles they are meant to be. All will know of this time as the Trial of Heirs. For these three young men, all of the true blood must prove themselves worthy of such power.”

Diocletian nods. The two soldiers lift the magistrate up to stand before the crowd on a rough wooden platform before he continues. “The Trial will test loyalty to the oaths these men have sworn to the Empire before us. Loyalty tested shows a man’s worthy heart. Today this man, the former magistrate who threw a city in chaos, who…” he pauses. The magistrate interrupts with pleas, saying he was just following orders. He runs up to Emperor Diocletian, grasping the edge of his robe begging for mercy.

Diocletian steals a glance at the magistrate as the soldiers grab him and drag him back to the platform. The magistrate ’s action has caused an eruption of murmurs, and it takes Emperor Diocletian twice to start speaking once

more.
“Sons of the Empire, what do you seek?” he asks the three men.
“To serve, to preserve, and to fight for the Empire, and her citizens!” The three men respond to the roars of the cheering crowd.
“Heirs to our thrones, I charge you to bring justice to the Empire. Each of you must delve out justice to one who failed at his post so that others may not create such injustice and death to this steadfast city, ” he says. “Tell us what you would do to such a man.”
Movement draws me back to Father, where the senators whisper and shift uneasily. One of the men steps away from the senators to talk to Father, but Father doesn’t seem pleased. Father brushes him off, concentrating on one of the heirs, Constantine. I look for Perta on stage, but he and some of the other senators are absent. I jump back and forth from looking at Father, to the heirs.
Maxentius is the first to step up to the stage. His dark hair is similar to his Uncle Maximian, but he had such dark features that it’s hard to tell that he’s Roman. Maxentius turns, and addresses Emperor Diocletian, “To prove service and loyalty, I would have this man burned alive where he stands to show what happens to those who fail the Empire.”
The Magistrate pleads for his life to be spared, saying he was just following orders over and over again. Emperor Diocletian motions to one of the soldiers, who hits the magistrate across the mouth to silence him. The cloak flies off, and I see the purple cloth underneath. The Magistrate wears a color, not of his station. Magistrates are to wear blue. Everyone starts whispering about the cloak when before they were silent about this man being put to death. The up-to-now silent Emperor Maximian steps forward, and orders one of the soldiers to keep control of the magistrate.
I look at Father. He won’t even look at the Magistrate, as though a man isn’t about to be killed without a trial. I look out at the crowd. Several people have stood up, but there is not a whisper spoken anywhere in the stands. This man does not deserve to die like this, no matter what he did. Even the lowest citizen deserves a trial, but this man is about to be executed as though he were entertainment or a spectacle.
No one makes a move until Galerius steps towards the magistrate with his sword drawn. He replies to Diocletian’s challenge, “Let justice be done by the hand of the one he failed. Let his death serve as guide to how cities are to be run in the Empire. Let his death be an example, to warn others about what happens when the servants of the Empire fail. Let his body hang off the city’s wall until his bones bleach in the sun.”
Constantine’s turn comes next. He stays silent, turned away from the others. His silence remains unbroken as he turns, and walks up to the Magistrate of Nicomedia. He stays silent, as though there is no one else is in the arena. Standing in front of the man, he bends down, taking off the man’s gag, and speaks in whispers to the magistrate. They talk for a time, their voices too hushed for anyone to hear a word.
Constantine stands, turns, and walks towards the center of the stage, his head hung low as though in defeat. There must be something wrong. He lifts his head and takes a breath to say, “I would release this man. Thank him for his service, and let him be on his way. He believes he followed orders. There is nothing more we must ask than our men follow the orders the are given.”
The crowd is in shock and erupts in whispers. What would happen to the Empire if the Emperor lets men like this leave honorably? Diocletian walks up from the middle of the stage and walks among the three men. He talks privately with each of them, especially Constantine. Diocletian then takes off his own ring, and it seems like even the sun stops its movement in the sky to hear what this man has to say.
“By the powers vested to me by the gods, I vow the order was given to this man to follow, even if it was mishandled. You may find this confusing, and troubling to know such an order was given, however the fact that it was so unsuccessfully acted upon that this man,” he points to the Magistrate. “ He is being punished. Severus, would you like to explain the reason for these recent events?”
Severus, the man talking to Father nods, and steps forward to speak. “The gods have sent a message from the Oracle of Helios. The gods warn us the Empire may fall.”