Imperator in Roma

Romulus, the man known as the apex, was a giant. Around two and a half metres tall, he towered over everyone, safe for the dragonoids, looked down with hard, green eyes. He looked like a man in the middle of his forties, with sun-browned skin, hard wrinkles cutting through, acquired in a life of hardships and unpopular decisions. His short, brown hair showed the first signs of greying, but the bare arms reaching out from his white toga were bound with muscles, rippling with enough vigour to crush a boulder with an off-handed motion. Atop his head crowned a perfectly formed olive branch.

John looked up from the window to see Romulus look directly at him. It was only for a moment but John’s heart stopped beating for that moment, his lungs felt like they were encapsulated in iron. Then the Apex’s eyes moved on. Nobody else had noticed. ‘He tried to kill Gaia and lived long enough to try a second time and he STILL lives?!’ John thought and gulped. ‘That is a level I am supposed to be able to reach?’

His eyes moved on to the two figures following Romulus as he walked down the midway towards the plateau in the middle. Both were supreme beauties. To Romulus right was a platinum blonde woman, which fell over her back as a beautiful wavy cascade, with copper skin. Her golden eyes glowed like the sun and her plate armour of the same colour radiated the warmth of a spring noon. The plate was forged for her body, as if hammered onto it, and hid none of her curvy form, from the big chest to the thick ass. Behind her back hovered a disk of fire, confined only by a black halo.

The other one was as pale as a sheet of paper. Her hair the silvery white colour of the moonlight during the celestial bodies fullest nights, long and straight, flowing down her back. She wore a dress that was almost translucent, the colour of the night sky with shining stars shifting on top of it like wandering gemstones. She had a subtle build, with elegant movements and her silver eyes were cold but gentle, like the hand of **** at one’s last peaceful moments, where one greets the grim reaper like an old friend.

John closed the last window. “Anything interesting?” Rave asked while Romulus climbed the stairs with a single step. “A lot, although I am unsure how much they wanted me to know and how much of the rest is true, they clearly knew I was watching them,” John answered. “I will walk you through on the way home…also you will have to explain to me what a Kuudere is.” “Caaaaan do,” Rave giggled, she already had explained, in detail, what a Tsundere was.

Romulus sat down on the throne. To John the chair had looked massive but under the massive form of the European ruler, it seemed barely adequate. Sol and Luna stepped onto the first of the three stairs leading up to the highest plateau, where they then turned to the audience. The last bit of chatter died down, whispers died. Anticipating quiet was the only thing to be heard.

“My subjects, my neighbours, citizens of the Old and the New World that you have gathered here today, and the ones of you that watch from their homes, I greet you all to this historic meeting,” Romulus voice rolled throughout the cathedral like a lion’s roar, “as you all are aware this is the third election for the title of King of Germany. Rex in Germaniae.” ‘Wait, I thought the title was emperor…’ John furrowed his eyebrows. Did Romulus just fuck up? He honestly doubted it, he would have to ask Lydia later.

“Usually these elections are held upon the **** of the last king but Frederick insisted on holding these early. However, as there has been no victor in the last two elections, the rule of strength is now in place. Shall no winner come from this election, we will see the candidates battle in a tournament over the crown. Sol, Luna, prepare yourself for the count.”

Sol to his right site and Luna to his left extended a hand away from the throne. From the sun goddess hand flung golden light, mirrored by the moon goddess in silver. The lights took the shape of two circles hovering in the air, clear for all to see, no matter where in the hall they were.

“Elector of Austria, Arch-Duke of Vienna, Prince-Regent of Greater-Hungary, Duke of Ulm, Arch-Duke of Gravity, Maximillian Franz the Fourth von Habsburg, do you, as Candidatum Primus, wish to stand by your claim?” Romulus asked. Maximillian turned from the crowd and bowed to Romulus. “I do, Emperor of Kings,” he said with a smile. Romulus nodded.

“Granddaughter of the Elector of Brandenburg and of the current king, Princess-Regent of Brandenburg, Duchess of the city of Lübeck, Marquise of Pomerania and Silesia, Princess of Steel, Lydia Augusta the Fourth von Hohenzollern, do you, as Candidatum Secundus, wish to fight the claim of the Candidatum Primus, despite his official endorsement and legitimacy?”

That was the first time John had heard about this. He had just assumed Candidatum Secundus was a fancy title without further implications. ‘So, she wasn’t just a candidate, but the one to throw a stick into the machinations of succession, huh? Explains the whole ‘divisive figure’ part I keep hearing about.’ he thought.

Lydia turned only until her shoulder pointed at Romulus. “I do. The self-proclaimed King of Vienna has not the best interest of Rex Germaniae in mind. He is loyal to the country, not its people and, what’s worse, he is loyal to you before his own subjects, Emperor of Rome. Somebody who sees himself as the first-servant of you and not as the first servant of the state, I will not allow to sit on the throne. I challenge his claim; may the electorate decide what is wise.”

Without a respectful nod she turned back to the gathered people who started whispering. “Geez, she has bigger balls than I thought, talking to Romulus face like that,” Rave admitted. “Yes…but I don’t know if that was wise, if she likes it or not, if she wins he is still the one that rules over all of this,” John whispered back, “I wonder if she follows a plan or this was just something she wanted to say for a long time.”

Romulus himself seemed unfazed by this. “Your challenge is heard, may the electorate decide indeed,” he roared. “As per tradition, the king may not elect himself, therefore Frederick’s vote will not be counted for the election. However, he may give an endorsement, if he so wishes.” “I do not wish to endorse either candidate,” Frederick shrugged and shifted in his chair. “My time has passed, let the new generation take this empire to new heights.”

“In that case, following the order of tradition, written down by my friend and foe Barbarossa, 800 years ago, I shall proclaim the first of my two votes. I refrain from using my first vote,” Romulus announced. This was no surprise, from what Lydia had told John Romulus always stayed neutral, the remaining electors then found a way to make it a tie, just so they could have their games. John had yet to entirely comprehend why, simple entertainment was not good enough a reason, or was it? Honestly, John only scratched the surface of Abyssal culture, so maybe he was entirely wrong.

“Elector of Vienna, proclaim your vote,” Romulus continued with the election. Maximillian’s grin grew back into it’s cocky form. “Whoever could I vote for? I wonder, I wonder,” he joked, “between me and the candidate that just accused me of being loyal to the wrong cause…mhm, I think I will go with myself.”

Some people snickered, but generally the joke went by without a care. A stroke appeared in the golden circle that Sol had created. ‘So they count using roman numerals? Well, it was to be expected,’ John thought.

“Elector of the Low-Counties, represented in this age by the Netherland Trading Company, step forth and declare your vote,” the ritual continued. A foxy blonde woman in a business suit stood up and made her way up to the plateau. Once she arrived in front of Romulus she took a knee for a few moments, before getting up and declaring her decision to the audience. “My vote shall be with Lydia Augusta of house Hohenzollern. The Netherlands favour federalization, which will bring new wealth to the whole of Rex Germaniae.” The woman took one of the six remaining seats as a silver stroke appeared within Luna’s circle.

“Elector of the southern Alpine regions, represented in this age by the Swiss Confederation, step forth and declare your vote.” The same ritual ensued. An old man, relying heavily on his walking stick, made his way up. Despite his obvious problems he wasn’t allowed to skip the kneeling. He needed longer to get up than he had been kneeling in the fist place.

“The Swiss Confederation agrees with the N.T.C. Nothing is more important to use than our autonomy and the Austrian candidate threatens this our status. Our freedom and federal status cannot be threatened. As the country between France, Germany and Italy, our neutrality must be our own the decide. The vote goes to Lydia Augusta of house Hohenzollern.” With an obvious sigh of relief, the elector fell into his chair. Two silver strokes for Lydia.

“Elector of the duchy of Bavaria and the city of Munich, represented in this age, as in every other age before, by the duchy of Bavaria, step forth and declare your vote.” John was disappointed when the man answering to that call was not a Lederhosen wearing drunk, but instead a middle-aged man that had a similar pompous get-up to Maximillian.

“Autonomy is important, but so is that everyone pulls their weight in this union of states,” he spoke to the assembly following the show of loyalty to the emperor. “And Princess Augusta promises a world in which we drift former apart and our bonds weaken. To the east the Blood rises again, to the west the Illuminati are uncovering spells that could spell our doom and their alliance to the Greeks is concerning already. This is no time to concentrate on prosperity, but on safety. My vote is with King Maximillian.” A golden stroke, now they were tied.

“Elector of the city of Prag and the Czech people, represented in this age by the Czech League, step forth and declare your vote.” The man who now got up to the plateau was only wearing a brown monks robe. He stepped in front of Romulus, but he didn’t kneel. Instead he just only made a bowing nod with his shaven head before turning around.

“We vote for Lydia Augusta of house Hohenzollern. Although I personally don’t disagree with the threat from the east, and I hold little love for the Greeks, the Czech could never vote for an Austrian candidate. We, the Czech, know their oppressive ways and the wheel of time has not spun far enough for us to forgive, especially while our Slovak brothers still remain under their thumb. At least the Silesian’s are to remain autonomous under the Princess’ rule. In short, FUCK THE AUSTRIAN’S!” With that sudden, and very angry, outcry, the monk sat down. 3 for 2 in favour of Lydia and only two more votes, one subtracting Romulus refusal to vote.

“Elector of Saxony, represented in this age by the duchy of greater Saxony, step forth and declare your vote.” Another old man came up. This one looked like the wise king archetype, although he was actually a duke. Unlike the speaker of the Swiss, this one was still strong in his old days however, even though he was a bit fat.

When he turned towards the audience he hesitated for a moment. “It comes down to me to declare the vote between a tournament or a victor, it seems. A great honour, but also a great burden. Both sides ring true. Protection however, especially from the communists that aim to eradicate our way of life, is most important to me however and the people of Saxony would be happy to have the states of Germany become more closely tied, instead of further divided into autonomous regions.”

Maximillian grinned, John raised an eyebrow. Seemingly it would come down to a tournament after all. The duke continued, “But it is especially because I want protection and stability that I cannot allow for us to enter another tournament just because of the greed of the electorate. The tournament is nothing more than boom for our economies on the back of the declining might of our Italian allies. An abhorrent tradition I would have lived with in easier times, but I cannot accept in turbulent ones like these. Germany must be united. Let the lesser candidate rule and prepare for the future, our outer struggles are more important than the inner ones. I forfeit my vote.”

Faces had shifted into disbelief as the elector had held his speech and now a commotion broke out over the unchanging status quo. Hundreds of people speaking in a sudden burst as the collective surprise washed over them. Maximillian looked like he had been struck by lightning, bleak and slightly shaky he and John looked over to Lydia. Meanwhile, the duke took his seat and closed his eyes as he waited for everything to blow over.

The princess of steel had her arms crossed and allowed herself the faintest of smiles while she kept her eyes focused ahead. 3 to 2. She had never needed another vote, only to find somebody on the other side that found this tradition as unnecessary as she did. “Into the mana factory I go, I guess,” John sighed. “Seems like we will have to move here,” Rave agreed. “Yeah, and if I calculated the average mana battery price correctly it will take me about 17 years to pay back Lydia,” John told her.

Rave waved it off. “Ah, but ya see, that is only if ya stop grinding and getting your Wisdom up even higher, we can surely press that down to two.” “That seems like a pretty high goal,” John carefully suggested. “Always shoot for the moon,” Rave winked as she rose her voice against the ongoing chatter, “at the very least you w-“

“SILENCE!” the voice of Romulus broke the commotion as it echoed throughout the cathedral like a cataclysmic earthquake. Hundreds of people were pressed into their seats by a sudden **** pressing down on them. John and Rave barely stood straight, ears ringing, shaken to their cores from the magic the word was drenched in. He knew that feeling, that was the same magic the Horned Rat had used when speaking his prophecy.

“One last vote remains. I, Romulus, Emperor of the Roman Empire, God-Emperor of the Sons of Rome, vote for Maximillian Franz von Habsburg as new King of the Germans,” he growled.

The stunned silence was more deafening than the commotion before. Every elector looked with disbelief at the emperor. The Saxon duke angrily slammed his fist into the table, which broke under the impact, for a moment John thought he would complain or storm off, but the duke kept sitting with a reddened face. Romulus himself stared down Lydia, who looked back with a clenched jaw and molten slack in her eyes.

“The election has ended in a tie; the tournament will be held.