Posted 07 January 2009 - 07:02 AM
In Caesar's estate, a young man awakes. While not particularly religious, he nevertheless offers a thanks to the Gods and to his murdered uncle for this miracle.
Elsewhere, a veteran straps on his breastplate, then drapes his toga over it, grimacing as his wounded and bandaged arm won't bend far enough to pin it securely.
For some, the night meant success. For others, wasted opportunities. Martial law reigned Rome, and the city remained peaceful, for the night gone by at the least.
Today, new opportunities await. Pacts to be sealed, alliances to be broken. Friends to be antagonized, enemies to be pressured.
No one has died. It is now day.
You have 36 hours, 19 people are alive.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.