Emperor Marcus Augustus sat alone. He had long since dismissed his so-called advisors and the phalanxes of sycophants that usually surround him. In his dimly lit study, the only room he could truly call his own in this vast, ostentatious imperial palace, he had grown to like being alone. These days, the weight of his imperial crown seemed to rest heavier on his forehead than ever. He was, he thought, heartily sick of the whole damn shooting match. He wondered how it was possible to be happy in this world. He also knew that this was not the gift of an emporer, no matter how powerful he might be.

People once regarded Marcus Augustus as the most powerful ruler in the known world. His reputation had been established on the foundations of conquest and subjugation. His subjects dreaded him, his adversaries were frightened at his name, and his authority was absolute. This had been his goal since his father died when he was a young boy. But these days, he was not so certain that he would choose this same path again. Not that he could choose, of course. Certain things were expected of emperors.

He contemplated the gardens through his study's open windows, captivated, as always, by their simple beauty. He thought about his life. He realised that it was not the echoes of wars fought or the trophies of victory that troubled him; they were more or less an unavoidable aspect of his job. It was one decision he had made in the zeal of youth. And now, with the benefit of age, he is less sure than he once was. Marcus Augustus, a young prince, was anxious to demonstrate his grip on power and had ordered the harsh crushing of a rebellion in the remote province of Aquilonia.

Cries for justice and independence from imperial control fueled an insurrection. Marcus Augustus, driven by his need for control, replied with ruthless ferocity. His advisors had at the time suggested a softer diplomacy, but Marcus was young, and there were various powerful factions that were just waiting to undermine him. And so villages were destroyed, dissenters were silenced, and the once-proud people of Aquilonia were crushed under the iron heel of his tyranny.

For years, the province's insurrection had festered in the empire's core, driven by oppression and injustice. Weary of the imperial masters' heavy-handed control, the people, in their unruly way, spoke up in opposition, demanding release from the ‘bonds of oppression.’ The heavy-handed greed of the local governor, a petty and corrupt tyrant, was the main driving force. Marcus could have simply replaced him. But he didn’t. Instead, he subjugated the province with extreme prejudice. He sent in his legions under the command of his most bloodthirsty general.

Marcus Augustus, six hundred miles away and preoccupied with his own aspirations, did not hear the screams of the dying. Consumed by an insatiable need for control, he regarded the uprising not as a plea for justice, which is certainly what it was, but as a challenge to his power.

Marcus Augustus ordered his general to unleash his forces on the innocent towns of Aquilonia. He harried the land. He transformed the peaceful hamlets and lively marketplaces into smouldering ruins, reducing their once-thriving communities to ash and debris. Marcus Augustus' men robbed and pillaged with impunity and official sanction. They plundered homes, trampled crops, and split apart families.

Dissenters were greeted with severe and dreadful repercussions. The men were hauled from their houses and killed out of hand, their lifeless bodies left to rot in the streets as a message to those who dared to oppose the emperor's orders. Women and children fared no better, suffering horrific abuse and degradation at the hands of Marcus Augustus' vicious enforcers. Mothers wailed as their daughters were ripped from their arms and taken away into the darkness, never to be seen again. Towards the end, he went to observe the wreckage of once proud Aquilonia and while at first he felt a sense of pride amidst the carnage he had caused, deep within him, a seed of doubt began to germinate. A buyers remorse. And he wondered if the price he had paid for his quest for power was too high to bear.

And the people did not bow to his control. The insurrection in Aquilonia fuelled dissatisfaction with his leadership, causing greater turbulence and opposition throughout the empire. Revolt threatened to engulf his kingdom and Marcus Augustus was forced to further dreadful action.

Of course, he who has legions wins and he gained control and quelled the rebellious populace. And then bribed them with food and entertainments. Peace was restored. But he felt a dagger-like pain as remorse sliced his heart whenever he reflected back on those years. And he found himself reflecting on them more and more frequently as he grew older. Imagine the difference in his legacy if he had chosen mercy over brutality and compassion over dominion.

As the afternoon slowly faded into the evening, a servant came into his study bearing a tray with his favourite wine. The servant poured a beaker full, placed it on the tray, and then went to close the window to keep out the insects and the evening chill. Marcus drank his wine and picked at a few olives and mushrooms that were in the bowl by the beaker.

‘I really don’t want to be an emperor,’ he thought to himself as the poison in the mushrooms took hold. The poison closed his throat and extinguished his life. The emperor's younger brother came in, smiled broadly, stabbed the servant in the neck, and shouted for the guards. “Assassin, assassin, the emperor has been poisoned!”