They packed in a daze and then, there was a mad dash to the legions. Constantine knew that he couldn’t let Herakles take control of them. He was unable to let Kyla fight this war for him. He was Rome now, and the legions had to fall in line after him.

The good thing was that they had Mark Antony with them. The man had recognized him as an empire, his empire, and had sworn to help avenge Caesar. Octavian had to be told. He was Caesar’s grandnephew and heir. But he was all the way in Illyria.

Still, Constantine wrote the letter to Octavian and send it. Atia Balba had gotten in the house of her daughter, Octavia. The status of the girl’s husband as someone who spoke against Caesar protecting them.

Now, Constantine had to go and secure his family and his lands. In one fell swoop, Rome had given most of his territory to his sons. Constantine was not going to steal any of it from his brothers.

But Herakles, Constantine gripped the reins of his horse tighter, he would make the boy pay. He and his mother both. Her, he was going to crucify. Herakles was going to end up an exile in his territory of Cyprus. Isolated fully. Forever doomed to be small. He deserved nothing less, for his betrayal.

“Come on, we need to keep moving. There are a few more days to the legions,” said Kyla next to him. He was sending worried looks at the covered wagons where his children and all of Constantine’s brothers, minus Herakles, were.

Their mothers had given them to Constantine, worried that Herakles would raise a hand against them. Constantine was not going to let it all happen. He was going to protect them, no matter the cost.

They made it to the legions in three days. All seven of them were camped away from Rome. The tension was thick in the camp, but more than one greeted Constantine with his old nickname of Berserker. They had accepted him, and Constantine was happy for their support. He would need it, if he wanted to dethrone his brother.

There to greet them was Octavian, eyes rimmed red, but in legion armor with a gladius at his hip.

“Octavian? What are you doing here?” Constantine couldn’t understand how the man had gotten here so fast.

“I knew of granduncle’s ascension and came for his coronation. And now, he is dead,” Constantine lowered his gaze. Julius Caesar had been grasping, but he had been a genius and would be missed.

“We need to proclaim who would be Caesar’s heir,” spoke Mark Antony from Constantine’s right.

“There is no doubt that it is Octavian,” cut him Constantine sternly. Octavian sent him a grateful look.

“The legion didn’t move when I wanted to root your brother from Rome. A little help, Tine?” Asked Octavian, and Constantine nodded. They moved to the forum of the camp. The places where the legionaries received their tasks for the day, and Constantine ascended the stairs.

“Attention!” Screamed Mark Antony and Constantine nodded to him. A crowd gathered, mostly officers. Constantine was sure that if he had their support, he would have the legions.

“I am Constantine Romulus, son of Rome and…” he wanted to add his mother, but she had disowned him just before her death. “Son of Rome.”

The officers began to nod and murmur among themselves. Constantine continued.

“While my father now rests, my grandmother and uncle plotted against me. To deny me my rightful inheritance,” he was not going to refer to Herakles as brother. The boy didn’t deserve the love and honor that come with the word. “I am the Second Rome now, Byzantine Empire.”

The crown exploded in a cacophony. Constantine let them ask their questions to each other and silently looked around the crowd. When the officers calmed down, he continued speaking.

“Will you stand by as you are denied the will of your now dead nation? To see his youngest take his heartland for his own? Will you deny that Octavian, grandnephew to Julius Caesar, his rightful heir, should become the first consul of the Byzantine Empire? That Mark Antony should become the head of my legions?”

Mark Antony had the ear of the legionaries. He was a battle tested commander and the right-hand man of Caesar. Constantine knew that whoever had him, had the legions. Octavian would just need to share power.

Then, a legionary stamped his foot down, and then another, and then the entire crowd were stamping their feet and chanting “Byzantine!” To Constantine’s ears, this was the most melodic sound of all. He looked at Kyla, who grinned at him. They had done it.

The march back to Rome took them longer, for the legions had to move. When they neared the eternal city, they found the gates opened wide and Greece and Herakles in chains. Germania was behind them, looking worse for wear.

“What happened here, step-father?” Asked Constantine, and Germania grinned.

“Greece here had the bright idea to have me whipped in the forum in front of the senate. Me and Britannia and Hispania. They are recovering. Gilbert and Ludwig managed to barricade themselves in their manse. They are fine, before you ask.” Constantine nodded. The two had not managed to get in touch with them before the mad dash out of Rome.

Constantine looked at his grandmother, who looked at him with clear hatred in her eyes.

“You will be crucified where you violated my family,” said Constantine, and then he looked at Herakles.

“Why, Herakles? You knew that I would not make a grab at your land,” sadness sipped in Constantine’s voice. Herakles looked down, ashamed, and didn’t speak a word.

“Well, we need to bury the dead, and we have to crown you as an empire,” spoke Mark Antony. He smiled down condescendly at Herakles, whose head was still bowed.

“Your manse is burned,” said Greece with a smirk on her lips.

“And so will you be,” promised her Constantine. Herakles chose this moment to raise his head and sent Constantine a pleading look. Constantine felt nothing at it.