“Praefectus Metellus. It’s good to see you.”
Lucius looked up to see the empress’ cousin, one of her Syrian circle.
Lucius stepped forward. “How are you?”
“Well. I serve the empress still, as is ever my honour.”
“Alerio tells me she wishes to see me?”
“Yes. Come. This way.” He went through the door into a chamber filled with scrolls, tables, and couches.
As Lucius’ eyes adjusted, he spotted Julia Domna reclined on a couch beside a flaming brazier. Incense smoke floated gracefully about her as she read a scroll. She wore a purple and yellow stola with a fur shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was tightly bound with the usual wavy texture that she had always favoured.
“Come closer, Praefectus,” she said before looking up. “It’s been far too long.”
“Augusta,” Lucius removed his helmet,
