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... stabilizing, and the barbarian kingdoms which sought to carve their own piece of the Mediterranean were being pushed back.

The result of this was that many of the Germanic tribes were busily warring among each other for those lands that were left in Europe. Naturally Marcellus had not been idle since he reunited the Empire under one banner, and had been using his influence with the Germanic tribes to hire mercenaries for the conflict which had been brewing in the east for some time.

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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