The imperial palace had more exits than most people realized.

That was not an accident.

Julius had designed the palace to be his true fortress, and one cannot claim that title, the palace had been designed to be functional, but at the same time with numerous secret and hidden passageways.

Methods in which those within could quickly travel unseen from one end to the other, or even absconding from the palace itself entirely.

Some for reasonable purposes and strategy, and then others were hidden from even his closest of aides and attendants such that they were passages only known to himself, or requiring a key similar to the imperial signet ring that unlocked the various Roman vaults scattered around the world.

Unofficially of course—

these passages allowed an Emperor to vanish when necessary.

Tonight, he wore no Imperial purple, no jewelry to signify his higher station, not even his iconic demonic blade.

Instead, he dressed in the muted browns of a minor merchant’s son—wool cloak, simple leather belt, boots scuffed enough to appear honest.

His hair was tied back loosely, shadowed by the hood.

And a simple common issue steel sword slung on his waist for personal protection just in case something or someone managed to slip past the numerous intelligence nets preventing their actions within his nation.

Two trusted members of the Root shadowed him at a distance, invisible even to him unless he looked carefully of course by his own command, as he knew full well going out entirly alone was not something that would ever fly, especially not since he had planned to imbibe in some of the spirits and brewers works of his city.

He slipped out through a servants’ gate and into the capital’s evening air.

The city was alive.

Lantern light spilled across cobbled streets.

Vendors shouted final calls before closing stalls.

Off-duty legionnaires laughed loudly as they drifted toward taverns in small clusters.

It had been too long since he had walked these streets as anything other than a symbol.

Tonight—

He would be just Julius again.

The tavern Zeff favoured was not grand.

It was loud.

Wooden beams low enough to duck beneath.

A hearth large enough to roast a boar.

The smell of ale, sweat, and roasted onions thick in the air.

Julius pushed the door open.

A wave of laughter crashed over him.

And there—

Near the center table—

Was Zeff.

Broad-shouldered, beard thicker than regulations strictly allowed when off duty.

A tankard in one hand, the other slapping the table as he told some exaggerated story to a cluster of newly enlisted legionnaires.

Zeff noticed him almost instantly.

His grin widened.

"Well I’ll be damned," Zeff called out. "If it isn’t the ghost of my youth!"

Julius rolled his eyes and approached.

"Still telling lies to impressionable soldiers?" he asked.

"Experience," Zeff corrected, pulling out a chair with his boot. "Sit. Drink. You look like someone who’s been thinking too hard."

A barmaid arrived with ale before Julius could even ask.

"Says the man running for the security of the tavern from the oppressive reign of his wife and kids." Julius rebuttled.

But rather than argue back, Zeff simply shrugged before raising his cup up.

They clinked tankards.

"For surviving another week of idiots," Zeff declared.

Julius snorted. "You are one of those idiots."

"Exactly."

They drank.

The ale was good.

Not refined.

Not imported, Honest simple home brewed ale produced from the excess grains grown within the province itself.

No need to waste any excess food or provided more than what the people needed but beyond food, the people need alcohol as well.

"So," Zeff said, leaning back in his chair. "You didn’t sneak out just to admire my rugged charm, or poor social skills."

"No," Julius admitted.

Zeff’s eyes sharpened slightly.

"Well?"

Julius hesitated for half a heartbeat.

Then—

"I proposed."

Zeff blinked.

"...You what?"

"To Serena. And Yuri."

Zeff stared at him.

Then burst into booming laughter so loud that half the tavern turned.

"You?" he wheezed. "You finally grew a spine?"

Julius scowled. "I have always had a spine."

"Not when it came to them," Zeff shot back, pointing accusingly with his tankard. "I’ve seen you face down warlords without blinking. But everytime your around me or Miri watch our married life you clam up and put on a face like you’d want to be anywhere but there."

The nearby legionnaires chuckled.

Julius narrowed his eyes.

"You will recall," he said dryly, "that I have been rather busy."

"Oh yes," Zeff nodded sagely. "How could i forget, conquering hero, saving damsels in distress, stopping coups, and all that fun stuff abroad."

This statement further caused the room to chuckle for those overhearing it.

It was common for those who actually got the chance to march in one of Julius’s campaigns to return home only to brag and exagerate the stories abroad to the point they might as well be fairy tales, so hearing Zeff sarcastically responding like this none of them really took the words to heart, even though Julius knew the worlds to be true.

He leaned forward.

"Terrifying responsibilities."

Then he grinned wickedly.

"But talking to women? Impossible."

The younger legionnaires laughed louder.

Julius took another long drink.

"You are enjoying this too much."

"Absolutely," Zeff said without shame. "My wife predicted this."

Julius paused.

"She what?"

Zeff nodded proudly. "She predicted that you’d get cornered by the girls and accept the situation once it was brought to you."

Julius frowned. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"...I was on my way to find them when they did just that..."

Zeff slammed the table.

"Ha!"

The legionnaires nearby perked up.

"You actually got ambushed my your girlfriends!"

Zeff wiped tears from his eyes.

But it wasnt only Zeff the legionaires who had all but joined in their conversation after hearing the spicy decided to join in at this point to assist in razzing their poor comrade who not only was becoming shackled but had it happen in probably the most embarassing way possible.

To be a brave and strong soldier of the empire and yet cornered and made to confess before building up the courage to do so himself.