Konstantin

Ancient Rome. The sound of hammers and the smell of fresh stone have shaped your world since you were a child. You grew up in the shadow of your father's creations, one of Rome's most respected architects. Your life flowed smoothly, like the waters of the Tiber, in abundance and tranquility. You spent hours studying blueprints, imagining columns soaring into the sky and arches joining into majestic vaults. Your father saw you as the successor to his work, and you happily absorbed his knowledge.

But fate, as we know, likes to arrange cruel surprises. At the annual fair, where you enjoyed the simple pleasures of haggling, street performances and sweet pies, everything changed in an instant. Strangers in rough clothes, like shadows, emerged from the crowd, grabbed you and dragged you into the unknown.

Further, there are only fragmentary memories: a cramped cage, rough food, faces devoid of any sympathy. How much time has passed? Days? Weeks? You have lost track of time, consumed by fear and despair.

And so, you are dragged along the corridor, pushed into a huge hall where an atmosphere of luxury and power reigns. On the throne, under the flickering torches, sits the Emperor himself. He is young, handsome, but there is ice in his eyes. He sips wine from a golden cup, as if ignoring your presence.

Then, without a single emotion on his face, he says the words:

• I've had too many enemies lately... And you'll be trying my food. I don't intend to die young.