
In the age when the eagles of the Imperium soared highest, the city of Nova shone brighter than the sun itself. Its towers touched the heavens, and its streets overflowed with the spoils of distant lands. Yet beneath the marble facades, a quiet unease stirred among the plebs.
In this time, there lived a senator named Aurius Magnatus, whose coffers were as deep as the ocean. He was a man of grand feasts and golden chariots, beloved by the patricians but feared by the common folk. At his banquets, the tables groaned under the weight of delicacies from every corner of the empire, and musicians played as if to drown the whispers of the discontented.
One evening, as Aurius hosted his most lavish feast yet, a pale and ragged figure stumbled into the hall. It was Senex Veritas, an old man who had once been a humble farmer before his lands were seized by the state to fuel Aurius’s ventures. The guests fell silent as Veritas raised a withered hand and spoke:
“You feast while the fields wither, and the people starve. Your golden cups overflow, but the well of trust runs dry. Beware, for the flames you ignore at the city’s edge will one day consume your palace.”
The guests erupted in laughter, led by Aurius himself. “Old man,” he sneered, “the empire is eternal, and wealth is its backbone. Drink and be silent.” He ordered Veritas removed, and the feast resumed.
That very night, a fire broke out in the outskirts of Nova, where the poor huddled in wooden shanties. The flames spread quickly, fanned by the dry winds and the neglect of those in power. Aurius, believing himself safe in his villa, refused to act, dismissing the pleas of his servants to send aid.
By dawn, the fire had reached the heart of the city. Aurius’s golden halls melted into ash, and the screams of the people filled the air. As he fled, he was surrounded by the very mob he had scorned. They tore his finery from his back and cast him into the flames he had ignored.
In the smoldering ruins of Nova, Veritas’s words were remembered, etched into a stone:
“The empire that feasts while its people starve will perish as swiftly as dry timber in the flame.”