"Little Novia, tell me… don't you think this child Nero is simply… too remarkable…?"
In the Roman palace, Novia sat across from Emperor Claudius, as white petals drifted down from the nearby trees, carpeting the ground like snow.
Ever since Agrippina had become Empress, under her bewitching influence, Claudius had adopted Domitius and granted her the name of that illustrious clan—Nero.
Though Claudius had acted foolishly in the moment, it didn't take him long to realize he'd made a grave mistake in this bargain. His decision to forcibly marry Agrippina stemmed from his desire to leverage her lineage to cement the legitimacy of his reign.
But this approach was clearly drinking poison to quench his thirst. The moment he acknowledged that marrying young Agrippina was necessary for stability, he was admitting his own rule lacked legitimacy. Worse still, by comparison, the child of Agrippina—Nero—possessed far greater legal claim than Claudius' son by the "scandalous" Messalina, Britannicus.
Nero was older than Britannicus. By succession laws, that placed her first in line. Not to mention, through her bloodline, she was descended from Germanicus, Augustus, and Mark Antony — her ancestry far more illustrious than Britannicus'.
It was almost identical to how Tiberius had once faced off against Germanicus — except Claudius was even more unfortunate. He hadn't been the legitimate successor approved by the dynasty's founder. Facing Agrippina, who knew exactly how to exploit that weakness, he stood no chance in any logical contest.
To make matters worse, Nero herself began to shine.
Within mere months, she was already beloved as a talented magistrate. She had delivered speeches in both Latin and Greek before the Senate, participated in several major trials due to her fairness and skill. Even though Claudius repeatedly prohibited her involvement in important cases, citing her youth, he could not stop the steadily growing public admiration. Besides, Nero was already widely known among the Roman people as Novia's disciple.
"Your Majesty, I warned you long ago… You should've observed Agrippina for a few more years. But it was you who insisted, even rewriting the law to make it so."
The greatest scandal in Claudius and Agrippina's marriage was their uncle-niece relationship. Publicly admitting it meant violating Roman marriage laws prohibiting incest.
So, what was the solution?
Claudius issued a decree — amending the marriage law.
The Senate, following the Emperor's wishes, drafted a law permitting the Emperor to marry close kin.
Though some senators opposed the union, few dared risk offending the Emperor. They simply turned a blind eye.
If Claudius couldn't control Messalina, how could he possibly handle Agrippina, who was far more calculating?
"Sigh… You're their teacher… You ought to help them a little more…"
"Of course, Your Majesty. Please, get some rest."
But Claudius naively believed his Praetorian Guard, still under the command of his loyalist Burrus, would support his own child. What he didn't know was that within a few months, Agrippina would once again deploy her charms to ensnare Burrus. Soon after, the Praetorian Prefect would become her pawn, following her whispered commands from their shared bed.
—
After leaving the palace, Novia returned home briefly to gather his things, then headed toward the Colosseum.
It had been roughly a year and a half since he'd taken Nero as his student, but this was the first time she'd ever invited him herself. Naturally, he accepted — though he politely declined her offer to personally escort him.
The sky was bright and cloudless. Despite the afternoon sun, a sharp, cold wind swept through the streets. As the silver-haired youth walked along the stone-paved roads, the people he passed offered respectful nods and greetings, to which Novia responded with his usual, gentle smile.
The Roman Colosseum stood at the outskirts of the city, facing the vast blue sea.
The massive amphitheater radiated a commanding presence, making the surrounding buildings seem small and insignificant. Towering archways — stacked three or four layers high — formed the thick oval walls that enclosed the grand arena.
This space was built purely for human competition. In ancient Rome, such entertainment was considered a legitimate civic right. As Roman poets once declared, it was the age of Bread and Circuses, and the Colosseum was the most iconic symbol of that promise.
In theory, the arena should've been packed with row upon row of spectators. In Novia's memory, every time such an event was held, the Colosseum would be bursting at the seams — crowds pouring in from all sides, the entrances blocked by long lines of eager citizens.
Yet today… it felt as though the entire arena had been reserved just for him.
Or rather, it had been reserved by Nero.
As Novia settled into his designated seat, the arena's music suddenly swelled. The thunderous, triumphant melody stirred the blood.
It seemed they had been waiting for his arrival to begin.
The music then abruptly faded. At that precise moment of silence, a petite figure stepped onto the extending stage, bowed gracefully toward the sole spectator below, and Nero's voice rang out, clear and proud.
"Today's performance is hosted by none other than myself — charioteer to rival the Sun God, artist to match the divine Apollo."
"In the past, gladiatorial duels held in this arena were rituals offered to the gods of Rome. But I belong to Christ, to the Lord."
Her amplified voice echoed throughout the vast arena. If there had been anyone other than Novia present, surely the crowd would've erupted in thunderous applause, eager to express their excitement.
But the silver-haired youth merely smiled, gently clapping his hands in amusement.
"And so, today, I shall emulate the legendary feat of the mighty Heracles, and dedicate it to the one who baptized me — my honored master, Novia—"
The young girl's voice rang with both pride and a faint trace of savagery. Under the sunlight, a slightly ferocious smile crept across her lips. Dressed in her striking Crimson Prince attire, Nero snapped her fingers.
A heavy creaking followed — the sound of a cage door being dragged open.
"Thus… I shall strangle the lion with my bare hands."