Pro Memoria Apr 2026

As the chariot reached the palace, the Emperor stepped down, no longer feeling like a god, but like a man. He turned to the slave. "And tomorrow?"

"Don't you forget about dying," the slave whispered, his voice a dry rasp that cut through the thunder of the crowd. "Don't you forget about your friend death." Pro Memoria

"Look at this," the Emperor muttered, gesturing to the eternal city. "My legacy is written in granite." As the chariot reached the palace, the Emperor